In the end, Harry managed to stifle his snickers and began to explain the game to her. It was disconcerting when Hermione got out her quill and parchment and started taking notes with the same level of attention she showed the professors, and all too quickly Harry's basic knowledge of the game was exhausted. He retrieved some of Ron's Quidditch books and magazines from the dorm, knowing the redhead would be willing to share them with the girl, and by the time of the game, Hermione had absorbed enough to have a general idea of what to expect.
About half an hour before the match was to start, an ebullient Ron dashed in, yelling, "Willow and unicorn hair!" as he brandished his new wand.
"That's great, Ron!" Harry exclaimed.
"It's lovely. I'm sure that now you'll be able to do ever so many spells on your first try," Hermione added.
"Thanks!" Ron beamed proudly. "And here, these are for you." He handed a small package to each of them.
"What is it?" Harry asked curiously, as Hermione examined the wrapping.
"Well, your da- erm, professor, said that тАУ" Ron deepened his voice into a reasonably good imitation of Snape " тАУ 'Since dunderheaded children will insist upon placing wands in their back pockets, you obviously cannot be trusted to decide upon where to keep your own wands.' So he got us each a wrist holster. Innit great?" He flicked his wrist and his wand dropped into his hand.
"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide.
"Oooh!" Hermione's face lit up. "This will make it much easier to incorporate the wand into the proper motions for a spell."
"Yeah, an' it'll make it easy to draw it quick in a fight!" Harry grinned.
"It was really nice of your professor to get one for each of us," Hermione commented, giving Harry a sidelong look.
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "But he also said that if he ever found that we weren't using them, he'd give us detention. Ooops тАУ the match! I gotta go!" Ron rushed off to the Quidditch pitch, where he was serving as the team's gofer for the day. One first year student was selected to serve in this capacity for each game, and it was a highly sought after prize. Ron had been delighted when he had won the spot in the special lottery, and he'd practically burst into tears of relief when Professor Snape had confirmed that he'd still be permitted to carry out the role.
After attaching the holsters to their forearms and practicing a bit with drawing and replacing their wands, Harry and Hermione headed to the pitch at a more sedate pace. Hermione was still looking over her notes and muttering to herself. "BludgerтАж BeatersтАж SnitchтАж SeekerтАж"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, relax. It's a game. You're not going to be quizzed on it today, okay?"
Still, when they reached the pitch, even Harry was a little startled to see how enormous the stands were, filled with cheering, shouting students. Hermione looked over at the Gryffindor section, but it was obvious that with all the screaming that was going on, there was no way she would be able to hear his explanations of the play. Scanning the stadium, Harry's eye fell upon some of the highest seats.
"There!" he pointed and pulled her up to the very top level of the stands. Only a few other students were scattered around this railing, and none were close. From this high up, they had a panoramic view of the pitch, and although the cheers were audible, they were sufficiently muted that the two could talk. The commentator could also be heard, but Harry would be easily able to speak over him.
"C'mon," Harry said, swinging one leg over the railing and perching upon it like the other students were doing.
"Oh, Harry, I'm not sure it's allowed. What if you fall?" Hermione frowned.
Harry sighed. There were times when having a girl as a best friend could be tiresome. "Everyone else is sitting this way! Look тАУ we're practically right above the field. It's brilliant. You'll be able to see all the action."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys! There were perfectly good, comfortable seats right there, but no, they had to perch themselves of railings and sit backwards on chairs and otherwise behave like complete loons. "Oh, all right," she grumbled, not wanting to annoy Harry when she needed to pick his brain throughout the upcoming game.
#-#-
The game progressed, and even Hermione began to get excited as the score was quite close. Harry in particular was leaning as far out on the railings as he could, trying to spot the snitch and signal his teammates.
Then, in the midst of a particularly tense part of the game, Harry felt a sharp push. He grabbed at the railing on which they sat and opened his mouth to remonstrate with Hermione, but was startled to see that she was sitting well out of arms' reach, her attention wholly focused on the game.
"Hermione?" he began uncertainly but before he could speak further, Harry was abruptly unseated by an enormous yank, almost as if the earth itself had reached up and pulled him forward.
With a startled cry, he plummeted towards the ground far below.
"Wingardium leviosa!" Harry dimly heard Hermione scream behind him, and then his forward momentum slowed. For a heart-stopping moment, he hovered, then miraculously he started to rise back towards the railing.
He had recovered only a few feet, however, when that same force seized hold of him again and snapped the pull of Hermione's spell. He cried out anew as he dropped precipitously, only to be jolted to a halt once again. He managed to twist around and saw Hermione's drawn, white face as she stared at him, wand extended and every ounce of will focused on her spell.
He jerked up a few feet, then down a few. He felt like two invisible giants were having a tug of war with him, as if he were some rag doll being dragged between them. If it hadn't been for the look of sheer terror on Hermione's face, he might have thought this some prank of the twins тАУ after all, how was he to know whether such midair to-and-fro'ing was normal in the Wizarding World?
Incredibly enough, below him the Quidditch match continued. The rest of the school hadn't even noticed the drama unfolding high in the stands, captivated as they were by the hard-fought match playing out before them.
Harry could feel the effort that his friend was putting into her magic тАУ his body would start to rise, as if gravity had suddenly ceased to affect him, but after a few seconds, something would block Hermione's spell, gravity would return with a vengeance and his suddenly heavy body would be helped on its downward path by a savage tugтАж only to be again converted to a weightless state as Hermione re-cast the charm. After a half-dozen such exchanges, Harry was a good hundred feet closer to the ground and beginning to feel nauseous from the multiple abrupt transitions between floating and falling. He began to worry about what would happen if he sicked up in his current position. He couldn't imagine that either team would react favorably to being showered with vomit from above.
Harry closed his eyes, willing his stomach to settle down while the opposing powers battled over him, but rapidly reopened them when the lack of sensory information merely made the nausea worse. He craned his neck around to see how Hermione was doing, and he was horrified and alarmed by what he saw.
His friend looked awful; her face was gray and drawn with strain, as if she were the one being manhandled, not him. Hermione's nose had started to bleed but her focus remained intent on Harry. She whispered her spell over and over and over, trying to pry him loose from whatever malign force was trying to pull him to his death.