Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

40. The S.P.E.W.

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter, Y/N was glad of its fires and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. The Beaubatonx caravan was likely to be pretty chilly, too.

But as for now, Y/N sat in Great Hall with Hermione, Harry and Ron. As he glanced over Hermione's shoulder, trying to get a peek of what was in the Daily Prophet, he fiddled with the tiny little beast that tried to get a bite of his bacon.

Harry swallowed a toast. "Y/N, did your egg make a racket when you opened it, too?"

He stopped glancing over Hermione's shoulder—he couldn't see anything; her hair got into view however he tried—and rubbed his ear. He could still hear that loud and screechy wailing. "Yes. It woke up everyone in the common room."

He took a bite of his eggs, cut a bit of bacon for the tiny little dragon, and turned to Ron. "So, if I got it, you've changed your mind?"

"I reckon you have to be barking mad to put your own name in the Goblet of Fire," Ron said, staring at his plate.

Harry translated into proper English, "It means yes."

"Anyway," Ron said, "you know what? After what you've both done, I reckon one of you could win this tournament. I'm serious. Cedric and Fleur got thirty-five points each, and you two and Krum got forty. There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous; how could they be?"

Without looking away from the Daily Prophet, Hermione said, "Y/N and Harry have got a long way to go before they finish this tournament. If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next. Look at what they got; Harry sprained his wrist and Y/N's arm broke again."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" Ron said. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime. Don't you think, Harry? Harry?"

Y/N stopped staring at the dragon eating—he really should find her a name—and looked at Harry, who was looking at something behind him. He was so focused he forgot he was drinking and spilt pumpkin juice all over his robes.

Y/N grinned. "Let me guess. Cho?"

But before Harry could show the smallest sign of embarrassment, Hermione hit the Daily Prophet on the table. "Look at this! I can't believe it! She's done it again!"

Ron leant over the table and whispered to Y/N, "If she goes on hitting the newspaper each time Skeeter write something, it's going to become a habit."

Ron raised his glass to his lips as Hermione read, "Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the champion Y/N L/N. No word yet on what he thinks of it."

Before she had finished, Ron had already spilt half of his water around and burst out laughing.

"At least, we've learnt one thing; I'm famous," Y/N said, picking up a toast. "William must've laughed this morning."

Next moment, a Gryffindor first year arrived, holding a big cardboard box. "Parcel for you, Mr Weasley."

"Oh, thank you, Nigel," Ron said.

He took the box, and began to open it. Just behind him, Nigel waited, looking intently at Harry. Hermione cleared her throat, and Ron noticed him.

"Um, not now, Nigel," Ron said. "Later. Go on."

Looking disappointed, Nigel went away.

Hermione frowned at Ron.

"I—I told him I'd get him Harry's autograph," Ron explained, a little embarrassed.