Chapter Fourteen
The Celebrated Seer
–
The Present is a point just Past.
–
"Your necklace?" I breathed unsteadily, looking nervously from Dumbledore and back to Cassandra.
"Of course," she smiled pleasantly. "Eet was a gift from your great-grandfather, Olaf, as a wedding present. Eet belonged to 'is grandmother, you understand. I passed eet on to my daughter, your grandmother Charlotte, when she married your grandfather and then after your father, Benjamin, passed away eet was apparent to your grandmother that she would never 'ave thee opportunity to pass on thee locket to a daughter-in-law because Benjy was 'er only child, you see. So she gave eet to your mum on thee night you were born instead, then eet was left to you."
"I— I don't understand," I said wearily. "If you are my great-grandmother like you say you are then why have I never heard about you before, or better yet, why was I not shipped off to you instead of the Weasleys?"
"The Weasleys were not my first stop the night of your mother's death," said Dumbledore gently, leaning over his desk. "Before I had even gone to see the carnage in Little Langley that night I had stopped by to speak with Cassandra about your guardianship, seeing as she and your now late great-grandfather were your sole remaining blood relatives—"
"Well, why am I not under your care?" I asked hastily, "Why didn't you take me in?"
"Because eet was not your destiny, child," she said as if I should have already known.
"Sorry?" I scoffed in disbelief.
"A Seer's adolescence ees a very delicate time," she went on, ignoring my confused expression. "Een thee wrong 'ands, your abilities could develop too early and—"
"So you're basically telling me that you turned me away when I needed a home more than anything because your little tarot cards told you I needed to grow up ignorant to my so-called ability?" I said incredulously, taking to my feet. "This is ludicrous, Professor, I am not a Seer and there is no way this tosspot is related to me, so if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving. This is all a load of bull—"
"Sit down, Winifred," said Professor Dumbledore in a severe tone, causing me to sit back in my chair. I was too frightened to say another word in protest. "I brought Cassandra here to help you. I know you must be scared because this is all rather overwhelming, but it is of dire importance that you allow her to help you."
"If she wanted to help then she should have taken me in over twelve years ago," I snapped. "How can she possibly do anything to help me now?"
"She's going to tutor you," said Dumbledore simply. "She's going to help you understand how to control your ability."
"And if I refuse?" I spat, sending a vindictive look at Cassandra.
"Winifred, why would you refuse?" asked the old woman. "You know as well as I do that you wish you could control your visions, prevent nightmares, besides we're family—"
"No, we are not family," I insisted viciously. "We may share the same blood but we are not family. My family consists of the Weasleys. They were there for me when I needed someone to love me, you are nothing to me but a mediocre author of nonsense."
"Mediocre? Er— Winifred, you must understand 'ow difficult eet was to turn Alboos's request down," she said. "Olaf was livid with me, but eet ees against the laws of nature for one Seer to raise another."
"How did you even know I was a Seer back then—"
She sent me a condescending look as if to say Uh-because-I-am-a-Seer.
"Well, why didn't Molly and Arthur ever mention you to me?" I asked swiftly. "This is the first time I've ever heard anything about you besides reading about you in the history in Divination with Professor Trelawney."
"Oh, do not tell me Sibyl ees still teaching Divination, Alboos," said Cassandra, "The woman ees to thee art of thee Inner Eye what Gilderoy Lockhart was to... well, what Gilderoy Lockhart ees to thee Inner Eye... nothing. She ees a joke, an utter fraud... but that ees neither 'ere nor there... thee reason thee Weasleys did not speak of me ees because they do not know I am your great-grandmother. Before You-Know-Who took power, Olaf and I went eento 'iding. Thee power of Sight ees a much desired ability, especially to those tampering een thee Dark Arts. When no word was 'eard from thee two of us for over a year we were presumed to 'ave been killed. When we returned to society, we changed our name to prevent anyone from finding us."
"I was their Secret Keeper when their names were still Vladimir and Uma Chernikova," said Dumbledore. "Olaf and Cassandra loved you, Winifred, but things were so different then, we lived in dangerous times. After going to speak with Cassandra I knew that you were better off in the hands of the Weasleys as well. You had grown up with them your entire life already, it was where you belonged... where you do belong."
I wasn't going to argue that fact. I belonged in the Burrow and I wouldn't have preferred to grow up anywhere else, but something still didn't sit right with me about Cassandra or Uma or whoever she was. She had turned me away because she cared more about me developing a power I don't even want than taking me in. So... Seers couldn't be raised by another Seer because it threatened their power's ability to develop properly... I can't remember if we learned that in Divination or not.
I couldn't claim to have been overwhelmingly surprised by my Seer discovery. I suppose I'd been denying all the signs up until now. I'd been brilliant in Divination for years, no one came close to my capabilities, the dreams or visions or whatever they are, and my odd ability to read people. I guess I'd just been trying to push any thoughts that I could have such a power because I was frightened of the reality.
"I'm not doubting that," I argued. "You couldn't pay me to have grown up anywhere else, but that does not negate the fact that it would have been nice to know I wasn't the only one left in my biological family."
"I stick by my decision, Winifred," said Cassandra. "You 'ave thee potential to be one of thee greatest Seers een 'istory because of what I did."
"Wonderful," I smiled sarcastically. "Well, I'm glad you shoved an orphan into the cold, so I could develop a power I don't even want!"
"Why would you not want such a blessing?" she inquired, shocked at my denial.
"Because I don't want to see the future," I objected. "I don't want to know what will happen before it happens. Who would want that? It's not a blessing, it's a curse. I just want to be normal, I just want my life back."
Cassandra sighed heavily, blatantly disappointed with my taking to this life changing news. She must have expected a much more warm welcome, because her expression appeared broken. I bet she didn't foresee me telling her in so many words to sod off... and she calls herself a Seer.
