A Real Keeper

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

A/N:

Alt. timeline. Assume Voldy snuffed it at the end of Fourth year and that Dumbledore, due to his injuries, has retired from the world at large. Confidentially, it might have had to do with his fanatical ravings that someone named Tom Riddle would return from beyond the grave and destroy the Magical World. Yes, here it is a load of tosh.

Umbitch isn't teaching (though this is set in Fifth year) because she was involved with Voldy's premature bid for power at the end of Fourth year. As I understand it, the Dementors refuse to actually consume her soul. They extract it, drain it a bit, and then let it return to her haggard body. Then they do it again and again and again...

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"I'll be playing for the Slytherin match, Herms." Ron declared loudly as he buzzed about through the air.

He added a poorly executed loop which he thought was awe inspiring but Hermione thought it looked more like he lost control of his broom.

"Lucky break the first stringer caught a case of Dragon Pox," he chortled.

Angelina palmed her face as she considered how abysmal Ron's keeping had been lately.

"You're not doing anything important, right? 'Course you're not, just studying, innit? Then you can give me a hand with my practice. Harry and Angelina are doing seeker drills and I want you to make some shots at the goal for me."

"I don't play Quidditch, Ron. I'm a Quidditch spectator, not a player.

"Come ON, 'ermione. Just because you can barely stay on a broom doesn't mean you can't do something useful and help me practice.

"There's NO WAY I would get on a broom just to help YOU practice Quidditch." She went back to watching Harry's Seeker practice.

Two minutes later, Harry and Angelina Johnson dropped down into the bleachers where Hermione was sitting. Hermione immediately stood up and moved closer to Harry. "Done already? That was quick."

Harry smiled at her. She was right. They were ending early, but Angelina was the only one left on the team who was really qualified to put him through his paces. Spotting the snitch was one thing, but competing against another skilled flyer to catch it was what made the difference between a mediocre seeker and a great seeker. Angelina had spared him all the time she could, but it was her NEWT year and she was behind. "Angelina has her NEWTs to prepare for. I can't in good conscience ask for anymore of her time. Her test scores are important."

Hermione smiled in approval. That was exactly the sort of work ethic she had been trying to instill in him for years. She was immensely proud and gratified the she had finally succeeded. Then Harry let the other shoe drop.

"Nobody else on the team is capable enough on a broom to help me practice. I was wondering if you might be willing to fill in for Angelina. Sort of a mid-game substitution."

"Me? Square off against you as a seeker? Do I need to remind you how little I enjoyed flying about on a broom back in first year?"

Harry had been expecting that response. "Do I need to remind you of the number of times you asked me for flying lessons back in third year or the number of times we practiced out-running a dragon in fourth year?"

Ron had noticed their conversation and had flown close enough to make out most of what they were saying. "You took lessons from Harry! You told me you were scared of heights when I offered to teach you!" Ron was angry at the perceived sleight.

Annoyance in her voice, he cheeks flushing angrily red, she responded, "No, I said I was scared of falling off of those rickety school brooms when you asked."

Not one to back down, Ron continued. "How could you ask Harry for flying lessons when you turned me down!?"

"Harry's a better flyer than you."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is not!"

"Is so!"

"Is not times 10!"

"Is so times infinity!

Ron didn't know how to respond to that. He'd never gotten this far in any of his arguments with Ginny before Mum made them stop arguing. Besides, he wasn't sure what 'finny tea' had to do with anything.

Sensing victory, Hermione moved in the for the kill. "Plus Harry had his own broom. At the very least, barring death eater hijinx, I was certain it wouldn't fall out from under me. Add on top of that the fact that he was the youngest seeker in a century and on the House Quidditch team and it makes perfect sense that I asked him to teach me."

"But-"

"But nothing. Why are you so fixated on the fact that I asked Harry to teach me how to fly better?"

Ron's eyes darkened as his eyelids narrowed. Harry could have almost sworn he heard Ron's teeth grinding together. "If you don't want my help, then you can just go off and rot," the redhead barked as he turned to fly off.

Hermione, not in a mood to let Ron get the last word in, yelled after him. "I DON'T want your help. From what I can tell, you can barely handle your own broom, let alone teach me."

