The Confectionary Chronicles || HP/SPN

Sweets and Studies- Ch14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

As the weekend dawned, Hermione rose early and dressed in an old t-shirt faded by salt-water, a pair of shorts she thought might have once belonged to Angus and her trainers. She strapped her knives in their usual hidden sheathes on her back and thighs and without any sort of sheathe or holster to strap her wand into, she resorted to sticking it through the thick four-strand braid she'd magicked her curls into.

Making her way out to the castle grounds, Hermione smiled at the rush of cool morning air and began to stretch her muscles. She'd had nearly an entire week off training now and she didn't want to strain anything. She was bent over, stretching out her hamstrings, when she heard a familiar voice call out.

"Fancy seeing you out here so early, Granger!" Marcus Flint greeted her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Good morning," she said, straightening up and smiling back at the older Slytherin. Flint was wearing a Slytherin-green t-shirt, a pair of black shorts and an expensive-looking pair of trainers. "Are you planning on going for a run too?" she asked curiously. Flint grinned at her.

"There's a bit of an unofficial club the Quidditch teams have," he said, "come on, you can join us this morning."

Not seeing any reason to say no, Hermione followed the older Slytherin as he led her towards the Quidditch Pitch. Near the stands, she spotted a group of people waiting. To her surprise, most weren't Slytherins. Instead, there were mostly Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and the odd Gryffindor– two of which she recognised immediately.

"Why, Miss Granger!"

"Fancy meeting you here!" Fred and George Weasley exclaimed.

"Oh shut up, it's too early for your bullshit," Flint groaned, but his complaint was a lot more good-natured then Hermione would have expected coming from a Slytherin to a Gryffindor. She abruptly remembered Flint mentioning he'd heard from the Weasley twins about her earning points from Snape. She'd assumed it had been in passing, not that they'd had an actual, amicable conversation.

"Nice to meet you," a friendly-looking older boy in Hufflepuff colours Hermione didn't recognise greeted her. "I'm Cedric Diggory."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, holding out her hand to shake Cedric's.

"Hey, back off, golden boy, she's ours," Flint said, wrapping his arm around Hermione's shoulders in a sudden, possessive gesture. Hermione's eyes widened slightly in surprise but she didn't try to dislodge him. If anything, she actually felt flattered at the implied acceptance after a week of so blatantly not being accepted by her House.

"Does she play Quidditch?" One of the other Gryffindors asked, this one frowning at her.

"I have no idea if I can even fly a broom," Hermione answered honestly. "But a friend of mine made a challenge that I have to complete before the mid-year break and if I fail then I have to try out for the Slytherin team next year, whether I'm any good at Quidditch or not."

"Why do you make it sound like a punishment?" Flint demanded, using his hold to spin her around to face him.

"Team sports aren't really my thing," Hermione admitted sheepishly.

"Then we'll just have to change your mind," Flint decided, looking her up and down, assessing. "You've got a small build, light– you'd suit a Chaser or a Seeker." 

"Personally, I think Beaters have the most fun," Hermione interjected, which had the Weasley twins grinning at her and Flint laughing.

"You're vicious enough for it," he agreed and Hermione tried not to preen at the compliment.