A/N: Not that I've been very much in canon with this story at any rate, but
I am borrowing some of the imagery from the movie, especially with the
opening scene and the Quidditch outfits. I would also like to thank the
person in charge of wardrobe for the Warner Bros. movie: Harry Potter and
the Sorcerer's Stone for making such wonderful outfits and for putting Sean
Biggerstaff in them. tune to "Mrs Robinson" by Simon and Garfunkle plays
gently in background
~~~~~~~~~~
"You're not nervous are you?"
"Nah. I'm fine." Ginny smiled reassuringly at Harry as they walked down the corridor that led to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny had been absently fingering the quarter she had around her neck and quickly tucked it back inside her sweater before Harry could notice it. She looked on her other side, where Sue was walking very stiffly, and Ginny couldn't help but notice that she was clutching her broomstick so tightly that her knuckles were threatening to burst through the leather gloves.
Ginny had slept very well the previous night, surprisingly so, especially after all she'd been through with Snape's detention. She had expected to be a bundle of nerves this morning, and it was clear from the looks that Harry and Ron had both given her that morning at breakfast that they'd expected the same from her. It was true that her arms were a bit sore, but once Harry had carried her up to the common room and proceeded to give her a massage…Ginny shook herself slightly, glad the darkness hid whatever shade of pink her cheeks were turning, and brought her attention back to Sue.
"Sue? You ok?"
Sue blinked rapidly and started, as though she wasn't aware of her surroundings. "Oh! Oh…I'm…I'm fine. Nothing to worry about here. I'm ok. Yep. I'm just fine."
Ginny tried to bite back a grin. "First match nerves are the worst. Just clear your mind. You'll do great."
Ginny was in an excellent mood for the day. She had woken up early and had taken a long walk around the pitch, getting her mind focused on the task ahead. When she had entered the Great Hall to make sure the rest of the team was up for breakfast, she had received a nice round of applause from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs. Ginny had waved politely and smiled, but before she could get to the Gryffindor table…
"Hey Ginny!" Peter had called out, getting up from the Ravenclaw table.
"Peter!" Ginny had returned his smile. "How are you?" she'd asked automatically.
"Great! I wanted to wish you good luck today," he'd said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Not that you'll need it. We've not had much time to chat with our schedules and practices."
It was true, although they had one class together, it was nearly impossible for them to exchange more than a few pleasantries.
"Oh, and don't be nervous about Mr Whisp and Mr Bagman—they're just here to observe."
"What?"
Peter had frowned. "You didn't hear? I thought you would have received an owl…my uncle told me."
"Told you what?"
"You know that book Mr Whisp mentioned he was writing? Well, he's coming to the match today to do some research." Peter had beamed at her.
Ginny had vaguely remembered that Kennilworthy Whisp had mentioned something about writing a book on some of the best Quidditch players under twenty-one, that evening she'd flown the Firebolt Chaser. "Wow," she'd said slowly. "That's…that's…that's just cool."
Peter had nodded excitedly. "And Ludo Bagman is a scout for the Wimborne Wasps, so this is a major thing! They'll be attending all the games here at Hogwarts!"
That had been simply too much to take in at the moment. Ginny had looked from Peter's shining face to where the rest of the team had been sitting—John and Paul had been talking to some girls Ginny didn't know, Ron and Harry had been bent over their breakfast plates, using their bacon and toast to do some last minute game plays, and Sue and Dennis had been barely eating at all. Should she tell them the news? Harry and Ron would no doubt be just as excited as she and Peter had been, but as for the rest…perhaps it would be best if she kept the news to herself for a while.
"That's really great, Peter!" Ginny had turned back to Peter. "Look, I've got to go get this lot ready for the game—talk to you later?"
"You bet!" Peter had grinned back. "But leave something for the rest of us to play with, will you? You Gryffindors shouldn't have to have all the fun, after all."
Ginny had laughed at the joke, knowing perfectly well that both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff hated the Slytherins as much as the Gryffindors did, and wanted to see them lose just as badly. She had rounded up the team and herded them out to the pitch, just to get a feel for the conditions they'd be playing in.
If she had sent an order by owl, she couldn't have ordered a morning as fine as the one facing her. The sun was bright, but a few clouds in the sky kept it from being too bright. The mid-November morning air was crisp, and the cold, hard ground ensured a good swift kickoff.
