A Match

September 24th

Two weeks had passed since The Incident, as Charis now called it in her mind, and most people appeared to have forgotten about it. Malfoy and Charlus were the exceptions, shooting glares at each other, and in Charlus' case at her, whenever they were within viewing distance.

The only good outcome of it all, as far as Charis could see, was that this scandal had wiped out the first one, and as soon as people forgot about that all together, the better. Lucille too, seemed much more at ease with her, perhaps because scandals to do with boys she could understand.

And so, Charis settled back into school. The amount of pressure the N.E.W.T.S placed on seventh years increased their workload, and forced Charis to do homework where before she would have been more likely to make excuses. She didn't bemoan the fact, as she was glad to have something other than Charlus and Ella to occupy her mind. And when that strategy gave out, there was always Quidditch.

The first match of the season had arrived and tensions were as high as the occasion allowed. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. It was clear than none of last years angst had been forgotten, and the build-up was marked by the usual inter-house violence, spiked pumpkin juices, threatening owls, charmed broomsticks and anything else that could be thought up. Also as usual, Slytherin was subject to triple the insults and jeers as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sided with Ravenclaw.

A rousing speech had been given by Malfoy, this years Quidditch Captain, the night before, urging them to victory as payback for the humiliation of the previous year. Even Charis had cheered as he stepped down from the armchair that was his makeshift stage.

The day dawned cold, but sunny, and Octavia was annoying everybody by trying to work out whether this was to their advantage or not. Charis didn't bother telling her that seeing as how both teams were playing in the same conditions it wouldn't be an advantage to either team. Although if it had been raining, Slytherin could probably have used wands in the poor visibility, which Ravenclaw would never stoop to.

Charis, Lucille, and Octavia were joined in their seats by Horace Slughorn, who was more interested in watching Quidditch than playing it. Charis would have liked to have been on the team herself, but even though girls had been allowed to play at Hogwarts for well over fifty years, many families forbade their children. The Blacks were one of them. In fact, out of the four house teams, only two had female members. Hufflepuff, who had a girl chaser, and Ravenclaw. They had a girl seeker. It had of course made things infinitely worse for Slytherin's seeker to be beaten by a girl. But Malfoy was leading the team this year, and things would be different.

"On my whistle!" shouted Professor March, the referee. The crowd fell silent. The tension in the air was sharp. And then they were off, seven bright flashes of green matched by seven bright flashes of blue. The red blur of the quaffle moved so quickly it was almost impossible to follow. Malfoy to Slater, Slater to Finch, Finch to Malfoy, Malfoy intercepted by Ravenclaw's Hughes. Hughes to Gordon, Gordon back to Hughes, Hughes knocked out by Longbottom's bludger. Slater with the quaffle. Slater to Malfoy, Malfoy to Finch, Finch to Malfoy. And so it continued, Slater making the first attempt at goal, stopped easily by Potter.

The whole crowd seemed to be holding its breath as one, waiting for the first point to be scored. Even Lucille, who usually chatted through every match regardless of who was playing, was on the edge of her seat. The commentator, a Hufflepuff boy, was almost silent, too wrapped in the game to even speak. Every so often he would realise where he was, and throw in a few comments. But nobody needed him to say anything when Ravenclaw's Gordon snuck the Quaffle into the goals. Three quarters of the stadium was on its feet, cheering. Only the green mass of Slytherins was silent. Suddenly, this all looked too much like last year's final.

And then Malfoy scored, and hope was rejuvenated. They were back in the game.

There was no sign of the snitch, and indeed it appeared to have been forgotten, so intense were the actions of the other twelve players. The chasers seemed to have improved their game by double, in order to outwit the opposing team. The beaters were ferocious, a Ravenclaw member the first casualty. And the keepers were concentrating so hard their brooms were completely still, all thoughts of intimidation discarded.

"Slytherin – seventy. Ravenclaw – ninety", yelled the commentator, about an hour into the match. It was the snitch that would settle it. Both teams were scoring almost on par with each other, determined to win. As quickly as Ravenclaw made it past the Slytherin keeper, Slytherin would score.

The match lasted for five hours. It was not the longest game Hogwarts had ever seen, but it might as well have been. Ravenclaw had scraped a decent lead, four hundred and twenty to three hundred and fifty. But the snitch had been sighted, and it was Slytherin's Longbottom who brought it crashing back to earth.

A roar filled the pitch as every member of the winning house was on their feet, stamping and cheering. Longbottom was engulfed by his team members, and then by the rest of Slytherin as Professor March let them out of the stands.

Charis felt tears running down her cheeks, and she was embracing people she'd never spoken to before. She couldn't even see Longbottom to give him her congratulations, but then William Slater was in front of her, and she was wrapped in a bear hug.

"Well done", she said into his ear, unsure if he would hear her even then.

And then he kissed her.

For a moment Charis hesitated. But over his shoulder she saw the Ravenclaw team standing dejectedly. And Charlus looked like he might silently curse her.

So she kissed him back.