A/N: Reminder: IQL stands for International Quidditch League
30 March 2000
"What a plot twist in events! For months we have been following as Ginny Weasley involved herself with none other than our war hero, Harry Potter, but it seems that we haven't been following as closely as we had hoped. Just yesterday eyewitnesses and reporters watched as Harry Potter walked, linking arms with a different Quidditch player, Christina Gordon. The two were seen cuddling up next to each other, as they walked through London shops. But, weren't we all completely sure that Ginny Weasley was the one who Potter had given his heart to? Weasley had even confirmed it in an interview with us, so, what happened? The two haven't been seen together in over seven months, which indicates a split. No comment has been made by Weasley on the events of this sudden break up..."
Crunch. The paper crinkles into a ball in my hand as I sit in my kitchen reading the latest Witch Weekly.
Christina Gordon.
How in the world did he even meet her let alone start to date her? He only got back from wherever he was-what-four months ago? Where would they have met? A bar? An event at the Ministry?
Above all, how dare he go after someone who I go up against on a day-to-day basis! Didn't he know about our bubbling rivalry toward one another? Oh wait, that's right; he probably didn't, being that he was away for most of my career.
Throughout my time on this job we have been put head-to-head in the papers, magazines, matches, sales, everything. I was voted 'Sexiest Professional Quidditch Witch' in the annual review of Witch Weekly, guess who was put as number two? I had been ranked twentieth at the latest physical clinic, and guess who was ranked nineteenth? In the match against the Pride, we were publically indicated as the top-two fiercest competitors. So, why does Harry think that it's okay to go and snoodle with the enemy? My enemy?
I throw the magazine into the wastebasket full force. You know what, good riddance to him. I have practice to go to, and you can bet that I'm going to be airing out some of my anger into the goals. Hopefully, Cecilia is up for a little bit of a rough practice.
Still, though, what gives him the right to go after another Quidditch player? I know, I know; he made it quite clear that we were over, but to break up with me and then go after someone that has been publicized as my number one competitor? That's like dumping someone and then hooking up with their sister. It's just not right.
And it's so out of character for Harry. What did I do to piss him off so much that he can drop me and go to someone else in the span of three months?
I grab my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder to floo to the Pitch. Luckily, with my new house-actually, it isn't that new since I've lived here for about five months-I have the privilege of flooing straight to the Pitch instead of walking like the other girls.
As I walk down the corridors of the Pitch I can hear my every footstep accompanied by the little voice in my head trying to figure out when we go against Pride of Portree next and how exactly I'll knock Gordon off of her broom. Okay, maybe I won't do that-just knock a couple of teeth out of her stuck-up, little mouth.
I turn the corner and see that Tony is talking to one of the security managers of the Pitch. I haven't spoken to him in a couple months. There's no need now that I can floo to the Pitch on my own and only need him to bring me to events. He glances at me and then starts talking to the security manager again, it seems they're talking about how they want to regulate fans during the playoff season.
Playoffs.
Great, more pressure and more stress on the team. I suspect that Gwenog will be keeping us back, maybe even making us come in early now. That's fine with me, less time I have to deal with other things.
Our first playoff game is on the nineteenth of April against the Montrose Magpies; probably will be an easy win. The next game is determined by the winner of the Kenmore Kestrals versus the Wigtown Wanderers match that's happening in a couple of days. That's a tough one to predict; both teams are decent and the game could go either way. Luckily, we had beaten both of them in the regular season, so it shouldn't be so hard to go against them in the playoff season, right?
I push open the locker room door and immediately hear the ruckus go silent. As I walk to the door, labeled Ginevra Weasley in gold, I can literally feel the eyes on me. Remember when I said that most of the girls and I had a falling out, well, I'm updating that statement to all of the girls and I had a falling out.
To be honest, I don't really know what I did, or what I said, that made them cut all contact with me. Maybe they're just jealous that I've been ranked higher, been promoted faster, even been paid more than them and it's only my first season. Steve and Lisa have told me that this is what happens when there is new talent on the team that has been absent for a very long time; the players who were once comfortable with mediocrity turn sour with jealousy. Or maybe even with extreme envy. Same thing.
Gwen seems to be the only one who wants me on the team anymore-at least someone here has a brain. But, yet, all she cares about is winning; and the team can't win without me.
I dress at my usual pace. I know that all the glances and looks from the others are supposed to run me out, but I'm secure. You think that a couple of looks can run me off? Newsflash; that's all I would get from my roommates at Hogwarts; I never was friends with the girls in my year-except Luna, of course.
