A/N: He can't sleep before a big game. RxR. FxF.
Submission for:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Costume Party
The First Sentence Challenge: "There had never been a longer night."
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
There had never been a longer night. It always felt like this before a big game. Ever since he was a little boy and planning scrimmages with his friends and his brothers, the night before the game always felt the longest. His brothers used to tease him about his nerves but his mum always told him it was his body's response to fight. His body was just as excited to play as he was.
He couldn't wait though. They had been practicing until 7 this evening. He took a nice, long and much needed shower, a huge supper and even had a few minutes to himself to do some reading (and what else - player statistics). He had tried going to sleep at 10 and after waking up rested, he realized it was only a bit past 12. Afterwards, he had just been tossing and turning in bed. The sound of chirping crickets outside his bedroom window was trying to lull him back to sleep but it wasn't working.
He groaned and threw an arm across his eyes as he lay on his back in bed. The game wasn't until 8 in the morning and he and his teammates weren't going to meet up until 6 for their pre-game practice. He still had four more hours. He groaned again.
He pulled himself out of bed. He had to do something. He couldn't just lie down anymore. He grabbed his broom and headed outside. These weren't nerves. His body wanted to fight.
He stood outside near the three low goal posts he had put in his yard, the tops of them just reaching about 20 feet. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at 5 quaffles he placed on the grass. It was time for some private practice. With a spell, each quaffle flew into the air with a mind of their own as he mounted his broom and took his position in front of the goalposts. He would give his body a good fight.
The sun was still hidden when he started to tire. He didn't know how long he had been out here but the crickets had stopped chirping. His sleeping shirt had gotten soaked and was currently laying in a wet pile on the grass near the base of the post. Even half-naked, he felt only the beating of his heart against his chest as he knocked the quaffles' paths away from the three posts. His other teammates would have thought him crazy for playing so hard when they were going to have practice in a few hours, but he didn't care. This is what he lived for. This is what he was born to do.
But he had to admit he was tired. He had pushed his body to the limit and it was screaming out for rest. He flew down to the ground and stopped the quaffles' movement, all of them dropping to the floor with soft thumps on the grass. It was about 4 now. He could wash up and get two hours sleep before practice again. Puddlemere would crush the Harpies.