Enchanted

Enchanted

Chapter 1: "Quidditch and Clubs"

"And Puddlemere scores again! Bulgaria lags behind 80-20!" a male voice blasted throughout the crowded Quidditch stadium. Thousands of spectators perched on the edge of their seats, packed tightly in the enormous wooden arena. The stadium stood circular, with a wide gap in the roof; the clear blue skies above serving as the idealistic backdrop for the exhilarating match raging down below. Two audience members in particular were enthralled.

A young woman of twenty, whose curly chestnut locks were pulled back from her beautiful face, sat clutching in excitement the arm of a handsome young man. Both were decked in blue and red, the official Puddlemere colors. Her enchanting cinnamon eyes sparkled as she watched the spectacle before her, gasping when a certain ebony haired man began to dive.

"Ron!" she shrieked, digging her nails into the man's forearm, "Harry's going to kill himself!"

The fiery red-head chuckled, his adorable smile lighting his features. "Hermione, you know it's just a Quidditch move for Merlin's sake. Don't worry; Harry's performed the Wronski Feint several times."

Hermione Granger glared at her long-time best friend, Ronald Weasley, and then returned her attention to the pitch. She was still slightly ruffled; her other best friend, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and newest Seeker for the professional Quidditch team of England, was racing a thin piece of wood (she refused to acknowledge such a dangerous object, the Firebolt 3000, to be any sort of broomstick) towards the ground in a mad dive.

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she heard the sharp intake of breath from the surrounding crowd. Expecting the worst, she prepared for the crushing announcement to boom over the stadium about how Potter was plastered to the grassy pitch below.

It never came. Instead "POTTER CAUGHT THE SNITCH! Another victory goes to Puddlemere!"

Opening her eyes she found Harry standing on the ground in one piece, a small speck of gold clutched in his hands. He wore a triumphant grin, spinning in a small circle for the entire stadium to see.

Hermione and Ron leaped to their feet in unison, clapping enthusiastically.

" 'At a boy, Harry!" Ron cheered, waving frantically to Harry down below.

Harry caught his eye and returned the gesture. He then turned his toothy grin to Hermione, who smiled back wholeheartedly. She was delighted Puddlemere had won; even more so that the game was over and Harry was safely back upon the earth (where, in her opinion, he belonged).

Hermione still believed Quidditch was a dangerous sport. Harry had been involved in several Quidditch related accidents back at their old school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when he was Seeker for their house, Gryffindor. Even after landing himself in the infirmary a few times, Harry claimed they were just minor injuries, insisting that he was fine and no permanent damage was done.

When Harry received a letter of invitation to join Puddlemere shortly after graduation, Hermione was reluctant to agree with his decision to play. However, after seeing how enthusiastic he was about the news, she just could not bring herself to voice her thoughts. Now, after watching him in action on the pitch, Hermione felt she had slightly overreacted. It was clear to her that Harry was born to play Seeker. She would never consider getting in the way of his happiness.

Hermione and Ron met Harry outside the locker rooms. Harry had showered and dressed; now decked in a collared forest green polo, and black slacks. Hermione thought the color brought out the green in his magnificent eyes, eyes that the entire witch populace adored, as reported in the past issue of Witch Weekly (not that Hermione read that tabloid trash).

Harry had certainly grown up from the little eleven-year-old boy she first met on the Hogwarts Express nine years ago. He now stood a respectable six feet high; towering over her small five foot, five inch frame (he still couldn't match Ron, though, who had him beat by four inches). He had also gained some impressive muscle, transforming him from the skinny boy of long ago. A few things remained unchanged; the infamous lightning bolt scar engraved on his forehead, his black-rimmed spectacles and the characteristic unruly mop of black hair atop his head among them.

Hermione knew many a witch who was entranced by his boyish good looks and charismatic charm. Harry never failed to be dateless and she was quite aware why. There was just some aspect about Harry that just drew you in; once captured, you were hooked for life. He was one of the bravest people she new, and one of the most selfless. He was always kind, loyal and a great confident whom Hermione knew she could tell anything.