Speaking of which, the DA and I have seemed to cut contact with each other as well. Makes sense; Harry, Ron and Hermione are a part of it and around them more often. I can see them convincing the others of my 'new attitude'-whatever the hell that means.
The girls all leave me in peace as they scurry from the room together like a group of thirteen year olds. That's okay; more time to my thoughts.
Cracking my back I go to the broom cupboard to take out my polished broom and head to the pitch before being interrupted by none other than Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum.
"Ginny! Ginny!" Steve calls out from the other end of the corridor.
"What?" I ask, turning around to face him and Lisa approaching.
"We have come to inform you of another event we need you to go to." He says, glancing to his partner. I wonder if his wife knows that he's been sleeping with Lisa for the past year or so. That was news to me; I could only imagine what it would be to her.
I roll my eyes, "Fine, what event?"
"Well, it's in a month; after the match, of course." Lisa says, scanning over the clipboard in her hand.
"What is it for?"
"Oh, it's a charity dinner; much like the auctions you've gone to, but this is for children who don't have enough money to go to school."
"And why do I have to go?"
"Because," Lisa starts, shocked that I wouldn't want to go to this stupid dinner, "you're one of the biggest influences in the entire wizarding entertainment industry; who else would be fit to go?"
"Fine. Have you let Alexis know? Or do I have to do that myself?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder at the field to see if practice has officially started yet.
"Of course, she knows. She is already prepping your dress. Now, go on and practice your Quidditch, Ginny, we can't have the Harpies losing in the first round of the playoffs, can we?"
19 April 2000
"And welcome one and all to the first round of the 1999 to 2000 Quidditch Season Playoffs! My name is Logan Murray and I'll be the commentator for this match! Today we will watch a fearsome battle between the Montrose Magpies and the Holyhead Harpies. The Magpies, as most may know, ended the season off with a seven-five win-lose streak, and the Harpies ended with a nine-three. Today, both teams are fully equipped with no injuries and no reserves taking the field."
Gwenog and the rest of us fly out onto the field to begin our warm ups, as usual. Luckily, the first round of the playoffs is at our home pitch. That's always a good thing; home advantage.
We fly around the field a couple of times. I can't help but watch the crowd, look at the vendors, peak into the six out of seven filled family boxes-Oh...yeah.
"Now, we'd like to welcome Mr. Dodgy Graham who will be the official for tonight's game."
"Welcome! Every Witch and Wizard here today is lucky to see a fine game," He pauses, I assume for a drama effect, "between the Magpies and the Harpies. Please, captains, come to the center."
Like usual, Gwenog goes and meets the opposing captain in the center of the field to shake hands and promise a clean game between them. They fly back up to their designated positions and the official, dressed in white, blabs on some more before finally releasing the balls and declaring that the match has finally begun.
The music is loud; you can literally feel the bass vibrating in the floor. I guess I've always thought the clubs like these were just made up; that none of them really existed, but obviously, I was mistaken. Here I am, out here on a dance floor at a club in downtown celebrating the win with a group of girls I don't even know. They say you shouldn't go to a club alone-oh well.
"Ginny!" I turn around and there are a couple of guys I met at a house party not too long ago.
"Hey!" I say, walking to them, "How are you two doing?" If you're wondering, no, absolutely nothing happened between them and me. I can say in my full confidence that I am definitely not their type.
"Great, but probably not as good as you; heard your team won tonight!" One says in his feminine-like voice.
"Yeah, I did!" I say, glancing down at their locked hands, "So, I thought why not go and party tonight in celebration?"
"Well, I think that a victory should require partying afterward." He smiles down before bending forward to whisper in my ear, "One of the rooms back there has some great stuff, want to get in on it?"
I smile, knowingly, "Why, of course I do." I say, taking a swig of the firewhiskey that's in my hand. I follow the two men to the back room where there are groups of people clinging around different areas and corners of the smoky room.
"You first?" He asks, nodding to me. A smile flickers upon my lips and I take a seat on the leather couch. The two sit beside me laughing as I pull out a straw from the box and examine it to be sure it isn't used-hey, I'm a professional Quidditch player; can't be getting sick here.
One of my friends line up the white powder with a side of an old envelope. I can hear people chanting around me as I finish up the line and wipe my nose.
"I think I could do another line." I laugh, as they put out more for me.
20 April 2000
Knock. Knock.
What? What's going on? Wait, what time is it?
