Author's Note: Well, you all knew it was too good to be true, didn't you?
Triforce Knight and shewhodares, take note that I have both Caity Trillan
and Verity Vector down as Hufflepuff Chasers. You may also get a bit of a
shock when you find out who your new captain and Seeker is, particularly in
his relationship to a character previously covered (claps hand over mouth).
I also realised that Delacourt is actually Delacour in the Goblet of Fire, but I feel too lazy to go back and change it. So it stays as Delacourt.
Anyway, without further ado...
# # # # # # # # #
Entry Fifteen: Disintegration
3:48 AM, October 15th
Okay, is getting very ridiculous. Very apparent that will not get a shred more sleep tonight and since sleeping in not an option with Quidditch match against the Gryffs tomorrow, best way, as Roger says, to get up early is to stay up.
Had gotten up earlier and crept over to fifth year boys dorm, because was looking for some solace (and, er, other stuff) from Roger, only to find Adrian in bed with his arms wrapped around him, moaning, "Cedar, oh my Cedar."
So that's how Roger knew Adrian was gay. I, meanwhile, mourn the ineligibility and heterosexuality of one of the few hot guys left in Hogwarts.
3:51 AM
Waddled down to common room in Penelope's pink bathrobe with bunny rabbits and Vanessa's Ugg boots (which live up to their name). No longer care about appearance since don't have Luc, and never really had him anyway, well, at least not to myself. Roger already downstairs in Quidditch robes. "Thought I might find you down here before too long," he said. "Adrian told me everything." One of the great ironies of high school, wizarding or not, is that last person to find out about things like your boyfriend having a girlfriend back in France and never really being your boyfriend in first place, is the person it matters to. "How are you holding up?"
"Okay," I nodded, sitting down beside him and trying not to think of him and Adrian together. My face flushed as I concentrated on coffee table in front of us.
Roger gave me an assessing look, then shifted a fraction of an inch closer to me. "I know I couldn't have sprung this on you at a worse time, but I have bad news for you," he began.
"You're gay," I said.
"What?" Roger blinked.
"Nothing," I muttered. "So, what's your bad news?" Hearing new bad news after being exhausted by the old is like pouring water on top of an already- soaked sponge. It can only take so much before it ceases to have an effect, and any extra just doesn't have an impact anymore.
"I just got back from the hospital wing," Roger continued. "Cho's taken bad. Pomfrey says it's the flu. She won't be able to play tomorrow, and it's too late to request for the match to be postponed-"
"I'll play as the Seeker," I cut in, correctly reading his thoughts.
"Are you sure?" he asked anxiously, looking over at me. Oh, is so cute and adorable when he does that. Yep, he would be too good to be hetero. "I mean, it's the best solution for everyone, but you've had a lot on your plate lately. If it's too much for you-"
"It's fine," I said briskly. "The more I have to think about, the better."
"Alright then," he said, "but just be careful you don't give yourself too much to think about, if you know what I mean. You need time to get over what happened between you and Delacourt, even if you don't enjoy doing it-"
"I'll be fine," I cut him off, then felt guilty about the brief, hurt look on his face. "Thanks for your concern though. So, who will be our second Beater now?"
"I will," he said simply. "I lived in Louisiana for two years - that's where I learnt my French - and played baseball while I was there; it's a Muggle sport that involves hitting a ball about the size of a Bludger; so I feel pretty comfortable with a bat in my hands. Clearwater can take my usual place. She played Quidditch in our second year and was pretty good at it, but decided it took too much time away from her studies." Despite my misery I rolled my eyes. Bloody typical. "So it's not my first choice team but we'll manage. Oh, and Nat-"
"I know," I said. "Don't try to match Potter for speed, he's smaller than I am. Don't try to look for the Snitch myself, mark him instead-"
Roger raised one hand to interrupt me. "Actually, I was going to ask you to try and get some sleep between now and breakfast time," he said. "Would you like some chocolate? I have some in my pocket from Pomfrey."
"Luc's always teasing me about my weight," I said.
"Well, that's one less thing you have to worry about now, isn't it?" Roger asked me.
