Illicit Affairs

There were only a handful of students in Hope’s year at Hogwarts, being the generation born in the height of the war and all. Only three boys in Gryffindor: Ron Weasley, who Hope had a strange soft spot for despite the boy’s horrible manners and astounding lack of brain cells; Seamus Finnegan, who tended to blow up anything potentially flammable; and Dean Thomas who Hope had to admit was a sight for sore eyes. There were four beds in the girls’ dormitory; Hope’s; Hermione Granger’s, who was possibly her best friend in the world (besides her Uncle Reggie of course); Lavender Brown’s and Parvati Patil’s.

She knew Parvati had a twin in Ravenclaw – Padma. And of course there was Terry Boot, and Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein – who had all asked Ginny out at one point or another over the course of Hope’s fifth year.

Hope only knew two of the Hufflepuff girls by name – Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. In truth, she only knew them because their families had fought in the war and both girls ended up attending all the same anniversary events Hope was forced to go to. Neither of the three girls enjoyed them in the slightest – Hope didn’t like to admit that their unanimous misery had anything to do with the fact that all three girls were missing at least one – or in Hope’s case, both – of their parents. Celebrating their mutual situation somehow didn’t sit quite right with them.

The Slytherins were a rather odd mix. She got on with Theodore Nott well enough when they got paired together in potions, and Blaise Zabini was a right laugh to partner up with in just about any class – when he showed up, that is. The other two boys, Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand were as vile and cruel as one could be. In their third year, Crabbe had actually cursed Hermione in the middle of the great hall, not to mention the vile names they called the muggle born witch without even a hint of shame. Even Pansy Parkinson, who was known to be rather bitter and blunt, tended to steer clear of them when she could. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were fairly decent witches, but as for Millicent Bulstrode – well she was as ugly inside as she was out.

Sitting in her familiar seat at the Gryffindor table with her chin on her fist, Hope surveyed the students crowing the Great Hall. It was strange, now that the twins and Cedric and Angelina had all left – the Quidditch crowd at Hogwarts had always been a little older than her and the truth was that Hope even found herself debating whether she missed the Slytherin captain Marcus Flint at all – the answer was no, of course, but she was rather anxious to see who his replacement would be. She span her little captain badge between her fingers, glancing up and down her own table to see who she’d have to convince to attend try outs. Ginny was a shoe in, of course – being just as good as her older brothers; Katie Bell still had a year of school to go, and Hope was reassured by the thought of a familiar player on her team. She still had to find a keeper, another beater, and two chasers.

“I think Ron might go for keeper,” Ginny whispered in Hope’s ear. “Let him down easy, will you?”

Hope shrugged. “McLaggen might go for it. That’s what Katie told me at the end of last year, anyway.”

“McLaggen’s a brute,” Hermione scoffed, and Hope remembered the awful incident in their fourth year where Cormac McLaggen had cheated Hermione into a date to Hogsmeade.

“Sure,” Ginny agreed. “But he’s a good player – and it’s not like you’ll have to talk to him all that much, Hope. He’ll be over by the goalposts the whole time.”

“Dean plays rugby, Hope –“

“What’s hockey?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny. In all fairness, the only reason Hope knew about football was due to a mix of her Muggle Studies class, and her sneaky trips to the local pub in London. “You lob a ball around and try to get it into a goal. There’s a lot of shouting,” Hermione explained.

Hope clicked her tongue and glanced down at Dean Thomas – she doubted he’d ever played Quidditch, but if the boy could play hockey he was worth a try. “He’s tall,” she noted. “And strong. What do you say, Ginny? Could you see Dean Thomas as your fellow Beater?”

Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder and grinned. “Well I haven’t officially made the team yet, have I? But yeah – if he’s shit, it’s no bother. He’s pretty enough to risk it.”

Before Hermione could start om her tirade of why physical appearance should have no bearing on Ginny and Hope's Quidditch planning, Dumbledore stood up from his chair and approached the front of the professors' table. Hope nudged her friends in the sides and anxiously craned her neck to look up at the Headmaster. The room was buzzing with excitement and it was clear that news of the tournament hadn't stayed as secret as the Ministry had intended it to be. 

