~*Chapter 7*~
Free Falling
The day of the first Quidditch match, Al felt like he was going to fall apart at any given moment.
He sat staring at his lunch, his stomach far too uptight to even consider attempting to eat. Felicia managed to coax some water down him, but he closed his eyes and turned his head away queasily when she tried to nudge his plate closer.
Felicia and Andrew exchanged a nervous look. Further down the table, a clump of other Gryffindor players, including James and Vincent, were already working themselves up into a rowdy mob.
"Hufflepuff seems pretty relaxed about it for the most part, at least," Felicia pointed out, glancing towards the other House's table. "Gryffindor sure gets excited about a dumb game."
"I can't believe we're friends sometimes," Andrew informed her solemnly. He gave Al an encouraging slap on the back that made him jump as if he'd been electrocuted. "C'mon, Al! Cheer up! You'll be fine. You said all that extra practice with Vincent was really helping, right? You've gotta stop worrying so much."
"Yeah. Just a game. I'll be fine," Al mumbled, only half aware of what he was saying. He rose to his feet abruptly. "I've gotta use the bathroom."
"Be quick, Al," Felicia warned. "They can't exactly start without you, and everyone's heading to the field in ten minutes..."
Al waved his hand in compliance, already leaving.
He was relieved to find the first floor bathroom empty, and clung to a sink as if he needed it to hold himself up, staring bleakly at his reflection. How had he let anyone talk him into this? He would pay five hundred galleons just to be a happy spectator today instead of an active participant. The only good thing about this whole mess was that they were playing against Hufflepuff, who would at least be fair players and display excellent sportsmanship, as they always did. James and the others would find losing to them embarrassing, but not as devastating as a loss against Slytherin. He hoped.
The door creaked open, and he hastily turned on the water, trying to make it look like he was just washing his hands.
Footsteps approached and then stopped, and he could practically feel someone hovering just a few feet behind him. He kept his eyes lowered, watching his own hands methodically rub back and forth under the freezing water.
"Did you throw up?"
Al jerked his gaze up in surprised recognition, finding the other boy's eyes in the mirror. Scorpius was looking at him with a slight frown of distaste.
"No," he snapped, twisting the water tap fiercely to stop the flow. He took a deep breath. "Thinking about it," he admitted in weary defeat.
Scorpius eyed him with borderline suspicion. "Why are you really so nervous about this? Is it really the game that bothers you, or flying?"
"What?" Al turned to regard him in confusion. "I've gotten much better at flying," he insisted. "I'm not on James's level, maybe, but I'm all right. All that practice did help. I meant what I said before. I really don't want to make a fool of myself in front of the whole school." He ran a hand over his face before he remembered it was still wet, and hastily wiped his hands off on the front of his robes. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about you seeing me miss the Snitch over and over. You're not going, right?"
Scorpius shook his head once.
"I still don't get why you hate Quidditch so much. I figured your dad would have tried to nag you into joining the team."
Scorpius's mouth pulled down sharply. "He did."
"And?"
"And I said no, obviously. Something you seem to have trouble with."
Al bristled, but before he could respond, the door slammed open. James, Roxanne, Fred, and Vincent came pouring in, whooping and shouting.
"There he is! C'mon, Seeker, it's time to kick Hufflepuff's butt!" James cheered. He came to an abrupt halt when he realized whom Al had been speaking to. "Get lost, Malfoy."
"Lay off, James," Al said, annoyed. "We were just talking."
Scorpius shot James an unfriendly look, but didn't say anything as he stormed out of the bathroom.
James seized his brother in a headlock, hauling him towards the door. "You ready, Al? Ready to dazzle everyone and win us the game?"
"Let go," Al complained, struggling to free himself. "And stop making me more nervous about this than I already am. I hope I puke all over your robes."
Ignoring his complaining and protests, they hustled him out of the castle and down the hill towards the Quidditch pitch. A few other students trailed after them; soon the whole school would be pouring into the stands to watch Al make a fool of himself.
Swallowing back a sour taste in the back of his mouth, Al tried to remind himself that it was quite possible that they could win the game even if he didn't catch the Snitch.
As if reading his mind, James elbowed him, directing his attention towards the grey sky. "Look, it'll take forever to finish the game without the Snitch, okay? I heard the Hufflepuff Seeker's not that great, so I'm not too worried about him getting it first. But we need this game to end kinda quick. I don't fancy getting caught out in a storm. So keep your eyes peeled and show everyone Potters make the best Seekers."
"I will barf on you," Al reminded him darkly.
"Just remember everything we went over in practice," Vincent said soothingly. "You'll do fine. Don't worry about the rest of us, just keep an eye open for that Snitch. You got good in our catch sessions; you'll do fine if you just relax."
"Catch sessions?" Roxanne repeated blankly.
"I've been taking him out to practice where you ninnies can't harass him," Vincent explained. "He does better when certain people aren't laying on the pressure." He offered James a significant look that went completely ignored.
"Great! So with that much practice, you'll blow Hufflepuff out of the water. You'll see, Al. Winning Quidditch is one of the best feelings in the world."
"You need more hobbies," Al muttered, ducking into the team's tent ahead of his brother.