Just as the crowd of spectators were making their way to the pitch, Ginny had hurried the team into the Gryffindor locker rooms. Her pre-match pep talk had been short and sweet. She'd been most nervous about what to say, how to put into words how much she wanted to win today, to tell her teammates that all the early morning and evening practices, all the sacrifices they'd made—it would be worth it in the end. Ginny had stared out over the six faces in that locker room, and only three words had popped into her head.
"Let's do it!"
Oddly enough, it seemed to have had more of an effect than anything else. Ron had let out a loud whoop, and had soon been joined by the rest. John and Paul had banged their broomsticks together, practically bursting with energy. Dennis had seemed to not know whether to join in the excitement or be very sick, as his complexion changed back and forth between a sickly green and a bright red. Sue had been strangely silent. Harry—well, he'd been Harry and had looked like he wanted nothing more than to be up in the air with the wind in his hair and the Snitch in sight. Ginny had known how he felt; she she'd wanted nothing more than to be on her broom dodging Bludgers and Slytherins, her only thought in the world centered on getting the Quaffle through one of the three goal posts.
And now, facing the wooden doors that lead to the pitch, Ginny couldn't keep from smiling—the taste of a victory strong on her tongue. The roars from the crowd were getting louder—Ginny shot Harry one last grin, knowing the twinkle in his green eyes was reflected in her own brown ones. He held out his Firebolt and Ginny crossed it with her own Nimbus Two Thousand One.
And the whistle of Madam Hooch sounded. The doors opened. And they were off.
"And here are the Gryffindors! Potter, Weasley, Maxwell, Wellington, Pepper, Creevy, and Ginny Weasley as Captain. With her boyfriend and brother on the team, it's no surprise how she landed that job." Boos from the Gryffindors and sniggers from the Slytherins followed this announcement. Nigel Roache was the new commentator, much to the anger of most everyone except for those in Slytherin—Nigel's house. Ginny had time to mentally steel herself towards Nigel; she knew the Slytherins would be a bit nasty especially after all the years Lee Jordan was commentator. She was expecting the worst and knew Nigel could dish it out.
"Now, now, Nigel," said Snape smoothly. Snape, as head of the commentator's house, had the job of watching over the commentator. This meant Nigel could get away with murder.
"The Slytherin team enters the field as well, and I must say this is the best team ever. Captain Draco Malfoy has done wonders with the team. Crabbe and Goyle are the Beaters, Montague, Snoad and Grubbs are the Chasers, and the lovely Millicent Bulstrode is Keeper."
"Lovely, eh?" Ginny heard John whisper to Paul. "Wonder what he's comparing her with?"
"Well, they are Slytherins," Paul replied, chucking. "Perhaps they have different standards of beauty?"
"Well, I have heard some say Malfoy was handsome…"
Both Sue and Ginny made very loud gagging noises.
"Sorry, Ladies—guess you didn't need to hear that right before we start playing, did you?" John apologized, not looking the least bit sorry.
Finally they'd reached the center of the pitch, where Madam Hooch was standing, her hawk-like eyes sizing up each team.
"Captains!" Madam Hooch, the referee called, blowing her whistle again. Ginny stopped directly in front of Draco Malfoy. The two teams sized each other up for a moment, Ginny noticing the new team members—including Keeper Millicent Bulstrode whose Quidditch robes covered her like a green circus tent.
"Weasley," Malfoy sneered.
"Malfoy," Ginny said just as icily.
"Both of you, shake hands," ordered Madam Hooch.
****
Harry watched closely as Malfoy and Ginny extend their right hands. He wasn't putting anything past these scumbags. Normally the Gryffindor and Slytherin captains would engage each other in a little arm wrestling, or at the very least try to break each others' fingers, and Harry was prepared to do something before Malfoy could get a good grip on Ginny—anything to cause a distraction.
They were both engaged in a glaring contest, Malfoy's pale blue eyes narrowed so much that they were barely slits in his face as he shoved his hand out for Ginny to take, almost as though he were being forced to do so. Ginny, her bright brown eyes practically sparking with hatred, reached out. Harry held his breath as Malfoy's pale fingers close about her own and started squeezing. HARD.
"Ahhhhh!"
Harry stepped forward to break the contact, just as Malfoy jerked away, shaking his hand violently as though he'd touched something hot.
