Everyone was laughing at her. Again.

Hermione was sick of this. Every time Quidditch was mentioned she was excluded or ridiculed.

Just because she'd had different priorities at school didn't mean she was uninterested in the sport. She'd only missed matches when she was in the hospital wing. Her history of dating Viktor Krum, Cormac McLaggen, Ron Weasley and Oliver Wood should show that she wasn't completely averse to the sport.

Puberty hadn't exactly been her friend. Dizziness and growth spurts gave her a few balance problems until everything settled down. During her teenage years, taking her hand off the broom to handle anything had made her feel she was about to fall. Vertigo on a broomstick was not fun. She'd never felt able to relax and enjoy herself.

Now, she could sit quite comfortably on a broom. She actually really enjoyed it. The rush of the speed, the wind in her hair, going fast enough to produce tears from her eyes. These were all things she loved about being on a broom.

Peals of laughter broke through the room again. Ginny played Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies while Ron played Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. They'd been discussing the Montrose Magpie's problems with keeping a decent Seeker. So much so they'd announced open tryouts for three weeks time.

All she said was maybe she'd tryout. Of course, she could never be anything other than a bookworm know-it-all to them. She'd show them. She'd make the team. She'll make them eat their words.

Later that day, she sent off an order for a brand new Lightningbolt. The successor to the Firebolt had been dedicated to Harry. He owned one that she'd ridden a time or two. She liked the feel of it. She found the handle easier to grip than some.

When her broom arrived, she'd already made her plan. Near her childhood home was a large forest with a huge clearing she had loved to play in as a child. She'd often camped in it. She Apparated to a spot close to it and made her way closer on foot. It's exactly the way she remembered it

No one was there. Nothing stirred in the forest. She pulled out her wand and began casting protection spells.

She hadn't brought them here when they were on the run. She couldn't bear to taint her place of fun and imagination with memories of war.

As a child, her favourite game here had been pretending she was a witch. Hermione smiled to herself as she's reminded of the memories of that little girl who would run around the clearing holding a large stick between her legs. She'd pretend she could fly on a broom.

If only her younger self had known it really was possible. She gripped her broom, mounting it. She felt her inner child giggle as she kicked off.

Hermione felt her braid slap against her back as it's buffeted by the air that rushes past her. She's never tested a broom to its full limits before.

Hermione told no one what it was that was occupying her time over the next three weeks. They assumed she's lost herself in some new research project. They weren't completely wrong.

Hermione spent every spare moment on her makeshift Quidditch pitch.

By the time the day of the try-outs comes around she feels ready.

Hermione knows she's good.

She pulled on her generic Quidditch leathers, tightly braided her hair, and collected her broom before Apparating to the stadium.

There must have been nearly a hundred witches and wizards queueing to sign up. The witch she gave her name to did a double take. She's used to it now. With her hair braided back, she isn't instantly recognisable to most people. She preferred it that way.

The first round was some basic drills. Each of them was given a number to pin to their back as they fly. She smirked as she gets number seven. The number she hopes to fly with on the team.

The stadium is limited access during tryouts, but of course Harry, Ginny, Ron and George are there. When they spot her they started laughing. She grinned and waved at them. This is the last time they'll laugh at her Quidditch skills.

Behind one-way smoky glass, a blonde woman with crystal blue eyes, smiled with delight as she spotted the witch. Her eyes remained fixed on her as she excels in the basic drills and advanced drills progressing to the final sixteen.

Harry and the others knew Hermione could probably cope with the basic drills. Despite their teasing, they hoped she wouldn't make a fool of herself. The few reporters who were there had been watching her eagerly, quills going mad when she first stepped out.

They watched in awe as she made it through the both the basic and advanced drills with ease.

"She's been practising," Harry said to the others as they watch her dive and pull up at the last second, toes skimming the ground.

Ron and Ginny nod as they watch her loop.

"She's... good," George said incredulous. "When did that happen?"

"I think we know what the "research project" she's been so busy with over the last few weeks," Ron chuckled.

The last sixteen is a knock out stage. They're paired up with their closest remaining number, the Golden Snitch is released, the one who catches it stays the one who misses has to leave.

The stadium watched with bated breath as Hermione and her partner are last to go. Most of the eliminated have chosen to stay and watch. Overall roughly a thousand people are in the stadium watching.

As each pair stepped onto the pitch, their names were announced. Hermione awaited the inevitable reaction her name will arouse in the crowd. She gripped her broom tighter, nerves fluttering in her stomach as she looked at her rival. He's bulkier than she is, which might give her the advantage but she's never raced someone else for the snitch before.

