Xenith
'I'm tugging at my hair
I'm pulling at my clothes
I'm trying to keep my cool
I know it shows
I'm staring at my feet
My cheeks are turning red
I'm searching for the words inside my head
I'm feeling nervous
Trying to be so perfect
'Cause I know you're worth it
You're worth it yeah
If I could say what I want to say
I'd say I want to blow you . . . . . AWAY. . . .'
~~Avril Lavigne: 'Things I'll Never Say
Chapter Eleven
Ginny woke in the sterile hospital wing early (3 am) Saturday morning. Through the darkness she could just make out a ragged shadow, roughly the size and shape of her brother and best friend, sitting at her bedside.
Ginny rolled out of the hospital bed with only one thought in her head. Food.
Her plan, however, was halted immediately when she body slammed someone standing in the doorway. The body grunted as Ginny let out a tiny scream and both fell to the floor.
"Ginny? Is that you?" it was a boy's voice, thick and husky from sleep.
"Harry?" She answered.
"You shouldn't be out of bed Ginny." He said standing and offering his hand.
"I was hungry." She slid her small hand into his as he helped her from the floor. "Your hands are cold." She was immensely grateful it was so dark in the wing as her face flushed furiously.
"Sorry." He pulled away from her.
"It's okay." She whispered.
"Fred and George would be here too but we told them we'd take the night shift."
"'The night shift'?"
"Yeah, we said we'd keep an eye on you at night."
"Like those two dunder-heads would even be able to stay awake all night. But, then-again, neither could you three." She laughed quietly as she climbed back into the bed, allowing Harry to pull the discarded white linen back over her small frame.
"I WAS awake, but that wall was just so comfortable. And at least I caught you before you escaped."
"I wasn't escaping. I was hungry."
"Ahhh," Harry dug around in the pocket of his trousers, retrieving from them, a chocolate frog. "Here. Madame Pomfrey would be proud. About the chocolate I mean." He stumbled out.
"Yeah." Ginny could just make out his emerald eyes studying her though the moonlight.
"Yeah."
--
As the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to Quidditch season, Fred found himself quite content and distraught all at once.
The object of Fred's stress seemed painfully oblivious to the effect she had managed over him and was avoiding him at meal times and not calling on, or even looking at him, during class.
George wasn't oblivious though, and brought Fred's attention to the matter as they strolled their way down the empty corridor to their History of Magic class. (They were already quite late due to an unfortunate explosion in their dormitory during break.)
"Hey, dung-brains," George prodded, one fiery red hand pulling him out of the way of a large suit of armour. "Pay-attention."
"What?" Fred replied, George's shake successfully pulling him out of his cogitative daydream.
"Pay-attention bacon-bum."
"I am. Just not to where I'm going."
"Then to what?"
"None of your business."
"It is my business. More, probably, then it is yours."
Fred didn't answer, rubbing idly at the green dye covering his large, freckled hands.
"You know, Angelina may not have noticed the newest object of your affections, Fred, but I sure as hell have."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"You know very well what I mean."
"Refresh my memory."
"Well, let's see," George stopped in the middle of the corridor, leaning against a portrait full of pretty witches in fluttery nightgowns. "This THING, I believe, has two long legs, weighs, I imagine, 105, 110 maybe, muscular, and, oh, how many brothers?"
"Eight." Fred answered immediately.
"My point exactly."
"Shudd-up." Fred pushed George's smirking face out of his way with one green hand, leaving an emerald handprint in its wake. "Come-on, we're going to be late." And he made his way down the corridor, running his fingers through his hair, streaking his scarlet locks green.
"We're always late!" George called, jogging after him.
Fred and George strode elegantly in their History of Magic class, immediately commanding the attention of everyone (who was awake at least) within. Granted, this may have been due to the fact that they were twenty minuets late for the double period, but Professor Binns didn't even glance their way. The two took up their usual positions in the very back row of the classroom beside Lee.
"Where were you two?" Lee whispered at them as soon as they slid into their respective chairs.