"She had something in her hand!" Malfoy shouted to Madam Hooch. Harry peered over at Ginny, who was looking politely puzzled as she held up her leather-gloved hand for Madam Hooch to see.
There was nothing in it.
"Ok, teams! Mount your brooms!"
Madam Hooch released the balls.
"And the Quaffle is quickly taken by Sue Maxwell, who seems to be flying a..a..Twigger? Let's hope she can stay on the thing long enough to see her team lose…" And with this comment, Harry quickly knew that Nigel was going to be at his nastiest.
Harry flew up and hovered just above the center of the pitch, where he could get the best view of the action below and keep a close eye for the Snitch.
The Quaffle was still in possession by Gryffindor—Dennis was passing it down to Ginny, who rolled over mid-air to duck a Bludger and caught the pass at the same moment.
"And Gryffindor is in possession, Weasley goes for the score….yes! She missed! Keeper Bulstrode makes the block!"
"Well of course she made the block," said John as he flew by Harry, knocking a Bludger towards Malfoy. "That whale practically covers all three goals at once anyway!"
Harry chuckled at this observation. Looking at Millicent Bulstrode—who was very solid, if not fat, it was hard not to wonder how her Comet 500 didn't break in two with her weight. But then, she fit in quite well with the rest of the Slytherin team, minus Malfoy, who was starting to resemble a ferret in more ways than one with his pointed nose and slicked back hair. Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was on the opposite side of the pitch, just hovering above the Gryffindor goal posts.
"Slytherin has the Quaffle, Montague passes to Grubbs—oh! He's been hit by a Bludger from the Gryffindor Beater Pepper. Quaffle is taken up by Creevey—brother of the Harry Potter Fan club president Colin—"
More boos from the Gryffindors drowned out the rest of Nigel's sentence.
"Now Weasley has the Quaffle—HA! But she drops it after our Grubbs innocently smashes into her."
"Oh, that wasn't very good was it, Potter? Maybe you both should spend time practicing on the field, rather than inside broomsheds." Malfoy was now a few feet from him, watching the match with a lazy eye. Harry ignored this comment for the moment, intent on watching for the Snitch and trying to keep a close look out on the match below. The Slytherins were showing very early in the game that they would be playing the dirtiest game ever.
"No fair Ref!" Nigel hollered, making everyone in the stands cover their ears from the sudden blast of sound. "Weasley was in his way, it's her fault!" Madam Hooch had, of course, called a foul against the Slytherins.
Ginny took the penalty shot, getting it past Bulstrode. "And Weasley scores easily, but that's no surprise there. I'm sure Potter can tell some stories…"
Pretending to see the Snitch, Harry dove straight for the commentator's box in a burst of speed, coming so close to Nigel that the magical megaphone was nearly blown out of his hands. Harry grinned slyly.
****
The match had barely been on for forty-five minutes, and it was all Ginny could do to keep on her broomstick. This game was not going as she had planned. Having played Slytherin twice in her life, and having seen them play for six years, she thought she knew every trick they could pull. The Quidditch Final from last year had been the nastiest the Slytherin team ever been , but she'd expected that. They were pretty pissed off at her, especially after that prank she'd pulled on them. But they've just proven that they're going for new means of cheating, and Ginny thought—just before ducking another Bludger aimed her way—that there could be an easy chance of all seven hundred fouls being committed in this game. She expected to be attacked with an axe at any moment.
She caught the Quaffle from Sue, wincing as she saw Sue get hit by a Bludger just after the ball was thrown. She began the extra burst of speed that was to begin the Porskoff Ploy, which fooled the opposing Chasers into thinking she's trying to score. Sue and Denis were both in throwing range. Ginny gave Denis a quick glance, and threw the Quaffle to Sue.
"Ooooh!"
****
Harry heard the scream, even from the opposite side of the pitch. He'd been giving Malfoy the run-around, making him think he'd been after the Snitch. Harry turned in time to see Ginny get pelted by both Bludgers, one aimed at her head, the other at her stomach. She was doubled over on her broomstick, and even from that distance Harry could see her fingers were barely holding onto the broom.
"That's enough!" cried Madam Hooch angrily as she began blowing her whistle to get everyone's attention. "Time out! Penalty to Gryffindor."
Harry was so angry he could barely see straight. He hadn't missed the sly looks passed between Crabbe and Goyle and knew that they'd tried to injure Ginny on purpose. Before he'd known what he was about, he found himself heading straight towards Goyle, who resembled a troll perched on a twig so ridiculous did he seem on his broomstick. Harry sped towards Goyle.
