As before, italicized portions are direct quotes from Order of the Phoenix being used in the story.

Andrea stepped through the portrait hole on Friday afternoon by herself. She was glad that the first week of lessons was finally over. She flopped into one of the comfy armchairs by a window out of Gryffindor Tower. A tiny, sparkling blue pixie flitted over to where Andrea was sitting and landed on her knee. “Hello Flet,” Andrea said affectionately to the happy creature.

Flet was a loyal, sweet natured, though a bit dimwitted fairy who’d followed Andrea home from the woods near her home a couple of summers ago, and Andrea took her around everywhere with her since then. Flet was only about as tall as Andrea’s pointer finger was long, but she was good for a laugh and could lend a listening ear when Andrea felt like just talking without having to respond or listen, just to clear her head.

Looking out the window she could see a few people making their way to the Quidditch pitch and remembered that it must be for tryouts for the house team. With Oliver Wood gone Gryffindor needed a new Keeper. She looked up when someone dropped into the chair next to her. It was Edward, but her brother was nowhere to be seen. This was a rarity as they were nearly inseparable while at Hogwarts.

“Where’s Roderick?”

“Don’t know, we were walking back here from Charms and then the next moment he was gone.”

“That’s very interesting; same story between Sophie and I on the way back from Arithmancy.”

“Young love. . . What say we go out and watch the house team tryouts?”

“I’m down. Just let me grab a cloak.”

After they fetched their cloaks, they left the common room, Flet zooming along with them, went into the Great Hall to grab something to take with them, and then left the castle, walking across the grounds. It was just a bit windy and crisp so they were glad for their cloaks. Passing the lake, they heard the footfalls of someone running behind them. A moment later the person was right next to them.

It was Neal Thatcher. “Hello Andrea, Edward. Mind if I join you? I guess you’re going to the pitch, right?” He smiled.

Edward didn’t answer, but waited to let Andrea, giving her a look that said it was up to her. She didn’t even really think about it, but simply nodded and smiled back at Neal. Even taking into consideration all that had happened between them, she did enjoy his friendship and wanted to reforge it.

When they got to the Quidditch pitch, they made their way up into the stands. Angelina Johnson was just finishing up giving instructions to the team and the prospective new members, letting them know just how it was going to work and what she expected out of the new Keeper. There were a few other small groups of their fellow Gryffindors scattered around the stands, watching and supporting their friends. There was also a group that looked horribly like the Slytherin Quidditch team, except that there were only six people, not -

“Hello Andrea,” came a somewhat familiar drawl behind them. Neal and Edward both turned their heads to see who it was, Andrea was a little slower about it. Her stomach plummeted when she saw that it was indeed who she dreaded: Draco Malfoy.

“Hello,” she said, and all three of the Gryffindors turned back around. Andrea was now wishing that Edward had been sitting next to her instead of on the row right in front of her and Neal because Draco Malfoy took the opportunity to sit on the bench next to her.

“Shame Potter couldn’t be here with the rest of his team. Bet he’s still recovering from that punch you dealt him. My compliments,” Draco laughed.

“He got detention from Umbridge. It had nothing to do with me,” Andrea corrected.

“Ah, well, no matter. Listen, I’ve got to catch up with the rest of my team, but we’ll chat later.”

Andrea didn’t say anything as he left, and once he was well out of earshot she groaned audibly. Neal and Edward tried not to laugh too loudly. “Please you two, you’re only making it worse.”

“What, it’s not our fault that you hit Potter and caught Malfoy’s attention by doing it. Guess you should have thought of the repercussions before you hit him next time,” Ed grinned.

“Hey, I only hit him once. It’s not like I’m going to make a habit of it,” Andrea protested.

“I think we’ll have to keep our wits about us to make sure we don’t anger Benning too much, Neal, I hear she can deal a mean shiner,” Edward said in a loud whisper to Neal and they both laughed.

“Angelina’s the new Quidditch team captain this year,” Andrea stated. “This is me ignoring you by the way.”

“Oh, who is that out there trying to keep? He’s horrid,” Neal exclaimed as they watched Katie Bell score no less than seven times against him.

The next person was rather good. “Do either of you know who that is?” Andrea asked.

“I think it might be Vicky Frobisher,” Edward guessed.

They watched another person, not quite as good as Vicky, but almost. “That looks like Geoffrey Hooper,” Neal said. He only missed one goal.