"Welcome, welcome," he said, eyes twinkling away beneath his glasses. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts, and welcome to our first years. I trust you have all had wonderful summers, yes? I myself wound up hiking across Ireland in nothing but a - ah, yes. Sorry Minerva. Now, before we eat I must remind you of Mr. Filch's rules regarding any purchases made as Zonko's joke shop - though I suppose he must be rather more relaxed now that the charming Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley have graduated."

Ginny snorted into her hand, and Hermione blushed a deep pink in shame. Hope scanned the table to find Remus sat in his usual place, offering his a wide grin. He smiled back, tired eyes shining and silver scars stretching over his cheeks. 

"I'd also like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest, so aptly named, remains forbidden. Our groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid has been working on the acromantula infestation, but the centaur clans will not take kindly to wandering students. Professor Grubbly-Plank has requested that it be made clear that any students harassing the Unicorn pen North of the Quidditch grounds will immediately face dire consequences - if they make it out of gate, that is. Now, now - is that all?"

Minerva McGonagall shook her head and whispered something in the Headmaster's ear. His eyes lit up, and Hope leant forward in her seat.

"Ah, yes! Of course! In other news, and I'm sure this is news to all of you, the Ministry has decided that the Triwizard Tournament be reinstated, and hosted at Hogwarts this year- "

The hall erupted in cheers and shouts, students standing up with excitement. Hermione huffed angrily from beside her, and Hope playfully patted at the friend's bush of hair. 

"Settle down, settle down. Our fellow institutions - Beauxbatons and Durmstrang - will be arriving at the end of October to participate in the event. I hope you all welcome the international students with warmth and curiosity. There is much to learn, after all, from those we do not understand all that well. And with that - I implore you all to enjoy the feast-" 

But before the headmaster could sit back down, Hope found herself shooting up to her feet. It was only when she'd straightened up that she realized why she'd stood up in the first place. "But Professor," she started, glancing nervously around the hall. "What about Quidditch?"

At that a number of other students started getting to their feet and raising their hands. Ginny shot up next to Hope, and even Belby was waving viciously in the air from the Slytherin table. Remus offered Hope an exasperated look, only softened by the slight smile on his face.

"I assure you, Miss Potter, that the yearly Quidditch tournament will go on as planned. I am sure our visiting schools will enjoy coming to matches as much as our own students do."

Hope sat down, a satisfied smirk on her face. No matter what fresh hell was going to inevitably take place at Hogwarts that year, at least she could rely on the thrill of Quidditch to keep her happily distracted. Not to mention that she'd been made captain this year - Merlin, the youngest seeker in a century, and now Gryffindor Quidditch captain in her sixth year. Just as her dad had been. She'd written him a note before she left, breaking the news, but she'd yet to receive a reply. It was perfectly normal she supposed, given that he was on the other side of the world - she'd even had to use one of the Black family carrier pigeons who were equipped for such long journeys than her own owl. 

"Is all you think about Quidditch?" Hermione scoffed, though the smile on her face was enough to soften her words. 

"And dragons," Ginny chipped in. "Charlie says you've been writing to him all summer. Merlin, I can't have two of my friends dating my brothers!"

Hope's cheeks flared bright red and she huffed in annoyance. So what if she had a little crush on Ginny's older brother - it wasn't as though he'd ever like her back, especially seeing as she had yet to finish school and he was a whole seven years older than her. "I just like dragons," she muttered haughtily. "And your brother happens to be a dragon keeper, Ginevra."

"Bleh," Ginny giggled. "You call me that again and I'll curse you into next week, Hope."

Hermione stabbed her fork into a potato and turned to face her friends. "Enough of that, you too. Let's get down to the real business. What N.E.W.T.S are you taking, Hope? You're taking potions, yes?"

"What does she need potions for if she'd going to tame dragons?" Ginny laughed around a mouthful of carrots. "Or an international Quidditch player, if all else fails!" 

Hope was starting to think that her potential career options were seeming more and more glamorous by the second. 

"To heal her in case of injury," Hermione scoffed. "Which seems almost inevitable in both situations. Honestly, Hope - you really do seek out danger before it even considers coming to find you."

