My Notes: We're getting near the end!  We're getting near the end!  Kernels of idea are in my mind, popping like popcorn!  If I don't use some of my material for the fic, I'll be publishing it as a deleted scene afterwards. 

Chapter Twelve /Gryffindor Versus Slytherin/

As the Slytherin Quidditch team was introduced over the megaphone, Ginny strapped on shin guards and tied her hair back into a ponytail.  All her body was in a nervous sweat, but then again, it always was before important Quidditch games.

The Gryffindor locker room was quiet.  The team was not as they usually were: grouped together, talking last minute about specific plays and laughing.  Every one of them had spread themselves out from the rest to be alone with their thoughts.  Harry was busy remembering Malfoy's weak points (he doesn't fly very fast; he spends an awful lot of time hovering near his devotees' box in the crowd so they can faint when they see up his robes).  Ron was sitting like in a trance, trying to get into 'the Zone', so he could block every single Quaffle to come his way.  But in Ginny's brain, so much more was going on.  She was thinking of how to dodge and swerve Bludgers, that was true – but she was also arguing with her set of morals whether or not she should play badly on purpose.

Then she decided.  Then she knew.

She heard Harry's name getting called, and she saw him turning to her, with a big grin on his face.  She could barely smile back.

When her own name was announced, and she walked timidly onto the Pitch, she saw Malfoy on the other side, with a smile on his face as large as Harry's.

Her small frame trembling, she mounted her broom at the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle.  And she knew, but how terribly scared she was.

Slytherin had an early lead, 10-0.  Ginny had underestimated the power of the three Chasers on their team – they worked so perfectly together and somehow she hadn't managed to notice it before.

She felt inadequate.  Once Gryffindor was in possession, a Chaser passed to Ginny and her hands immediately felt like stone.  She fumbled and dropped the Quaffle.  It zoomed to the ground, but there was one of the Slytherin Chasers waiting below it, arms wide open, making a perfect save and clutching the Quaffle to their breast.  Within the minute, their score had doubled: 20-0.

Harry began to look flustered.  He had been busy searching the sky for the Snitch, but at yet another roar of approval from the green-and-silver portion of the crowd, he gave Ginny a look:  Where are you?  Why aren't you coming through with our plays?

She wanted to explain.  She wanted to apologise.  She wanted Malfoy to fall into a pit full of chimaeras and rampaging bicorns.

Twenty minutes later, a large cluster of grey clouds had advanced over the Pitch and the score was 80-20.

Somehow, Gryffindor had managed to get a Quaffle in twice.  The two other Chasers had given up on Ginny and decided to score without Harry's Ginny-centric plans.  They weren't very good, and they reminded many of the spectators why the inventor of Quidditch had figured that three Chasers would work best.

Meanwhile, Slytherin's Chasers did little to remind the crowd of how spiteful those three players were out of their uniforms and on the school campus.  Even students who were not in Slytherin cheered as they executed their perfectly designed plays.  And when the dashingly handsome raven-haired boy scored the Quaffle through the smallest Quidditch post, all of the Gryffindors in the stands gasped in awe along with the rest of the school – some even clapped.

Ginny watched in despair as Slytherin scored again and again.  She saw Harry grimacing something terrible.  It looked as though he wanted to fly over to that duffer Jack Sloper, grab his Gryffindor Beater bat and whack everyone on the pitch with it.  Ginny rubbed her cheek, thinking of how hard he would beat her.  She was costing him a house cup, his hard work, and his dignity.

She felt like she had a giant, gaping hole in her stomach.

That didn't last long.  A second later, she knew she had a Bludger in her stomach.  Crabbe had just aimed it at her, sensing that she wasn't paying attention.  She started slipping towards the end of her broom, trying hard to hold on with her fingers but more importantly, trying to breathe.  The wind was knocked out of her, despite the suddenly windy conditions.  She could hear her robes flapping loudly in the blustery weather, and even saw a flash of gold whizzing past her face, grazing the cheek she had been previously comforting.  It looked as though even the powerful Snitch had been caught off guard by the sudden gust.

Although her abdomen was pounding with pain, she felt her strength returning, and she was able to sit up straight on the broom.  She tried to remember what the score was and what she was supposed to be doing.  She looked below her and saw the Gryffindor stands.  She saw her housemates' gloomy faces and remembered that they were losing.  Then her eyes were caught by one person, jumping up and down, waving at her.  It was Hermione.  Her face was shining and she was yelling, "Go Ginny!"  Hermione still had hope for her, and Ginny suddenly had hope for Hermione.

Ginny had never intended to throw the match.  She had decided that she was sick of the crap Malfoy was giving her.  But out on the Pitch, the fact had still remained that she was nervous.  Now she had a reason to play.  It wasn't some pansy motive – "I don't want to lose" – but a powerful, passionate reason that no other reason could rival.  Ginny's heart was in the game for love.

Gryffindor was trailing Slytherin by almost 100 points.  Ginny was dumbfounded when she heard.  She sped over to Harry and frantically asked him to call a time-out.

Ginny scored.

Ginny passed the Quaffle.  It was passed back; she scored.

On the ground, she had told the team that they didn't have to give up on her anymore.  She hadn't elaborated too much on her realization, but the blazing fire in her eyes could speak worlds.  Trust was restored in Ginny as a high-scoring Chaser.

She hadn't let them down.  Harry reminded her of the plays and now the three Chasers were looking just as spectacular as the Slytherins'.  Ginny gracefully swerved Bludgers and generously passed the Quaffle for a number of assists.  Gryffindor still hadn't caught up with Slytherin, but Ginny knew that Harry would be able to catch the Snitch for a Gryffindor victory shortly.  The time-out had restored the Gryffindor team's morale.  Harry was able to concentrate fully on finding the Snitch; Sloper's Bludgers started to fly true.  And Ginny and her team of Chasers were scoring again.

Slytherin was in possession, and heading towards the Gryffindor goalposts.  Ginny watched proudly.  It looked as though this new-found energy had instigated some fright into the Slytherins.  The Chasers were having some trouble with the handling of the Quaffle, and as one of them lamely tried to score against a revved up Ron, the other two were hit with Bludgers courtesy of the Gryffindor Beaters, who had teamed up to whack the black balls simultaneously.

Draco angrily flew to Ginny.  "I thought you knew was at stake for this game?!" he exploded.

Ginny looked at him coolly.  He was panicking and he wasn't so powerful.  She didn't care.  She let him continue.

"No one will respond well to you fancying girls, Weasley.  Your family will disown you.  She won't love you."

"It's laughable how wrong you are, Malfoy," Ginny said.  "My family loves me.  My friends care about me.  You might not, but it's not as if I care for you.  You're a rodent.  It's hard to fathom how I ever worried about what you thought and said.  It's even worse when I think how I humiliated myself for you.  Now bugger off; I've got a game to win."

A Quaffle was passed to her and the conversation was closed.  She swiftly approached the goaltender, and faked him out – this way! no, that way!  She threw it behind her head and it was caught by a fellow Gryffindor Chaser who threw it through a goalpost and the crowds roared happily.  The game was so much more exciting to watch now that there was a chance that Slytherin would lose.

Finally, it was announced that Harry had caught the snitch and Gryffindor had won: 200-110.  The Gryffindor team ecstatically dismounted their brooms and threw Ginny on their shoulders just as the clouds parted and the Heavens rained down on the Pitch.

My Notes: What, you REALLY thought she was going to throw it?  As if!