"I guess," I relented a little. "One piece won't hurt." Roger snapped the chocolate into two pieces, then reached over and handed one half to me. Suddenly I snapped. I had to know for certain. "You said Adrian told you about Luc," I said. "When did you get the chance to talk to him?"
"Funny you say that," Roger admitted, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "He actually told me after our last class, when you ran off right after the bell because you wanted to get to the library." I had wanted to leave so quickly because I had arranged to meet Luc in the serial department, but Roger, thankfully, had avoided mentioning that. "But this morning I woke up and got one hell of a right to find him with his arms wrapped around me, groaning, "Cedar, Cedar." Stupid git was plastered off his face and thought he'd found a secret passage into the Hufflepuff boys' dormitories, and that I was his ex. Since I don't know any one by the name of Cedar, I can only assume that he must have some sort of fetish for wood. Quite fitting as I hear those Hufflepuffs were a but dense."
"Bloody Merlin," I breathed, "I thought-"
"You thought what?" Roger asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
"That Adrian was shagging a Gryffindor," I blurted out. "And that your remark for having a fetish for wood, was, you know, a reference to-"
Roger was doubled over with laughter. "Oh c'mon Nat, Gryffindors are far too proper, not to mention boring, to be gay. And one of them and a Slytherin? Not in our lifetime. Where were you when I was making all those cracks about, "I'll HUFF and I'll PUFF and I'll blow your house down"?"
"Yeah, it was a pretty stupid thing to think," I said, a smile crossing my lips. "You had me worried for a minute there."
"Why would you be worried?" he asked.
"No reason," I shrugged. "Just Adrian and a Gryffindor-"
"Just eat your chocolate before you say anything else stupid," Roger ordered, kicking me playfully with one foot. "Although I have to say, I'm glad to see a smile on you for once." I obligingly stuffed a section into my mouth. As the warmth crept slowly through my body, I felt fully relaxed for the first time since Luc's and my conversation. "I'm going back upstairs now," I said. "Good night, Roger."
"Sleep tight," he replied as I pushed open the door to the girl's dorm.
9:36 AM
"Don't worry, I feel really amphed for today," Penelope was telling Alessandro Bombardino. "I know it's been a long time since I've played Quidditch, but riding a broom is like riding a bike. Once you know how, you never forget."
"What's a bike?" Bombardino asked.
We were clustered around the changing room prior to the ten AM start. If the Gryffindorks, who had already belted out a corny cheer from their changing room and zoomed out, had seen what was within the blue and bronze striped walls, they would have known that they had it bagged. Malcolm Brocklehurst was sitting on the leather couch with his head in his hands, Vanessa Johnson rubbing his back consolingly. Luc was sitting in a corner solo and gazing up at the ceiling, whether from nerves or Natalia avoidance tactics, I'll never know. Probably a combination of both. Roger was wrapping tape around my bat to thicken the handle to accommodate his bigger gripp.
The only ones showing the slightest amount of cheer were Penelope and Bombardino, with Penny (DID I JUST CALL HER BY A NICKNAME OTHER THAN "CLEARHEAD"? LOOK, I'M MEANT TO HATE THE GIRL!) trying to explain to the pureblood Bombardino exactly what a bike was, with varying degrees of success.
"Well, a bike is a Muggle object similar to a broom," she was telling Bombardino, "in that its used for riding on."
"Like Getrude Bulstrode?" Bombardino suggested. Gertude Bulstrode was a sixth year Slytherin girl who was like both a broom and a bike in that everyone got on her.
"No," Penelop- um, Clearhead, corrected him patiently. "A bike is something you get on, and you use it for transportation-"
"So it is like Getrude Bulstrode," Bombardino finished triumphantly. "I hear she's alright in the sack. She's taken Flint a few places." Penny- oh Clearwater-head, oh fuck it, started to protest, then realised he was grinning at her. Bombardino, making a joke? Me, playing Seeker opposite Pothead and being dumped instead of the dumpee? The world really has been tipped onto its head.
Roger had finished taping up my bat and gave it and experimental swing, then smiled, apparently pleased with the results. "Alright everyone," he said, "let's roll."