One of the last people to have a go at keeping the rings had flaming red hair. They needn’t inform each other that it was Ronald Weasley. He was just about as good as Frobisher and Hooper, though not quite. He looked like he was only missing out of nerves, and actually did put out a few clever saves, though he missed a few as well.

After everyone had taken their chance at keeping, the hopefuls stood around the bases of the various rings while the team went into the locker room to discuss who should be chosen. Ten minutes later, everyone was gathered around the doors to the locker room, waiting for the announcement. Angelina led the team out, and everyone immediately grew silent.

“You all did a good job tonight out there, and so we want to congratulate you all and thank you for coming out tonight. After much deliberation, we’ve made our decision.” She paused, and the anticipation was almost palpable. She smiled as she announced, “The new Gryffindor Keeper is Ron Weasley!”

There were cheers, some sighs of defeat and groans of frustration, and then the terrible laughter of the Slytherins. They were the first to leave the pitch and head back toward the castle. Edward maneuvered his way over to Katie Bell and they soon left as well with some of the other sixth years. Andrea left, growing curious to see if Sophie and Roderick were back at the Gryffindor common room yet or not. She cast one last look over to the team, looking to see if George was still there, and he was. She left the pitch, in a rather good mood though she was by herself, with only Flet for company, but she liked it that way sometimes. But it all changed as she rounded the corner of the stands.

Draco Malfoy was standing there alone. He smiled when he saw it was her. “Can I walk you back to the castle?”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself thanks,” she stated flatly.

“Excellent, then you can walk me,” he replied, and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Can’t you just imagine our children, years from now? They’ll be out there trying out for the house team, totally outshining everyone else on the field. . .” he trailed off.

“Excuse me,” Andrea shook his arm off of her and started to walk faster, Draco matching her strides. “When you say ‘our children’ do you mean that you will have children and I will have children, or do you mean offspring of you and me together?”

“The latter, of course,” he smiled lazily, winking at her.

Andrea came to an abrupt halt. “You are completely insane! The chance of you and I having children is one in a billion, and you want to know why? It’s because my feelings towards you are almost that of loathing!!!”

“I’ll take those odds; I like a good challenge,” he smiled wider at her look of disgust. “Besides, we already have one thing in common: our mutual dislike for Potter.”

“You are very mistaken. I respect Harry quite a lot.”

“Enough to punch him?” he laughed.

“I’m going to punch you if you don’t leave me alone right now!” she yelled at him.

“I’ve got to get back to the other Slytherins anyway. We’ll speak again soon.”

“I hope not,” she mumbled. After he’d jogged off, she started ranting to Flet, who was appropriately angry enough for the both of them. “Can you believe him? Absurd! Me? The wife of that boarish, brainless. . . Madame Malfoy, can’t you just see it? Madame Malfoy, his little wife. No sir, not me, I guarantee it.” Flet was zooming around, showing her indignation at the whole affair.

“I know,” Andrea said. “He’s completely mental, not to mention self-centered and prideful.”

She noticed that Neal running towards her from the Quidditch Pitch, so she waited for him to catch up before going back to the castle. When he reached her, he noticed something was definitely bothering her.

“What’s brewing in that head of yours?” he asked.

“Draco Malfoy just let me know that he and I are going to be having children,”

Neal tried to hold in the laughter, but he couldn’t. It burst forth like a gale of wind.

“It’s NOT funny,” Andrea stated.

He nodded vigorously and barely managed to blurt, “yes, it is,” amidst his laughing.

“I suppose it is a bit funny,” she conceded. Neal kept laughing, and she couldn’t help but join him.

~*~*~

Page 276

“Come here, Ron, and see if Oliver’s old robes fit you,” called Katie Bell. “We can take off his name and put yours on instead. . . .”

As Ron moved away, Angelina came striding up to Harry.

“Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier, Potter,” she said abruptly. “It’s stressful, this managing lark, you know, I’m starting to think I was a bit hard on Wood sometimes.” She was watching Ron over the rim of her goblet with a slight frown on her face.

“Look, I know he’s you best mate, but he’s not fabulous,” she said bluntly. “I think with a bit of training he’ll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players. I’m banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better this evening, but Hooper’s a real whiner, he’s always moaning about something or other, and Vicky's involved in all sorts of Societies, she admitted herself that if training clashed with her Charm Club she’d put Charms first. I really wish that one of the Bennings had come out for the team, they’re some of the best flyers I’ve ever seen.”

