The morning of the Quidditch Cup Final dawned bright and sweltering hot. The heat lay over the castle like a smothering blanket, purging them all into constant sweaty discomfort. Clothes stuck to bodies, fringes were plastered to faces and tempers were short in the early summer heat, particularly at the Slytherin and Gryffindor house tables. The Gryffindor team largely consisted of the higher years. James, Sirius and Eva were from the sixth year and Terry Higgins from the seventh year. The two other chasers were Sophie Clark and Terence Gribben from the fourth year, their youngest player was Mark Trench, their second year keeper. Whereas the Slytherin team was more of a mixture of the years, a team consisting entirely of the male gender, which Eva found enormously hilarious.
"Where is the equality in that house?" she remarked at breakfast that morning. "Not only are they stuck in the middle ages with their views on blood, but they're also backwards in the roles of women!" She had her toast before her and was munching heartily as usual, either not nervous or not showing it as the others did, particularly Terry. "I mean sure enough, they have size over me and Sophie, but then we can turn sharper than them. They need it more balanced, I have seen some of their smaller, more female players fly well, they really should give them a chance."
"No they shouldn't!" cried Sirius, swiping some toast off of her plate quickly, followed by a harsh smack. "If they let some of the girls on the team, they might actually beat us. Although when you say 'more' female you could be addressing some of the guys too."
Eva glowed with a certain pride at that remark, and hit his wrists hard when they snaked back out to grab some more toast. Sirius was only eating to annoy her, James wasn't even making the effort. His eyes rested further along the table, where he had spotted the glance of some green eyes. Earlier in the year he had not bothered Lily so much. It was never so much of a past time before but he had been told to lay off on the occasion, so he did. But it seemed ever since he stopped asking her out so frequently, he noticed more glance in his direction. Not that he couldn't resist asking her out every now and then, the extra attention was already going to his bloated head.
"... I mean you don't catch me staring at chairs like that," interrupted Sirius' voice, penetrating James' thoughts.
"Wha?"
"James you're staring at a chair," commented Eva as though it was something she did all of the time. "Sirius was wondering why."
James turned around properly in his seat and stared at the grain of the table instead. "I was just thinking about the match that's all," he lied; his mind couldn't be further away from the match until he got there.
Sirius gave a snort of disbelief and swiped another piece of toast. Eva smacked him again but looked at James in wonderment.
"I thought it was only me who tried to tell the future through wood grain. I don't think that the house table, crafted a thousand years ago will tell the fortune of today's match. Though you never do know." James shook his head in disbelief at her, finally managing to tear his mind away from those green eyes staring at him.
He thought that perhaps this could have been it; perhaps it wasn't a schoolboy crush any more? Never mind, he had a match to win and next to girls Quidditch was the most important thing in the wizarding world. You could ask any male Hogwarts resident.
He was just leaving the hall, as though in a dream when he heard an almighty yelling from the Gryffindor table...
"GOSHAWK! BLACK! You should be at the Quidditch pitch! Do you want Gryffindor to win the cup or not?!" She looked quite insane, gesticulating wildly before lowering her voice slightly to a level that only Eva and Sirius could hear. They laughed and ran to join James at the large oak front doors.
"What did she say to you guys?" he asked, watching the grin of determination spread across Eva's face.
"She said that Slughorns been driving her mad all week," replied Sirius, steering the over two out of the front door and setting the brisk pace down to the Quidditch pitch. "She also said that if we don't win we can be expecting extra transfiguration homework."
"That's on top of the threat from Slughorn," laughed Eva. "He said that if we do win, we'll get extra potions homework."
They all laughed amiably, at something which quite frankly wasn't that funny. The looks on the Head of Houses faces was certainly going to be a sight to see. There had been a running total of the wins of each house for over two hundred years of the sport at Hogwarts. Slytherin had remained at the top of it for many, many years, their lead pronounced in the last fifty, however it seemed that the tables were starting to turn in recent years. Last year it had been a Ravenclaw win, the year before that Gryffindor. It always seemed that the Gryffindor and Slytherin games were the most anticipated. Even the other houses enjoyed those matches more than the ones concerning themselves. It was like a throwback from the founders' days, the rift between Slytherin and Gryffindor pronounced in their competition. Back then it was sword play, in the modern day and age it was through Quidditch.