Fred overheard him. "Quidditch isn't a hobby! It's a lifestyle!" He and his sister started laughing, but James looked like he actually agreed with the sentiment, his face flushed with the pre-game excitement.
Al found his broom and sank onto a bench, clutching it like a lifeline. "Why did I let you talk me into this?"
No one paid any attention; the rest of the team was trickling in, and everyone was shouting last-minute advice, threats, and encouragement to each other. Lucas kept bellowing reminders at everyone, especially the new members. The alternates were seated on a bench, eyeing everyone a little shrewdly. Probably hoping one of us catches a bludger to the head so they can step in, Al thought with a wince. Olivia was a Chaser alternate, but she could also step in as Seeker if needed. He found himself almost hoping he'd get injured so she could take over.
"Potter!" Al jumped as the Captain turned on him sharply. "Make sure you don't catch the Snitch too early. I don't want a boring five minute game, got it?"
Al nodded mutely.
"And Fred, remember not to attack the Keeper. I mean it. I don't care how much of a twit you think he is. You get us a penalty, and I'll hit a bludger at you."
"Bet I won't be hearing that threat when we play against Slytherin," Fred teased.
Lucas hesitated, but declined to comment. It was fairly well-known throughout the school that he and the Slytherin Keeper had a healthy dislike for each other that supposedly went all the way back to their third year. Rumor was he'd been dumb enough to goose her in the hallway to get a laugh, and she'd broken his nose. Al secretly thought her animosity, at least, was understandable. Al had never seen her, only heard the usual jokes about their rivalry, but he was willing to bet she'd been one of the first Slytherins Lucas had made sure got jinxed during the fifth House's reign. He swallowed nervously. The game against Slytherin was probably going to be a particularly nasty one.
Outside, the sound of many voices was growing louder as the rest of the students filed into their seats.
"Professor Chang is heading for the middle of the field," Roxanne said, peeking through the tent flap. "Guess we should get out there."
"Accio bucket," Lucas snapped.
A nearby bucket soared across the room and slammed onto the ground at Al's feet just as he bent double and heaved. There was a chorus of startled "Eww"s from the other players.
"Pull yourself together, Potter," Lucas scolded. "First game jitters are normal. Don't let them grow into full-blown panic."
Humiliated, Al straightened, wiping his sleeve across his mouth. He had a feeling he was never going to live this down. James looked like he was struggling not to laugh. Vincent's constant elbows to the ribs kept him quiet every time he opened his mouth. Fred was laughing silently, head turned away and shoulders shaking, but Roxanne stamped on his foot hard and hustled him out of the tent.
"Ok, Gryffindor, let's go!" Lucas boomed, and led the rest of them outside. Al took two quick gulping breaths and stumbled after them, cursing anyone who'd ever so much as suggested he go to Quidditch tryouts in the first place.
I bet Dad never puked before a game, he thought sourly, keeping his eyes glued to Professor Chang as she did a brief speech on sportsmanship. He couldn't bring himself to look up at the crowd and pick out his friends. Just the weight of the stares of all of the student body and the almost deafening noise of their shouts and cheers was almost too much. They're not all staring at you. Relax. He tried to imagine the crowd simply wasn't there, but it was impossible. Instead, he resolved to not look towards the stands once if he could manage it.
Professor Chang gave a sharp whistle, and both teams mounted and soared upwards. As the wind whipped his hair and robes during his hasty ascent, Al found his eyes lifting towards the darkened clouds overhead. Somewhere in the distance there was a low rumble of thunder. He shuddered, trying to imagine bumbling about on a broom during a storm. James was right; they were going to have to try and end the game quickly, despite Lucas's admonitions.
Something gold flashed by, jerking his attention back to the present. The Snitch had been released. A moment later there was another sharp whistle and the quaffle was sent soaring into the air. Al remembered to shoot higher into the air and get out of the way just in the nick of time; Vincent nearly collided head-on with one of Hufflepuff's Chasers as both teams shot towards the center of the field to claim the quaffle.
Vincent had the longer reach; he managed to snatch the quaffle first, and tucked it under his arm, shooting across the field towards the goal.
Never mind them, Al reminded himself, forcibly dragging his eyes away from the game. The Hufflepuff Seeker was circling high up overhead, head turning back and forth. Al looked around carefully, trying to detect a glint of gold. With a groan he realized the other difficulty that an overcast sky provided: the sun wouldn't be able to flash against the Snitch and give it away. Thanking his lucky stars that he hadn't inherited his father's poor eyesight, he began circling the field, eyes scanning left and right. He found that putting all his attention into searching for the Snitch made it a little easier to ignore the roaring crowd, though it was hard to keep his attention off the game. He was too used to being a spectator not to want to watch how his team was doing, and it was hard to tune out Louis's excited game commentary.
"Look out!"
Roxanne's shout made him do an instinctive dive, and he felt the wind of a bludger flashing past, narrowly missing his arm.
James went belting after it, and batted the bludger away. "Go higher!" he shouted over the crowd's cheers. "Keep an eye out for the Snitch and let me worry about the other Beaters."