Knock. Knock.
That's my front door, isn't it? I groggily rub my face and puff out an irritated, tired breath.
Knock. Knock.
"Alright! I'm coming!" I groan out, putting my robe on and leaving my bedroom. I slump down the stairs and glance at the clock. Seven o'clock; who would be knocking on my door so early?
I pause at the mirror by the foyer of my house to check my appearance; I look like I just crawled out of a bed that was made of turning tables. Patting my hair down, I continue to the front door and swing it open.
Oh, shite.
"Hello, Ms. Weasley; mind if I come in and do the routine check ups?" Maurice says, with his jolly tone and potion in hand. I literally feel my stomach collapse; this is not good.
I step to the side, and he waltzes into the room, a smile present on his face. It's obvious that he has no idea what he's about to find. Why in the hell does he have to come today?
Well, you did sign a contract, Ginny. The contract clearly stated that you will undergo drug and alcohol checks at random times. You should have known that when you were out last night; I mean, come on; you haven't been checked in over a month.
"Do you mind if we do this in the kitchen?" Maurice asks, gesturing to the bottle in his hands. I shakily nod. I follow the pudgy man to my kitchen where I know my fate rests. He places the bottle onto the counter in the center of the large room, and starts to set up his clipboard.
I feel like my legs are going to collapse under me between the huge hangover I'm recovering from and the idea that everything I've worked for is about to just go down the loo.
"Ms. Weasley, would you please sit down?" He gestures to the chair across from him.
"Sure." I mumble, slowly walking-scratch that, stumbling to the chair. My mind starts to go wild; is there any excuse I can make? Is there anyway I can get out of this?
You ate a lot of poppy seed bagels-no, that wouldn't work. There's probably a small tolerance window for that kind of stuff, plus I'm sure no amount of poppy seed bagels will come close to what I did last night.
You have a cold and just took some of the cold medication the healers gave you-no; he'd go to the healers for verification for that.The good thing is that the potion won't indicate what you've used. He won't know if it's alcohol or if it's drugs.
"Please, hold out your hand so I may prick your finger." I try my hardest to not let my hand shake as I slowly reach it out toward his awaiting, thin needle. I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel the tiny poke and the pressure he applies to squeeze out that one drop of blood to test. "There." He says in satisfaction, but my heart sinks.
The next thirty seconds are the longest thirty seconds in the history of thirty seconds. I can't even watch him as he stares and surveys the paper cup in front of him. My brain is literally pounding against my skull and my heart is practicing its boxing skills behind my ribs. What's going to happen? Am I going to lose my job? What will Gwenog say when she hears the news? What will my parents say when they hear the news—no, Ginny, who cares what they'd say if they hear the news. They dumped you, remember?
Ginny Weasley: Done Before She Even Started. I hear the upcoming magazine and scandal sheet headlines coming into play. Ginny Weasley and Damn It I Shouldn't Have Eaten Those Poppy Seed Bagels.
"Ms. Weasley." A voice breaks. I hesitantly look up at him; his usually jolly face isn't jolly. Not a good sign. "I'm sorry to inform you, but you've just failed the test." I can literally feel the blood drain from my face. I watch as he shakes his head and starts to scribble on his clipboard. "I need to do a second test for verification."
He takes out another sterile, paper cup and pours the clear potion into it. He tells me to hold out my other hand now and pricks it. It doesn't matter anymore; I failed. A second test won't change that.
"Ms. Weasley, it's with my genuine condolences to inform you that you are hereby benched for the rest of the season." I feel like I just got punched in the chest, "I will be informing the captain, and the staff of your entourage. You will be allowed to sit in on practices and watch the games, home and away. You are permitted to take part in press conferences, and publicity events. You are permitted to attend photo shoots, interviews, and the like. However, you are not permitted to play any sort of Quidditch at a Holyhead, or IQL, sanctioned event. You are not allowed to practice the sport with the team until your suspension is up. Is there any questions you will like to ask?"
I feel the hot tears in my eyes. I bit on my lower lip to prevent it from trembling and shake my head, "I'm sorry, Ginny." He says, shaking his head in shame.
I've really mucked it up, now.
"You are kidding me, right?" She screeches, "Kidding me!"
I wince at her volume. I've never seen Gwenog so riled up before, and I never imagined it would be directed at me and me alone. Only two hours ago, she was informed of my suspension on the terms of breaking the forty-eight hour rule.
