Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any of my own characters.
A/N: Ok, I started this story sometime in April 2007, and I stopped writing it, because it was rubbish. Now, I'm re-writing it. Don't exactly know why. Not even sure if I fully finished this chapter, it was re-written so long ago. I've just decided to put it up here before I chicken out on it and don't. PLEASE please please review and give tips on it, because I feel like a dork when I put up a story and nothing gets said to show that people are actually there and that I'm not writing for no one. Also, sorry if there are any spelling errors.
Noise.
That's all he could hear. Noise of people cheering, or the sound of his teammates warming up or talking about the upcoming match.
Noise.
The game was about to begin. He picked up his broom, slipped his goggles over his bright green eyes, and got ready.
It was a beautiful night for a Quidditch game. The sky was clear, the moon was bright, and the stars were glistening overhead. It wasn't too warm or too cold either. Just perfect.
He was shaken out of his reverie by the sound of his coach ushering them out into the pitch. He followed the rest of the team out and was instantly blinded by the lights of the stadium. The rest of his team started to mount their brooms, and he followed suit.
As usual, they circled the pitch to the thunderous roar of the spectators. The commentator rattled off the names of the team, but Harry couldn't hear him. He wasn't thinking about anything, really. This calmed his nerves before every match.
When the opposing team took off, he followed his own, flying lower to the ground, so as to not get in the way of the opposition. The opposing team followed, and soon, both teams were in position, waiting only for the release of the balls. The captains shook hands, and with the shrill blow of the whistle, the balls soared into the air, and the game commenced.
About an hour had gone by, and the opposing team was leading by 80 points. Harry surmised that this wasn't their best performance. He needed to catch the snitch, he knew he only needed one glimpse of the tiny winged ball skimming around the pitch, and then the game would be over, they would win. But, something caught his eye, and it definitely wasn't the snitch.
Scattered throughout the crowd were signs, cheering on favourite players, but there was one that stood out to Harry. Not because what it said, though, but because of who was holding it.
Under the sign was a mane of hair.
Bushy brown hair.
Harry took a double take. That looked like Hermione. Could it be? But, he couldn't ponder whether it was her or not any longer, because Harry was caught unawares by a bludger hit by the opposing beater, which cracked him in the skull, knocking him off his broom and sending him plummeting towards the damp grass many feet below.
The sign dropped to the floor as they watched in silent horror as Harry plunged farther and farther towards the ground. All eyes were on him as he hit the grass with a thud. A whistle blew to signal a time out. The paramedics raced onto the pitch and crowded around him.
"Oh, my god, is he ok?" Ginny asked, to no one in particular. She knew it had happened all the time at Hogwarts, but they had only been up at a fraction of the height that he had just fallen from. She looked at Hermione, who was biting her lip in anticipation, and looked back at the pitch. They had Harry on a stretcher, and at least now she could see that he was only unconscious. They carried him off the pitch and the backup seeker took off. Ginny got up and started walking toward the stairs.
"Ginny, where are you going?" Hermione asked.
"Well, we have to see if he's ok, right?"
"But we know him; we're not just trying to get in there. I promise!"
"Sorry, lady, no one gets in here without permission."
Ginny rolled her eyes at the guard. "You don't get it; we just need to see him. Let us in!"
"Wait a second. Is your name Ginny Weasley?" A younger looking witch with a Canadian accent was walking by and had noticed the discussion. Ginny nodded, and the witch spoke to the guard. "Don't worry. They're with me." She motioned for them to follow her, and they did.
"How do you know my name?" Ginny asked.
"I work with the team, right? Well, I started up at around the same time that Harry did. We were both new, so we kind of stuck together, and became friends. But, long story short, he talks about you a lot, and it just kind of made sense that'd be you." She said, turning a corner, with Ginny following along. "My name's Marie, by the way." They went through a door, and Ginny was led to where Harry was lying, unconscious.
Harry came round to the feeling of warm linen and fluffy pillows. He knew he was in a hospital wing of sorts. He could feel a slight pounding in his head and a throb where there was most likely a lump. He opened his eyes just enough so he could see the silhouettes of people walking around. He opened one eye and studied his surroundings. There were about six beds in a row, and they were all unoccupied. He looked to his right and saw that there was a woman sitting in a chair with her eyes closed. He sat up and looked closer. It was Ginny. He just sat there looking at her for a while. She looked so peaceful, he didn't want to wake her. Luckily, he didn't have to. She stretched her arms up above her head and rubbed her eyes. She looked at Harry, and her face lit up as she smiled. "Harry! You're awake!" She got up and kissed him on the forehead. "Thank god you're alright."
"Ginny, how'd you get in here?" Harry asked.
"Well, that arse of a guard out there wouldn't let me in, but a friend of yours allowed me to come and see you." Ginny replied. She gave him a tight hug, and relaxed. She never wanted to let go of him, she just wanted to hold onto him forever. She inhaled, and his familiar scent comforted her. "I've missed you." She said into his shoulder.
They heard footsteps coming towards the bed and looked to see a stout woman in a healer's uniform clacking up the aisle between the two rows of beds. She stopped at the end of Harry's bed and wrote some things down on a clipboard she was carrying.
"Hello, Mr. Potter, how are you feeling? Took a nasty fall, didn't you?"
"Well, I guess-"
"Yes, you're perfectly fine, 'cept for the bump on your head. Luckily, the charms on the pitch helped break your fall. And, seeing as you're unharmed, you are free to go!" She wrote something on her clipboard and walked out of the room.