11:54 AM
"...And Chaser Johnson of Gryffindor speeds towards the goal, swerves to avoid a Bludger struck by Ravenclaw captain Davies - where did that boy learn to hit those things? - and, oh shit- sugar- sorry, Professor, drops the Quaffle. Chaser Clearwater swoops on it - is that a Bludger, no, Bombardino intercepts it - neat dummy to Ravenclaw's Brocklehurst - argh, Wood gets sent the wrong way - Brocklehurst scores, bloody Merlon! Whoops, sorry Professor, ninety-twenty to Ravenclaw."
Was floating above the Ravenclaw-dominated Quidditch carnage of the Keepers, Beaters and Chasers of each team, Lee Jordan's usual unbiased commentary echoing in the back of my mind. Malcolm had just zoomed off to high-five Penelope, who was demonstrating a previously uncharted knack for the sport. The Gryffindor Chasers were making their morose way back to the centre of the field for Madame Hooch to release the Quaffle, which is customary for Quidditch when a goal is scored. Everything going better than expected, but plus side of being a cynic is that is very easy for things to exceed expectations.
Felt rush of air as Harry Pothead darted behind me, more to shake me off his tail than because had actually seen the Snitch (and they accuse Slytherins of feinting), but quickly cut him off. No one outmanoeuvres me, especially a kid with a hairdo like that.
"-And Bombardino blocks Spinnet from a clear shot on goal with a Bludger nowhere in the area - that's a penalty, Madame Hooch! - and the sagely referee has no choice but to award Gryffindor a penalty for that shameless foul-"
"What about shameless bias?" I muttered. "Commendictator." Next to me Potter giggled. Below us Angelina Johnson squared up to Vanessa, sister against sister. Vanessa saved but could not hold onto the shot, allowing Katie Bell to score from the rebound. I swore as Jordan crowed.
"You've still got a long way to go, tiny," I scowled down at my ex-co- commentator, then caught Potter staring at me. Is quite cute really, can almost see what all the fuss is about him, oh hell no, not me too-
About ten minutes later Luc had a tenth goal for Ravenclaw, the result of a clever solo run which had started when Vanessa had passed him the Quaffle after saving from Alicia Spinnet. Yes, bastard, "would" be the one scoring out of the two of us...smile, damn it, smile...
A speck of gold darted in front of me - the Snitch! Plunged downwards after it, shifting slightly from side-to-side in order to cut off Potter with superior bulk (diet schmiet). Behind us the Ravenclaw faithful roared, Penelope had put one more away. We are drubbing them.
OOF! Bludger crashed into my stomach, making my lungs tighten up as the air was forced out of me. Oxygen refused to come into my mouth, could feel my body closing up with lack of circulation, Snitch is dancing just in front of my eyes, I can reach it, I can...
End of transmission.
2:39 PM
"That was a nasty fall she took." A high, female voice to my left, concerned.
"Yeah, I cannot believe she didn't break anything." A gruff male voice above me, thickly accented, disappointed sounding. Must be Bombardino.
I groan and roll over, willing myself to face the sunlight.
The Ravenclaw Quidditch team, with the notable but expected exception of Luc, are clustered around the hospital bed I am lying in. Cho is hiccuping and sniffing miserably in pyjamas next to Roger, who has an arm around her shoulders.
"She's conscious," Bombardino observed. If I thought he sound disappointed before, this is nothing compared to his disheartened tone now. Penelope must have picked up on it, because she glared from where she stood on my left over my bed at him. "What a relief," he added unconvincingly.
"Nat, we were so worried about you!" Penelope cried, giving Bombardino a significant look. "When you lost your balance like that, it was the loudest thud imaginable when you finally landed-"
"-We were expecting permanent brain damage at the least," Vanessa nodded.
"Well, not much would be different then," Bombardino added sourly. Penelope and Roger shot him simultaneous molten looks.
"Yeah, the way you kept on flying after Fred Weasley had walloped that Bludger into your stomach," Malcolm continued, "that was really impressive. Even the Gryffindors were impressed. I think they feel guilty that they won- "
"Wait a minute," I cut him off. "We LOST?"
No one replied, but the glum looks were answer enough. "So the only way we can win the cup," I faltered, "is if we win against Slytherin in two weeks time, and they lose to Hufflepuff next Saturday?" Roger nodded solemnly. "Like that's ever going to happen! Oh, if only I was quicker-"
"I need to talk to Nat, alone," Roger said quickly. "Everyone else, out."