"Around." George mused, spinning his wand through his fingers.
Fred let out a tremendous yawn and leaned the back of his chair against the wall behind him.
"Why are your hands green Fred?" Lee addressed the other twin. "And you, George, why are your red?"
"You think he'd learn not to question us by now, wouldn't you George?"
"One would like to believe so. . ."
". . . But when you're thicker then mum's pudding, I mean . . ."
". . . What can we do?" George wrapped up.
"Oh shove-it you two." Lee turned back to the parchment he had been doodling upon before their arrival. George tipped his chair next to his brother's, still spinning his wand through his fingers.
"So I was thinking," Fred began.
"Don't strain yourself." George muttered.
"So I was thinking of little Ginny. . ." He ignored him.
"Yeah, what about her?"
"Well her birthday's coming up you know. She'll be fifteen."
"Yup, the twenty-second, right?"
"Yup, and I believe that she's old enough for a WWW gift box, don't you?"
"But of course! We can give her samples of all our newest stuff. She'll be ecstatic to try'em out in her classes."
"'Cept the mistletoe, we'll release that at Christmas." Fred gave his wand a twist and a large pink bubble began forming at the tip.
"Hmmm."
"What?" Fred flicked his wrist and the bubble detached itself—having reached roughly the size of a Bludger.
"Just thinking." It was obviously an invitation to as 'What about?'. Fred chose to decline.
"Don't strain yourself." He mocked.
"Shut-it. Ask me what?"
"What'ch thinking?" The pink bubbles were streaming from the end of his wand and stringing themselves elegantly through Katie Bell's loose, golden curls.
"I was wondering when we're ever going to have a chance to buy Ron those robes."
"Hogsmeade trip?" Fred offered vaguely, sharing in Katie's glee.
"You think we're going to have one though? I mean, with the attack 'n all?"
"We should," he trailed the bubbles down Katie's back and over her shoulder. "The dragon was from Bulgaria not Hogsmeade. Or even Diagon Alley. Should be fine." Another great pink orb blossomed from his wand tip, floating innocently in the direction of one Curtis Saunders---the newest edition to the Slytherin Quidditch team. (Keeper under Draco Malfoy's strict captaincy.) The mess the bubble made when it collided with the back of his head wasn't a pretty sight. Unlike the beautiful jewels made for Katie, Curtis received a glistening orb of chewing gum. With an imperceptible 'pop!' the bubble exploded, a sticky film covered all of the curly locks on the back of he boy's head. A tentative, muscular hand touched at the remnants of the bubble before his head swiveled; an icy glare probing the back of the room. Fred, like George, was idly spinning his wand over his knuckles and through his fingers, a look of vague inattention firmly in place.
"So how about this. . ." And George dove into idyllic conversation with his brother---successfully avoiding paying attention to Professor Binns, per-usual.
--
QUIDDITCH TRIALS; 7:15 PM
"Harry, you should be Captain." Angelina said for the umpteenth time that night. "Look at it this way, it'll be good practice for next year when you're the only one left on the team. We're all graduating."
"But you might get lucky Harry," Fred stuck in. "With George's grades you might not be the ONLY one left!"
"Hey, you'll probably have Fred for the next TWO years Harry!" George laughed.
"You'll never be rid of us!" The Beaters grinned evilly over at the bespectacled boy.
"Angelina," Harry dove onward, ignoring the ever constant antics of Fred and George. "I don't WANT to be Captain. I'm the youngest on the team—it'd look terrible."
"You're the best player though."
"I'm the best SEEKER. Nothing more. I don't know anything about plays or anything. Give me a year to learn and in the mean time make Katie Captain. She's the best ALL-AROUND player." Katie's blush paired exquisitely with the few bubbles still lingering in her hair. "How about it Katie, want to be Captain?"
"I--I guess so. If its okay with the rest of the team that is."