It's time. The announcer is saying her name and she's stepping out.

Silence descended on the stadium before whispering broke out. When the crowd saw that it is in fact THE Hermione Granger, the war hero, they goes crazy. She mounted her broom blushing a little at the cheers as her rival glanced at her nervously, now taking seriously the small woman he was paired to race.

Narcissa crossed her fingers discreetly in the folds of her robes. She's supposed to be an impartial witness here, at the team she owns. The terms of her investment don't allow her to make player decisions. She has one clause she can use to make changes to the management team. If today goes the way she wants it too, she will enact it.

On the blow of the whistle they took off. Moments later a second blow announces the snitch has been released from one of four points around the stadium. Her focus narrowed as the crowd fell away, she's barely aware of her rival as she scanned the stadium. She saw it, her rival is closer but hasn't noticed. She floated towards him, carefully trying not to arouse his suspicions. She keeps the Snitch in the corner of her eye as she moves. Once she's in a more advanced position she lurched forward, using every ounce of speed her broom has to offer. Before he's had time to do much more than spin his broom in the right direction, the ball is in her fist. She raised it in the air, the same way she watched Harry do so on so many occasions.

The crowd went wild. She looked at her friends to see them cheering. She's made the final eight.

Her second catch was easier than the first. The little golden ball flew right past her face, she caught it seconds later. She's in the final four.

The next one was a little trickier. She had to race the pitch length for this one. Her opponent spotted it first. She placed her whole body down on the broom making herself as streamlined as possible to reduce drag. It helped. She stretched her arm out towards the Snitch her fingers grip the small ball as her opponent's hand flails to try to reach it first. She's in the final two.

She can't look towards her friends. She can't. She honestly hadn't expected to get this far. She wanted it. She just hadn't thought it was possible. Her final opponent has played Quidditch at a professional level. He's looking to move teams.

He tried chatting her up but she brushed him off. Not interested in his devious scheme to throw her off.

They step out on the pitch for the final round. After this, the one with the ball will be offered a spot on the team. The other might get a reserve position.

She mounted her broom taking off at the whistle. This opponent was different. She can tell the difference between someone who had already played professionally and someone who only aspired too. He's more comfortable on the broom. He made fewer unnecessary movements. There's a stillness that reminded her of a coiled spring. She saw it first. She hesitated not wanting to give him an advantage. Her second cost her as he darts off. She's right behind him but that's the last place she wanted to be.

They're neck and neck as they are led into a dive. She accelerated into the dive causing him to do a double take. She skimmed the ground rolling the broom so she's flying sideways. She pulled herself upright as she stared down at her fist incredulous.

She did it. She caught it. Her rival is staring at her as if she's lost her mind.

"You went from that dive into flying sideways? Are you insane? A move like that could kill you," he shouted.

"But it didn't. Also, I caught the Snitch," she shouted back over the noise of the crowd. He flew away from her shaking his head.

She landed at the edge of the pitch as the rest of the team surrounded her.

Up behind the glass the owner grinned proudly. She turned to the club manager.

"You'll sign her yes?" She asks.

"Oh yes. After a move like that I'd sign her even if she missed it," he laughed. "She's a little rough around the edges, we may have to get a coach just to work with her but there's so much potential."

"What about my son? He could coach the girl," Narcissa suggests.

"You get him to the pitch and we'll take him," the manager knew he had no choice. She can add whatever staff she likes. He's not averse to having the boy there, so he's not inclined to make a fuss.

He hurried down to the pitch to welcome the girl. He pulled out the contract. She sank to the grass to read it fully. Once she's read it twice, she took the offered quill.

The manager was grinning from ear to ear. Raw talent and a war hero? Today couldn't possibly get any better.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and George are waiting just off the pitch for her.

Harry is the first to hug her.

"You definitely proved us wrong," Harry chuckled by her ear. "You'll have to teach me that side flying move." Harry said pulling away.

Ginny was there next.

"Me too, me too," Ginny bounced on her heels. Hermione laughed.

"Technically, you're the competition now."

"I'll teach you once she teaches me," Harry winked at Ginny making her blush a little. They may have decided a relationship just wouldn't work, that doesn't mean the attraction and the fire are lost. Hermione suspected there was more going on there.

Hermione spent the next two hours being interviewed by the press and filling out yet more paperwork. She's surprised at her starting salary. She'd been expecting much less. So much so that she checked with the assistant that was sorting the paperwork.

By the time she returned to her flat, she's long overdue a shower.

She rinsed out her hair thinking about tomorrow. Her first team practice and hopefully a chance to meet her new coach.