And perilous. Decidedly perilous. But Hermione was wrong - Hope didn't seek out danger; danger sought out Hope. She never chose to hear strange voices in the corridors late at night; she never asked for Dolores Umbridge to come teach at Hogwarts; she just happened to be naturally talented at Quidditch, and this damned tournament was sounding more and more promising by the minute - ok, well maybe she did rather enjoy a little risk in her day to day life. But what was a girl to do when stuck in a castle for the entirety of the school year?

"I am taking potions," she said. "Slughorn still hasn't managed to scare me off completely. And Muggle Studies, Defense and Care of Magical Creatures - obviously."

"McGonagall is letting me join the Seventh year potions class," Hermione grinned. "All so I can take Arithmancy next year as a sixth subject. She thought that it would have been too much to handle what with Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and History of Magic- "

"Only you would voluntarily take a N.E.W.T. in History of Magic," Ginny grimaced. "I can't wait to drop it next year. Unless Jack Sloper carries on with it - he's a right sort you know. I wouldn't mind -"

Hope groaned and slammed her head down on the table. Ginny's endless slew of love interests was as impressive as it was tedious. She never held any real interest in any of the boys she dated, and Hope was starting to think she was doing it all for sport. "For the love of Merlin, Ginny. He's going to be on my reserve team."

"Oh hush," Hermione tutted. "As if you weren't completely and utterly distracted by heartthrob Diggory all of last year."

And what a mistake that had been. 

Sensing that the mood had soured, Hermione immediately tipped a generous serving of treacle tart onto Hope's plate and filled her glass with pumpkin juice. "Oh, it's alright, Hope. He wasn't all that special anyway. He looked too much like a cheesecake for my liking."

"But he was tall," Hope sighed grumpily. "And a Quidditch player - with great hair, might I add. And he wasn't completely brain dead."

"All charming qualities in a man," Hermione nodded playfully. "But deep down, he was a right tosser, wasn't he?"

Ginny scrunched up her nose and pointed her finger straight at Hope. "So you want a tall, handsome Quidditch player with at least half a brain. If you're not keen on Charlie then my brother Bill is - "

"Ginny!" Hope laughed. "I'm not dating any of your brothers!"

"They're not all that bad, you know," Hermione blushed. "Once you get past that irritating gene of always wanting to wind you up, that is."

"Ron doesn't have that," Ginny announced, pointing down the table. All three girls leaned forwards to watch him win his belching contest against Seamus Finnigan. "Ok, he might be the exception."

Hope huffed and dropped her head down onto the table. "If I only I liked women," she sighed. "There's plenty of tall, fit female Quidditch players. Need I even say - Gwenog Jones."

Hermione huffed and turned to talk to a seventh year on her other side, tired of the Quidditch talk. Rather early on in their friendship, Hope had come to accept that Hermione would never share her love for anything that involved a broomstick. 

"That's just because you have a hard-on for the Hollyhead Harpies," Ginny said with an eyeroll. "Which is completely fair because they are clearly the best team in the league. Honestly I just don't understand how Ron's still rooting for the Cannons."

"You know full well that I'm a Falmouth Falcons girl," Hope said sharply, her knuckles stiffening. She looked down at her hands and instantly flexed them, relaxing her posture. "I feel like I should be supporting Puddlemere," she laughed. "Now that Oliver's playing for them and all."

It wasn't that Hope was so passionate about Quidditch teams that she'd end up digging her nails into her hands so hard that little white crescents had scarred into her palm - although they had. It was the memory of it all that had the corners of her lips shifting down. She'd supported the falcons since she was eight - when James Potter had taken his daughter to see them play and win against Puddlemere United for her birthday. In fact, she'd gone home and begged Sirius and Regulus for her very own room straight away. There hadn't been enough room in Grimmauld Place's garden for her to fly freely, so she'd spent the next three days careening down the corridors and stairways. Of course her father had hardly batted an eyelash once they'd gotten home the first night - he'd received a new lead; a sighting of a red headed witch in Nairobi. Nonetheless, despite her secret passion for the Harpies, she'd been a Falmouth girl through and through ever since. 

"I suppose this tournament won't be much of anything for us," Ginny said. "What with Quidditch and all."

Hope squinted up at the professor's table, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. "Sure," she muttered. "Although, you know me. I always enjoy a healthy bit of competition."