"I am appalled at you, Ginny! I've put so much time and energy into you! We've been practicing so hard for playoffs and you just waste it all away, huh!" I chance a glance up at her and see that her face is boiling red, "You let your team down. I hope you're happy with that."
I have no words. I don't even know what to think at the moment. I did let the team down and to be honest, I wish it was Sarah sitting right here in this chair and that I am out on the field doing all those crazy warm ups Gwen created.
"I'm sorry." I say, softly. My voice is shaking, my hands are shaking-everything is shaking.
"Don't apologize to me; I don't even want to hear it. You should be apologizing to the girls; they only have given up so much of their time to try to make it to the championship. They honestly thought this year would be the year. Now, we have to put a reserve in for you. Someone who's been out of sync with the team for over a season because we invested in you."
I take a deep breath to calm myself down; I'm not crying but I feel like I'm going to throw up from the intensity in this small office.
"I expect you at every practice, taking notes. I expect you in the gym with Xavier twice as much as you are already routinely doing. You will come to every match and take notes on what the team needs to improve on."
"Yes, ma'am."
"But, I don't want you to come to this practice." I look up at her, "I honestly can't be in the same facility as you. Now, go home, Ginny; you've done enough damage here."
26 April 2000
So, that's what I did. I went home that day and finally let myself cry. I've never been so angry with myself until that day. But, after that, I did everything Gwenog told me to do; I came to every practice, and I trained harder with Xavier than I had in the past. The next playoff game isn't until the beginning of May, and I'm anxious over what the outcome will be.
In a way, as horrible as this sounds; I kind of want us to lose. It'll just prove that I'm vital to the team. Maybe it'll help me stay on the team longer if they know I'm the one who truly gave us those wins in the regular season.
I sit at my kitchen table, staring at the cover of Witch Weekly; It sucks to know that this is how I'm staying 'in touch' with everyone. The headline for this week's issue is "That's Not the Girl I Raised!" I'm sure you can guess whom it's about.
"As most know, there has been a scandal within Holyhead; Ginny Weasley has been suspended on the terms of drug and alcohol abuse. But, has anyone wanted to know what her family has to say; or at the very least, her father? As Arthur Weasley, Deputy Minister for the Ministry of Magic, walked down the streets of Diagon Alley with his wife, Molly, we decided to approach him and ask one main question; what is going on with Ginny? He replied with a very blunt, almost angry, statement; 'That's not the girl I raised!' Weasley wouldn't supply any more answers to questions asked by any reporter, but most have said that tensions seemed to rise from the couple after reporters demanded for opinions on their daughter's recent behavior…"
I roll my eyes as I read each word. Not the daughter you raised? That's interesting to hear since I am the daughter you raised. Looks like you mucked up somewhere. I watch as my parents walk in and out of the frame of the picture displayed on the front of the magazine. Why do they even care about what I do? I mean, no one has written to be since that bloody dinner; they don't have the authority to give their opinion about what I've done.
No one should be allowed to give his or her opinion on what I've done. They don't know what it's like to be publically humiliated over one stupid party. And since then, I've tried to stop, honestly. But, temptation is a sneaky thing; even I can't overcome it.
Today is that stupid event Steve and Lisa signed me up for. What was it again? Oh, that's right; the childhood benefit dinner thing. For those little kids who can't afford whatever.
Don't judge my harshness; I was there at one point, yet, strangely enough, I don't remember people raising money to help me out. Alexis had silently dropped off my dress, with a note that she'll be back to do my makeup in a couple of hours and that I shouldn't put my dress on until after that.
I pour some food in Baylor's bowl before heading upstairs to take a shower and get ready for the event. But, seriously, though, what does he even mean by that? Not the daughter he raised? So, does that mean I'm not a part of the family anymore, officially? I lather the shampoo into my hair. I'm just living my life and having a little fun. Letting my hair down, as many would say. They're the ones who overreacted.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me, before going to the sink to start brushing my teeth and what not. I have nothing to be ashamed about; everyone has ups and downs and I don't even consider this a down. I have a beautiful roof over my head, a nice paycheck coming every two weeks, and a glamorous job. I'm happy.
I walk across the red carpet, only posing for pictures a few times, before entering the dinner hall. I only answered one question as soon as I had stepped onto the velvet.
"Ginny, what do you think about your father's recent statement?"
Not meaning to say it out loud of course, I mumble, "I don't care what he says."
Unfortunately, the reporters heard me.