"But I'm supposed to be here," Cho said hoarsely.
"Well, go and lie in your bed and pull the blankets up over your head so you can't hear what we're saying," Roger told her. "The rest of you, out." My teammates filed out of the room, Vanessa mouthing "Get well soon" before she disappeared through the doorway. Roger waited until Cho had retired to her bunk, then pulled the curtains around my bed and kicked off his shoes.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
"Sh," he said, sliding under the blankets with me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No, you're fine," I said, "but Merlin, I really hope you don't do this with Bombardino when he's had a bad game."
"Natalia, you did not have a bad game," Roger told me sternly. "In fact, you had the best game I have ever seen from someone in blue robes since Trevor Boot left the school. There's nothing to be ashamed of. And besides, my dad always told me that it's not considered failure if it was something that was beyond you in the first place. You are bloody terrific, but Potter is, well, sublime. He could play for England. And he's smaller and faster than you. You did brilliantly to contain him for as long as you did. Now, no more negativity, alright?"
"Alright," I agreed. Roger's speech, although on paper not one I would pick for its soothing qualities, was strangely comforting.
"At the end of the day, its only Quidditch," Roger continued. My mouth dropped open. Is this really our fearless leader talking? "We're all alive. We're all well. That's what's important. Now, are you going to get some sleep?"
"Are you going to stay here?" I asked him.
"Fine," he said, and pulled me closer to him. I felt his fingers toy with my hair as I drifted off into oblivion.
# # # # # # # # #
A/N: So those bloody Gryffindorks pull through again, eh? I was going to be mean and leave it on a cliffhanger and have the hospital part in the next entry, but at the last minute I changed my mind. And it's not too late if you want to play for Hufflepuff in the next entry.
Terra-incognito: Good to hear from you again. I actually decided to leave the whole Basilisk part out since it would dampen the mood a little, and have since been mourning a missed opportunity to make sexual innuedoes about people's snakes. Sorry.
Shewhodares: I think Poppy Skeeter would be a great narrator for a diary fic. Go for it!
The rest of you, thanks for reviewing and see you at the Gryffindor- Hufflepuff game. Only three more entries to go, woo hoo!
I also realised that Delacourt is actually Delacour in the Goblet of Fire, but I feel too lazy to go back and change it. So it stays as Delacourt.
Anyway, without further ado...
# # # # # # # # #
Entry Fifteen: Disintegration
3:48 AM, October 15th
Okay, is getting very ridiculous. Very apparent that will not get a shred more sleep tonight and since sleeping in not an option with Quidditch match against the Gryffs tomorrow, best way, as Roger says, to get up early is to stay up.
Had gotten up earlier and crept over to fifth year boys dorm, because was looking for some solace (and, er, other stuff) from Roger, only to find Adrian in bed with his arms wrapped around him, moaning, "Cedar, oh my Cedar."
So that's how Roger knew Adrian was gay. I, meanwhile, mourn the ineligibility and heterosexuality of one of the few hot guys left in Hogwarts.
3:51 AM
Waddled down to common room in Penelope's pink bathrobe with bunny rabbits and Vanessa's Ugg boots (which live up to their name). No longer care about appearance since don't have Luc, and never really had him anyway, well, at least not to myself. Roger already downstairs in Quidditch robes. "Thought I might find you down here before too long," he said. "Adrian told me everything." One of the great ironies of high school, wizarding or not, is that last person to find out about things like your boyfriend having a girlfriend back in France and never really being your boyfriend in first place, is the person it matters to. "How are you holding up?"
"Okay," I nodded, sitting down beside him and trying not to think of him and Adrian together. My face flushed as I concentrated on coffee table in front of us.
Roger gave me an assessing look, then shifted a fraction of an inch closer to me. "I know I couldn't have sprung this on you at a worse time, but I have bad news for you," he began.
"You're gay," I said.
"What?" Roger blinked.
"Nothing," I muttered. "So, what's your bad news?" Hearing new bad news after being exhausted by the old is like pouring water on top of an already- soaked sponge. It can only take so much before it ceases to have an effect, and any extra just doesn't have an impact anymore.