Half an hour later and the Quidditch pitch was a frenzy of cheering Quidditch fanatics and their Professors. The stands soared high into the sky so they could be level with the players to a certain extent. Some of the stands were raised even higher, the staff podium as it were. Even Professor Dumbledore had come out to watch the final; he was not often seen at the other matches. Even the Headmaster could not resist a good old fashioned Slytherin versus Gryffindor match. He gazed down serenely upon all of the students; sitting next to him was Professor McGonagall, dressed in her best tartan though even she had a Gryffindor scarf hugging her neck. A golden microphone was grasped carefully in her hands, beside her sat the student commentator, a burly looking fifth year Hufflepuff. He looked practically fit to jumping from the stands to run onto the pitch if the match didn't start soon.
Down in the changing rooms the tension was thick in the air. Terry in particular looked as though he was going to be sick, it was his last year at Hogwarts and his final chance to win the title, he hadn't been on the team when they last managed it. They were all standing in line at the door, waiting to be called out by the commentator one by one. Terry at the front, behind him: Terence, Sophie and James. Behind them stood Mark, behind him stood Eva and Sirius, each of them had a serious look upon their faces, already getting used to their bats, a mere extension to the arm. Each of the team had an equally grave look to their faces, some with a slightly more pronounced green tinge than the others, each excited, each nervous, each dying to claim a win for their house. No words were needed, no pep talk. All they needed was the blow of the whistle and the start of the commentary.
"Now please give a big cheer for the Gryffindors! Captain Higgins, seeker! Potter, Clark and Gribben, chasers! Trench, keeper! Black and Goshawk, beaters!"
As their names were called out, they mounted their brooms one by one, zooming from the changing rooms in a blur of scarlet and gold. The light of the sun blinding them as they did a lap of the pitch, eventually coming to hover around one half of the centre circle. The Quidditch Master, Professor Cruntchen was in the very centre, holding the quaffle under one arm, a silver whistle poking out from his mouth, battling against his droopy moustache. Down below them was the crate of balls, ready to be opened by one of his student assistants. The Gryffindor team waited patiently as the Slytherins did their lap of the pitch to the same amount of applause that they had received. As they too came to hover in a half circle the Gryffindors glared evilly at them, Terry swooping across to get the technicalities of handshakes over and done with quickly. The hard, grey eyes of the Slytherin Captain glaring into his determined stare, old enemies both on and off the pitch.
PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPP!
The whistle blew harshly all of a sudden, each and every player split off to their allocated tasks, working as one whole unit like a well oiled machine. Sophie, Terence and James swooped inwards towards the flying quaffle, heading fearlessly straight towards the larger Slytherins. Mark shot up towards the goal hoops, Terence immediately flew as high as he could peering below him for a gold glimmer. Sirius and Eva went about their old tricks, something they practiced well, each of them flying in a figure of eight that covered the whole pitch, going in opposing directions, only ever meeting briefly in random parts of the pitch, breaking off only when they needed to. A tremendous crash erupted from the centre of the pitch as James flew straight into one of the Slytherins in the first attempt to get the possession of the quaffle. The larger Slytherins managed to punch it away and get possession, but the Gryffindor chasers immediately took pursuit, weaving in and out of the other players. Their ears were closed to the cheering and gasps, tuned in for each others calls and the tell tale whistles of a bludger.
The first goal was scored by the Slytherins, a huge roar of delight came from the green and silver clad supporters. A scream of rage could be heard from Professor McGonagall as she became quite beside herself next to the commentator. It was a known fact that the Heads of Houses took the Quidditch Championship to heart, gloating and jumping up and down in glee when needed.
"10 points to Slytherin!" bellowed the commentary as the players carried on regardless.