"I can teach you 'ow to control eet," she sighed regretfully, turning her gaze to her wrinkled hands in her lap. "Eef you really wish to rid yourself of thees gift then I will show you 'ow to put a stop to your power. Eef that ees what you really want?"
"It is," I said simply, nodding.
"Miss McKinnon, you understand the opportunity you have been presented," said Dumbledore. "You have been given this extremely rare ability and the chance to train with one of the most celebrated Seers in history—"
"I am very thankful for your concern, sir," I sighed, "but I'd prefer to do things this way."
"Very well," Dumbledore frowned sadly, "Cassandra has agreed to meet with you once a week beginning the start of next term, she will instruct you the way she deems necessary to achieve your request. However, if at any time your mind changes then I know Cassandra would be more than pleased to—"
"I understand, sir," I interrupted, "I doubt that my mind will change, however. I'm sorry."
Dumbledore merely nodded in reply.
"Well, I suppose you want to 'ead off to bed now, I know you have your meeting with Professor McGonagall tomorrow afternoon after all. Alboos and I will make plans een your absence," said Cassandra despondently. "Oh, and there will be no need to eenform your friends Fred and George Weasley of our discussion."
Bullocks she was good. I had completely forgotten I had my O.W.L. appointment with McGonagall the following afternoon at 2:00 PM. Thank you, Cassandra.
"Am I not allowed to?" I asked anxiously.
"No, eet ees not that," he smirked coyly. "Eet's just that they've already 'eard, considering they've been eavesdropping ever since I walked eenside Alboos's office."
The brief sound of shuffling footsteps could be heard from behind us, and I couldn't help but smirk for a brief moment.
"Oh," I said curtly. "Yeah, they tend to do that—"
"But we do recommend keeping this meeting between as few people as possible," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I will be writing Molly and Arthur Weasley on what we spoke about, seeing as they are your guardians but whomever else you tell is up to your own personal judgment."
"I don't plan on telling anyone else," I said, taking to my feet. "This is all rather strange, and I can't wait to be able to push it all back under the rug and forget about it once and for all."
"Whatever you like," said Dumbledore. "Goodnight, Miss McKinnon, we will be in touch."
"Of course, sir, and goodnight to you," I replied, nodding kindly to the elderly wizard before allowing my gaze to rest on Cassandra. "Er— see you, Madam Vablatsky..."
I knew that felt like a punch in her gut to refer to her in such a formal tone, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get outside and be able to curl up under my covers and forget about the entire night. I didn't look back once I reached the doorway, I instead sprinted down the steps and began walking quickly back to Gryffindor Tower. The twins exchanged confused looks before running after me, one on either side of me as I walked.
"Freddie—" said Fred.
"Freddie, stop for a bleeding minute," George urged, grasping my elbow and jerking me back to face him.
My lower lip quivered for the overwhelming emotion I was drowning in: the shock, the betrayal, the utter confusion. This would have been the opportune time to cry, but no tears came as usual. George gauged my expression and pulled me roughly against him. I planted my face against his chest, gripping his t-shirt with my fists. I rolled my forehead against him as if to erase my recent memory. I felt his hand gently petting the back of my head while he held me close with his free arm. I couldn't make out the soft whispers he was breathing in between sloppy kisses that he placed atop my head, but I knew they were words of comfort which were as effective mumbled as they would have been if elegantly spoken.
"'S alright, Win," said Fred, "we're here for you."
"Why me?" I whispered hoarsely. "I'm just plain 'ole Winnie M—"
"You're much more than just that," said George, swallowing hard.
"I just want to be normal," I frowned, closing my eyes tight against George's torso.
"Being normal is overrated," said Fred, breaking the tension. "Whoever said being normal was what everyone should strive to be must have been insufferably normal and was just jealous of all the fun oddballs like us."
"Solid argument," said George. "Since when have we ever cared about fitting in. I think it's brilliant that you're a Seer."
"Well, I won't be for long," I said, pulling away from him so he could hang his arm over my shoulders while we headed back to the tower again. "I'm going to learn how to control this if it kills me."
"You're sure you want to do that?" asked Fred
"I mean, not many people can claim to—" George continued.
"I've already heard it from Dumbledore, and I don't need to hear it from you two," I frowned. "This is my life, it's my decision, and I've made it."
"Well, I think you're making a big mistake," said George, unfazed by my attitude. "I can understand being upset about the whole great-grandma thing, but you've been given this gift and you're going to waste it."
"It's not a gift, and I wish everyone would quit referring to it as such," I argued. "A gift is something you want, something you're grateful for. I don't want this, and I'm done talking about it."
"Fine, whatever, for now," said George, "but I'm not letting the subject die forever."
"Oh, fantastic," I frowned.
"Oh, cheer up, Freddie," said Fred, wrapping his arm over mys shoulders as well. "Our birthdays are coming up, you can't deny yourself a smile at that thought."
I didn't smile. The twins and I always celebrated our birthdays on the same day: April 15th. It was exactly two weeks before mine and two weeks after theirs. We weren't allowed to wish the other 'Happy Birthday' on our actual birthdays. When we were little we used to pretend we were triplets and thus shared the same birthday, the tradition stuck. However, celebrating our birthdays couldn't be further from my mind. I forced the fakest smile I'd ever mustered for Fred's sake and leaned my head on his shoulder, still wishing I would wake up from this nightmare I call my life.
–
No one, including me, in Gryffindor Tower slept that night, but my insomnia was not due to a psychotic serial killer but rather my conversation with Dumbledore. Everyone knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room the entire night, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell us that he had again escaped.
Throughout the next day, everywhere I went I saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.
I couldn't help noticing that the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor remained unguarded and unblocked. It seemed that Fred, George, and I had been right in thinking that we — and now Harry, Ron, and Hermione — are the only ones who know about the hidden passageway within it. I made a mental note to tell the twins of this after meeting with McGonagall. They'd had theirs the previous weekend, luck prats. They told her they planned on becoming entrepreneurs, and she wasn't all that surprised having caught us selling treats on numerous occasions and punishing us as well.