Ron, on the other hand, was still the quick-tempered, punch-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy. He had calmed down considerably since Hogwarts and now held a job working for the Ministry of Magic in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hermione remembered all too well their final days of Hogwarts, when Ron was undecided about which career interested him. After a trip to the Ministry with his father that summer, Ron told Hermione and Harry he had found the perfect job. "Why on earth would you want to work there, Ron?" she had asked quizzically, "It's a very dangerous career." Ron had just laughed and replied, "I figured after all the creatures we've dealt with in Hagrid's class, I'm well-prepared to handle anything."

Hermione smiled at the memory. Ron had drastically changed in appearance as well. His tousled red hair, mischievous brown eyes, light freckles and charming smile made him quite the ladies man; like Harry, he had several girlfriends, but never a serious relationship. "There are too many women out there that haven't experienced Ronald Weasley yet for me to settle down, Herm," he had once told her.

Hermione was aware she had grown up too. Her bushy hair had tamed itself over the years of adolescence, and now tumbled over her shoulders in chestnut curls. She had grown up, but felt her curves and looks paled in comparison to most of the other women out there, despite the many protests by Ron and Harry that it was the other way around. Hermione had never been confident about her outward appearance; she solely trusted her intellect and wit.

"How about a trip to Wandy's in honor of your victory?" Ron's voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up at Harry, who nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan, mate. What do you think Herm?" he asked, turning to her.

"Splendid idea," she giggled, looping her arms through her two best friends'. "However, why don't we drop home quick and change? I hardly find Quidditch shirts to be proper club attire."

The two men laughed, and they Disapparated to their home.

The trio reappeared on the wooden stoop of their home at 73 Godric's Hollow. Harry had found the place after graduation and felt he could not afford to pass up such an opportunity. He invited Hermione and Ron to join him, and now they were residing in the two-story brick home.

Ron and Hermione dashed inside to change while Harry waited outside. Ron emerged minutes later in a crisp navy button-up and khaki slacks. Hermione appeared shortly after.

"Looking good, Herm," Ron whistled, eyes traveling the length of her body, clearly appreciating her choice of clothing.

Hermione blushed, making it a point to stare at the cobblestone sidewalk below. She had just thrown on the nearest thing she could find, flare jeans and a sleeveless peasant top with glittered stars scattered over the front. She only added a little lip gloss and let her hair down; Hermione did not understand what all the commotion was about.

"Ron and I are going to have to beat the men off you, Herm," Harry chuckled, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Hermione turned a deeper red hue. The two boys shared a laugh, and she forced herself to giggle. The three Disaparated to the entrance of the club.

The outside of Wandy's was lined with a queue of witches and wizards, all decked out in their stylistic clubbing wear. One couple wore matching sparkling silver robes that reminded Hermione of two disco balls.

Hermione frowned at the line that seemed to stretch on for eternity; she was sure it curved around several blocks, for she could not spot where it ended. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she grabbed Ron and Harry's arms, pulling them in the direction to search for the end.

"Herm, where are you taking us? The entrance is right here," Ron inquired, obviously puzzled by her actions.

"To the end of the line, Ron." Hermione sighed, already exasperated by the crowd and now Ron's tendency to question the obvious.

"No, we don't. Come on." He tugged her arm and headed in the direction Harry had just disappeared.

They paused briefly at the door; the bouncer recognized Harry immediately and opened the door, his gaze fixated on Harry's forehead.

Loud music pounded inside her eardrums, flashing lights assaulted delicate eyesight and the heat of moving bodies engulfed her. She followed Ron and Harry over to the bar, where they purchased three butterbeers. After four rounds, Ron had left with a cute witch, headed towards the dance floor. Hermione leaned on Harry's shoulder, inhaling his scent of fresh soap.

"Why aren't you dancing, Harry?" she asked, pushing her butterbeer away. She had begun to feel a tad tipsy, and if she knew the other two, which she did all too well, it would be up to her to return them safely to their beloved abode.

"No reason, really. What about you?" He shot back, peering at her over the rim of his glasses.

"Same. No reason."