"Potter!" yelled Madam Hooch, breaking through the thick haze of hatred in his head. "Time out has been called! Get down to your team this instant!"
By the time Harry had headed to the Gryffindor Time-out area, Ginny and the rest of the team were already on the ground. Ginny was walking back and forth, and although her walk was a bit wobbly, she didn't seem to be hurt much at all, despite being just hit with not one but two Bludgers. Harry let his eyes roam over her, trying to find any sort of marks on her head where the Bludger might have hit her, but didn't see anything. She was yelling fit to kill, and Harry looked over the rest of his teammates to see how many, if any, of them were hurt. No one seemed to have anything more than the usual set of cuts and bruises that came from playing the game. Each one was gaping at Ginny as though she'd suddenly sprouted another head, and Harry curiously turned his attention back to her.
Then he actually heard what Ginny was saying. His jaw dropped.
Being close friends with the Weasleys, and an honorary one at that, made Harry suspect to quite a few outbursts in his lifetime. He'd even seen Ginny, who out of the lot was the most even-tempered, throw a tantrum or two. But he'd never seen anything like this.
She was practically screaming at the top of her lungs—screaming things Harry was not sure he'd ever heard before, and certainly not in that context. He felt his ears redden as she called one of the Slytherin Chasers something Harry had only read about in those books Fred and George had stashed under their beds at the Burrow. To his surprise, Ron seemed non- plussed about his youngest sister's use of language, but Denis and Sue looked sort of frightened. Paul and John both appeared as though they were going to laugh, but obviously felt that it wasn't the time for humor.
"Uh, Ginny?" John asked tentatively during a short pause. Ginny glared at him, as though he dared to interrupt her while she was in mid-tirade. "Did you call time out because you wanted to tell us something or did you just want an audience?"
"Good show though it's been," Paul added, clapping softly.
Harry cringed and waited for the next explosion but all he heard was a short burst of laughter.
"You're right, " Ginny said, chuckling, her eyes now twinkling merrily. "I think I just wanted to get that out. Ok, let's get back up there," she added, noticing that Madam Hooch was coming over to hurry them up. "We're fifty points ahead."
"Aren't you going to finish?" Paul asked, elbowing John with a coinspirational wink. "I wanted to hear about how Crabbe and Goyle have no—"
"Yeah, and I especially enjoyed you likening Malfoy to a—"
"You're too young to be using that sort of language, John," Ginny scolded as she mounted her broom. "It's not decent, especially in front of ladies."
"She's got to be kidding," Paul murmured in wide-eyed amazement. Harry grinned, making a mental note to ask Ginny where on earth she'd picked up such a colorful vocabulary.
Back in the air, Harry found himself more determined than ever to get the Snitch and concentrated solely on that objective, blocking out all noise around him. Looking for Malfoy, Harry noticed him still chuckling with Crabbe and Goyle, apparently too stupid to use the time out to look for the Snitch unhindered. Harry zoomed to the opposite end of the field, high above the Gryffindor goal posts, putting the sun behind him so that he could see more clearly. And then there—just dodging between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands was the miniscule glint of gold. Urging his Firebolt faster and faster, Harry zipped in between the players, green eyes fully focused on the Snitch, silently pleading for the gold ball to move just a few more feet so that it was within the pitch boundaries. A loud, harsh gasp from the crowd told Harry that they had seen the Snitch as well. And yes!—the Snitch flew inside the white boundary line, and Harry, extending his arm out as far as it would go, launched into a dive, and with a triumphant smile he felt the tiny wings tickling the palm of his hand.
"I'VE GOT THE SNITCH!" Harry roared, holding up his arm, expecting to hear the cheering that normally followed.
There was almost complete silence. Harry stopped dead in the air, just over the Hufflepuff stands. No one had even seen him catch the Snitch. He noticed a few Hufflepuffs pointing down at the center of the pitch, their faces pale with shock. A feeling of dread washed over Harry as he turned.
Down on the ground, gathered in a small circle was the Gryffindor team, with Madam Hooch rushing in between them, and kneeling down. The small circle parted just enough that Harry could make out a figure lying on the grass. A redheaded figure.
Ginny had fallen off her broom.