My eyelids were heavy from lack of sleep, dark circles were also visible under my eyes. I'd eaten breakfast early in the morning with Oliver because no one else from Gryffindor opted to eat in the morning over sleeping in their own beds besides the two of us. I didn't tell him about my meeting the night before, choosing to tell him that the twins and I had to go speak to Dumbledore about Ron's well-being to Molly and Arthur through the hearth considering Percy was too busy helping with the search. It sounded pretty believable to me, but I was too tired to really care how much sense I was making.
I stood before McGonagall's door, yawning heavily before knocking. She called for me to enter her office, and I lazily followed her instructions, claiming the comfortable armchair before her desk that was nearly identical to Dumbledore's. I'd been in her office countless times for obvious reasons involving pranks and such.
"Miss McKinnon—" started McGonagall, looking up from her papers and freezing her gaze on me. "Are you quite alright?"
"I'm fine, Professor," I said quietly, rubbing my eyes.
"Did you not sleep at all?"
"No, I'm not tired," I lied and unconvincingly at that.
"Well, I'll try to keep this as brief as possible considering you appear as if you are about to keel over at any moment," she said kindly, pulling out my file containing all my prior grades.
"Alright," I yawned.
"Now, you have managed to receive rather admirable scores over your career at Hogwarts," she began, adjusting her glasses, "and I must admit I am surprised considering your fondness of er— well, the companionship of the Weasley twins."
"No one is more surprised than I am," I smirked.
"Well, I'm sure you know already that your best class is that of Divination," she explained, "but I can safely deduct that you most likely do not—"
"I'd rather lose a shouting contest to a mandrake than do anything with Divination, Professor," I interrupted.
"As I suspected," she nodded, "there isn't much one can do with such a subject unless you were a Seer or something."
She laughed lightly at her jokecomment, unaware of how uncomfortable she'd made me.
"Yeah," was all I managed to reply.
"But you also exceed in Defense Against the Dark Arts and in my class as well," she said. "Have you ever considered becoming an Auror?"
"No," I said, "I like Transfiguration a lot, Professor, and I like using the art to create devices and such—"
"You want to go into the same field as Fred and George Weasley then?" she inquired, almost disappointed.
"Yes, that would make me happy," I nodded.
"Very well then," she sighed, handing me a list of marks and classes I need to achieve a career in business. "It appears you'll be in the same classes as the twins."
"Divination isn't on here," I said before I could stop myself, reading the list of classes.
"No, it is not required unless you would like to continue the subject as an elective," she said. "Is that a problem?"
"N— No," I said, looking up at her and smiling awkwardly, "not at all."
"Good," she smiled kindly. "If you have any additional inquisitions about your classes etc do not hesitate to come and speak to me."
"Thanks, Professor," I nodded, taking to my feet.
"You're quite welcome, Miss McKinnon," she grinned. "Just try to keep your nose in your books for the remainder of this term, and I have all the confidence in the world that you'll succeed."
–
I stepped out into the hall, rubbing my eyes to clear my vision. I just wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower and climb into my bed even if I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. I guess I had become a walking zombie because I didn't even see the three enormous barbarians striding towards me: Graham Montague, Thomas Derrick, and Philip Bole. Half the bloody Slytherin Quidditch team had surrounded me, and I was all alone. I tried to sidestep them, but the three seemed to take up the entire corridor.
"Ah, McKinnon," said Montague, smiling disgustingly. "You're looking very chipper this morning."
"Get out of my way," I spat. "I am in no mood, Graham, and that goes for you too."
I nodded towards Bole and Derrick, but they merely smirked and looked at each other from the corner of their beady little eyes.
"Now that isn't very good sportsmanship, McKinnon," said Bole.
"Shut up, Bole," I snapped. "You don't know the meaning of the word sportsmanship, in fact you don't know the meaning of most words."
"She's a feisty one alright, Graham," Bole smirked.
"Right, Tommy?" he replied. "You can't blame me for wanting to—"
"Finish that sentence, Montague, and I swear to Merlin that it'll be the last thing you ever say with all your teeth," I sneered.
Montague was amused with me as usual for some sick reason. He backed me up against the wall while I tried my hardest to not break our eye-contact, I refused to show fear no matter how many times he eclipsed my size. He leaned in close to my face, his hand planted beside my ear. I turned my head to the side with a revolted look on my face as I inhaled his dragon breath.
"Mm... is that a new perfume I smell?" he asked, sniffing my hair by almost shoving his entire head into the mop atop my head.
"No," I hissed, "and yes, you do."
"When are you going to quit playing hard to get?" he asked quietly, the sickening smile he always sported never leaving his ugly face.
"When you quit playing easy to have," I said rolling my eyes.
"You drive me mad, McKinnon," he breathed.
"You were already there far before you even met me," I frowned.
"Come now, you can't tell me that you're not the slightest bit attracted to me," he said, unfazed by my rude remark.
"Oh, I can, and I'll go even further," I spat, "I wouldn't piss down your throat if your heart was on fire."
"Take that back," he sneered.
"You're right, Graham, I will take that statement back... because it was erroneous," I replied crudely. "You don't even have a heart to piss on."
With one swift motion he held his pudgy palm around my throat. I gasped to breath, holding onto his wrist to try to free myself. Bole and Derrick merely looked on with wide eyes. Graham leaned in so his mouth was less than an inch from my ear.
"You really need an attitude adjustment, McKinnon," he whispered, his breath burning my eardrum.
"And you need a shower," I spat, feeling his grip tighten around my neck.
"I'd suggest being a bit more friendly towards me if you don't want things to get dirty on the pitch for your little friends," he hissed, implying he would use dirty tactics during our match against them. If I didn't already know he'd play dirty regardless then I may have contemplated a different response. "Do you hear me?"
"Oh, I hear you," I gasped, feeling myself go lightheaded. "I just don't give a shit."