"How about a dance then?" he asked while offering her his hand, grinning boyishly. Hermione smiled; Harry was just too sweet sometimes. She loved him dearly for it too, but in the strictly platonic sense. They had been through too much together; it would be like dating family.

He pulled her out onto the floor and began to twirl her about. They swung around to the music until someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He stopped and turned to face the intruder. A beautiful blonde witch smiled bewitchingly at him and asked Harry for a spin. He looked back at Hermione.

"Go ahead. I've had my fill of dancing."

She returned to the bar, perching on a stool. Instead of a butterbeer this time, she accepted a glass of ice water. Sipping the cool liquid, she watched all the couples on the dance floor and wished she could be a part of them. Sure, she had danced a few rounds with Harry, but it was not the same. She secretly envied those witches who had the undivided attention of their significant others.

Hermione had never dated much. At Hogwarts, she was tied up in her studies and aiding Harry in the battles against Lord Voldemort, who had vanished from the wizarding world after his last battle with Harry during the end of the trio's sixth year--he had yet to be spotted again. The wizarding world rejoiced, thinking He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone forever; Hermione, however, believed otherwise. She knew he had not simply disappeared; that just was not Voldemort's style. Keeping constant vigilance (as Mad-eye Moody had taught them in their fourth year), they remained in contact with Professor Dumbledore, prepared for anything and everything.

Shaking her head, she went back to musing about her love-life, or lack thereof. Work was exceptionally time-consuming as well, but there was that one cutie who worked in her department.....

"Pardon me, is this seat occupied?" a smooth voice slid into her thoughts, sending shivers up her spine and jerking her back to the blaring music and sporadic lights. She looked up from her glass, and into the depths of steel-gray eyes.

The man before her was nothing short of gorgeous; his blonde hair falling into his eyes, creating a you-know-I-am-sexy look. His facial features were straight off the cover of Witch Weekly's Top Ten Wizarding Wonders Issue. His body was carved like a Greek god's; with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest clearly outlined in the form fitting black turtle neck he wore. There was something familiar about him as well...

Forcing herself to close her gaping mouth, she shook her head.

"Thank you," he responded, motioning to the bartender to bring him a butterbeer.

"So, what is an enchanting witch like yourself doing sitting at the bar unaccompanied?" he inquired huskily, taking in her appearance.

"Just waiting on some friends to finish on the floor," she answered, eyes flickering to the mass of jiving bodies, briefly wondering where Ron and Harry had gone to. Probably in a corner snogging their new little friends she thought dryly.

While she was gazing out onto the floor, the man took the opportunity to admire her unnoticed. She was beautiful; with her curly locks and curvy figure. The enchantress before him was nothing short of a dream. Her cinnamon eyes turned back to him, halting his silent appraisal.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, just got off work and decided to grab a drink."

"You waited in that atrocious line outside just for a drink? There are plenty of other bars you could have gone to."

The blonde stranger smirked. "Let's just say I know the bouncer. Besides, if I had gone to another bar, would I have made the acquaintance of such a beautiful witch?"

Hermione giggled, blushing slightly. He thinks I'm beautiful...No one besides Harry and Ron has ever told me that...

"Well, in order to be acquainted, as you put it, one would have to know the other's name, would they not?" she asked gazing into his eyes.

"My, you are rather witty, aren't you? Yes, I do believe you're right."

The stranger stood up and took Hermione's hand in his. He paused briefly, as if pondering what to say, and then brought her palm to his lips. The kiss sent a wave of pleasure up her arm, and Hermione would have collapsed if she had not already been seated; for her knees had turned to jell-o, like some one had just place the Jelly-Legs Jinx on her.

"The name's Draco, luv. And yours?"

Draco. It couldn't be...No, he was never nice. It must be someone else who possesses the same name, she thought.

"Hermione." She whispered feeling flustered. It must be the butterbeer, she rationalized, yes, I've just had one drink too many.

"Enchanted," he whispered huskily, kissing her palm again, "Care to dance?"

