The minutes seemed to stretch, lengthen, as Harry sped towards the Snitch,
his hair flying back from his face and his glasses slipping down his nose
from sweat. He didn't notice anything around him; the other players were
just blurs of color. All he could see was a tiny golden ball in front of
him, a flash of silver-blond hair, belonging to Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin
Keeper, beside him, and a very large gap between him and the grass of the
Quidditch pitch. One more burst of speed, his fingers were mere itches away
from the flaxen-winged orb.
"Tweeeet!"
A shrill whistle punctured Harrys concentration and he blinked, in that split-second the Snitch sped away from him at electric speed.
"Damn!" he whispered, ignoring the cocky look on Malfoy's face, and then slowed his broom, turning himself around to see what the commotion was about.
To his horror, his best friend, Ron Weasley, was lying a hundred feet below on the grassy pitch, his red hair fanned out around him and his face literally saturated with crimson.
"Ron!" Harry kicked his broom into action but was prevented from tending to his friend by Angelina, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, who had swept up beside him and put a hand firmly on his shoulder.
"Harry, he's alright. It's just his nose, and some teeth, I think. He'll be back in a few minutes; he's just going to the hospital wing for a moment. Don't worry." She ordered, her face grim. "We're still going to win. Get the damn ball, Harry, and we'll win."
Harry nodded and smiled, though still studying his friend as he and a teacher walked quickly towards the school.
Harry knew that, even without Ron, his team could win this match. And if they did, there'd only be one more game standing in the way of the Quidditch Cup.
The whistle blew again, and they were off.
~ ~ ~
"Good game, everyone!" Angelina grinned at her teammates, slapping Harry especially hard on the back when he walked past her towards the showers.
"Nice one, Harry! The Triple Sloth Grip...new move, huh? Very nice. Oh, and like I told you, Ron's all right again. He's taking a shower. He didn't get to play, you were too bloody quick!"
Harry smiled and thanked Angelina, then walked past the group of students into the shower room.
Stripping off his sweat-stained, grimy Quidditch robes, he dumped them in a pile next to his locker and headed to a shower, his eyes on the dark green tile beneath his feet.
The sound of the water forcefully hitting the floor, along with his thoughts, left Harry in a state of deafness, vaguely noticing people walking past him but not fully acknowledging who they were.
As he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to work the dust from his scalp, he again envisioned Ron's bloody face and shuddered. He knew his friend had been hurt worse, but seeing him like that, covered in his own blood, had frightened Harry. Since last year, when Voldemort had indeed returned, Harry had been especially protective of his friends.
Humming tunelessly, Harry closed his eyes and let the warm water saturate him. It was only when her heard a voice calling his name that he opened his eyes.
"Hey, Ron!" he exclaimed, turning towards his friend. "Alright?"
Ron blushed as he too got under a stream of water and started lathering up his hair. "Yeah, I am, but it was bloody stupid of me to do what I did. I mean, I flew right in front of the Slytherin Beater! Stupid of me," he repeated, then grinned and seemed to forget his own mistakes.
"I heard you did great, Harry! A Triple Sloth Roll....that's amazing!"
Harry smiled in thanks, and then turned to shut his shower off. Reaching for a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and looked expectantly at Ron. "Done?" he asked.
Ron nodded and too grabbed a snowy white towel, and the boys headed towards their lockers.
Quickly rubbing his hair to dry it, Harry slipped on a pair of black boxers, black jeans, and a tight black t-shirt, then grabbed a small zippered cosmetic bag and headed towards the mirrors.
Ron joined him momentarily, dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt he looked every bit the poster child for America..while in fact being British. Harry laughed and commented on the fact.
Uncapping his eyeliner, Harry drew a thin line under his lower lashes, and then smudged it a bit with his pinky finger. Ron watched fixedly and then asked, timidly, "Want some help?"
Harry was surprised yet pleased, and he gave his makeup over to Ron, who uncapped it and edged closer to Harry to apply the deep black kohl.
Harry smiled at Ron's look of intense concentration; he had obviously never done this before but was trying very hard to succeed. "You're cute!" he said, laughingly, but the reaction Ron had to that comment was amazing.
"What?" Ron gasped, dropping the eyeliner and stepping back, his eyes wide.
"Sorry!" Harry apologized, instantly connecting the wide-eyed look Ron had on his face to the one he usually wore after someone had said something rude to him.