“The Bennings?” Harry interrupted. His distaste for Andrea grew a little more at Angelina wishing she’d come out for the spot Ron had just earned.

“Yeah, those kids were raised to be Quidditch players. Didn’t you know Roderick and Andrea’s father is the Head of the British and Irish Quidditch League? He and his wife were on competing teams in the World Cup Game in 1977, knocked each other off their brooms in a mid air collision and fell in love from there. Their grandparents on their mum’s side are Rudolph Brand and Gwendolyn Morgan, you read that bit about them in ‘Quidditch Through The Ages’ didn’t you? Roderick is named for the Tornados’ seeker from the 1920s, Roderick Plumpton. They have loads of players from the League over at their house all the time. My family lives nearby them in Kent, we all grew up together. Anyway we’re having a practice session at two o’clock tomorrow, so just make sure you’re there this time. And do me a favor and help Ron as much as you can, okay?”

He nodded and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Harry moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as he put down his bag. Looking around the common room, he couldn’t spot either of the Bennings. He actually thought Roderick was a pretty decent chap, but Thursday’s Potions class kind of ruined his opinion of Andrea.

“Oh, Harry, it’s you. . . . Good about Ron, Isn’t it?” she said blearily. “I’m just so - so - so tired,” she yawned. “I was up until one o’clock making more hats. They’re disappearing like mad!”

And sure enough, now that he looked, Harry saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally pick them up.

“Great,” said Harry distractedly; he wanted to tell someone his thoughts about what Angelina had just told him about wishing a Benning had come to try out, but he knew Hermione wasn’t the one to discuss it with. Besides, he had slightly more pressing matters on his mind; if he did not tell somebody soon, he would burst. “Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge’s office and she touched my arm . . .”

~*~*~

The next morning at breakfast, Harry was eating some kippers and toast with Fred and George who were pouring over notes related to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He was not looking forward to the mountains of homework he had left to complete. He just hoped he’d be able to manage it, what with Snape’s detention later that evening.

As if on cue, someone tapped him on the shoulder, and that someone was Andrea Benning, the reason he was serving detention, though Snape would gladly take any reason to make him miserable.

“What do you want Benning?” he huffed, glaring at her.

“Woah there Potter,” she responded. “I’m just passing along Snape’s instructions. Dungeons at seven o’clock.”

“Thanks for the excellent news,” he barked.

“My pleasure,” she rolled her eyes, then turned on her heel and left. Ron and Hermione joined him, in a bit of a row about something, but Harry could’ve cared less.

“Listen, Harry,” Fred leaned forward, putting down his clipboard.

“We wanted to ask you something about Benning,” George had a smug look on his face, as did Fred.

“What?” he grunted.

“Why did she hit you? She said you made her angry, but she didn’t tell us why.”

“I made her angry? That’s rich. She’s the one who laid into me about how I need to control my temper, quit losing house points, try to stop making teachers give us extra work. She’s mental that one.”

“You know, Harry,” Hermione said tentatively, “She stood up to Umbridge about you after she sent you to see McGonagall our first day.”

“Oh, really, how kind of her,” Harry said sarcastically.

“She says she believes you,” Ron added. “She said that Umbridge must know it’s true too if she’s so adamant about silencing you.”

Harry didn’t say anything for the rest of the meal. He didn’t want Andrea to be defending him, because then he couldn’t hate her with quite as much feeling as he had before.

~*~*~

Snape set them the task of cleaning out the various tanks where he kept some of the larger amounts of slimy, smelly, unrecognizable dead creatures. It was a disgusting job the he left, no doubt, for those he disliked the most. Harry knew he was at the top of that list, he had failed to notice that Andrea wasn’t too far below him on that list.

They’d been cleaning for a while when Harry decided to say something to her. “Listen, Andrea, Ron and Hermione told me what you said to Umbridge. Thanks.”

“It was nothing. I just couldn’t handle how ignorant she is being,” Harry smiled discreetly, seeing that the anger she’d shown when she hit him was slowly building again at the mention of Umbridge.

“Harry, I really owe you an apology, I was out of line to speak to you the way I did, and to hit you. So, I’m sorry.”

“Never mind it.”

They didn’t speak anymore for the rest of their detention, and they didn’t speak after either. Harry was dismissed earlier than Andrea, since she was the one who’d actually thrown the punch. Harry still didn’t like Andrea, but he could at least respect her now. It was nice to know he had an ally outside of his friends - especially since not all of them (Seamus in particular) believed him.