I don't own this – but you already knew that didn't you? There will be femmeslash, so be warned. It shouldn't be for a while though – if I can write this thing properly.
The angry bludger hurtled discontentedly past her, its dark mass lightly grazing the minute peach-fur hairs on her cheek. The harsh moan of the ball left her dazed, leaving her to struggle to maintain balance as the wind tugged at her scarlet robes. She was abruptly dragged back to consciousness when a second stray bludger, sent awry by her brother Fred in a failed response to the opposing Slytherin beater's first shot, was hurtling right at her face. But Ginny had been flying for years now, and so driven by instinct she and her broom nimbly looped around the ball allowing it to pass by harmlessly, mere inches from her nose.
In the shimmering red and gold of the Gryffindor stand Hermione let out a stifled squeak. She could never stand to see Ginny – to see one of her friends risking their lives for … for a barbaric sport! A few members of the crowd shot curious glances at her, and feeling suddenly rather self-conscious about her emotional outburst, her face began to blend in with the scarlet of her surroundings.
"Excellent," exclaimed Lee Jordan "A brilliant goal from chaser Angelina Johnson, earning Gryffindor 10 points, the unanimous favourite team this season."
"Lee," cautioned McGonagall wearily, doubting the student's impartiality in his commentary.
"Sorry Professor, I only meant that Gryffindor are sporting a surprisingly good line up this year – given the lack of Harry Potter and the Weasley twins, not that every single member of the audience prefer the players on the Gryffindor team to Slytherin's crew. Although I bet they do." he added as McGonagall turned away disapprovingly.
Those momentarily distracted by Hermione's outburst turned back to the game, angry at having missed the goal. "Sorry," murmured Hermione meekly, honestly apologetic, but too quiet to be heard above the roar of the crowd and the slightly over-enthusiastic commentary.
"Now it's Slytherin taking possession as chaser Adrian Pucey moves up the field. A speedy block from Gryffindor's Alicia Spinnet forces him to pass the Quaffle down the wing, it should be no problem for Johnson to intercept that one, but wait, no! A brutal barge from the enemy captain Graham Montague has knocked her straight off her broom, a foul surely, that was some of the worst Quidditch I've…"
"LEE," began McGonagall once again, cutting him off mid rant.
"Sorry Professor," interrupted Lee, knowing where she was going with this, "I meant to say that a tackle from Slytherin helps them to maintain possession of the Quaffle. And now as Slytherin's Cassius Warington approaches the hoops, the shot is heading straight towards its target, and," his voice was already taking on a downcast tone, "What's this‽ Somehow keeper Ron Weasley has get a touch to it, with his toe of all places, and has successfully blocked yet another shot." Lee spoke elated now his voice rising to an unimaginable extreme of pitch, and the entire Gryffindor crowd erupted with cheering as it shimmered with the gold and deep red of the house robes.
Hermione meanwhile wasn't really paying attention, to that at least. Part of her resented Ginny up there, and George and Fred of course, oh, and Ron. But for some reason she felt more worried about Ginny. As ever Hermione could rely on logic to explain this; She knew – or rather, had convinced herself, that it was only reasonable to be uniquely worried about Ginny since she was uniquely fragile compared to her brothers. "Yes, logic will prevail" she told herself, repeating the thought rhythmically, as if to drum it into her own brain. A voice in her head made her pause for a moment to reflect on this action; "I hope it's not me you are trying to convince, because I already know exactly what you think".
"Shut up you!" Hermione thought, casting away the unwelcome speaker.
Soon she felt the cheering settle to an uncomfortable din and Lee's commentary could once again be heard above the crowd. "Gryffindor really seem to be on top of their game today, each player doing his or her absolute best in training to prepare for this Quidditch final. Take their captain for example; Angelina has been working out for the past fortnight I'm sure. She's perfected her ball handling skills through dedicated practice night and day, she's certainly got a good figure"…
"LEE" bellowed a decidedly shocked McGonagall.
"I mean she's certainly in good form…" He less expected than hoped that people might believe it had been a simple slip of the tongue. "…and as for the rest of the team; despite the losses of the twin beaters and seeker Harry Potter, everyone seems to be more than just coping – Andrew and Jack looking good as replacements for Fred and George. Ginny Weasley up there, she's looking really good too. Slytherin have put their best foot forward, but I think we all knew who was going to win from the beginning." He was amazed at how far he was getting, "In fact Gryffindor players seem superior to their Slytherin equivalents in many ways; physically, morally … hygienically."
That was pushing it. "Mr Jordan, if I have to mention one more time…"
"Won't happen again Professor."
"Just please, try to stop blathering on and see if instead you could actually provide us with a commentary related to the game. I trust you are familiar with the rules, and that at the very least some aspect of the sport interests you? For goodness' sake, how can you possibly say that 'we knew all along which team was going to win' when we are mid-way through the match?"
McGonagall often put on a show of trying to get Lee to change his ways, but to be perfectly honest, she neither expected that anything she said to have a permanent effect on him, nor did she particularly want him to change his ways. Often she would let him continue off on ludicrous tangential mutterings just to hear what the outcome would be. At least it gave her something to do.
Hermione would have liked something to do – to take her mind off things. The continuous roar of the crowd was at the same time both comfortingly reliable – able to help her zone out, and tediously monotonous rendering her acutely aware of the passage of time.