"Shite, I'm sorry." Harry persisted. "I guess I'll just go..." Crouching down, he retrieved his eyeliner from under the sink, re-capped it, and stood up again.
Ron was .. smiling?
"Tweeeet!"
A shrill whistle punctured Harrys concentration and he blinked, in that split-second the Snitch sped away from him at electric speed.
"Damn!" he whispered, ignoring the cocky look on Malfoy's face, and then slowed his broom, turning himself around to see what the commotion was about.
To his horror, his best friend, Ron Weasley, was lying a hundred feet below on the grassy pitch, his red hair fanned out around him and his face literally saturated with crimson.
"Ron!" Harry kicked his broom into action but was prevented from tending to his friend by Angelina, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, who had swept up beside him and put a hand firmly on his shoulder.
"Harry, he's alright. It's just his nose, and some teeth, I think. He'll be back in a few minutes; he's just going to the hospital wing for a moment. Don't worry." She ordered, her face grim. "We're still going to win. Get the damn ball, Harry, and we'll win."
Harry nodded and smiled, though still studying his friend as he and a teacher walked quickly towards the school.
Harry knew that, even without Ron, his team could win this match. And if they did, there'd only be one more game standing in the way of the Quidditch Cup.
The whistle blew again, and they were off.
~ ~ ~
"Good game, everyone!" Angelina grinned at her teammates, slapping Harry especially hard on the back when he walked past her towards the showers.
"Nice one, Harry! The Triple Sloth Grip...new move, huh? Very nice. Oh, and like I told you, Ron's all right again. He's taking a shower. He didn't get to play, you were too bloody quick!"
Harry smiled and thanked Angelina, then walked past the group of students into the shower room.
Stripping off his sweat-stained, grimy Quidditch robes, he dumped them in a pile next to his locker and headed to a shower, his eyes on the dark green tile beneath his feet.
The sound of the water forcefully hitting the floor, along with his thoughts, left Harry in a state of deafness, vaguely noticing people walking past him but not fully acknowledging who they were.
As he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to work the dust from his scalp, he again envisioned Ron's bloody face and shuddered. He knew his friend had been hurt worse, but seeing him like that, covered in his own blood, had frightened Harry. Since last year, when Voldemort had indeed returned, Harry had been especially protective of his friends.
Humming tunelessly, Harry closed his eyes and let the warm water saturate him. It was only when her heard a voice calling his name that he opened his eyes.
"Hey, Ron!" he exclaimed, turning towards his friend. "Alright?"
Ron blushed as he too got under a stream of water and started lathering up his hair. "Yeah, I am, but it was bloody stupid of me to do what I did. I mean, I flew right in front of the Slytherin Beater! Stupid of me," he repeated, then grinned and seemed to forget his own mistakes.
"I heard you did great, Harry! A Triple Sloth Roll....that's amazing!"
Harry smiled in thanks, and then turned to shut his shower off. Reaching for a towel, he wrapped it around his waist and looked expectantly at Ron. "Done?" he asked.
Ron nodded and too grabbed a snowy white towel, and the boys headed towards their lockers.
Quickly rubbing his hair to dry it, Harry slipped on a pair of black boxers, black jeans, and a tight black t-shirt, then grabbed a small zippered cosmetic bag and headed towards the mirrors.
Ron joined him momentarily, dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt he looked every bit the poster child for America..while in fact being British. Harry laughed and commented on the fact.
Uncapping his eyeliner, Harry drew a thin line under his lower lashes, and then smudged it a bit with his pinky finger. Ron watched fixedly and then asked, timidly, "Want some help?"
Harry was surprised yet pleased, and he gave his makeup over to Ron, who uncapped it and edged closer to Harry to apply the deep black kohl.
Harry smiled at Ron's look of intense concentration; he had obviously never done this before but was trying very hard to succeed. "You're cute!" he said, laughingly, but the reaction Ron had to that comment was amazing.
"What?" Ron gasped, dropping the eyeliner and stepping back, his eyes wide.
"Sorry!" Harry apologized, instantly connecting the wide-eyed look Ron had on his face to the one he usually wore after someone had said something rude to him.
"Shite, I'm sorry." Harry persisted. "I guess I'll just go..." Crouching down, he retrieved his eyeliner from under the sink, re-capped it, and stood up again.
Ron was .. smiling?