Mark threw the quaffle out to Gryffindor possession, looking shame faced at his early mistake. Terry circled the pitch above, though anyone looking upwards would see his shaking fists. Whether it was aimed at the Slytherins or his keeper, no-one could be sure. Meanwhile Eva and Sirius were still doing their allocated round. When the scoring chaser stayed still for a moment in a celebration loop Sirius managed to smack a bludger with startling accuracy straight into his back before disappearing up the other end of the pitch, as unobtrusive as smoke. The injury was obviously a blow to the Slytherin crowd as they booed menacingly. Sirius spotted his brother leering from the crowd with many of the cronies, his lip sneered with an evil grin and he quickly stuck his fingers up at them before flying off, in search of more bludgers.
Each and every player was flying well, some interesting manoeuvres being pulled off by both teams of chasers. The Gryffindor beating duo was better than the Slytherin, yet the Slytherin chasers had the upper hand; managing to shoulder barge their way into possession of the quaffle. While James gave as much as he had to give in retaliation, the other two were a lot smaller, dwarfed by the massive Slytherins and could not barge back for fear of falling from their brooms. Instead they nipped in and out as the quaffle was passed from one green chaser to another, swooping in, grabbing the red ball and darting between them and heading straight for the goal posts. Both seekers hovered around the pitch nervously; their eyes peeled for the snitch, an early catch would be safe for both of them.
The whistle blew several times in the next fifteen minutes of exhilarating flying and battles for quaffle possession.
"Slytherin 150! Gryffindor 80!"
Terry was obviously anxious at this news, searching the pitch with a greater frenzy than before. If the Slytherins scored much more it would be almost impossible to manage a win, unless they equalised in goals and then caught the snitch.
The next blow to the Gryffindor team was a bludger to Mark at his hoops. He fell from his broom, only managing to hold on by one hand as the Slytherins scored. When the chasers returned hoping to score another goal they were smashed apart like bowling pins by a well aimed bludger from Eva. The quaffle however, had already left their hands, heading straight towards one of the exposed goal hoops.
"AND TRENCH SAVED IT!" roared the commentary.
For Mark had indeed managed to kick the quaffle away, into the waiting hands of Sophie who immediately used the stands to dart out of the way of the recovering Slytherin chasers. Mark grinned triumphantly as he managed to climb back onto his broom. His spectacular save seemed to have redeemed him in the eyes of Terry who briefly joined him by the goal hoops. He mentioned a word before flying off again, giving instructions to his players as he passed them; it was too dangerous for him to claim the snitch whilst they were getting increasingly behind. Eva was soon set to tailing the Slytherin seeker, pelting a continuous stream of bludgers at him, distracting him from any catch he may make. Sirius shot around the pitch a lot faster than he was already travelling, attacking the bludgers with an enormous amount of energy, his handsome face dripping with sweat under the sun which was now high in the sky.
James, Terence and Sophie, passed constantly from one to the other, weaving all over the pitch. They had soon scored another four goals for Gryffindor. The game had been in play for nearly two hours already and it seemed that no-one had even had a sighting of the snitch, the players were getting tired and hot as the sun crawled every higher over their heads. The crowd was getting more and more frenzied as the scores got higher and higher. Sirius managed to knock out a Slytherin beater, giving him a little respite for the meantime. Sophie was in possession of the quaffle, her hair whipping around her face, as she zoomed towards the hoops. Either side of her the Slytherin chasers were closing in, their leering facers getting closer every second, just before...
"AND SHE'S IN THE STANDS! WHERE IS THE JUSTICE HERE? PENALTY!!!!"
It seemed that all of the red, blue and yellow in the crowd were in agreement as Sophie was shoulder barged straight into the stands of the crowds. She could just be distinguished between all of the Hufflepuff colours of the crowd. They quickly brought her around and she resumed flight, taking a penalty for Gryffindor, which missed by inches as she swayed slightly on her broom.
