Author's Note:
This is my first Harry Potter fic in a while, as always, concrit is very welcome (we know the difference between concrit and flames, don't we children? Conrit is when you say "this is shite because..") I hope you enjoy it, this is probably the prologue to a much longer fic, please review to let me know you've read it :-)
"It's just not quidditch, though, is it mate?"
Dean stifled a chuckle into his polystyrene-covered coffee and fixed his eyes back on the action on the pitch below.
"I mean, yeah, it's alright, but watching it all down there's making my neck hurt!"
His companion raised one eyebrow, "Well if you didn't slump in you seat like that,"
"It's a bloody uncomfortable seat, I don't see why you wouldn't let me con-" he was cut off by a 'shush' and a sharp nod towards the muggle spectators who surrounded them, Seamus dropped his voice and continued; "conjure a few cushions, it's not like they'd notice, they're all glued to this cra- I mean, this very interesting sporting event you've brought us to." Dean's laugh was cut off by a groan and a string of unintelligible swearwords, the ball was bulging the back of the Hammers' net and the mass of sky-blue and claret surrounding them let out a chorus of boos; West Ham were losing two-nil to 'Ferguson's bunch of pansies who wouldn't know football if it sat on them' as Dean called them, or 'Manchester United' as they were more commonly known. Seamus joined in about three seconds after everyone else, deciding that his best bet at fitting in would be to copy Dean.
"Cheating scum!" he yelled, raising a smile from his friend, "What? It was what you yelled."
"Yes Seamus, it's what I yelled about a foul, that was a goal, mate." Seamus shrugged,
"Same difference, when can we go?" Dean checked his watch,
"Four minutes left in the first half."
"And how many halves are there?"
"Halves, Seamus, how many halves do things usually have?" Seamus gave Dean his best glare and sunk back down in his seat.
"I don't see why we couldn't have gone to the Wimborne Wasps' game instead."
"Seamus, I've been with you to Tornados versus Wasps before, it's not an experience I'm hoping to repeat."
Seamus scowled, "They might win this time, or at least not go down 460 to 20 again."
"Yeah, and maybe Man City'll knock United out of the cup and the Hammers'll do the treble." Seamus didn't understand a word of Dean's analogy but discerned that none of the events he'd described were at all likely to happen. "I tell you what, we'll see if we can catch the rest of the Wasps' game if we beat Man U today." he said the words with the grim satisfaction of one who knows their ridiculously optimistic prediction will not come true but, in snapping his head right to watch another near-miss on the part of the Red Devils, Dean missed the mischievous smirk that was creeping over his friend's features. All of a sudden Seamus was finding himself looking forward to the second half of this 'effaykup match', all he needed was the chance to sneak his wand out of his bag.