The First Game

It took me a long time to fall asleep that night. Once I did, I dreamt I kissed Harry behind the tapestry, but when I pulled away and opened my eyes, it was Dean, and then I turned my head to see Harry standing in the doorway with a cold, angry look on his face. He kept stomped away yelling something about betrayal. I chased after him, but when I stepped through the tapestry and out into the corridor, there was no sign of him.

The next week or so passed fairly uneventfully. I hardly saw Harry and wondered if he was avoiding me. Ron was acting icily towards Dean and I; which was perfectly fine with me, and practices were only getting worse.

Ron was in a foul mood, and his keeping was just as bad, only now, he insisted on yelling at the rest of the team whenever he messed up (which was often).

Suddenly it was the day of the match, and no one was feeling too optimistic about it, until we looked outside to see that the weather was beautiful, and a few of Slytherin's best players were too ill to play.

Things were starring to look up, but there was still the problem of Ron's keeping, which wasn't looking good when he came into the changing room with Harry, looking pale, and unconfident. Even that though, changed when he learned of our good fortune.

I still wasn't talking to him though so I spoke only to Harry, "Conditions look ideal. And guess what? That Slytherin chaser—Vaisey, he took a bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that—Malfoy's gone off sick too!"

"What?" Harry asked incredulously, obviously surprised that Malfoy would ever pass up a chance to start problems with Gryffindor. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"

"No idea, but its great for us! They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot."

When we finished getting ready, we walked out into the stadium, where we were greeted with thundering jumbles of boos from the green and silver end of the stadium, along with cheers from the sea of red and gold at the other.

I watched Harry stride up to Madam Hooch and shake hands with the Slytherin captain, Urquhart.

Madam Hooch recited her usual, "Mount your brooms. On the whistle…three…two…one…" and we kicked off the ground and flew into the air.

It was nice to be flying again. The breeze stroking my face, flowing through my hair.

I was surprised to hear the voice of the commentator. Of course I knew it could no longer be Lee Jordan, considering he had graduated the previous year, but that didn't mean I was prepared for it.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course a close personal friendship with the captain does help…" sneered the new voice, which I now recognized as belonging to none other than Zacharias Smith.

I gritted my teeth, not sure of whether it was because of the jeer at Harry, the jeer at Ron, or simply because Smith had been the one to take Lee's place as commentator.

"Oh, here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, its Urqhart streaking down the pitch and…Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes I suppose."

I glanced up at Harry. He was looking at Smith with eyes that seemed they could've burned a hole right through him, until he dived down in search of the snitch.

The game was going very well, despite Smith's commentary. Gryffindor was winning, Ron was doing a surprisingly good job, and I'd scored a couple of goals myself.

Ron had just earned himself a few verses of "Weasley is our king" (from the Gryffindors, thankfully) when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Harper, the Slytherin filling in for Malfoy, ramming Harry, hard. Gryiffindors in the crowd booed and shouted, but Madam Hooch's back was turned.

I gritted my teeth, and was just about to go soaring after Harper to ram him as hard as I could, when the Quaffle hit me square in the chest. I juggled it in my hands for a moment, trying to keep it from falling, and when I finally had a firm grip, I turned to see that Dean had passed it to me. By the time I had gotten rid of it I looked over to see that Harper had taken off.

I was filled with a surge of irritation at Dean. Why hadn't he passed it to someone who was looking? What if I hadn't caught it?

I was grateful for the distraction later though, because it saved me from earning a penalty for Gryffindor and from having to face questions on why I rammed Harper.

I continued to play, and heard from Smith (quite unpleasantly), that Harry had followed Harper in pursuit of the snitch. It wouldn't be long now.

I continued to play until, I heard the crowd, once more, roaring with cheers and boos, and looked down, knowing what I would see.

Sure enough Harry was hovering there, his hand upraised, clutching the snitch. I smiled to myself as the rest of the team shouted victory yells and zoomed toward Harry to wrap him in giant team hug. I however had a different idea of celebration.

I leaned forward on my broom, and rocketed toward Smith. I was pretty sure I heard Harry asking where I was going, but I kept flying until I plowed into the commentator's podium.

I stood up to hear the crowd shrieking with laughter as Smith struggled to stand up and the team landed beside me, laughing and cheering.

I couldn't help but smile, until I saw Professor McGonagall glaring at me and managed to suppress it, "Forgot to brake Professor, sorry."

When I turned back to the team Harry walked up to me smiling, and hugged me. I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes.

I tried to take in everything, the way he smelled, the way his hands pressed on my back, the way his body felt against mine; but he pulled away quickly and wouldn't meet my eyes. I could feel my cheeks getting warm, and looked down.

I waved to the crowd awkwardly, until I heard Dean calling me and saying that there would be a party in the common room.

I jogged over to Dean and he put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a short, hard kiss. He had won his first match. He really was a sweet guy.

I wished I could share in his happiness, that I could really be there with him, but right now I was somewhere else.

We started walking toward the changing room with Dean's arm unmoved from my shoulders. He was smiling and talking animatedly about the match, but I didn't hear him. I looked over my shoulder and watched the rest of the team celebrate, but the only person I saw was Harry.