"I just got back from the hospital wing," Roger continued. "Cho's taken bad. Pomfrey says it's the flu. She won't be able to play tomorrow, and it's too late to request for the match to be postponed-"
"I'll play as the Seeker," I cut in, correctly reading his thoughts.
"Are you sure?" he asked anxiously, looking over at me. Oh, is so cute and adorable when he does that. Yep, he would be too good to be hetero. "I mean, it's the best solution for everyone, but you've had a lot on your plate lately. If it's too much for you-"
"It's fine," I said briskly. "The more I have to think about, the better."
"Alright then," he said, "but just be careful you don't give yourself too much to think about, if you know what I mean. You need time to get over what happened between you and Delacourt, even if you don't enjoy doing it-"
"I'll be fine," I cut him off, then felt guilty about the brief, hurt look on his face. "Thanks for your concern though. So, who will be our second Beater now?"
"I will," he said simply. "I lived in Louisiana for two years - that's where I learnt my French - and played baseball while I was there; it's a Muggle sport that involves hitting a ball about the size of a Bludger; so I feel pretty comfortable with a bat in my hands. Clearwater can take my usual place. She played Quidditch in our second year and was pretty good at it, but decided it took too much time away from her studies." Despite my misery I rolled my eyes. Bloody typical. "So it's not my first choice team but we'll manage. Oh, and Nat-"
"I know," I said. "Don't try to match Potter for speed, he's smaller than I am. Don't try to look for the Snitch myself, mark him instead-"
Roger raised one hand to interrupt me. "Actually, I was going to ask you to try and get some sleep between now and breakfast time," he said. "Would you like some chocolate? I have some in my pocket from Pomfrey."
"Luc's always teasing me about my weight," I said.
"Well, that's one less thing you have to worry about now, isn't it?" Roger asked me.
"I guess," I relented a little. "One piece won't hurt." Roger snapped the chocolate into two pieces, then reached over and handed one half to me. Suddenly I snapped. I had to know for certain. "You said Adrian told you about Luc," I said. "When did you get the chance to talk to him?"
"Funny you say that," Roger admitted, shifting uncomfortably on his seat. "He actually told me after our last class, when you ran off right after the bell because you wanted to get to the library." I had wanted to leave so quickly because I had arranged to meet Luc in the serial department, but Roger, thankfully, had avoided mentioning that. "But this morning I woke up and got one hell of a right to find him with his arms wrapped around me, groaning, "Cedar, Cedar." Stupid git was plastered off his face and thought he'd found a secret passage into the Hufflepuff boys' dormitories, and that I was his ex. Since I don't know any one by the name of Cedar, I can only assume that he must have some sort of fetish for wood. Quite fitting as I hear those Hufflepuffs were a but dense."
"Bloody Merlin," I breathed, "I thought-"
"You thought what?" Roger asked, narrowing his eyes at me.
"That Adrian was shagging a Gryffindor," I blurted out. "And that your remark for having a fetish for wood, was, you know, a reference to-"
Roger was doubled over with laughter. "Oh c'mon Nat, Gryffindors are far too proper, not to mention boring, to be gay. And one of them and a Slytherin? Not in our lifetime. Where were you when I was making all those cracks about, "I'll HUFF and I'll PUFF and I'll blow your house down"?"
"Yeah, it was a pretty stupid thing to think," I said, a smile crossing my lips. "You had me worried for a minute there."
"Why would you be worried?" he asked.
"No reason," I shrugged. "Just Adrian and a Gryffindor-"
"Just eat your chocolate before you say anything else stupid," Roger ordered, kicking me playfully with one foot. "Although I have to say, I'm glad to see a smile on you for once." I obligingly stuffed a section into my mouth. As the warmth crept slowly through my body, I felt fully relaxed for the first time since Luc's and my conversation. "I'm going back upstairs now," I said. "Good night, Roger."
"Sleep tight," he replied as I pushed open the door to the girl's dorm.
9:36 AM
"Don't worry, I feel really amphed for today," Penelope was telling Alessandro Bombardino. "I know it's been a long time since I've played Quidditch, but riding a broom is like riding a bike. Once you know how, you never forget."
"What's a bike?" Bombardino asked.
