Prompt
Round 3 - Word Restricted Team Pride
CHASER 1: Harpies, 2001-2250 words
Characters/Pairing: Ginny W. Harry P.
Prompts:
3. (dialogue) "Sometimes I really dislike you."
6. (song) 'Love Yourself' - Justin Bieber
7. (word) destiny
Word Count (-AN): 2,029 by Macbook Pages count
Note: Tech, sorry this is running late. If it matters, I do not own Harry Potter in any form, except for the hard back copies of the books that sit on my shelf and they bring me no money. This story is set in an AU where Ginny and Harry did not get together after the Battle of Hogwarts. Due to this some of the characters may be slightly OOC. Many thanks to Lizzie for all the help and to Darkness for looking things over as well!
QLFC Round 3: The high-pitched screech of a referee's whistle pierced the air as the Quaffle was tossed into the air, and Ginny streaked away from Potter, trying desperately to keep her mind on the match.
Interference
I didn't want anyone thinkin' I still care.
(I don't.)
Ginny stood in the shadowy hallway of the visitor's changing room in the Pride of Portree stadium and glowered at the light streaming in from the outside world. Her broom trembled, the knuckles on her right hand turning white and her teeth clacking and grinding together. Her face was paler than usual except for two red spots high on her cheeks. A last-minute change in Pride's lineup had just been introduced. She was not going to scream. No, she was going to knock this arrogant ass off his broom.
A sudden weight settled on her shoulder, and her Seeker instincts—or were they her war instincts, now, still lingering even though the war had been over for years?—kicked in. With a quick twist of her body, Ginny jumped away from the threat and dropped her body into a crouch on the floor. Several shrieks echoed in the tunnel as her teammates flinched out of her way, but as Ginny looked up with a pounding heart, she saw that the "threat" was only her captain trying to place a comforting hand on her arm.
"Settle yourself, Red.," said Captain Gwenog Jones. "Relax. Our match against Pride is going to be an easy win, especially since they're down a Seeker. Just because they've snatched up Harry Potter to act as a reserve doesn't mean they're suddenly a good team." Jones smirked. "Or are you worried about actually having to face Lover Boy on the field?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes as she got to her feet from her crouch. "Potter is not my lover!"
"Well, not anymore." Jones winked. "But we all know he'd like to be your lover again."
Their teammates laughed. Ginny smoothed down her dark green robes, fingers lingering with pride on the golden harpy claw that adorned her chest as her sisters gathered around, moving into a well-practiced formation. The opposing team, the Pride of Portee, made one final lap around the stadium, whooping wildly as their fans egged them on. It was still too early in the season, Ginny thought with a scowl, for fans to realize that Pride was not going to win the Cup this year—especially not while there were so many rumors of foul play surrounding the team. Ginny wanted to crush them into the mud. She knew that her sister Harpies had the same goal. Not even Harry bloody Potter would be able to save—
"Harpies, let's fly." Jones's voice helped Ginny focus her straying thoughts, and she was grinning as she mounted her broom.
There were no whoops of joy or war calls as the Harpies flew from their tunnel, only the scattered cheering of the Harpies fans who had dared to enter Pride's stadium and the voice of the commenter announcing them. The Harpies flying formation was perfectly synchronized—they moved together in a single blur of green and gold. Brilliant, beautiful, and every bit as dangerous as the creature they claimed as a mascot.
They swooped through the middle of Pride's huddle, scattering the other team like a flock of overrated pigeons (earning several dirty looks from the players and a sharp warning from the ref to keep their talons to themselves) before landing on the Visitor's side of the field.
From across the pitch, Harry Potter winked at her. Ginny scowled.
"Deep breaths."
"Forget Potter. Don't even look at him."
"Don't lose it now, Firecracker. The game is on."
Ginny winced as her sisters reached out to soothe her well-known temper with soft words and tried not to look at her ex-boyfriend, who was now smirking from his position at the tail of the Pride formation. Potter had thrown her with a wink. A wink! Merlin. She didn't have the patience for him today. Her nerves were already frayed—she and her current boyfriend had had a fight that morning, and fighting with Draco always put her on edge for a day or two. She smirked tightly at the idea of what Potter would do if he knew she was dating Draco Malfoy. Sure, Draco wasn't perfect, but he had improved since his school days. He was taking the time to get to know her, to woo her, and he was much easier to be around than Potter.
The commentator announced the handshake, and when the pleasantries were over with, it was time to take to the air. A smirk was noticeable on Jones's face as she joined her fellow Beater and a quick glance showed Pride's captain shaking out her hand. Ginny breathed out, tension leaving her shoulders as her feet left the ground and her broom carried her into the sky. She would rather focus on work than —
"That look is completely repulsive, Gin," said a familiar voice—Potter—at her ear. "What are you thinking about, sex with Malfoy?"
(It was reflex, she promised the referee, that made her elbow fly backward toward Potter's gun—and anyway, it didn't make contact.)
The high-pitched screech of a referee's whistle pierced the air as the Quaffle was tossed into the air, and Ginny streaked away from Potter, trying desperately to keep her mind on the match.
I think you should be somethin'
I don't want to hold back.
