AN #2: Harry Potter's world belongs to JK Rowling. I only write using it to improve my own writing skills. Nor do I own Much Ado About Nothing. However, Danielle Varens is all MINE, and I reserve the right to use her however I wish.
Draco stared at her after she finished telling him her plan.
"How the hell did you end up in Gryffindor?"
Varens laughed.
"I got mad skillz, yo!" She slid her hands together before her nose. "Hollaaaaaa!"
The waves kept time against the wood.
Draco leaned away from her.
She sighed, her smile slipping away, and scrubbed at her face with her palms.
"We've got some work to do."
He arched an eyebrow at her, refusing to move any closer.
"Don't be afraid, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes, leaning back on her arms. They were sitting on the end of the dock, their jeans rolled up, dangling their feet in the chill water. "You'll have to get used to it if you want to get in with Granger. It's called a friendly display of insanity, and it's one of the many ways in which Gryffindors express their affection."
Draco's eyes widened and he felt the blood drain from his face.
Varens bit at her lips, not making any real effort to conceal her unholy delight.
What had he gotten himself into?
~*~
Their fits and giggles finally subsided and they fell silent, leaning against each other in the doorway. The hallway was deserted and the flagstones were cold under their bums, but neither one noticed. They were comfortable together, for awhile.
Hermione glanced over at Harry to find his gaze distant, the mirth having melted from his visage.
She watched as his eyes flicked down, then to the upper left hand corner of his gaze, and then to the upper right. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he was thinking about.
She fidgeted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, jostling Harry with her shoulder.
He blinked and pulled himself more upright, turning to smile at her.
She returned the smile.
Harry heaved himself to his feet with a groan and then offered her his hand, helping her up.
They stood there a moment, turned half away from each other, as silence reigned.
"I'm not Benedick," Harry finally spoke turning fully away. "I'm Claudio."
~*~
Harry didn't care what Hermione said about Varens. She was still a bitch, she was still a shrew, and she was still late for practice yet again. By all rights, he should kick her off the team. He really, really should.
His eyes seized on her and narrowed as she strolled onto the pitch, her third generation Firebolt slung casually over her shoulder. The bint hadn't even bothered to put on Quidditch robes, for Merlin's sake! She was bare-foot, in low-slung jeans and a t-shirt that was so tight it might as well not exist. She'd freeze! Of all the arrogance...!
"Sorry, I'm late," she drawled, studying her nails as she reached Harry. "Captain." Her icy eyes met his, and an eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. He was further infuriated.
"Laps, Varens!" he snapped, gesturing to the rest of the team as they played tag on their brooms in the air above them. "You have held everyone up. So you will do laps for thirteen minutes after practice. On your time. For the next three practices."
The blonde bit of trouble shrugged, and his eyes were drawn to the bare skin around her navel that the gesture revealed. He considered reprimanding her for that stupidity as well, but decided that her immune system would scold right enough by failing on her.
Why didn't he end all of his troubles and kick the harridan off the team again?
Harry scowled as he released the balls from the chest and took off into the atmosphere, settling in to watch for the telltale flash of gold and weaknesses in his team.
Ginny dropped below Kim to receive the Quaffle, the exchange quick. Harry nodded curtly. If he hadn't known that the red ball was supposed to be changing hands at that moment, he would not have noticed. This was part of their new strategy.
Ron blocked as Ginny tried to score with the tail of his broom.
A bludger flew at Kim and he held his breath.
But Varens, as always, appeared, knocking the offending enchanted attacker clear across the pitch to where her counterpart, Dean Thomas, waited to bat it into a member of any other theoretical team they played.
Harry frowned.
Oh, yeah.
That's why he couldn't expel her from the team.
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