A/N: Hi readers, this is one part of my 'project', Games of Love (GoL). GoL is a bunch of stories that all started with an accident. This is the first chapter, and this is where it all began. After you read this, you can choose how you want them to live after the accident. The stories will have GoL next to the name. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling's characters and some of the ideas are hers. Everything written in GoL are not real, except for the things that are.
It's so cold.
Why today? Why?
Why today? Of all days, it had to rain on a match. Her hair was sticking to the side of her face, mixed in rain and sweat.
It was raining and Ginny was on her broom, trying to make out the blurs of red and green through the fog and rain.
Slytherin was at lead. Or was that Gryffindor? The feeling of excitement for the game had long gone after a few good close to death situations of clubs and lumbering animals dressed in green, flying on broomsticks.
She could only hear the screaming of the wind as she flew away from other players continuously.
It was all Ginny could do to float in the air. She couldn't see any chasers. Ginny quickly headed for the Gryffindor goals before she was dubbed a target for more idiots.
.................
Malfoy was soaked to the bone. He had only seen a glint of gold, but it had vanished unexpectedly.
The warmth coming from the fireplace in the common room felt ages ago. He wasn't even sure if the game was still on. He felt like an idiot, left behind floating in the air, not knowing who had one, importantly, if his blood would ever flow through his veins ever again.
Water trickled down his hair on to his face, the cold water stung his eyes causing him to stop and wipe his eyes. When his eyes were clear he looked up and saw a quaffle floating.
Odd. There weren't any chasers flying towards it, nonetheless passing it.
Draco flew slowly and caught up with the ball.
He grabbed it, expecting to feel the leathery material of the quaffle.
But if felt so...different.
"MALFOY! WHAT IS YOUR HAND DOING ON MY ARSE?"
He couldn't hear the rest of her screaming.
He was shocked to find that in his hand, was on the rear of a bloody Gryffindor chaser, Ginny Weasley. The first sign of another life since he left the ground.
The "quaffle" was the buttocks of a damned Weasley dressed in dark red robes, the revolting colour of Gryffindor.
A Weasley!
"GET YOUR FILFTHY HANDS OFF OF ME MALFOY!"
The annoying redhead was screaming her lungs out. She finally stopped when she saw the tall wooden stands speeding straight for them. Or they were heading for it. Too late.
Malfoy's head connected with something, 'good' he thought ' this was all just a dream.' For now.
The world spun slowly into darkness. His hand landing mere inches away from the quaffle.