"Then it's settled!" Harry stood, clapping his hands before him and not waiting for the rest of the team's nods of consent. "Let's get these trials started. They were supposed to begin 15 minutes ago!" Harry strode out of the Gryffindor changing-rooms, Firebolt in hand, and team in stride. Harry wasn't necessarily tremendously excited about getting on with the new team trials, but more so with the prospect of getting into the air. Letting all his tension and anxiety out in a blood curdling hundred foot plummet. The Quidditch class, at the present, was all book work and theory, no flying whatsoever.
The moment Harry could see the newly restored Pitch; he shot out on to the field with a tremendous 'whoop!' of elation that had the added effect of scaring the prospects out of their wits.
"Come down Harry!" Katie called up to him, waving her broomstick above her head.
Harry spiraled towards the ground, hovering at eyelevel above the grass. Rampaging Hippogriffs couldn't drag him off his broomstick now.
"I'm Katie Bell, Gryffindor's newest Captain and one of its Chasers." She introduced herself to the twenty or so Gryffindors who had shown up. Ginny and Colin among them. "That's Angelina Johnson, the other chaser, Fred and George Weasley, our Beaters, and Harry Potter, our ever exuberant Seeker." Harry slid down on his broomstick, folding his hands across the end and resting his chin on them. "Tonight we are looking for one first-string Chaser and one first-string Keeper. There are a lot of you but I wish each every one of you the very best of luck.
"I want all of the Chasers over there," she waved towards the goal posts at the latter end of the field. "And the Keepers over here with me."
Harry wound up having absolutely nothing to do but hover above the field next to Katie, diligently observing the newest team prospects.
"What'd you think?" Katie said after a half-an-hour of silent observation.
"Well," Harry started off, eyeing the flyers below him. "I have no idea hat those two are doing going out for Chaser positions." He indicated two extremely muscular sixth year boys. "I mean, look at those arms!" The two boys had just tossed their sweaty t-shirts to the ground.
"Don't worry," Katie said, a girlish smile tugging at her lips. "I am."
"Katie! That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Harry pulled a face at his Captain.
"I know what you meant. And with a year of training behind them, I think they'd make a fine pair of first-string Beaters to replace those nuts." Fred and George were spinning intricate loop-de-loops around each other in the middle of the Pitch. "I'll miss them." Katie mused quietly to herself. "They make me laugh."
"I won't tell them you said that." Harry gave her a quiet smile of realization. He'd miss them too.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Thanks." She grinned down at the swooping boys before pulling Harry back to their previous topic. "Little Creevy'll make a fair Keeper I think."
"Specially compared to those other duffers down there."
"Yeah," Katie giggled. "I don't know, though . . . I mean, take a look at Donnalley. He's a little . . . a little . . ."
"Nuts?" Harry provided.
"Spontaneous. But he hasn't let anything by him yet."
"And Chaser?"
"I've got four in mind right now. . ."
"Three too many."
"Are you going to let me finish anything?"
"Nope." Harry replied peevishly.
"I'm of course considering Ginny Weasley. It figures she can fly that well—practically grew up on her very own Quidditch team!"
"You're considering Bennet and Perkins, right?"
"Read my mind Harry. Can you guess the forth?"
"Hmmm, Gresham?"
"Right in one!"
"Maybe I should have been Captain after all." He sent a classic Weasley grin her way---completely relishing the happiness of the moment.
"You had your chance Potter, on numerous occasions. It's my turn---team---now." Katie swooped elegantly to the ground, waving the Gryffindors down after her. "Now," she addressed the students gathered around her. "I know it was quick, but I've managed to thoroughly assess the talent here and have come to my decision." Even the large sixth years were trembling, dreadfully wanting to be a part of the best House team Hogwarts had seen in centuries. "Will Brigid Bennet, Casper Perkins, Ginny Weasley, Timothy Gresham, Trevor Andrews, Conner Donnalley, Colin Creevy, and Paul Bettany please step forward?" They all obayed. "Congratulations, you've made it. To the rest of you, I wish you the best of luck in the coming years." They made their way slowly back to the changing rooms.
"Now," Katie addressed the newest, smiling, Quidditch players. "Conner Donnalley?"