****
A/N: Yeah, so I'm being really mean and leaving a cliff hanger. Hopefully this will make me want to write more. Thanks to both DragonFire and Rich for their invaluable help and plot bunnies, and especially for at getting me interested in writing again. Big hugs to Anne for helping me with all those passive voice errors.
~~~~~~~~~~
"You're not nervous are you?"
"Nah. I'm fine." Ginny smiled reassuringly at Harry as they walked down the corridor that led to the Quidditch pitch. Ginny had been absently fingering the quarter she had around her neck and quickly tucked it back inside her sweater before Harry could notice it. She looked on her other side, where Sue was walking very stiffly, and Ginny couldn't help but notice that she was clutching her broomstick so tightly that her knuckles were threatening to burst through the leather gloves.
Ginny had slept very well the previous night, surprisingly so, especially after all she'd been through with Snape's detention. She had expected to be a bundle of nerves this morning, and it was clear from the looks that Harry and Ron had both given her that morning at breakfast that they'd expected the same from her. It was true that her arms were a bit sore, but once Harry had carried her up to the common room and proceeded to give her a massage…Ginny shook herself slightly, glad the darkness hid whatever shade of pink her cheeks were turning, and brought her attention back to Sue.
"Sue? You ok?"
Sue blinked rapidly and started, as though she wasn't aware of her surroundings. "Oh! Oh…I'm…I'm fine. Nothing to worry about here. I'm ok. Yep. I'm just fine."
Ginny tried to bite back a grin. "First match nerves are the worst. Just clear your mind. You'll do great."
Ginny was in an excellent mood for the day. She had woken up early and had taken a long walk around the pitch, getting her mind focused on the task ahead. When she had entered the Great Hall to make sure the rest of the team was up for breakfast, she had received a nice round of applause from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs. Ginny had waved politely and smiled, but before she could get to the Gryffindor table…
"Hey Ginny!" Peter had called out, getting up from the Ravenclaw table.
"Peter!" Ginny had returned his smile. "How are you?" she'd asked automatically.
"Great! I wanted to wish you good luck today," he'd said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Not that you'll need it. We've not had much time to chat with our schedules and practices."
It was true, although they had one class together, it was nearly impossible for them to exchange more than a few pleasantries.
"Oh, and don't be nervous about Mr Whisp and Mr Bagman—they're just here to observe."
"What?"
Peter had frowned. "You didn't hear? I thought you would have received an owl…my uncle told me."
"Told you what?"
"You know that book Mr Whisp mentioned he was writing? Well, he's coming to the match today to do some research." Peter had beamed at her.
Ginny had vaguely remembered that Kennilworthy Whisp had mentioned something about writing a book on some of the best Quidditch players under twenty-one, that evening she'd flown the Firebolt Chaser. "Wow," she'd said slowly. "That's…that's…that's just cool."
Peter had nodded excitedly. "And Ludo Bagman is a scout for the Wimborne Wasps, so this is a major thing! They'll be attending all the games here at Hogwarts!"
That had been simply too much to take in at the moment. Ginny had looked from Peter's shining face to where the rest of the team had been sitting—John and Paul had been talking to some girls Ginny didn't know, Ron and Harry had been bent over their breakfast plates, using their bacon and toast to do some last minute game plays, and Sue and Dennis had been barely eating at all. Should she tell them the news? Harry and Ron would no doubt be just as excited as she and Peter had been, but as for the rest…perhaps it would be best if she kept the news to herself for a while.
"That's really great, Peter!" Ginny had turned back to Peter. "Look, I've got to go get this lot ready for the game—talk to you later?"
"You bet!" Peter had grinned back. "But leave something for the rest of us to play with, will you? You Gryffindors shouldn't have to have all the fun, after all."
Ginny had laughed at the joke, knowing perfectly well that both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff hated the Slytherins as much as the Gryffindors did, and wanted to see them lose just as badly. She had rounded up the team and herded them out to the pitch, just to get a feel for the conditions they'd be playing in.
If she had sent an order by owl, she couldn't have ordered a morning as fine as the one facing her. The sun was bright, but a few clouds in the sky kept it from being too bright. The mid-November morning air was crisp, and the cold, hard ground ensured a good swift kickoff.
Just as the crowd of spectators were making their way to the pitch, Ginny had hurried the team into the Gryffindor locker rooms. Her pre-match pep talk had been short and sweet. She'd been most nervous about what to say, how to put into words how much she wanted to win today, to tell her teammates that all the early morning and evening practices, all the sacrifices they'd made—it would be worth it in the end. Ginny had stared out over the six faces in that locker room, and only three words had popped into her head.