We were clustered around the changing room prior to the ten AM start. If the Gryffindorks, who had already belted out a corny cheer from their changing room and zoomed out, had seen what was within the blue and bronze striped walls, they would have known that they had it bagged. Malcolm Brocklehurst was sitting on the leather couch with his head in his hands, Vanessa Johnson rubbing his back consolingly. Luc was sitting in a corner solo and gazing up at the ceiling, whether from nerves or Natalia avoidance tactics, I'll never know. Probably a combination of both. Roger was wrapping tape around my bat to thicken the handle to accommodate his bigger gripp.
The only ones showing the slightest amount of cheer were Penelope and Bombardino, with Penny (DID I JUST CALL HER BY A NICKNAME OTHER THAN "CLEARHEAD"? LOOK, I'M MEANT TO HATE THE GIRL!) trying to explain to the pureblood Bombardino exactly what a bike was, with varying degrees of success.
"Well, a bike is a Muggle object similar to a broom," she was telling Bombardino, "in that its used for riding on."
"Like Getrude Bulstrode?" Bombardino suggested. Gertude Bulstrode was a sixth year Slytherin girl who was like both a broom and a bike in that everyone got on her.
"No," Penelop- um, Clearhead, corrected him patiently. "A bike is something you get on, and you use it for transportation-"
"So it is like Getrude Bulstrode," Bombardino finished triumphantly. "I hear she's alright in the sack. She's taken Flint a few places." Penny- oh Clearwater-head, oh fuck it, started to protest, then realised he was grinning at her. Bombardino, making a joke? Me, playing Seeker opposite Pothead and being dumped instead of the dumpee? The world really has been tipped onto its head.
Roger had finished taping up my bat and gave it and experimental swing, then smiled, apparently pleased with the results. "Alright everyone," he said, "let's roll."
11:54 AM
"...And Chaser Johnson of Gryffindor speeds towards the goal, swerves to avoid a Bludger struck by Ravenclaw captain Davies - where did that boy learn to hit those things? - and, oh shit- sugar- sorry, Professor, drops the Quaffle. Chaser Clearwater swoops on it - is that a Bludger, no, Bombardino intercepts it - neat dummy to Ravenclaw's Brocklehurst - argh, Wood gets sent the wrong way - Brocklehurst scores, bloody Merlon! Whoops, sorry Professor, ninety-twenty to Ravenclaw."
Was floating above the Ravenclaw-dominated Quidditch carnage of the Keepers, Beaters and Chasers of each team, Lee Jordan's usual unbiased commentary echoing in the back of my mind. Malcolm had just zoomed off to high-five Penelope, who was demonstrating a previously uncharted knack for the sport. The Gryffindor Chasers were making their morose way back to the centre of the field for Madame Hooch to release the Quaffle, which is customary for Quidditch when a goal is scored. Everything going better than expected, but plus side of being a cynic is that is very easy for things to exceed expectations.
Felt rush of air as Harry Pothead darted behind me, more to shake me off his tail than because had actually seen the Snitch (and they accuse Slytherins of feinting), but quickly cut him off. No one outmanoeuvres me, especially a kid with a hairdo like that.
"-And Bombardino blocks Spinnet from a clear shot on goal with a Bludger nowhere in the area - that's a penalty, Madame Hooch! - and the sagely referee has no choice but to award Gryffindor a penalty for that shameless foul-"
"What about shameless bias?" I muttered. "Commendictator." Next to me Potter giggled. Below us Angelina Johnson squared up to Vanessa, sister against sister. Vanessa saved but could not hold onto the shot, allowing Katie Bell to score from the rebound. I swore as Jordan crowed.
"You've still got a long way to go, tiny," I scowled down at my ex-co- commentator, then caught Potter staring at me. Is quite cute really, can almost see what all the fuss is about him, oh hell no, not me too-
About ten minutes later Luc had a tenth goal for Ravenclaw, the result of a clever solo run which had started when Vanessa had passed him the Quaffle after saving from Alicia Spinnet. Yes, bastard, "would" be the one scoring out of the two of us...smile, damn it, smile...
A speck of gold darted in front of me - the Snitch! Plunged downwards after it, shifting slightly from side-to-side in order to cut off Potter with superior bulk (diet schmiet). Behind us the Ravenclaw faithful roared, Penelope had put one more away. We are drubbing them.