From there on, the match got progressively dirtier, with a lot more shouting from the crowd and the commentator as foul after foul was committed, the Slytherin chasers being the main offenders. Eva managed to knock the Slytherin seeker from the air with a bludger and joined Sirius for a while whilst the seeker was recovering at the side. She balanced the bat deftly in her hand, whilst Sirius had his under a tightly closed fist. They both used a mixture of beating skills and when Professor Cruntchen wasn't looking they attempted to shoulder barge their quarry from the air. The Slytherins did exactly the same. Their next foul was the two beaters flying fast paced towards Mark, their bats raised as though to attack him, one of them managing to smash a bludger towards him. The chasers followed in possession of the quaffle, James and Terence hot on their heels, Sophie skirting around the edge, ready to catch the ball. Seeing the crash that was no doubtedly going to happen, Sirius darted into their midst, smashing into the Slytherin chasers, knocking them from their path and knocking the quaffle from his hands before shooting off. A great metallic donging sound came from the Gryffindor hoops as Mark dodged the bludger and it struck the metal ring. Professor Cruntchen was soon bellowing at Sirius for his foul and awarded Slytherin a penalty and then giving Gryffindor quaffle possession for the beater's attack on their keeper. He watched them all sternly as the game commenced.
Before long the Gryffindors were beginning to catch up, so that Terry could swoop in and catch the snitch, they were all sweating furiously under the relentless glare of the sun as the Slytherin seeker managed to join the game once more.
The finale however was a good hour later still, the scores dodging from one lead to another 420 to Gryffindor 460 to Slytherin. At one end of the pitch Terry spotted the snitch, at the base of the Slytherin hoops, his broom was immediately twisted around in that direction and he shot towards his target, arms outstretched, face contorted into concentration as he realised that the Slytherin seeker had also seen the fluttering of golden wings, they were so much closer than he. Ten metres, five metres, two metres. Elsewhere in the game they had no idea that the snitch had been spotted, carrying on as normal, the dirty play carrying on here there and everywhere, it was only the crowd that was watching the two seekers with baited breath.
All at once one quarter of the stadium began to roar in delight, whilst another quarter began to boo. The snitch was raised in a gloved fist triumphantly, the house cup theirs at last.
Then suddenly a harsh intake of breath came from every corner of the stadium, whether friend or enemy. One of the Slytherin beaters had a bludger heading straight towards him his bat poised, his aim clearly on Eva, who was desperately trying to work out who had won the match. A crack came from the impact of the bludger and the bat and before anyone could really anticipate what was happening Eva was falling head first from her broom, one arm swinging around in a grotesque fashion, the bat plummeted to the ground with her.
For the second time that year she was plummeting into darkness, in excruciating pain, fighting to stay conscious. Once again, her world blacked out as a strong pair of arms caught her.
James hefted Eva's form onto his broomstick and immediately shot towards the ground, the other players were starting to do the same as the crowd desperately tried to make out which seeker had the snitch after all. Sirius pelted a bludger at the Slytherin beater with all of his force, the triumphant crows of his brothers ringing in his ears.
"Sticking up for your girlfriend eh Black!"
Sirius swung around to see that he was near those same stands again, Regulus taunting him from over the edge, malice glinting in his eye. Sirius sneered once more and stuck his finger up at him before shooting towards the ground; Eva was not his girlfriend and never would be.
She was laid out on a stretcher unconscious and being led off by the school Healer Madam Cecille to the hospital wing. The Gryffindor team congregated together, their teammate safe in the hands of the healer. The Slytherin team were celebrating further off from them, James had to keep a firm hand on Sirius' shoulder as he strained to go and attack them. Terry looked terrible, the spark gone from his eye, his last chance to take the Quidditch cup was gone, though for the Slytherins it was a hollow victory. The stands had already emptied and it was only the two Quidditch teams that got to see them raise the Quidditch cup.
The Gryffindor team all changed quickly and left, apart from James. He sat in the Gryffindor changing rooms quietly, contemplating the match, his rectangular glasses sitting next to him on the bench his only company. He was absolutely devastated that they had not won after such a desperate struggle, he was so sure that they were to win it at last, sadly it wasn't to be, he couldn't face the gloating just yet. He put his head in his hands and stared at his knees for a while, he would go up to the hospital wing later, to see whether Eva had come round yet, to see whether anyone had broken the bad news to her yet.
"Oh, you're in here."