"Yes?"
"You're our newest Keeper. Creevy, Reserve Keeper." The boy nodded, the pride evident on his young face. "Weasley?"
"Yes?" Three voices answered immediately.
"Ginny Weasley?"
"Hmmm?"
"Think you can keep up with Angelina and me?"
"I'll try."
"Now that's just not the attitude we want on our team. Care to try again?"
"Most certainly Captain!" She gave a smart salute, propping her broom over one shoulder as she came to attention.
"Perkins, Bennet, and Gresham---I want you three as our Reserve Chasers." They all beamed at the seventh year.
"What about us?" Paul Bettany interrupted. "We're Chasers too. Right?"
"Wrong. I want you two as Reserve Beaters. These two---"
"Psychopaths." Fred offered.
"Quidditch genius's. . ." George continued---absolutely unhelpfully.
"Incredibly handsome. . ."
"Beautifully brilliant. . ."
"Positively stupendous. . ."
"Enough!" Katie cut short what would have, without a doubt, gone on forever. "These two BOYS will teach you the ropes."
"Hello, Fred Weasley." Fred's bow was soon followed by an identical one from George.
"George."
"Have we met?"
"The reason I have decided on such a vast amount of Reserve players is because in the past few years we have had a few. . .minor mishaps," Katie chose her words carefully, throwing a sideways glance at Harry. "In the past and I want to be prepared! Are you with me?" Nods and excited grins followed his. "Yes! Now off to bed. Quidditch Practice tomorrow night. Seven-thirty!"
"I know _I'm _ not going to bed now." George mused quietly to Fred as they changed out of their Quidditch sweats in the Gryffindor changing rooms.
"It's only eight o'clock."
"Want to test the---"
"Shhh!" Fred cut him off, noticing Ginny eying them beadily. "And yes."
"What are you two on about?" Ginny prodded.
"Nothing Gin!"
"We'll give you some for Christmas." And he bolted out of the changing rooms and up to the castle, George mere meters behind.
--
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((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*
'I'm tugging at my hair
I'm pulling at my clothes
I'm trying to keep my cool
I know it shows
I'm staring at my feet
My cheeks are turning red
I'm searching for the words inside my head
I'm feeling nervous
Trying to be so perfect
'Cause I know you're worth it
You're worth it yeah
If I could say what I want to say
I'd say I want to blow you . . . . . AWAY. . . .'
~~Avril Lavigne: 'Things I'll Never Say
Chapter Eleven
Ginny woke in the sterile hospital wing early (3 am) Saturday morning. Through the darkness she could just make out a ragged shadow, roughly the size and shape of her brother and best friend, sitting at her bedside.
Ginny rolled out of the hospital bed with only one thought in her head. Food.
Her plan, however, was halted immediately when she body slammed someone standing in the doorway. The body grunted as Ginny let out a tiny scream and both fell to the floor.
"Ginny? Is that you?" it was a boy's voice, thick and husky from sleep.
"Harry?" She answered.
"You shouldn't be out of bed Ginny." He said standing and offering his hand.
"I was hungry." She slid her small hand into his as he helped her from the floor. "Your hands are cold." She was immensely grateful it was so dark in the wing as her face flushed furiously.
"Sorry." He pulled away from her.
"It's okay." She whispered.
"Fred and George would be here too but we told them we'd take the night shift."
"'The night shift'?"
"Yeah, we said we'd keep an eye on you at night."
"Like those two dunder-heads would even be able to stay awake all night. But, then-again, neither could you three." She laughed quietly as she climbed back into the bed, allowing Harry to pull the discarded white linen back over her small frame.
"I WAS awake, but that wall was just so comfortable. And at least I caught you before you escaped."
"I wasn't escaping. I was hungry."
"Ahhh," Harry dug around in the pocket of his trousers, retrieving from them, a chocolate frog. "Here. Madame Pomfrey would be proud. About the chocolate I mean." He stumbled out.
"Yeah." Ginny could just make out his emerald eyes studying her though the moonlight.