He completely cut off my air supply after that retort, things started going blurry. I took the remainder of my strength and slammed my heel as hard as I could against his foot. He squealed in pain, bending over to grab his now injured foot. I lifted my elbow upwards and rammed him in the jaw causing him to stumble backwards. He had reared back to come at me again with full force. I'd underestimated his pain tolerance (which had probably become quite high over the years thanks to me) because he was charging at me with a look of fury across his mug.
"STUPEFY!"
Montague went flying across the corridor, shooting into his two Beaters like they were a pair of bowling pins. I slid down the wall, clutching my aching throat as I discovered the identity of my savior: Oliver. His face was as red as a tomato, his chest rising and falling furiously through his shirt. Every muscle in his extended arm was flexed, he appeared more enraged that I had ever seen him. He kept his wand pointed at the trio of Slytherins all the while he approached me, helping me to my own two feet. He kept his free arm around my waist to steady me.
"Graham Montague, you putrescent mass of walking vomit," Oliver yelled, "if you ever so much as look at her the wrong way I will hit you so hard that what few braincells you have left can consider themselves history!"
"Piss off, Wood!" he bellowed back. "You'll be singing a different tune once we massacre you lot next match. You won't be so high and mighty then!"
"Fat chance!" Ollie screamed back.
"Who's making all this ruckus?" McGonagall called from down the hall, her footsteps coming closer.
Montague, Bole, and Derrick darted off towards the dungeons while Oliver helped me back in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. We hurried down the corridor towards the Tower, resting once we peeled around a corner out of sight. Oliver helped me sit down on the floor, so I could catch my already lost breath. He pulled my hand from my neck to see if I had any bruises. I didn't for now, thank Merlin, only red marks. His hands bawled into fists as he gritted his teeth fiercely.
"Are you alright?" he asked, placing his hand delicately in the same spot Graham had nearly choked me to death.
"Fine," I breathed shallowly, forcing a smile before I continued. "I could have taken him, you know."
"Sure," said Oliver sarcastically, rolling his eyes humorously. "Though I will admit that you did hold your own from what I saw."
"I guess I'm lucky you showed up," I said graciously.
"I was just coming to see how your OWL appointment with McGonagall went," he explained. "I didn't expect to see that codger with his hands on you."
"He's had some twisted obsession with me for ages," I said casually. "I'm used to it."
"If he comes at you again promise me you'll come and fetch me," he said sternly. "I'm going to handle this situation myself from now on."
"You sound like Fred and George," I said.
"I don't doubt that, I care about you as much as they do," he went on. "The three of us just don't want to see you get hurt."
"I appreciate the concern," I said, "but I've been handling Graham Montague for five years now. I've got the situation under control."
"Judging by the bright red finger marks around your neck, you don't," he said.
I leaned forward and kissed him before he could continue lecturing me.
"You have much more important things to worry about than this," I smiled weakly. "We play Slytherin coming up, just concentrate on that—"
"Nothing is more important to me than you," he said genuinely.
I knew he meant it, and for some reason that was more terrifying to me than the threat of Graham Montague.
–
I had to fit in all my homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Oliver in between sneaking off to our late night dates that were becoming more and more difficult to conceal. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays, and I couldn't wait to just get it over with. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Ollie constantly reminded our team) that we needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, poor bloke, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.
The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley had been Seeker. I would have known this without anyone else informing me because Charlie mentions the fact just about every time I see him.
Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and our Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears. The twins and I may or may not have instigated the row.
Harry was having a particularly bad time of it, though we all were. We couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip the lot of us up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever we went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw us surrounded by people. Wood had given specific instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere he went, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action. The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. It was rather humorous actually. All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books. The only thing that kept my mind off the match was the fact that the twins and I would be celebrating our birthdays the night before. Firewhiskey would be involved, no doubt, my mortal enemy. I'd vomited in Molly's house slippers last time I'd met my old alcoholic friend not to mention another incident I'd prefer to have obliviated from my mind for eternity... I'd been tearing my hair out lately, thinking of my new found ability, the impending Quidditch match against Slytherin, those dreadful O.W.L. Exams looming in the near future and not even mentioning my uneasy feelings that had began to grow for a certain comical redhead. I needed some Firewhiskey in my system to calm my nerves, but little did I know that alcohol is not only the solution to life's problems but can sometimes be the cause...
–
The twins and I had invited Lee, Ang, Kates, and regretfully Alicia to meet us in the common room at midnight to celebrate our sort of turning sixteen together. We wanted to avoid the always nosy Percy from ruining our fun. Fred, George, and I had gone down early to exchange gifts that were about deep as a puddle. We held our hands behind our backs, each already knowing the other's gift. We still teased one another by swaying our hips from side to side and looking slyly up at the ceiling with matching devious grins.
"On the count of three," Fred smiled. "One— two— three..."
We each pulled our hands from behind our backs and proudly displayed our gifts, six bottles of Firewhiskey between us, one in each of our hands. Each of us grabbed our chests as if we were being given diamonds and didn't expect it in the slightest. We exchanged bottles for good comedic measure Fred to George, George to me, and me to Fred.
"Oh, boys, you shouldn't have," I beamed.
"How did you two know?" George laughed as if we'd read his mind.
"I had no idea," Fred joked, "what a total and complete surprise."
We were popping the tops off our bottles in a fit of giggled as the other four invitees came down their opposing staircases. I noticed Alicia look as if she was going to vomit when she laid eyes on the Firewhiskey. I knew she didn't drink which only made me appreciate the alcoholic beverage all the more. We dove into the bottles, each of us (minus Alicia) sipping on our own bottle. I had managed to finish off my entire bottle and moved onto the spare before anyone else had reached halfway through theirs.
"Make sure to come up for air," Fred teased me. "You remember what happened last time you went overboard on the Firewhiskey."
"Oh, sod off," I blushed, taking another healthy gulp. I was determined to forget my worries for one night and it was working thus far as the room started spinning.