James looked up to see a figure all too familiar to him standing in the doorway. Her hair was tied up in the heat and she was carrying Eva's broom over one shoulder. She surveyed the room quickly and shot across to where Eva's things lay on the bench. James popped his glasses on and she came into better focus.
"You sound disappointed," remarked James. "Can't say I blame you after our hammering," he added dejectedly standing up with a slight swagger, barely noticeable apart from the over critical eyes of Lily Evans.
"Actually I thought it was very brave of you to catch her like that. She could well have knocked you from your own broom." Lily shot James a weak smile with her comment which suddenly made James' heart skip a beat. "Anyway, Quidditch scores do not matter to me."
She stood awkwardly with Eva's things in her arms, watching James coolly; he could see that she was trying to work out what to say, or whether she had already said more than she wanted to. She had always managed a level of civility with James, even when he was a pain, but a level of certain admiration was not usually seen. James stepped a little closer, he was a lot taller than her now, over the years he had shot up whilst she seemed to grow smaller and smaller. She always said that it was simply his head swelling that made him seem taller.
"Listen Evans," he said slightly awkwardly, very aware of the fact that she was holding a beater's bat. "Why were you staring at me this morning?"
Lily looked alarmed at the question, like a rabbit before headlights, a total change in her demeanour. James watched her intensely, trying to read her mind. He had never been good at reading the reaction of people; perhaps if he had he would already be going out with the girl standing in front of him. Well she had just said he was brave, women liked bravery didn't they? Perhaps this time he stood a chance, she couldn't blame him for trying anyway.
"If I was staring at you, which I doubt," she said slowly and carefully gathering pace. "I doubt that it was intentional, or I suspected you of something." Her words were measured and she kept a cool facade, he still trying desperately to read her body language. "After all, Prefects are supposed to keep an eye out for trouble makers."
"So you just suspected me of trouble making in the morning of an important Quidditch match," said James sceptically. "Do you honestly think I was up to trouble, to risk missing the possible triumph of Gryffindor by getting detention? I don't think so somehow Evans. Besides, I was under the impression that you had Remus on Marauder watching duty."
"Well I'm sure that Remus turns a blind eye on your shenanigans, it doesn't hurt to keep an extra eye out."
"But on the morning of a Quidditch match?" James pressed on. "You know that I don't prank on Quidditch match days, I don't want to miss the final again like in fourth year." He had stepped closer to Lily with his words and he could see her nerves making her shake. "You weren't looking at me with suspicion Evans."
"Then what was it Potter," retorted Lily. "Or do I really not want to know."
"I think you know exactly what I am thinking, do I need to spell it out to you Lily?" asked James, a slight grin sweeping across his mouth.
"If you think I ever looked at you with desire, love, lust or even a mere crush you are very mistaken," defended Lily hotly.
That last sentence gave it away, she was making up excuses in her head, he could tell that much, she was hiding something, pushing it far back, keeping the hostility going. He sighed slightly, relaxing his shoulders before taking the things from her arms and resting them on the bench. His hands went gently to her shoulders, his thumbs moving in slow, soothing circles. His hazel eyes met her vivid green ones before he uttered quietly:
"Look me in the eye and say that you don't feel a thing."
His voice was low, pleasant and measured, as hers had been, but unlike hers, the words came straight from the soul. His thumbs still worked smooth circles on her shoulders. She looked at him puzzled for a moment, unable to answer, her mouth slightly open as she tried to think of a reply. His words had a chilling affect on her spine and shocked her into a loss of reaction. James found that his head was moving closer to hers, until he could count almost every eyelash, and name every shade of green in her eyes. His lips were mere centimetres from hers.
"Look at me and tell me that you don't love me."
She looked at him properly a searching look, he allowed a small smile, getting even closer still, and he thought that this time he was going to get his kiss from Lily. For a second it seemed his thoughts may be true when...
THWACK!
James stumbled back, clutching a stinging red cheek. He whirled around and as he lurched forward to grab Lily by the wrist, she had disappeared out of the door, the handle of a broomstick poking out over her shoulder.