"Let's do it!"
Oddly enough, it seemed to have had more of an effect than anything else. Ron had let out a loud whoop, and had soon been joined by the rest. John and Paul had banged their broomsticks together, practically bursting with energy. Dennis had seemed to not know whether to join in the excitement or be very sick, as his complexion changed back and forth between a sickly green and a bright red. Sue had been strangely silent. Harry—well, he'd been Harry and had looked like he wanted nothing more than to be up in the air with the wind in his hair and the Snitch in sight. Ginny had known how he felt; she she'd wanted nothing more than to be on her broom dodging Bludgers and Slytherins, her only thought in the world centered on getting the Quaffle through one of the three goal posts.
And now, facing the wooden doors that lead to the pitch, Ginny couldn't keep from smiling—the taste of a victory strong on her tongue. The roars from the crowd were getting louder—Ginny shot Harry one last grin, knowing the twinkle in his green eyes was reflected in her own brown ones. He held out his Firebolt and Ginny crossed it with her own Nimbus Two Thousand One.
And the whistle of Madam Hooch sounded. The doors opened. And they were off.
"And here are the Gryffindors! Potter, Weasley, Maxwell, Wellington, Pepper, Creevy, and Ginny Weasley as Captain. With her boyfriend and brother on the team, it's no surprise how she landed that job." Boos from the Gryffindors and sniggers from the Slytherins followed this announcement. Nigel Roache was the new commentator, much to the anger of most everyone except for those in Slytherin—Nigel's house. Ginny had time to mentally steel herself towards Nigel; she knew the Slytherins would be a bit nasty especially after all the years Lee Jordan was commentator. She was expecting the worst and knew Nigel could dish it out.
"Now, now, Nigel," said Snape smoothly. Snape, as head of the commentator's house, had the job of watching over the commentator. This meant Nigel could get away with murder.
"The Slytherin team enters the field as well, and I must say this is the best team ever. Captain Draco Malfoy has done wonders with the team. Crabbe and Goyle are the Beaters, Montague, Snoad and Grubbs are the Chasers, and the lovely Millicent Bulstrode is Keeper."
"Lovely, eh?" Ginny heard John whisper to Paul. "Wonder what he's comparing her with?"
"Well, they are Slytherins," Paul replied, chucking. "Perhaps they have different standards of beauty?"
"Well, I have heard some say Malfoy was handsome…"
Both Sue and Ginny made very loud gagging noises.
"Sorry, Ladies—guess you didn't need to hear that right before we start playing, did you?" John apologized, not looking the least bit sorry.
Finally they'd reached the center of the pitch, where Madam Hooch was standing, her hawk-like eyes sizing up each team.
"Captains!" Madam Hooch, the referee called, blowing her whistle again. Ginny stopped directly in front of Draco Malfoy. The two teams sized each other up for a moment, Ginny noticing the new team members—including Keeper Millicent Bulstrode whose Quidditch robes covered her like a green circus tent.
"Weasley," Malfoy sneered.
"Malfoy," Ginny said just as icily.
"Both of you, shake hands," ordered Madam Hooch.
****
Harry watched closely as Malfoy and Ginny extend their right hands. He wasn't putting anything past these scumbags. Normally the Gryffindor and Slytherin captains would engage each other in a little arm wrestling, or at the very least try to break each others' fingers, and Harry was prepared to do something before Malfoy could get a good grip on Ginny—anything to cause a distraction.
They were both engaged in a glaring contest, Malfoy's pale blue eyes narrowed so much that they were barely slits in his face as he shoved his hand out for Ginny to take, almost as though he were being forced to do so. Ginny, her bright brown eyes practically sparking with hatred, reached out. Harry held his breath as Malfoy's pale fingers close about her own and started squeezing. HARD.
"Ahhhhh!"
Harry stepped forward to break the contact, just as Malfoy jerked away, shaking his hand violently as though he'd touched something hot.
"She had something in her hand!" Malfoy shouted to Madam Hooch. Harry peered over at Ginny, who was looking politely puzzled as she held up her leather-gloved hand for Madam Hooch to see.
There was nothing in it.
"Ok, teams! Mount your brooms!"
Madam Hooch released the balls.