"What happened?" asked Kates curiously.
The twins exchanged wicked smiles while I sent them a Don't-You-Dare glare.
"Nothing much," said Fred, smirking deviously. "We were celebrating Percy's birthday last July with a few bottles of Firewhiskey, though to be fare Percy drank more than anyone which was a first, but Winnie was a close second, and proceeded to end her night by snogging Percy for a good twenty minutes on the kitchen table."
"Fred and I couldn't force ourselves to eat off it for weeks," said George.
"Percy couldn't remember a thing, but we;ll never forget," said Fred, smiling to himself.
I punched his arm and stuck out my tongue.
"That never happened," I protested.
"We have pictures," said George.
"You promised me you destroyed those!" I objected.
"Oh, we did," said Fred, "but thanks for admitting your guilt."
"Ugh," I groaned. "Sometimes I seriously question why I'm friends with the likes of you two."
"Whatever, you love us," said Fred humorously, ruffling my hair and pulling me against him for a hug.
After about two or more hours of nonsensical giggling later Katie suggested a game of Truth or Dare. I would have opposed the idea if I hadn't become so drunk that everything sounded wonderful. Everyone else was finally beginning to catch up to my intoxication level, everyone but Alicia of course. It had begun pretty boring, dares to take long drinks of the whiskey and truths involving the person's favorite somethings or other. However, it took a humorous turn for the better or possibly considered worse in the blink of an eye.
"Truth or Dare?" Katie asked Angelina.
"Dare," she replied.
"I dare you to kiss... Fred," Katie giggled.
Big deal. We'd seen them snog before, so no one was that amused when they leaned across the circle to lock lips with one another.
"Lee, truth or dare?" asked Angelina.
"Truth," said Lee.
"Who do you fancy?" she inquired.
"Come now, Ang," Lee smirked. "I think we're a bit more mature than that."
"Speak for yourself," I laughed much to hard.
"Fine," he scoffed. "I guess I sort of think Dylan is pretty cute."
"That Ravenclaw girl?" asked Angelina. "Aw, Lee—"
"Shut it, Angelina," he said. "Alicia, truth or dare?"
"Truth," she smiled.
"Same question," he yawned. "I'm no good at truths, I'm more of a dare person."
"Oh, that's a bit of a personal question," she blushed, batting her eyelashes coyly at a specific redhead.
"Come off it, Leesh, we all know you like George," I hiccuped, rolling my eyes at her. "Next."
"Whatever," she spat, narrowing her eyes at me. "Winnie, truth or dare?"
"Dare," I hiccuped again, covering my mouth and laughing to myself.
"I dare you to run down the corridor in nothing but her underwear," said Alicia deviously, believing me to chicken to do it.
However, I had already began to take off my shirt and was pulling down my pants before she could pester me. I probably wouldn't have done it if I didn't remember I was wearing matching underwear to my navy polka-dotted bra. Everyone's jaws dropped to the floor as I stood in the middle of the floor in my skivvies. I popped out my leg with my hands proudly resting on my hips. I think the immense amount of alcohol that was pickling my liver may have added to my sudden self-confidence.
"Winnie, don't you dare—" Angelina warned, but it was too late.
I had already turned to run out the portrait hole, my comrades... and Alicia's... hurried footsteps to watch could be heard behind me. They poked their heads out of the portrait hole, three peeking around from each side. I felt free as a bird as my bare feet slapped against the cool, refreshing stone floor. I bet I would never live this moment down, running half-naked down the corridor in the middle of the night. I also probably would never live down the fact that I ran square into Professor Snape just before I reached the end of the corridor, and when I say ran square into, I mean it. I face-planted against his chest, stumbling backwards at the sheer shock of it all. Snape's black eyes looked down at me and even in the darkness I could see him blush.
"Oops sorry, Professor," I said dumbly.
Several monosyllabic grunts came from Snape's mouth, his lips opening and closing a few times while his eyes struggled to remain linked with my own. I honestly don't think he'd ever seen so much bare skin on a female in his entire life, and I doubt he ever would again. Finally, after an awkward minute or two he shot his wand hand forward, pointing at the open portrait hole. I spotted six heads dart inside at the last second.
"—bed— now—" were the only two words he could muster.
I saluted him in my drunken stupor and surprised him even more so by running directly forward to touch my hand to the end of the stone corridor to complete my dare before sprinting back to the portrait hole. Dare complete. Suck on that, Alicia Spinnet. I re-entered the common room to a group of five hysterically laughing teenagers, one was sulking. One guess who. I bowed to my audience like I had just won an award before pulling back on my clothes.
"That was legitimately the funniest thing I have ever seen!" Lee choked out through his laughter.
"He didn't even give you a detention!" Fred chuckled. "Now if that was me then Merlin knows he'd call me a barmpot and would've given me a month's worth of cauldron scrubbing!"
"If you ran down the corridor in a polka-dot bra and panties then I'd half to agree with him," I teased, sending the group into a fit of laughter again.
After a few more gulps of Firewhiskey, eyelids were noticeably beginning to droop as the clock turned towards four in the morning.
"Well, Freddie, I think you have officially made it impossible for this night to get any better," said Lee, wiping a humor-induced tear from his eye. "Therefore, I'm going to turn in, Merlin knows I need to be on my game with that megaphone the same as you lot do on your brooms."
"I think the same goes for us," said Katie, yawning and motioning towards Ang and Alicia.
"Happy Birthday," said the four in unison before departing up their designated staircases.
"Night," I giggled after them, taking another sip of Firewhiskey and enjoying how wonderful I felt. I fell onto my back, clutching the bottle in my hands and closing my eyes to allow myself to become engulfed by the intoxicating feeling of inebriation. I heard a thump as George fell back beside me, mocking my motions. Fred took one final gulp and threw the now empty bottle away. I had the sole remaining bottle of liquor that was nearly empty as well.
