A/N: This fic was actually inspired by a dream I had in which I was playing quidditch with Harry Potter. This is not the championship game in the sixth book, or any of the books, for that matter. It's just what one might look like, in my imagination. FYI, the part from the start of the story to the end of the game actually takes maybe thirty seconds or so. Also, I'm not a good strategist; so all the moves are probably terrible ideas. Please R&R, and enjoy!
Piece of Cake
Ginny whizzed over a green, grassy field. She swooped and soared, the wind in her hair, that woody broomstick scent in her nose, and – best of all – a quaffle in her hand. She was not alone. Thirteen others flew on their broomsticks with her. Six friends, seven enemies. Besides this, there were thousands of people watching. The crowds seemed to be a cascade of bright color – but only two colors. There would only be two colors today, in the championship game; deep scarlet, and poison green.
Ginny began to zigzag in a move only known as the Robertson Feint. A difficult move, for sure, but the Gryffindors had mastered it weeks ago. She feinted left, then right, then diagonal up-left, diagonal down-right, all the while moving forward. She dodged every attempt to grab the quaffle, and was protected from bludgeors by the trusty beaters. She soon passed them, giving up this protection to move faster. And faster. And faster.
"Ginny!" Her captain, Harry, cried. She looked to where he hovered, gesturing wildly. She dodged a bludgeor just in time. She continued her flight. Two maniac bludgeors? No problem. Three angry Slytherin chasers? Easy-peasy. Her fourth goal? Piece of cake.
She leaned forward against her broomstick to gain speed. She accelerated toward the goal posts. They were getting closer, closer, closer still, and then-
"Ginny Weasley has scored again!" the announcer yelled with his magically amplified voice. " Wait, what's the commotion over here? Potter's seen something, is it, could it be? Yes! It's the snitch! Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor has won the championship game, two hundred and ten to one hundred and thirty! Give them a round of applause!"
The crowd in the stands roared a roar wort0hy of a Gyffindor lion. Their stomping feet were thunder. Their screams were a reminder to the winning team of another reason why they liked the game so much.
The scarlet-clad team made a victory lap, and, as the crowd urged them on, they made two, then three, then five before they flew down to accept their golden, shining trophy.
Harry held it first, thrusting it high above his head to show the crowd, then handed it to Ginny with a silly grin. She held the trophy for a moment, and tucked the moment in her heart so she could remember exactly what it was like. She then passed it right so everyone would have a chance to do the same.
Afterwards, the team walked back to the locker rooms, the trill and excitement still racing in their blood. Harry caught up to Ginny. Her pulse quickened to be even faster than it already was. He grabbed her hand, and she did not pull away.
"Listen," Harry said, "I just wanted you to know how great you did out there."
"Thank you." She replied hesitantly.
"Well, er…" He stopped talking. Instead, he kissed her swiftly on the cheek, then suddenly turned and walked away. Ginny smiled. She knew this kiss – this quidditch kiss - would not be the end of things.
A/N: I like the beginning, myself. I don't know about the rest. Please R&R to let me know what you think!