"And the Quaffle is quickly taken by Sue Maxwell, who seems to be flying a..a..Twigger? Let's hope she can stay on the thing long enough to see her team lose…" And with this comment, Harry quickly knew that Nigel was going to be at his nastiest.
Harry flew up and hovered just above the center of the pitch, where he could get the best view of the action below and keep a close eye for the Snitch.
The Quaffle was still in possession by Gryffindor—Dennis was passing it down to Ginny, who rolled over mid-air to duck a Bludger and caught the pass at the same moment.
"And Gryffindor is in possession, Weasley goes for the score….yes! She missed! Keeper Bulstrode makes the block!"
"Well of course she made the block," said John as he flew by Harry, knocking a Bludger towards Malfoy. "That whale practically covers all three goals at once anyway!"
Harry chuckled at this observation. Looking at Millicent Bulstrode—who was very solid, if not fat, it was hard not to wonder how her Comet 500 didn't break in two with her weight. But then, she fit in quite well with the rest of the Slytherin team, minus Malfoy, who was starting to resemble a ferret in more ways than one with his pointed nose and slicked back hair. Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was on the opposite side of the pitch, just hovering above the Gryffindor goal posts.
"Slytherin has the Quaffle, Montague passes to Grubbs—oh! He's been hit by a Bludger from the Gryffindor Beater Pepper. Quaffle is taken up by Creevey—brother of the Harry Potter Fan club president Colin—"
More boos from the Gryffindors drowned out the rest of Nigel's sentence.
"Now Weasley has the Quaffle—HA! But she drops it after our Grubbs innocently smashes into her."
"Oh, that wasn't very good was it, Potter? Maybe you both should spend time practicing on the field, rather than inside broomsheds." Malfoy was now a few feet from him, watching the match with a lazy eye. Harry ignored this comment for the moment, intent on watching for the Snitch and trying to keep a close look out on the match below. The Slytherins were showing very early in the game that they would be playing the dirtiest game ever.
"No fair Ref!" Nigel hollered, making everyone in the stands cover their ears from the sudden blast of sound. "Weasley was in his way, it's her fault!" Madam Hooch had, of course, called a foul against the Slytherins.
Ginny took the penalty shot, getting it past Bulstrode. "And Weasley scores easily, but that's no surprise there. I'm sure Potter can tell some stories…"
Pretending to see the Snitch, Harry dove straight for the commentator's box in a burst of speed, coming so close to Nigel that the magical megaphone was nearly blown out of his hands. Harry grinned slyly.
****
The match had barely been on for forty-five minutes, and it was all Ginny could do to keep on her broomstick. This game was not going as she had planned. Having played Slytherin twice in her life, and having seen them play for six years, she thought she knew every trick they could pull. The Quidditch Final from last year had been the nastiest the Slytherin team ever been , but she'd expected that. They were pretty pissed off at her, especially after that prank she'd pulled on them. But they've just proven that they're going for new means of cheating, and Ginny thought—just before ducking another Bludger aimed her way—that there could be an easy chance of all seven hundred fouls being committed in this game. She expected to be attacked with an axe at any moment.
She caught the Quaffle from Sue, wincing as she saw Sue get hit by a Bludger just after the ball was thrown. She began the extra burst of speed that was to begin the Porskoff Ploy, which fooled the opposing Chasers into thinking she's trying to score. Sue and Denis were both in throwing range. Ginny gave Denis a quick glance, and threw the Quaffle to Sue.
"Ooooh!"
****
Harry heard the scream, even from the opposite side of the pitch. He'd been giving Malfoy the run-around, making him think he'd been after the Snitch. Harry turned in time to see Ginny get pelted by both Bludgers, one aimed at her head, the other at her stomach. She was doubled over on her broomstick, and even from that distance Harry could see her fingers were barely holding onto the broom.
"That's enough!" cried Madam Hooch angrily as she began blowing her whistle to get everyone's attention. "Time out! Penalty to Gryffindor."
Harry was so angry he could barely see straight. He hadn't missed the sly looks passed between Crabbe and Goyle and knew that they'd tried to injure Ginny on purpose. Before he'd known what he was about, he found himself heading straight towards Goyle, who resembled a troll perched on a twig so ridiculous did he seem on his broomstick. Harry sped towards Goyle.
"Potter!" yelled Madam Hooch, breaking through the thick haze of hatred in his head. "Time out has been called! Get down to your team this instant!"