"I'm going upstairs to bed before I come to terms with how utterly sloshed I am," he said, hiccuping briefly, "but by all means stay and sleep here. I'll just use Percy's erratic screams as my wake-up call."
"Uh-huh," George and I mumbled in response, too tired to open our mouths.
Fred stumbled up the staircase, barely catching himself before plummeting face first onto the stone steps. George rolled over onto his side and began snickering uncontrollably in a drunken sort of way that automatically caused me to join in, unaware of what was so funny. I pushed myself onto my side to see George's smiling face.
"What?" I laughed.
"The look on Snape's face when you—" he couldn't control his giggles, unable to finish his sentence. "That was the funniest thing I've seen in ages."
"I'm glad my public nudity amuses you," I smirked, taking a hefty swig of the Firewhiskey and successfully finishing off the last bottle. I let it drop above my head which felt as if it were floating above my body anyhow.
"You know if you looked like Millicent Bulstrode then you'd be sitting in Dumbledore's office as we speak," he grinned.
"Why, George Weasley, was that some lame attempt to compliment me?" I teased, pinching his cheek in jest.
"Maybe," he smiled deviously.
"Aw, you think I'm pretty," I sung in some moronic tune.
"Shut it," he replied.
"You think I'm gorgeous," I continued to sing. "You looovvvee me."
"I said, shut your gob," he smirked.
"You want to marry me," I sang, "hug me and kiss m—"
Before I could finish George had pressed his lips against mine, cutting me off. I knew I should have pulled away, explained why I shouldn't be kissing him, but I didn't. I gently placed my hand on the side of his face and kissed him back. It felt like I was touching my fingertips to a crystal ball, that same electrifying and addicting feeling that I was accustomed to. It was like every fiber of my being was alive and alert to every sense I possessed, consuming my very being. I couldn't tell you what made me pull away, maybe it was the fact I had a boyfriend or maybe it was because I was too drunk to remember how to breathe, but I finally did break our lip lock. Our eyes didn't break however, both of our expressions exhumed sheer terror. Neither of us knew what to say or what to do next.
George somehow managed to clamor to his feet, unsteadily standing over me. I knelt on my knees, peering up at him and begging him to say something, anything.
"Er— It— It's getting late," said George uneasily, scratching the back of his neck, "I best... Quidditch tomorrow, you know— goodnight—"
Without another illiterate word, George wobbled towards the staircase and climbed up to his bedroom, leaving me in a stunned silence. I reached my hand up to my mouth and delicately touched my fingertips to my tingling lips before bringing them back as if something was supposed to show up on my fingers. I abruptly held my face in my hands, shaking from side to side in disgust. George kissed me, and I kissed him back... and it felt right. But what about Oliver? I still had feelings for him, strong feelings, but I'd kissed someone else. I wished I'd never drank that incessant Firewhiskey. My mind would have been working at full capacity if I hadn't ingested so much alcohol. If George returned the same feelings I felt then I was going to have to break up with Oliver. It wasn't fare to him. I threw the empty Firewhiskey bottle away and gradually climbed the steps up to my bedroom, collapsing on my bed and no matter how tired and drunk I was... I couldn't sleep.
–
I'd maybe gotten an hour of sleep because when I came to the next morning my head felt like I'd been hit by a semi truck. I gripped the side of my head, rubbing my temples furiously. The light made my eyes shoot unbearable pains throughout my aching skull. Angelina and Katie looked like they were struggling to cope from the events of the previous night as well seeing as Katie had put her shirt on inside out and backwards but was too lethargic to fix her appearance. Angelina had put her shoes on the wrong feet. I'd slept in my clothes from the night before and had no intention of changing. The thought of kissing George replayed in my mind, haunting my conscience. After throwing my hair up on a messy ponytail and slipping on my shoes, I descended the stairs like a sloth. The twins were in the common room, speaking excitedly with Ron and Harry. They amazed me by their ability to avoid hangovers. I'd always envied them for it.
I noticed George caught a glimpse of me, his eyes lingering onto me whilst still carrying on with his two brothers and Harry. I swallowed hard and descended the rest of the stairs, wondering how awkward this was going to be. My guess, really awkward. I gathered the last of my liquid courage that remained in my system and walked up to the four boys.
"George, could I have a word?" I asked quietly, grabbing onto his elbow and directing him towards the portrait hole.
"I'll do you one better," he smirked, as if he had no idea what I was about to speak to him about. "How about two words?"
"Funny," I said sarcastically, "but really, follow me."
I took his wrist and pulled him after me, making sure the Fat Lady and the security trolls were out of earshot before I began.
"What's wrong?" asked George. "Nervous about the match, are you?"
"You're joking?" I scoffed, waiting for him to cut the shit but he didn't. "We kissed, George."
"Yeah...?" he said, looking at me as if I had just declared the sky blue.
"Um, I'm sorry," I said indignantly. "Am I just overreacting to his or—"
"We were both drinking, Freddie, what do you want me to say?" he asked. "Do you want me to declare my undying love or—"
"Well, it would be nice of you weren't am arsehole about it for starters," I frowned.
"What, why are you making such a big deal out of this?" he shrugged.
"Pardon me," I said, placing a hand on my chest pretending to dramatically apologize. "I guess I'm just being melodramatic. I mean, I do snog my best friend on a daily basis."
"You were a better kisser than I expected by the way," he teased, ignoring my prior sentiment.
"George," I warned.
"What do you want, Winnie?" he inquired in a much more serious tone.
"Nothing," I snapped. "I just—"
"You don't fancy me or something, do you?" he asked, raising a curious brow.
"W— What?" I stammered. "N— No, of course not. That's ridiculous, but y— you, I mean, you don't fancy me either of course, right?"
His smile fell for a moment, but I knew he tried to fight its demise before forcing it to return.
"Now, what kind of question is that?" he smirked.
"I don't know," I shrugged. "You asked me first, but answering the question with a different question isn't—"
"Because you should already know the answer," he said simply.