OOF! Bludger crashed into my stomach, making my lungs tighten up as the air was forced out of me. Oxygen refused to come into my mouth, could feel my body closing up with lack of circulation, Snitch is dancing just in front of my eyes, I can reach it, I can...
End of transmission.
2:39 PM
"That was a nasty fall she took." A high, female voice to my left, concerned.
"Yeah, I cannot believe she didn't break anything." A gruff male voice above me, thickly accented, disappointed sounding. Must be Bombardino.
I groan and roll over, willing myself to face the sunlight.
The Ravenclaw Quidditch team, with the notable but expected exception of Luc, are clustered around the hospital bed I am lying in. Cho is hiccuping and sniffing miserably in pyjamas next to Roger, who has an arm around her shoulders.
"She's conscious," Bombardino observed. If I thought he sound disappointed before, this is nothing compared to his disheartened tone now. Penelope must have picked up on it, because she glared from where she stood on my left over my bed at him. "What a relief," he added unconvincingly.
"Nat, we were so worried about you!" Penelope cried, giving Bombardino a significant look. "When you lost your balance like that, it was the loudest thud imaginable when you finally landed-"
"-We were expecting permanent brain damage at the least," Vanessa nodded.
"Well, not much would be different then," Bombardino added sourly. Penelope and Roger shot him simultaneous molten looks.
"Yeah, the way you kept on flying after Fred Weasley had walloped that Bludger into your stomach," Malcolm continued, "that was really impressive. Even the Gryffindors were impressed. I think they feel guilty that they won- "
"Wait a minute," I cut him off. "We LOST?"
No one replied, but the glum looks were answer enough. "So the only way we can win the cup," I faltered, "is if we win against Slytherin in two weeks time, and they lose to Hufflepuff next Saturday?" Roger nodded solemnly. "Like that's ever going to happen! Oh, if only I was quicker-"
"I need to talk to Nat, alone," Roger said quickly. "Everyone else, out."
"But I'm supposed to be here," Cho said hoarsely.
"Well, go and lie in your bed and pull the blankets up over your head so you can't hear what we're saying," Roger told her. "The rest of you, out." My teammates filed out of the room, Vanessa mouthing "Get well soon" before she disappeared through the doorway. Roger waited until Cho had retired to her bunk, then pulled the curtains around my bed and kicked off his shoes.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
"Sh," he said, sliding under the blankets with me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"No, you're fine," I said, "but Merlin, I really hope you don't do this with Bombardino when he's had a bad game."
"Natalia, you did not have a bad game," Roger told me sternly. "In fact, you had the best game I have ever seen from someone in blue robes since Trevor Boot left the school. There's nothing to be ashamed of. And besides, my dad always told me that it's not considered failure if it was something that was beyond you in the first place. You are bloody terrific, but Potter is, well, sublime. He could play for England. And he's smaller and faster than you. You did brilliantly to contain him for as long as you did. Now, no more negativity, alright?"
"Alright," I agreed. Roger's speech, although on paper not one I would pick for its soothing qualities, was strangely comforting.
"At the end of the day, its only Quidditch," Roger continued. My mouth dropped open. Is this really our fearless leader talking? "We're all alive. We're all well. That's what's important. Now, are you going to get some sleep?"
"Are you going to stay here?" I asked him.
"Fine," he said, and pulled me closer to him. I felt his fingers toy with my hair as I drifted off into oblivion.
# # # # # # # # #
A/N: So those bloody Gryffindorks pull through again, eh? I was going to be mean and leave it on a cliffhanger and have the hospital part in the next entry, but at the last minute I changed my mind. And it's not too late if you want to play for Hufflepuff in the next entry.
Terra-incognito: Good to hear from you again. I actually decided to leave the whole Basilisk part out since it would dampen the mood a little, and have since been mourning a missed opportunity to make sexual innuedoes about people's snakes. Sorry.
Shewhodares: I think Poppy Skeeter would be a great narrator for a diary fic. Go for it!
The rest of you, thanks for reviewing and see you at the Gryffindor- Hufflepuff game. Only three more entries to go, woo hoo!