"Yeah."
--
As the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to Quidditch season, Fred found himself quite content and distraught all at once.
The object of Fred's stress seemed painfully oblivious to the effect she had managed over him and was avoiding him at meal times and not calling on, or even looking at him, during class.
George wasn't oblivious though, and brought Fred's attention to the matter as they strolled their way down the empty corridor to their History of Magic class. (They were already quite late due to an unfortunate explosion in their dormitory during break.)
"Hey, dung-brains," George prodded, one fiery red hand pulling him out of the way of a large suit of armour. "Pay-attention."
"What?" Fred replied, George's shake successfully pulling him out of his cogitative daydream.
"Pay-attention bacon-bum."
"I am. Just not to where I'm going."
"Then to what?"
"None of your business."
"It is my business. More, probably, then it is yours."
Fred didn't answer, rubbing idly at the green dye covering his large, freckled hands.
"You know, Angelina may not have noticed the newest object of your affections, Fred, but I sure as hell have."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"You know very well what I mean."
"Refresh my memory."
"Well, let's see," George stopped in the middle of the corridor, leaning against a portrait full of pretty witches in fluttery nightgowns. "This THING, I believe, has two long legs, weighs, I imagine, 105, 110 maybe, muscular, and, oh, how many brothers?"
"Eight." Fred answered immediately.
"My point exactly."
"Shudd-up." Fred pushed George's smirking face out of his way with one green hand, leaving an emerald handprint in its wake. "Come-on, we're going to be late." And he made his way down the corridor, running his fingers through his hair, streaking his scarlet locks green.
"We're always late!" George called, jogging after him.
Fred and George strode elegantly in their History of Magic class, immediately commanding the attention of everyone (who was awake at least) within. Granted, this may have been due to the fact that they were twenty minuets late for the double period, but Professor Binns didn't even glance their way. The two took up their usual positions in the very back row of the classroom beside Lee.
"Where were you two?" Lee whispered at them as soon as they slid into their respective chairs.
"Around." George mused, spinning his wand through his fingers.
Fred let out a tremendous yawn and leaned the back of his chair against the wall behind him.
"Why are your hands green Fred?" Lee addressed the other twin. "And you, George, why are your red?"
"You think he'd learn not to question us by now, wouldn't you George?"
"One would like to believe so. . ."
". . . But when you're thicker then mum's pudding, I mean . . ."
". . . What can we do?" George wrapped up.
"Oh shove-it you two." Lee turned back to the parchment he had been doodling upon before their arrival. George tipped his chair next to his brother's, still spinning his wand through his fingers.
"So I was thinking," Fred began.
"Don't strain yourself." George muttered.
"So I was thinking of little Ginny. . ." He ignored him.
"Yeah, what about her?"
"Well her birthday's coming up you know. She'll be fifteen."
"Yup, the twenty-second, right?"
"Yup, and I believe that she's old enough for a WWW gift box, don't you?"
"But of course! We can give her samples of all our newest stuff. She'll be ecstatic to try'em out in her classes."
"'Cept the mistletoe, we'll release that at Christmas." Fred gave his wand a twist and a large pink bubble began forming at the tip.
"Hmmm."
"What?" Fred flicked his wrist and the bubble detached itself—having reached roughly the size of a Bludger.
"Just thinking." It was obviously an invitation to as 'What about?'. Fred chose to decline.
"Don't strain yourself." He mocked.
"Shut-it. Ask me what?"
"What'ch thinking?" The pink bubbles were streaming from the end of his wand and stringing themselves elegantly through Katie Bell's loose, golden curls.
"I was wondering when we're ever going to have a chance to buy Ron those robes."
"Hogsmeade trip?" Fred offered vaguely, sharing in Katie's glee.
"You think we're going to have one though? I mean, with the attack 'n all?"
