The soldier and the book worm. (Hermione x male reader)

Game time

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Y/n enjoyed the jovial mood his friends were in. They walked through the woods for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Y/n could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have gotten anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again. . . bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"My lord!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets, seeing Y/n's on there. "Do you need assistance finding your seat?"

"No, thank you. Mr. Weasley and all here are with me." Y/n spoke, smiling as the Ministry witch saw them through.

"If I may ask Y/n? Where...?" Mr. Weasley prompted as they entered the stadium. Y/n smirked, replying with a cheeky tone. "You'll see."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Harry, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Harry's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

Y/n scanned the box, they were to be seated near the Minister, and Y/n could already count the lacklustre security detail that absently stood or sat throughout the box. Y/n's own retinue sat, not looking out of place, in a similar scattering. The only indication that they were in communication was the 'radio' chatter Y/n subtly kept tabs on. Their telepathic communication was concise, and secure. Far more secure than what the Ministers Aurors were able to put up. Y/n stroked his chin pensively, his mind dawdling on the fact he had yet to name his armed forces. His pensive thoughts were only broken by a series of squeaking noises that he realised was speech.

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry and Y/n, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like old friends. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.