By the time Harry had headed to the Gryffindor Time-out area, Ginny and the rest of the team were already on the ground. Ginny was walking back and forth, and although her walk was a bit wobbly, she didn't seem to be hurt much at all, despite being just hit with not one but two Bludgers. Harry let his eyes roam over her, trying to find any sort of marks on her head where the Bludger might have hit her, but didn't see anything. She was yelling fit to kill, and Harry looked over the rest of his teammates to see how many, if any, of them were hurt. No one seemed to have anything more than the usual set of cuts and bruises that came from playing the game. Each one was gaping at Ginny as though she'd suddenly sprouted another head, and Harry curiously turned his attention back to her.
Then he actually heard what Ginny was saying. His jaw dropped.
Being close friends with the Weasleys, and an honorary one at that, made Harry suspect to quite a few outbursts in his lifetime. He'd even seen Ginny, who out of the lot was the most even-tempered, throw a tantrum or two. But he'd never seen anything like this.
She was practically screaming at the top of her lungs—screaming things Harry was not sure he'd ever heard before, and certainly not in that context. He felt his ears redden as she called one of the Slytherin Chasers something Harry had only read about in those books Fred and George had stashed under their beds at the Burrow. To his surprise, Ron seemed non- plussed about his youngest sister's use of language, but Denis and Sue looked sort of frightened. Paul and John both appeared as though they were going to laugh, but obviously felt that it wasn't the time for humor.
"Uh, Ginny?" John asked tentatively during a short pause. Ginny glared at him, as though he dared to interrupt her while she was in mid-tirade. "Did you call time out because you wanted to tell us something or did you just want an audience?"
"Good show though it's been," Paul added, clapping softly.
Harry cringed and waited for the next explosion but all he heard was a short burst of laughter.
"You're right, " Ginny said, chuckling, her eyes now twinkling merrily. "I think I just wanted to get that out. Ok, let's get back up there," she added, noticing that Madam Hooch was coming over to hurry them up. "We're fifty points ahead."
"Aren't you going to finish?" Paul asked, elbowing John with a coinspirational wink. "I wanted to hear about how Crabbe and Goyle have no—"
"Yeah, and I especially enjoyed you likening Malfoy to a—"
"You're too young to be using that sort of language, John," Ginny scolded as she mounted her broom. "It's not decent, especially in front of ladies."
"She's got to be kidding," Paul murmured in wide-eyed amazement. Harry grinned, making a mental note to ask Ginny where on earth she'd picked up such a colorful vocabulary.
Back in the air, Harry found himself more determined than ever to get the Snitch and concentrated solely on that objective, blocking out all noise around him. Looking for Malfoy, Harry noticed him still chuckling with Crabbe and Goyle, apparently too stupid to use the time out to look for the Snitch unhindered. Harry zoomed to the opposite end of the field, high above the Gryffindor goal posts, putting the sun behind him so that he could see more clearly. And then there—just dodging between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands was the miniscule glint of gold. Urging his Firebolt faster and faster, Harry zipped in between the players, green eyes fully focused on the Snitch, silently pleading for the gold ball to move just a few more feet so that it was within the pitch boundaries. A loud, harsh gasp from the crowd told Harry that they had seen the Snitch as well. And yes!—the Snitch flew inside the white boundary line, and Harry, extending his arm out as far as it would go, launched into a dive, and with a triumphant smile he felt the tiny wings tickling the palm of his hand.
"I'VE GOT THE SNITCH!" Harry roared, holding up his arm, expecting to hear the cheering that normally followed.
There was almost complete silence. Harry stopped dead in the air, just over the Hufflepuff stands. No one had even seen him catch the Snitch. He noticed a few Hufflepuffs pointing down at the center of the pitch, their faces pale with shock. A feeling of dread washed over Harry as he turned.
Down on the ground, gathered in a small circle was the Gryffindor team, with Madam Hooch rushing in between them, and kneeling down. The small circle parted just enough that Harry could make out a figure lying on the grass. A redheaded figure.
Ginny had fallen off her broom.
****
A/N: Yeah, so I'm being really mean and leaving a cliff hanger. Hopefully this will make me want to write more. Thanks to both DragonFire and Rich for their invaluable help and plot bunnies, and especially for at getting me interested in writing again. Big hugs to Anne for helping me with all those passive voice errors.