"We should," he trailed the bubbles down Katie's back and over her shoulder. "The dragon was from Bulgaria not Hogsmeade. Or even Diagon Alley. Should be fine." Another great pink orb blossomed from his wand tip, floating innocently in the direction of one Curtis Saunders---the newest edition to the Slytherin Quidditch team. (Keeper under Draco Malfoy's strict captaincy.) The mess the bubble made when it collided with the back of his head wasn't a pretty sight. Unlike the beautiful jewels made for Katie, Curtis received a glistening orb of chewing gum. With an imperceptible 'pop!' the bubble exploded, a sticky film covered all of the curly locks on the back of he boy's head. A tentative, muscular hand touched at the remnants of the bubble before his head swiveled; an icy glare probing the back of the room. Fred, like George, was idly spinning his wand over his knuckles and through his fingers, a look of vague inattention firmly in place.
"So how about this. . ." And George dove into idyllic conversation with his brother---successfully avoiding paying attention to Professor Binns, per-usual.
--
QUIDDITCH TRIALS; 7:15 PM
"Harry, you should be Captain." Angelina said for the umpteenth time that night. "Look at it this way, it'll be good practice for next year when you're the only one left on the team. We're all graduating."
"But you might get lucky Harry," Fred stuck in. "With George's grades you might not be the ONLY one left!"
"Hey, you'll probably have Fred for the next TWO years Harry!" George laughed.
"You'll never be rid of us!" The Beaters grinned evilly over at the bespectacled boy.
"Angelina," Harry dove onward, ignoring the ever constant antics of Fred and George. "I don't WANT to be Captain. I'm the youngest on the team—it'd look terrible."
"You're the best player though."
"I'm the best SEEKER. Nothing more. I don't know anything about plays or anything. Give me a year to learn and in the mean time make Katie Captain. She's the best ALL-AROUND player." Katie's blush paired exquisitely with the few bubbles still lingering in her hair. "How about it Katie, want to be Captain?"
"I--I guess so. If its okay with the rest of the team that is."
"Then it's settled!" Harry stood, clapping his hands before him and not waiting for the rest of the team's nods of consent. "Let's get these trials started. They were supposed to begin 15 minutes ago!" Harry strode out of the Gryffindor changing-rooms, Firebolt in hand, and team in stride. Harry wasn't necessarily tremendously excited about getting on with the new team trials, but more so with the prospect of getting into the air. Letting all his tension and anxiety out in a blood curdling hundred foot plummet. The Quidditch class, at the present, was all book work and theory, no flying whatsoever.
The moment Harry could see the newly restored Pitch; he shot out on to the field with a tremendous 'whoop!' of elation that had the added effect of scaring the prospects out of their wits.
"Come down Harry!" Katie called up to him, waving her broomstick above her head.
Harry spiraled towards the ground, hovering at eyelevel above the grass. Rampaging Hippogriffs couldn't drag him off his broomstick now.
"I'm Katie Bell, Gryffindor's newest Captain and one of its Chasers." She introduced herself to the twenty or so Gryffindors who had shown up. Ginny and Colin among them. "That's Angelina Johnson, the other chaser, Fred and George Weasley, our Beaters, and Harry Potter, our ever exuberant Seeker." Harry slid down on his broomstick, folding his hands across the end and resting his chin on them. "Tonight we are looking for one first-string Chaser and one first-string Keeper. There are a lot of you but I wish each every one of you the very best of luck.
"I want all of the Chasers over there," she waved towards the goal posts at the latter end of the field. "And the Keepers over here with me."
Harry wound up having absolutely nothing to do but hover above the field next to Katie, diligently observing the newest team prospects.
"What'd you think?" Katie said after a half-an-hour of silent observation.
"Well," Harry started off, eyeing the flyers below him. "I have no idea hat those two are doing going out for Chaser positions." He indicated two extremely muscular sixth year boys. "I mean, look at those arms!" The two boys had just tossed their sweaty t-shirts to the ground.
"Don't worry," Katie said, a girlish smile tugging at her lips. "I am."
"Katie! That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Harry pulled a face at his Captain.