OK, this was too much of a coincidence, there must be some sort of connection between them. As if in response to Hermione's longing to have something alleviate her boredom, a streak of gold followed closely by a ribbon of flustered pink and red flashed along her eye-line. The tension in the Quidditch grounds was slowly mounting as Ginny's outstretched fingers yearned for the snitch, their individual desire drawing her whole body out, like spaghettification as you approach a black hole, of the effect of squeezing through obstacles on the Knight Bus. From Hermione's perspective it was possible to see the strain, both emotional and physical, to watch the miniscule yet controlling adjustments to maintain a steady centre of gravity, the almost feline ability to pass off such a tricky balancing act as second nature, and to appreciate the sheer strength and audacity necessary to even think about doing what Ginny had started without hesitation.
Up in the commentary box, interrupted from a slightly one sided conversation with McGonagall by the realisation that something was happening down on the pitch, Lee Jordan, though eager now to present a detailed and impartial description of the events as they unfolded, could, unsurprisingly, not see in nearly as much detail what was happening.
"And it looks like Ginny Weasley has just spotted the Golden Snitch and has begun chasing it."
"Not true," thought Hermione, some part of her compulsively requiring a correction to be made. Though her conscious mind had only just realised what Ginny was doing, her subconscious had been fixed on Ginny, and Hermione now noticed that in retrospect Ginny had been following it for several minutes now at least.
"… And now she is closing in on it from behind, a nice bit of open terrain ahead, this should be easy for her," continued Lee. Hermione crossed her arms in silent protest of Lee's lack of recognition for Ginny's skilful flying. Those words would surely put her off her game. However it appeared that Hermione had taken this blow to Ginny's morale on her behalf, as Ginny now flew towards the snitch with clinical precision, a professional level of focus. Whilst it, and Ginny, weaved their way between players, the two made their way towards the Gryffindor goalposts. As she shot across the field Ginny left a fiery trail of shimmering hair and billowing robes. The snitch, as it rushed along, took the form of a blur, a golden haze, yet its elusiveness from a bystander's perspective was not able to shake its pursuer.
Hermione couldn't help brighten up as she watched Ginny's fingertips draw ever-closer to the prize. Ginny stretched further and further, she could feel the breeze of the snitch's fast beating wings, but was still unable to reach it.
They were right down the Gryffindor end now, and completely transfixed by her goal, Ginny felt the time was right to make a move. She had the broom pressed to her chest, her head was ducked with her hair spilling down her back, her thighs locked the broom in position between her legs, and trusting in the rest of the team to do their jobs, she began to close her fingers.
Her team wasn't doing its job. A stray bludger left unchecked by either beater struck her outstretched hand, sending her corkscrewing to the left. The snitch, seemingly giddy with its triumph, became complacent and did not notice Ron's forehead as it made abrupt contact. And somehow, with the tiny orb sent flying forwards by the impact, the still out-of-control Ginny intercepted the snitch and clutched it to the padded leather on her chest.
Deprived of this detail by the entire length of the pitch, a spike of distressed anguish rose up like an angry animal from the pit of Hermione's stomach, as she witnessed her friend descent into anarchy at the blow. Lee's confused and belated commentary did little in the way of relieving her distress.
"Seeker Ginny Weasley has made a break for the snitch, what, where did that come from? A bludger sent by Crabbe I think, it's hit her off her broom, there goes that chance, wait no, she is still clinging to her broom and… that's strange, there seems to be something wrong with star keeper Ron Weasley, he's clutching his head and…"
"For goodness' sake," began the voice in Hermione's head, "why can't he just say what's happening. What was going on? Was Ginny Alright?". Thoughts raced through her mind, from what she could see Ginny had hurt her chest, probably straining too hard for the snitch, and was spiralling towards the ground.
Her heart dropped. What if she was really injured, oh, why hadn't she done something? Her head was pounding now, she could hear her heartbeat as it grew stronger and faster, and she could feel a heat rising up through her body. Somehow she felt as if though it were her fault. A second glance showed that in fact Ginny was not completely out for the count, thankfully she seemed to have regained some element of control.
"Ginny Weasley has caught the golden snitch!" cried Lee Jordan, his voice penetrating Hermione's anxious thoughts, "Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup!".
Hermione was completely deafened by the sudden uproar around her, as a switch was flicked somewhere in the minds of all the equally bemused spectators, who now rose from their seats as if they had just been kneeling in prayer. Ginny was impressed by the reaction; the stands now shone out with the victorious Gryffindor gold, highlighted by the afternoon sun. But she knew it wasn't meant for her, at least most of it wasn't, and quietly accepted this fact as her brother gave a few victory circuits for his reverent fans and to allow the crowds to experience their idol's majesty on a down-to-earth level. Ginny meanwhile was content with a few pats on the back, and the knowledge that some members of the audience would be happy for her. Leaving behind the bustling pitch, she gracefully glided down to the players' exit, to be greeted by the clapping of Hermione's feet.
You saw the rating, you read the intro, so why hasn't anything happened yet? Just bear with okay, I do have a plan, I have already started writing the second chapter, and I am very happy with the start.
Please, please review, I care so much about my writing style and I want to know what you think.
Correct my Grammar. I hope that I'll be updating fairly soon, but give me some feedback in the mean-time…