After that, I'm not up to talk to any reporters. Entering the grand hall, I notice that no one is looking at me; everyone is talking in their own separate conversations, standing in tiny group filling the room, mingling. That's something that I wanted to see.
First, I decide to go find my seat maybe put my bag down before going to the buffet and picking out my food. I skim through the seats, reading the nametags that are in front of each one. I survey a few tables before I find the nametag with the scroll reading, 'Ginevra Weasley'. I really should change that name.
I glance around the table to see whom I will be sitting with; luckily, I don't know anyone here, and none of them are Christina or Harry. Or my parents.
"Hello, Miss." A voice breaks behind me. I turn around and see a man with long, shoulder length, curly hair, and a scruffy beard. He's wearing very appealing dress robes and a goofy smile.
"Hello," I greet, gesturing for his name.
"Russell; Russell Fairway." He smiles at me before taking a sip of his scotch.
"Oh, nice to meet you." I say, holding out my hand to shake his, but he grabs my wrist and bends down to kiss my hand, "I'm-"
"Ginny Weasley; no need to introduce yourself." He has a very mysterious feel to him, "I must say, you are a very talented Quidditch player; and when I saw that you'll be sitting next to me, I just knew I had to talk to you."
I flash a polite smile, "If you're going to ask me about-"
"Oh, no, Miss Weasley; I'm not in the mood to talk about scandals or controversies. I've had quite a few myself and I would rather not exploit yours."
"You've had some?"
"Well, some people say my jokes are a bit racy-I'm a comedian." He sets his scotch down at his seat and pulls out the chair for me. I graciously sit down and watch as he sits down next to me as well. "Can't even begin to tell you how many people I've offended."
I lean back in my chair and shake my head, "I don't understand how people can get so offended by satire; my brothers own a joke shop. I understand how people can be when it comes to jokes and the like."
"Oh, that's right; Weasley Wizard Wheezes, right?" I nod with a short smile, "I've heard of them, but unfortunately, have never been."
"Well, it's more for kids and teenagers. I'm sure you're above it all."
"So, how do you like Holyhead so far? I mean, you didn't grow up here, correct?"
I smile, is he trying to flirt with me or just making small talk to be polite, "No; I grew up in Ottery St. Catchpole; it's a small town in the outskirts of Devon. It's completely different than Holyhead. I think I like Holyhead a bit more than it; there's more people, more things to do, more shops to go to." I nod, playing with the napkin in front of me, "How about you; where did you grow up?"
"Muggle Essex. I'm a half blood."
"I've never been there before; this is the first time that I really get to see the world."
"Oh, I know all too well. My family didn't have enough money to travel to exotic places, so once I got my first paycheck, I cashed it to go somewhere amazing. An island of sorts." I smile. "You should visit Essex, it's a pretty cool place to go to."
"Excuse me, witches and wizards." An older man says up on the platform, "the benefit concert will be starting in about five minutes; so find your seats and food will be presented shortly."
I glance to Russell who's smiling at me. I smile back, "I can't wait for the food; I've heard it's usually really good."
"Trust me, it is; or at least it has been in past years."
"I just can't believe they got her to sing." I laugh as we walk out of the grand hall where the benefit dinner took place. "I mean, maybe she was nervous but the girl couldn't carry a tune."
"She sounded like a garden gnome up there." Russell jokes as he shakes his head, "Do you need me to walk you home?"
"Oh, no; my bodyguard, Tony, is here to do that." I say, gesturing to the large man who's waiting by the window.
"Okay," He says, glancing up and then back down to me, "I really had fun, you know, spending the dinner with you."
I smile, a blush rising on my cheeks, "Yeah, I did, too."
"Here," He says conjuring a small piece of parchment and a trimmed quill, "Here is where you can floo call me. I'd like to hear from you again." He hands me the scrap, "Maybe we could go get drinks or you could come to one of my shows."
My face flushes as I realize he's asking me out. I smile down at the paper, "Yeah, I'll call you."
"Have a nice night, Miss Weasley." He bows for affect. I roll my eyes and giggle at his forced gentleman-like behavior.
"You too, Mr. Fairway." I curtsey to play along with his jokes.
I watch as he starts to walk down the street away from the theatre. Do I even like him? Kind of—maybe, if I tried? I should jump on the opportunity. Harry has a girlfriend now; I should be getting a bloke too.
"Are you ready, Miss Weasley?" Tony says, walking up to my side. I glance up at him.
"Yeah." I start for the door with Tony at my heel. Gosh, I'm exhausted.