"I know what you meant. And with a year of training behind them, I think they'd make a fine pair of first-string Beaters to replace those nuts." Fred and George were spinning intricate loop-de-loops around each other in the middle of the Pitch. "I'll miss them." Katie mused quietly to herself. "They make me laugh."
"I won't tell them you said that." Harry gave her a quiet smile of realization. He'd miss them too.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Thanks." She grinned down at the swooping boys before pulling Harry back to their previous topic. "Little Creevy'll make a fair Keeper I think."
"Specially compared to those other duffers down there."
"Yeah," Katie giggled. "I don't know, though . . . I mean, take a look at Donnalley. He's a little . . . a little . . ."
"Nuts?" Harry provided.
"Spontaneous. But he hasn't let anything by him yet."
"And Chaser?"
"I've got four in mind right now. . ."
"Three too many."
"Are you going to let me finish anything?"
"Nope." Harry replied peevishly.
"I'm of course considering Ginny Weasley. It figures she can fly that well—practically grew up on her very own Quidditch team!"
"You're considering Bennet and Perkins, right?"
"Read my mind Harry. Can you guess the forth?"
"Hmmm, Gresham?"
"Right in one!"
"Maybe I should have been Captain after all." He sent a classic Weasley grin her way---completely relishing the happiness of the moment.
"You had your chance Potter, on numerous occasions. It's my turn---team---now." Katie swooped elegantly to the ground, waving the Gryffindors down after her. "Now," she addressed the students gathered around her. "I know it was quick, but I've managed to thoroughly assess the talent here and have come to my decision." Even the large sixth years were trembling, dreadfully wanting to be a part of the best House team Hogwarts had seen in centuries. "Will Brigid Bennet, Casper Perkins, Ginny Weasley, Timothy Gresham, Trevor Andrews, Conner Donnalley, Colin Creevy, and Paul Bettany please step forward?" They all obayed. "Congratulations, you've made it. To the rest of you, I wish you the best of luck in the coming years." They made their way slowly back to the changing rooms.
"Now," Katie addressed the newest, smiling, Quidditch players. "Conner Donnalley?"
"Yes?"
"You're our newest Keeper. Creevy, Reserve Keeper." The boy nodded, the pride evident on his young face. "Weasley?"
"Yes?" Three voices answered immediately.
"Ginny Weasley?"
"Hmmm?"
"Think you can keep up with Angelina and me?"
"I'll try."
"Now that's just not the attitude we want on our team. Care to try again?"
"Most certainly Captain!" She gave a smart salute, propping her broom over one shoulder as she came to attention.
"Perkins, Bennet, and Gresham---I want you three as our Reserve Chasers." They all beamed at the seventh year.
"What about us?" Paul Bettany interrupted. "We're Chasers too. Right?"
"Wrong. I want you two as Reserve Beaters. These two---"
"Psychopaths." Fred offered.
"Quidditch genius's. . ." George continued---absolutely unhelpfully.
"Incredibly handsome. . ."
"Beautifully brilliant. . ."
"Positively stupendous. . ."
"Enough!" Katie cut short what would have, without a doubt, gone on forever. "These two BOYS will teach you the ropes."
"Hello, Fred Weasley." Fred's bow was soon followed by an identical one from George.
"George."
"Have we met?"
"The reason I have decided on such a vast amount of Reserve players is because in the past few years we have had a few. . .minor mishaps," Katie chose her words carefully, throwing a sideways glance at Harry. "In the past and I want to be prepared! Are you with me?" Nods and excited grins followed his. "Yes! Now off to bed. Quidditch Practice tomorrow night. Seven-thirty!"
"I know _I'm _ not going to bed now." George mused quietly to Fred as they changed out of their Quidditch sweats in the Gryffindor changing rooms.
"It's only eight o'clock."
"Want to test the---"
"Shhh!" Fred cut him off, noticing Ginny eying them beadily. "And yes."
"What are you two on about?" Ginny prodded.
"Nothing Gin!"
"We'll give you some for Christmas." And he bolted out of the changing rooms and up to the castle, George mere meters behind.
--
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))
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