Hermione gulped and mindlessly nodded, deprived of all thoughts of logic. All she could concentrate on was the tingly feeling inside. She allowed him to lead her on to the floor.

As they twirled, Hermione rested her head on his firm shoulder. He smelled of pine, like he had dwelled in a forest his whole life. She felt like she was living a dream, dancing with her prince charming....

"Well, if it isn't Potter and his current little tramp," she heard Draco growl.

That sounded exactly like Malfoy...Could it be?

Hermione pulled away from Draco, turning to face the spot his eyes were glaring at. There was Harry, and he had the same look of pure hatred reflected on his face.

Once Harry spotted Hermione, he abandoned his date and grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"Hermione, what are you doing with that slime, Malfoy?" He spat, angered that his best friend was dancing the night away with his sworn enemy.

"Malfoy?" she whispered in disbelief, looking at the man whose arms she had been wrapped pleasantly in just moments before.

His eyes widened, and then set back to his unnerving gaze.

"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood Granger," he drawled, "My, you certainly have grown up," he added looking her over, eyes lingering on certain places.

Stepping in front of Hermione, Harry whipped out his wand.

"I didn't even recognize you," Draco smirked, "Without that mass of tangles you called hair and those beaver teeth. I can see why you are so protective Potter. Granger's become quite adequate."

"Malfoy, how dare you! You're still the same bastard I remember."

"Tsk, tsk Potty. I have a father. You, on the other hand, can't say the same, having been brought up by filthy Muggles and all."

Harry growled at the sneering blonde, holding his wand threateningly under Draco's nose.

"Whatever you were trying to pull with Hermione, it ends now."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not finished with her." He flashed a charming smile in her direction. "No, this won't be the last meeting, luv."

"What's this?" Ron ran over, skidding to a stop when he spotted Draco.

"Malfoy!" he snarled, pointing his wand at the blonde. "What are you doing here, you stupid git?"

"Ah, and the pleasantries continue. Nice to see you too, Weasel." Draco cocked his head haughtily to the side, analyzing Ron.

"Haven't changed a bit, have you? Still playing Potty's shadow."

Ron joined Harry, shielding Hermione from Draco's prying eyes. The tension in the club grew thick; every person on the floor at stopped dancing and formed a circle around the four, watching in fascination. The spectators were very sure this tiff would turn out to be quite entertaining.

"Get him, Harry!" one wizard shouted, followed by a chorus of "Yea!"

"Well, Potter, it looks like these magical folk want a show. Are you up to the performance?" Draco ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione gulped; she could see Malfoy through the small gap between Harry and Ron's shoulders, and that little gesture just caused her heart to speed up dramatically. What is wrong with me? She wondered, disgusted at herself. He's about to hex and curse Ron and Harry, and all I can think about is how irresistible he looks...

However, Hermione's thoughts were cut short as "Rictusempra!" ripped through the air.

Harry was knocked in the stomach by a jet of silver light, sinking to his knees.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, whipping out her wand. "Don't move an inch, Malfoy! Or you'll be sorry!"

Draco's features turned to amusement. "Really? Well, give me your best sh--"

He was unable to finish his taunt, for Hermione had shouted "Expelliarmus!"

Draco's wand was torn from his grip as he flew and collided with the nearest wall; his wand settled right into Hermione's outstretched palm. She smiled triumphantly at him.

"That's what happens when you talk too much. It lets your guard down."

"A lesson well learned," his smooth voice returned, as if they were engaged in simple conversation and not a wizard's duel.

"Leave, Malfoy. You're not welcome here," Hermione declared, motioning to the angry group, ready to pounce on him for hurting The Boy Who Lived. Everyone in the crowd had their wands out, ready to hex him into next Tuesday.

Raising his hands in defeat, Draco backed up.

"Alright, I'll leave. Boring place, really...Now, if you'll kindly return my wand."

Hermione looked him in the eye, pondering whether or not this was some sort of trick. She decided he knew better; the odds were not in his favor, too many furious witches and wizards to deal with.

Tossing him his wand, she kept her gaze locked on his.

"Bye, luv." And with that, a cloud of smoke and a flash of sparks erupted around the former Slytherin. When the smoke cleared, Draco Malfoy was gone.

"Where'd the wanker disappear to? He must have done some flashy Disapparating spell," Ron gasped, bewildered.

"How many times do I have to tell you? You can't Apparate or Disapparate. Wandy's has protection spells on it, just like Hogwarts," Hermione answered exasperatedly.

She bent down to Harry's level. "We better get you home."

Ron and Hermione each grabbed hold of an arm, and hauled the fallen hero to his feet. Leaning on the two, Harry limped outside the club.

They Apparated onto the doorstep and went inside. Sitting Harry on the plush green sofa, Hermione went to the kitchen to retrieve some chocolate. She returned with a large bar and broke off a piece, handing it to Harry.

He swallowed the sweet candy, feeling his energy returning.

"I could have handled Malfoy, you know," he stated, leaning back on the sofa.

"I know Harry, but he wasn't playing fair. That hex came out of nowhere. There was no way you could have blocked it."

Ron slumped down beside the two. Everything was silent.

Hermione took this moment to survey their humble abode. White walls sparkled around her, shiny from her recent cleaning spree. Hunter green and scarlet striped wall paper stopped halfway up the wall, blocked by a wooden border that ran around the entire room.

Wizarding photographs lined the walls, some frames propped atop the wooden mantle over the fireplace. One photo had been taken on graduation day. The trio was squished together by the lake wearing their graduation robes, scarlet and gold for Gryffindor. Their faces were lit up in delight. The trio occasionally giggled, as Harry ruffled Hermione's hair and Ron tickled her sides.

The room was elegantly furnished, with wooden coffee and end tables. Two scarlet plush arm chairs sat in opposite corners. Antique lamps sat atop the end tables, illuminating the room. To the right of the front door lay a wooden stair case, which lead upstairs to the trio's bedrooms, bathrooms and guestrooms.

In the back corner, a small opening led to a spacious kitchen, with a dining room adjoined. On the opposite wall, a wooden door, shut tightly. Various trinkets and books lined the oak shelves that were sparsely scattered throughout the great room.

"Well, I don't know about you lot, but I'm hitting the sack. Got work bright and early tomorrow." Ron yawned, slowly rising from the sofa.

"'Night, Ron," Hermione and Harry chorused together.

Ron disappeared up the stairwell.

"I think I'll do some catching up in my study. We're very close you know." Hermione stood up, hauling Harry to his feet.

"The Flu Remedy again? You and your co-workers at the Department of Magical Ailment Researching have been slaving away at that for ages." Harry read her features, trying to find a hint of...anything. There was something slightly off about Hermione's work. She rarely discussed it; when she did it was the predictable "fine" and "We're getting close."

Harry only knew two things: Hermione was head of the department and they were working on some sort of flu remedy. His face became serious, and Hermione felt the heat from his intense stare.

Hermione turned away from his piercing gaze. "I feel it, Harry. We're close."

She moved to leave, but Harry caught her by the arm. "What were you doing dancing with Malfoy?"

Hermione gulped. She knew that topic would have been breached sooner or later. Shuffling her feet, she released a sigh.

"Harry," she began uncomfortably, looking away, "I was unaware it was him.

"Harry, that was very brave of you tonight. Was it just my impression, or did Malfoy seem a little...different to you? Dangerous, maybe?"

Harry put his hand to his chin. "If you mean he didn't appear like the spoiled little brat that used to cower behind Crabbe and Goyle, then I'd say you're rather accurate in that observation. But dangerous....it's a possibility. I'm not sure what he's capable of now, Herm. He seems to be...almost fearless."

"But he backed off when I had his wand," Hermione argued.

"Herm, I don't know what his motives were. It's best we just avoid confrontation for a while."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but decided to hold her tongue. Placing a kiss goodnight on his cheek, she ushered Harry up the stairs. Ascertaining that her best friends were upstairs and in their rooms, she crept to the wooden door in the back. Pulling a small silver key from her pocket she unlocked the door and slipped inside, locking it behind her.

End of Chapter One