Ron's face flamed an even more intense shade of red. He looked toward Harry and Angelina expecting some team solidarity; none was forthcoming. "Fine, you bunch of traitors, then you all can go rot. I'm leaving!" Ron raced away in a huff.

Angelina palmed her face. "Great. Just great. Now I'm out my backup keeper. With my first string keeper still laid up with Dragon Pox, what am I going to do?" She looked at Hermione.

"What are you looking at me for?"

Harry was looking at Hermione as well.

"Harry, I… Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. I am not playing as your keeper."

"It's just for one game. Plus, I know you can fly. You were brilliant back in forth year."

"That's because you were there and because you lent me your broom. I've never flown so well since then."

"Have you flown at all since then?" Harry asked knowingly.

Hermione had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Well, no, but-"

"See! I told you she could do it," Harry enthused.

"Excuse me if I don't quite share your enthusiasm. I believed you when you said she could make an adequate spare seeker, but a keeper?"

"Trust me, Angelina. She'll be a natural. All she has to do is basically keep her broom in front of the goals. They aren't even that high. Add a few really strong cushioning charms to the area beneath the goals and she'll be as steady as Wood ever was."

"I'll have you know that I haven't agreed to any of this," Hermione crisply reminded.

"YOU just lost me my keeper. I think that makes it your responsibility. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would agree."

"Professor McGongall?"

"Yes, our head of house. She's been quite vociferous about winning the cup this year."

Hermione gulped and fidgeted slightly as she considered what might happen to her if the Gryffindor team had to forfeit the upcoming match.

Harry put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "I'll train her. Wood and I worked together a lot whenever he practiced and none of the regular chasers where around."

"See that you do a good job, Potter. We have some extra gear in the locker room. Get her kitted out while I hit the books. Remember, you're my deputy. If things aren't ship shape by next practice, I'll hang you by your toes WITHOUT magic. Clear?"

"Crystal," Harry replied. He just barely refrained from snapping off a smart salute.

Hermione couldn't believe this was happening. In the space of not even 20 minutes, she'd gone from a spectator to a player."

"Come on, 'Mione. You heard the captain. Let's get you kitted out first and then we can try some drills."

Still in shock, Hermione barely registered Harry had situated her on his broomstick until he kicked up off the ground. Instinct took over and she gave a little 'eek' and then clutched him tightly.

%%%%%%%

"Sorry that there aren't any jerseys in your size Hermione. We can get you one in your size and with your name on the back by game day, I'm almost sure."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Harry. The chances of me actually playing are-"

"-Pretty good, actually. Ron's in a royal snit now and he wasn't doing very well to begin with. That's why he's the second string rather than the first. He's got some talent, but he's pants at keeping most of the time. Our first string keeper is definitely out of the game for another 3 or 4 weeks, so I don't think you can count on him. Really, you're our only hope."

"I just can see how that can be. Seamus or Dean must be better players."

"If you mean better beaters than you, then yes, I agree. But I've seen them playing pickup Quidditch. They're awful in comparison. I've seen you on a broom, Hermione. I know you can do this."

Hermione face took on a softer cast. "You know I hate to disappoint you, Harry, but-"

But Hermione never got a chance to finish her thought. Harry, who had been rooting around a cupboard, had stood up with a yell of triumph. "AHA! Found it. I thought I had my old Jerseys around here somewhere."

"Old jerseys?"

"Yup. I figured since we didn't have any in your size, then one of my old ones might fit you. That is, if that's alright with you?"

She gazed at the smaller jersey being held lightly in his hands. It was still in good condition. It looked as if had just been made yesterday. Harry certainly knew how to take good care of his clothing; a valuable skills when the only Muggle clothes you get are second hand. The name Potter shone gold against the Gryffindor crimson.

She reached out to take it into her hands.

Harry smiled. I think that one should fit you. "I still have all my old Jerseys. The rest of the team gave them out as souvenirs to fans, but I'd had enough of the fangirls from the whole BWL thing. Here, try it on."

She had a powerful urge to do just that. But wait, all? She wondered. "Harry, did you just say you have all your old jerseys?

"Yeah, except for the one you're currently holding. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. But this does lead me to question everything else Ginny has ever told me. 'a gift from Harry', my foot!

XXXXXXXXXXX

Omake:

"Is not times 10!"

"Is so times 11!"

"IS no-wait, what!?"

IS so times infinity! So there!