"But I don't—"
George suddenly engulfed me in a hug, cutting me off. My arms were pinned at my sides, but I wouldn't have hugged him back even if I could budge.
"It doesn't matter even if my answer was 'yes,'" he said quietly. "You know as well as I do that it would never work between us."
Why, because we're too perfect for each other?
"You're confusing the hell out of me," I sighed heavily.
"Let's just forget that kiss ever happened," he said.
"That's what you want?" I asked.
"It's what I need," he replied, pulling away and holding me before him while he looked down into my eyes.
"Does that mean—"
"It means that you're my best friend in the entire world," he said firmly. "It means that I would never let anything jeopardize that."
"G—"
"Please, Freddie," he pleaded, "I let Alicia's snotty comments go for you. Now, do this for me."
My mouth opened and closed a couple times before I finally conceded to nodding up at him. He smiled in reply, wrapped his arms around my shoulders and led me back into the common room to kill time before our match. I was so confused that I barely participated in any conversation before we left to eat breakfast. My mind was swimming in bewilderment. George never denied his feelings, though I stupidly did. Whenever I was pushed into a corner I always defended myself by denying whatever I was really feeling. Now I felt like a chicken with its head cut off, stumbling around like I had no idea what to do next. I guess if George didn't fancy me like he claimed, though I knew it was a lie, I had no reason to return nonexistent feelings. I had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who cared about me as much as I cared about him. Why couldn't I just be happy with that? Shouldn't that be enough? Whatever, if he wanted to forget it then I'd do just that... no matter how hard that might be.
–
The Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. I couldn't help grinning broadly as I saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding us too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as we passed which only made me more excited to see their bloody faces after we walloped them, literally. I noticed that that little termite Draco Malfoy looked even paler than usual.
Oliver spent the whole of breakfast urging our team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried us off to the field before anyone else had finished, so we could get an idea of the conditions. As we left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.
"Good luck, Gryffindor!" called Maddy Crouch, her friend Dylan and the rest of their friends from Ravenclaw.
"Okay — no wind to speak of — sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it — ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff—"
"He's rather odd, you know," George smirked, leaning over to whisper in my ear. "He's even talking to himself now."
"As long as no one talks back I think he'll be alright," I laughed, looking over at the self-consumed Oliver along side George and Fred.
Oliver paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front doors of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school spilling onto the lawn.
"Locker rooms," said Wood tersely. I had to bite the inside of my mouth to prevent myself from laughing at hoe much of a nervous wreck he was.
None of us spoke as we changed into our scarlet robes. I knew everyone was feeling like I was: as though I'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Wood was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go—"
We walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP." Behind the Slytherin goal posts, however, two hundred people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile.
"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, McKinnon, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"
Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end.
"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Montague. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill—"
More boos from the Slytherin crowd. I, however, thought Lee had a point. Draco Malfoy was easily the smallest person On the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous, especially the barmy git himself: Montague.
"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.
Graham and Ollie approached each other and grasped each other's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers. Both of their jaws were locked, Oliver's eyes appeared to be aflame.
"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"
The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air.
"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Winnie McKinnon of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Freddie! Argh, no — Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing UP the field — WHAM! — nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by — Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina — nice swerve around Montague — duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger! – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"
Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight. She met me halfway and high-fived my leather-gloved hand.
"OUCH!"
Angelina and I were nearly thrown from our brooms as Marcus Flint went smashing into her and like a domino effect, thrashed into me as she was jolted sideways.
"Sorry!" said Flint as the crowd below booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"
A moment later, Fred chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.
"Sorry, didn't see him!" shouted Fred, swooping down to retrieve his club with a satisfied grin across his face.
"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between then. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"
"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and I flew forward to take the penalty.
"Come on, Freddie!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"
I quickly turned my Nimbus sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Ollie was hovering in front of the Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched.
"'Course, Wood's a superb Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for Madam Hooch's whistle.
"Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"
Relieved, I zoomed away on defense, but not before sending him a prideful smile, while still making sure I wasn't distracted enough to miss even a word of Lee's entertaining commentary.
"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field — THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"
Montague, the largest Slytherin Chaser, had swerved in front of Kates, and instead of seizing the Quaffle had grabbed her head. Katie cart-wheeled in the air, managed to stay on her broom, but dropped the Quaffle.
Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again as she soared over to Montague and began shouting at him. I took this revenge upon myself. I took hold of the Quaffle and threw it with all my might at Montague, hitting him square in the face. More blood splattered from his nose than Flint's even, and my insides swelled with approval of my violent action.
"McKinnon, restrain yourself!" Madam Hooch bellowed, "Penalty for Slytherin as well!"
A minute later, Kates had put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper, Adrian Pucey, while Fred and George flew by to pat me on the back, their stamp of approval.
"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING F—"
"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way—"
"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"
Graham had unfortunately scored his penalty as well, but his instantly visible bruise made everything worth it.
"Montague scores," Lee commented reluctantly.
Angelina had the Quaffle in her hand, zooming towards the Slytherin Keeper, kicked it to Katie who through it to me. I skyrocketed upwards to wave off Montague, who was following much too closely. He whispered something sexually grotesque in my ear before I plummeted downwards to pry him off my tail.
WHOOSH.
One of the Bludgers came streaking past my right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again…
WHOOSH.
The second Bludger grazed my elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in.
I had a fleeting glimpse of Bole and Derrick zooming toward me, clubs raised — I turned my Nimbus back upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided with a sickening crunch. I smiled pleasantly at the collision before tossing in another goal past Adrian Pucey.
"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat Freddie! And Gryffindor intercepts possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle — Flint alongside her — poke him in the eye, Angie! — it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke — oh no — Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save —!"
But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.
"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, forty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession—"
It was turning into the dirtiest game I had ever played in. Enraged that Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit me with his club and tried to say he'd thought I was a Bludger. Idiot. George elbowed Bole in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Oliver pulled off another spectacular save, making the score fifty-ten to Gryffindor.