Al nodded mutely, heart thumping, and climbed higher into the sky. There was another ominous rumble of thunder, closer this time.
He began looking for the Snitch in earnest, always watching the Hufflepuff Seeker out of the corner of his eye. During one of his circles of the field, he happened to glance towards the Forbidden Forest out of habit. He'd looked that way often during his practices with Vincent, hoping to catch another glimpse of the strange creature he'd seen from the tower window.
Something was making the trees move again, and it wasn't the wind.
He was so startled he came to a full stop, focusing all his attention on the forest. Something was definitely moving down there, making its way through the forest and shaking the treetops with its passing. Thunder boomed directly overhead, making him flinch. Slowly it began to rain.
Belatedly he became aware of Hufflepuff's Seeker. The older boy had flown over to investigate, thinking Al had seen the Snitch. Now his wide eyes were also glued on the forest. Peter, Al remembered. His name was Peter; Al had seen him hanging out with Louis once or twice in the halls between classes.
"What is it?"
Al shook his head. "I dunno. Something big."
"A giant?"
Al opened his mouth to respond, but Lucas's enraged squawk made him nearly fall off his broom.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, POTTER? GET IT, GET IT!"
Al looked around desperately, but Lucas's shout had alerted Peter as well. And judging by his abrupt dive, he'd spotted what Al had missed.
Swallowing a curse, Al shot after him. He could see the Snitch now, plummeting downwards as if determined to hit the ground and bury itself out of reach. Logically Al knew that wouldn't happen; the Snitch's charm would keep it airborne. But as the ground rose rapidly to meet them, both he and Peter slowed down slightly to prevent a crash landing.
Peter reached out, trying desperately to reach the Snitch before it could pick another direction to zip off to.
There was no possible way Al could catch up in time to stop him. Peter was simply a faster flyer. The Snitch was out of Peter's reach, but not by more than a foot or two. They were going to lose the first game of the season, and it would be all Al's fault. His brother and cousins would never let him live it down. Lucas would kick him off the team. Vincent would be disappointed.
Overcome by desperation and panic, Al did the one thing he could think of. He released his grip on his broom and let himself topple off, free falling the last few feet. Peter jerked aside with a startled cry to avoid him, and Al felt the Snitch smack into his outstretched palm an instant before he hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs and sent bright stars bursting in his vision. He rolled clumsily in the wet grass, the world a whirling mess of pain and confusion.
The pain was so sudden and so overwhelming, he blacked out for a moment.
When he came to, it took a few moments for the ringing in his ears to abate enough to let the roar of the crowd filter in. Someone was shouting his name, and though his whole body felt almost numb, he thought someone was shaking him roughly. Rain was soaking his robes and pattering on his bruised face.
With a groan, he forced his eyes open, vision swimming. Both teams had landed and crowded around him, and James was kneeling beside him, shaking him back and forth with a look of panic stamped on his face. The second he saw Al's eyes open, he gave a ragged cheer, seized Al's wrist, and jerked his hand into the air. It wasn't until then that Al realized he'd managed to retain his deathgrip on the Snitch; he could see its wings fluttering weakly between his fingers.
The students in the bleachers went wild, and Al felt his mouth pull in a painful grin despite himself.
"You're mad!" James kept shouting over and over. Vincent leaned over and helped him lift Al into a sitting position.
Al's vision wavered towards darkness again briefly, but he closed his eyes tightly and waited for his nausea to pass. He was suddenly acutely aware of how much he hurt. He began hesitantly flexing his fingers and toes, and let out a sigh of relief when his limbs responded. It was a miracle nothing had broken.
"Cushioning spell," Lucas said, grinning from ear to ear as he watched Al patting himself over, looking for injuries. "The previous Headmaster covered the whole field in it almost a decade ago. Too many Quidditch players kept falling off their brooms and getting hurt." He laughed happily. "Not sure how many have ever fallen off intentionally, mind you."
Al made a mental note to hug Minerva McGonagall if she dropped by the Potter house for Christmas.
"You crazy little goblin!" James grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake. "Mum would have hung me from the rafters if you got killed in Quidditch, y'know that?"
Professor Chang pushed her way through the players, followed by the school matron. "Move aside, students, give him some air. Let Madam Greene see to him."
"You Potters are all crazy," Lucas declared proudly. "Knew I wouldn't regret signing you onto the team!"
As the nurse poked and prodded at him, Al finally allowed himself to look towards the crowd, scanning the cheering Gryffindors. He spotted his friends after only a few moments; Andrew was jumping up and down in place, mouth open in a yell, and Felicia was waving wildly to get his attention. He grinned up at them and offered a thumbs up.
For a moment, he could almost understand why his brother was so infatuated with the game. The pressure before a game might be awful, but the acclaim when you won... Well, that might actually be worth a battered body after all.
Author's Notes: Wow apparently I drank bleach one day and killed some brain cells. I kept thinking there are more people on a Quidditch team then there actually are, and put Olivia as a Chaser instead of Roxanne. I had to go back and edit that in a previous chapter and make Olivia an alternate, hence Roxanne suddenly being the other Chaser during this game. Good grief. Sorry D:
