Blue Lions
I always did love these boots. They were a gift from my parents, in third, year for making the house team for a second season. Mum was never really pleased with my choice of hobby, owing to the fact she thought it unbecoming of a young lady and that I would literally never land a guy while up in the air. Dad couldn't be prouder though, he was a Gryffindor beater in his day. As I tighten my last lace on my worn right boot, I'm again glad that my feet did not feel the need to grow terribly after third year, as today, I need a good reminder of Hogwarts and my old Gryffindor Quidditch team. I hope I can do them justice, especially Fred and Harry. I swell with pride and happiness at the thought of being lucky enough to bring joy to so many for a career. Now that the war is over Quidditch matches have risen to signify peace and security, they are a celebration of pure magic and chance for folks to revel in each other's company, undaunted by fear.
"It's time", clears Anthony as he fastens his wrist guard and adjusts his silver and sky blue Quidditch cloak.
He is rather dashing actually, I register before my throat tightens and I find myself unable to swallow.
"I do not want to stuff this up", I quietly mutter.
"We don't want you to stuff this up either", lightly jeers Mark as he roughly brushes past my shoulder towards the exit door.
I scowl and in response am dragged by said Mark through the exit door and guided with a hand on my back through the entrance tunnel. His hand leaves my back as soon as we emerge from the tunnel and I miss its comfort immediately. This must show on my face as Mark smirks and wacks me on the shoulder.
"Ouch really! You are quiet physical aren't you!", I protest with a laugh as we walk with the team towards the centre.
"Well I am a beater mate", he smiles as he innocently waves his bat at me.
"Har har, well I'm glad I could help with your warm up", I sarcastically venture, as we separate to pair up to our opponents.
I quickly glance around to sum up conditions and am quite heartened by the noise from the multi-blue hued crowd.
"Yes welcome to the First match of the season folks and my my, isn't it just a bit of a blue day!", the crowd tutters with laughter at the commentators pun. His voice seems oddly familiar.
"This afternoon debuting for the Appleby Arrows we have my Hogwarts transfiguration tutor", continues the mysterious commentator.
"What!", I exclaim as I rip my head round to scan for the box. What good would it do though, I'd never be able to make out who it is. He's making me sound like a teacher, who did I help with Transfiguration? Who didn't I?
"Just kidding folks it's Katie Bell", laughs the commentator.
I give a wave to the roaring crowd and banish the mysterious man from my mind.
With their huge home stadium and proud support base, versing the champions of last season, Puddlemere United, is a formidable way to start my career. Their uniforms are a darker blue to ours and laced with warm yellow. Like my team though they seem to lack in the ladies, so they all appear rather tall and muscular and especially their…Wood! Oliver Bloody Wood! My first Captain, the terrific and gorgeous Oliver Wood, is standing right across from me, unfurling from a spectacularly handsome slouch against his propped up broom stick, sporting a look of utter surprise. With a smile, oh that's nice, wait WOW ok he's looking me up and down! Stay cool Kate's, argh Merlin that's what he called me that day in the common room, on October the 19th actually, Fourth year, devoted a whole page of my diary too that encounter. Get it together girl! Is he trying to put me off my guard? That seems hardly fair in my first match and all, although this is Oliver, Mr competitive himself. I muster a defiant but cheeky glare, he's definitely trying to put me off guard.
…2, 1 *WHISTLE!
"AND THEY'RE OFF! Well almost of all of them, come on Bell, rip those glassy eyes of Wood just for the next hour or so!", taunted a I'm now sure a very familiar voice.
I kick off hard from the ground and scour the field for the quaffle. It's in Puddle's possession, but not for long by the looks of it, annnd contact Conor!
"Rough game Quidditch", I hauntingly recite, "right as always Fred", I finish to myself as I speed up into the play and arc around the players dodging opponents to support Conor on his charge for the goals, guarded by Wood, arrrrgh shut up stomach I know I don't get butterfly's from height!
I'm on Conor's far right side and he acknowledges, no sooner than he does though a dark blue figure drops from the sky in a tackle and the quaffle rockets towards me. I lunge for the quaffle and instinctively bring it back into my chest and swerve out and up from my position with a roll. Surprisingly my move seems to elicit a collective cheer from the crowd. Cool.
"Oh yes folks, Katie Bell the new Appleby chaser is in fine form this afternoon! Although if I must say she's always been in fine form", adds a jeering commentator. Who they hell does he think he is!
"No time to think now though", I wager as I scream down the pitch and dodge a bludger to my left side while seamlessly adjusting my grip on the quaffle in my right hand to a throwing grip. Bearing down on a goalkeeper sporting a handsome face of concentration, I veer right wrenching my right hand back and hurl the quaffle towards the middle ring. From the right ring Wood lunges back to the middle and on finger tips brings the quaffle back safely into what, with a light head, I can assume is a rock hard chest.
"OOOWWWW so close by the rookie Apple! Still can't get em past him Bell aye!", tutt's the now thoroughly infuriating commentator.
My speed carries me past the goals and I drift round and circle back into the field slowly. He turns to face me just as I round the third hoop and throws me a glorious smile and a wave to pair my excited grin.
"Friendly wave from Puddle's keeper to the Apple's chaser Bell", remarks the commentator. "Wood and Bell go way back folks".
"Who is this joker!", I exclaim to the air while once again scanning for the box. Wood is checking the quaffle quickly so play still hasn't resumed.
"Ahhh, this is practically a date for the two pals!", continues the commentator revelling in the crowds applause.
"JORDAN!", I scream. I know it's him. He used to joke with the twins that I went into every Quidditch practice and match with the same mindset as a date, because I had an excuse to be around Wood. The Buggers!
I glance sideways and Wood seeming to be recovering from fumbling the quaffle, passes it to an incoming Puddle chaser. With a mighty blush I speed right past Oliver and after the chaser.
…
The match continues in this fashion for some time with highlights being my keeper Alec being horribly hit in the head by a bludger and carted off by paramedics. Puddle's getting a free penalty for Mark trying to whack Alec's Puddlemere offending beater with his own bat and myself scoring three marvellous goals.
…
"Puddlemere leads 90 to 40", announces Jordan.
"Conor passes to Jacinta who brushes past a Puddlemere in true Jacinta form, Jacinta now breaking away", informs Jordan.
"In comes Bell who receives and OH! You call that a tackle Wood, more like a hug mate!", jeers a suspicious Jordan.
"ARROW SEEKER IS OFF! CLOSELY TAILED BY DARCY OF UNITED!", yells an ecstatic Jordan as the crowd gasps and play slows dramatically.
Still in the firm grasp of Wood's arms I freeze. Both seekers are neck and neck with outstretched arms and I see Jacinta watching, paused with the quaffle I dropped before impact with Wood. Impact with Wood. Our brooms are crossed and he has both his arms encasing my own and my frame of which he has brought intensely close to his own! Oh the last straw, he even smells good. WHY!
…OF THE WAY, DARCY HAS CAUGHT THE GLODEN SNITCH! PUDDLEMERE UNITED WINS!", roars Jordan, to thunderous applause from the dark blue supporters.
Like a swarm the Puddle players converge on their seeker.
"Wood haha let go", I playfully struggle.
"Wood sounds a bit formal now Bell", answers Wood as he slowly releases me with care.
"Well I can't call you Captain", I stammer.
"Well now", he playfully considers.
"Haha give over!", I nudge him.
"This calls for a drink Bell", announces Wood in his broad Scottish brogue.
My heart skips in excitement. "What is it that calls us to a drink Wood?" I pose.
"I gather we'll be seeing each other a wee bit in the future, after a few drinks we'll find out what to call each other again", sums up Wood. "You and me pub Bell, Red Lions just out on Robertson Lane, half an hour", he flashes another grin at me and hurtles off to his team mates.
Still in the same position by the hoops, rocking to the currents of the wind I muse to myself with a smile, "I do like a straight forward man".