Kates scored. Sixty-ten. Fred and George were swooping around her, clubs raised, in case any of the Slytherins were thinking of revenge. Bole and Derrick took advantage of Fred's and George's absence to aim both Bludgers at Wood; they caught him in the stomach, one after the other, and he rolled over in the air, clutching his broom, completely winded. I, of course, accidentally kicked Derrick aside his face and nearly knocked him from his broomstick. Madam Hooch miraculously missed my retaliation, thankfully. However, the Slytherins didn't and continued to boo me. I was eating it up.
Madam Hooch was beside herself—
"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at Bole and the now bleeding Derrick. "Gryffindor penalty!"
And Angelina scored. Seventy-ten. Moments later, Fred pelted a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; I seized it and put it through the Slytherin goal — eighty-ten.
The Gryffindor crowd below was screaming itself hoarse — Gryffindor was seventy points in the lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was ours. I could feel hundreds of eyes following him as he soared around the field, high above the rest of the game, with Draco Malfoy speeding along behind him.
Harry had spotted the Snitch but his opposition had illegally prevented him from pursuing it. Malfoy had thrown himself forward, grabbed hold of the Firebolt's tail, and was pulling it back.
"You—" I heard Harry bellow from below me.
Harry looked angry enough to hit Malfoy, but obviously couldn't reach — Malfoy was panting with the effort of holding onto the Firebolt, but his eyes were sparkling maliciously. He had achieved what he'd wanted to do — the Snitch had disappeared again.
"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics." Madam Hooch screeched, shooting up to where Malfoy was sliding back onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. I hated the fact that Malfoy and I owned and rode the same brooms.
"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—"
Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously. I couldn't help but smile as I made a mental picture of that.
Angelina took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. Our team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.
"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores—" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor… No matter how many goals you score, you still will never score with Freddie, you low-life b—"
I blushed furiously and shot Lee a nasty glare from embarrassment before zooming after the Quaffle that was now in possession of Angelina.
"Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"
I looked around. Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward Angelina, including the Slytherin Keeper — they were all going to block her — I saw Harry wheeling the Firebolt around, bent so low he was lying flat along the handle, and kicked it forward. Like a bullet, he shot toward the Slytherins.
"AAAAAAARRRGH!"
They scattered as the Firebolt zoomed toward them; Angelina's way was clear. I couldn't help but applaud.
"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty Points to twenty!"
Harry, who had almost pelted headlong into the stands, skidded to a halt in midair, reversed, and zoomed back into the middle of the field. Malfoy was diving, a look of triumph on his face— there, a few feet above the grass below, I saw a tiny, golden glimmer—
Harry urged the Firebolt downward, but Malfoy was miles ahead— He was gaining on Malfoy — Harry flattened himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him — he was at Malfoy's ankles — he was level now— Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom. He knocked Malfoy's arm out of the way and—
"YES!" was all I could say from my moment of pure euphoria as I watched Harry wrap his fingers around the Snitch.
Harry pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry soared above the crowd. The tiny golden ball was held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.
Then Oliver was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that's my boyfriend, the one crying his eyes out and using a thirteen year old's sleeve for a tissue. Harry was bombarded with two large thumps as Fred and George hit he and Ollie; then Angelina's, Katie's, and my own voices, "We've won the Cup! We've won the Cup!" Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the entire team sank, yelling hoarsely, back to earth.
Wave upon wave of crimson supporters were pouring over the barriers onto the field. Hands were raining down on our backs. Harry must have had a confused impression of noise and bodies pressing in on him. Then he, and the rest of us, were hoisted onto the shoulders of the crowd. There was Percy, jumping up and down like a maniac, all dignity forgotten for one crystallizing moment. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Oliver, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag. We all simply beamed as Ollie was borne toward the stands, where Dumbledore stood waiting with the enormous Quidditch Cup.
We were placed back on the ground, and I flew into Oliver's arms, kissing his cheek as Angelina and Katie had done before me. His face was salty and moist from his tears of joy, and his smile screamed sheer euphoria. He pulled me into an intimate embrace, and I spotted George over my shoulder lifting Ginny into a celebratory bear-like hug. My smile faded for a moment, remembering our disastrous conversation from the morning. I felt Ollie's warm breath near my ear while my gaze remained on George.
"I love you, Winnie," he whispered in my ear. "I love you."
"I love you too," I said, realizing I may have not been thinking of Oliver when I said it. However, it was too late. I'd returned the sentiment already, even though I wasn't completely sure I'd meant it. There was no taking it back now.
–
A/N: I promise I'll return to my shout outs next chapter. I didn't have time this chapter, sorry! I really love doing those, so comment and I'll write back! Thanks for reviewing all of you! Help me reach 275 reviews, and I will love you forever. Only one long chapter left before I leave for England on Sunday. I finished the 2,000 work prologue for Part II titled "Star-Crossed," so I'll give you more info on that at the end of chapter 15!
PS: Oh yeah, I used my own last name for Cassandra and Olaf's prior surname. Woo! I was drawing a blank for something that sounded good and my great-uncle is named Olaf and my Dad's name is Vlad, so I just used their entire names instead of just stealing his first name. Ha!
PSS: Anyways, this was a pretty big chapter. We find out about Winnie's family, she and George FINALLY kiss, and Ollie tells her he loves her. Wow. I hope you guys weren't disappointed that Winnie and George didn't like confess their undying love to one another, but that just isn't them. I'm not forcing them into a relationship so soon. Their characters need to develop towards one another more because right now they're too immature to be together in my opinion. They need go through some rough patched to realize how much they mean to one another etc. You'll understand later on.
The Final Chapter of Part I: The twins find out about Winnie and Oliver, Alicia is a git, Winnie accepts an offer from Oliver that she can't resist, OWL exams, drama and hilarity ensue...
–
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