"I thought you would be happier to see me, Gin." There he was again, swooping down in front of her for the third time to interrupt a play and block her view of her fellow Chasers. "Wasn't one of your lifelong goals to beat me at this game?"
"What are you doing Potter?" Ginny waved her arm as if she were trying to shoo away a fly before dipping slightly toward the ground in an attempt to dart around him. She scowled when he followed her movements. The maneuver failed, but her captain was already there, helping her out. Ginny dove down once more, streaking to avoid a Bludger while Jones slid in just in time to block Potter from following. Ginny blew Jones a kiss and joined her sister, blending into the pattern they were weaving as if her absence was planned.
She risked a quick glance upward and scowled when she saw Potter was still smiling.
"Back in the game, Firecracker. Dream about Lover Boy in your own time." One of Ginny's fellow Chasers passed her the Quaffle before swerving around to play chicken with one of Pride's Beaters.
The words didn't help, and in spite of promising herself not to, Ginny let out a scream of frustration.
If you like the way you look so much,
Baby, you should go and love yourself.
Ginny pulled up quickly, changing the angle of her flight so sharply in an effort to avoid a collision with her own Seeker that she almost lost her grip on the Quaffle.
"You know, Gin, you could at least try to look like you are having fun," Potter said not seconds after she had passed the Quaffle.
"Damn it, Potter, what the hell!" Ginny grabbed her broom more tightly as the voice from behind startled her. She looked around in desperation, trying to spot the Quaffle, but all she could see was a glimpse of Pride's Chasers racing across the field, trying to defend themselves as her sisters came at the two of them from all sides. Then Potter was back in her line of vision, blocking her view with his boyish face and green eyes and that smile that she just wanted to beat off his face. Ginny scowled.
"The Harpies scored. Pride has—or, well, had—the Quaffle." Potter edited his words as he looked over his shoulder at the play.
"What are you, a commentator? Knock it off and play the game. Isn't your job to catch the snitch? Try doing that instead of bothering me." Ginny spun her broom, hitting Potter with the bristles and earning a whistle from the referee for her trouble.
Potter only laughed.
If you think that I am still holdin' on to somethin'
you should go and love yourself.
"So Gin, you want to go out after the match? Get a drink and catch up, maybe? Or will you too busy making out with your precious Malfoy to spend time with an old friend?"
Ginny whirled and stared at Pride's reserve Seeker as if he had grown a second head.
No, she didn't want to go out after the match. He'd had his chance. She had waited on him. She would have kept waiting. She had loved him.
"What did you say to me?"
"Do you want to go out with me after the match?"
He had said he needed time. He decided that they wouldn't work. He had moved on. He had told her to get over him.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw a blur of green and gold. A Harpy was diving; she'd seen the Snitch. She looked back at Harry, who was watching the dive and making no move to stop it. "Come on, Gin," he said as the Harpies Seeker pulled out of her dive with the Snitch in her hand, and Ginny thought he looked a little . . . sad?
Ginny turned her head toward the section of the stands where she knew Draco was supposed to be sitting, searching for the pale blonde hair and feeling a brief flash of anger when she didn't see him. It was silly. She knew it was. This game, this team, her friends . . . Ginny pressed a hand to her chest as the crowd went wild around her. She knew she shouldn't have expected to see him. Not after their fight.
Ginny looked over at Potter, who was still watching her. His flash of sadness was over, she noticed, and he was grinning as if his team hadn't just lost the game.
He had said he needed time. She hadn't realized "time" meant quite so many years.
Ginny punched him.
Potter rubbed his jaw with one hand but otherwise didn't look too put out with the action. "That really hurt, Gin."
"Sometimes I really dislike you."
Potter laughed. "Yes or no? About the drinks, I mean. The drinks with me?"
Ginny took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Jones was beckoning her to join her team on the ground for the final handshakes.
Ginny didn't want to say yes. She wanted to go out with her friends, get drunk, and go to her lonely apartment to nurse her wounded ego. Somehow, though . . . somehow Potter, with his green eyes, and his messy hair, always managed to slip past her walls.
Draco would be furious—unless Draco was already gone.
Ginny took another slow breath. "Fine. It's a yes."
Was I a fool to let you break down my walls?
Ginny turned and flew down to join her sisters, slapping them on their backs and joining in on the good cheer as the team fell into line facing their defeated foes. She couldn't help but notice the ribbing the other members of Pride gave Harry as he flew back to join the team. He rubbed at his jaw again as he took his spot at the end of Pride's line.
Ginny waited until he met her gaze and gave him a dramatic eye-roll. She hadn't hit him that hard, and she knew that he knew that from past experience that. After all, she had hit him much harder when he told her to leave him that night after the war.
"Hit me all you want, Gin," Potter said when the lines had progressed far enough for them to shake each other's hands—and his hands were calloused and rough, and they matched her own in a way Draco's never had. "But you are my destiny. I made a mistake before. I know that now."
He said the words softly, tenderly, and he was moving on down the line before Ginny had a chance to react.
She clenched her fist, but she was smiling this time. She raised it high into the air as she and her sisters took their victory lap around the stadium.