Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to my beta, HPalto87, and thank you to my reviewers!

3: The Game

Oliver had ordered the Quidditch team to go to bed hours ago, but as usual, Angelina, Alicia and I couldn't sleep. Instead, we gathered in the fifth year girls' dorm and tried not to let the stress get to us. We failed utterly.

"…And rumor has it that Jordan Lee is lusting after that little Slytherin brat, Pansy Parkinson. Oh, did I tell you what Patricia told me? She said that Cedric Diggory is after Cho Chang! Imagine, two seekers! That would make for an interesting Quidditch match. Oh, the match tomorrow! I can't bear the suspense, can you?" Alicia looked expectantly at Angelina and me, then continued rambling when she got little response.

Despite the fact that I had been a chaser for almost three years, Quidditch matches still made me nervous. Even though Oliver had declared the team 'ready to take on the Slytherins' earlier in the day, I spent the night before the game feeling sick to my stomach. I could tell Angelina and Alicia were nervous too, but I was probably handling it the worst.

Angelina sat on her bed, a book in her lap, staring into space. She had a stoic expression, and only answered half of the comments Alicia and I directed her way.

Alicia dealt with stress by talking and pacing. She babbled on about inconsequential things, gossiping, and laughing in inappropriate places. She could hold an entire conversation by herself, all the while pacing in a way that would make any normal girl dizzy.

I lay slumped on the bed next to Angelina, clutching my turning stomach, and whining semi-coherently about evil Quidditch captains and elusive House Cups. I wondered out loud if it was all worth it, but of course the answer was yes. I knew that once I got onto the pitch, I'd get lost in the game. Matches always bring an amazing thrill that far outweighs the pressure and nerves.

Every so often, Alicia would ask a random question and look expectantly at Angelina and me. I would simply agree with her, and Angelina would either blink uncomprehendingly or give a non-committal answer.

I'm not sure how long this went on before Angelina ended it, but it seemed like ages. I wondered how Alicia still had a voice. If I had been talking as long and fast as she was, I would have lost mine hours (years, decades) ago.

"And Kenneth Towler dumped Marietta. Honestly, I think he's gay. He's been making eyes at Warrington for ages now. Oh, and have you seen Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater? It's so sickeningly sweet, it's pathetic. And-"

"Alicia!" Angelina finally seemed to snap out of whatever sort of trance she had been in.

"What do you think?" Alicia asked hopefully.

"I don't care," Angelina said.

Alicia pouted indignantly and slumped onto the bed next to me, where we spent much of the rest of the night wallowing in (blessedly quiet) misery.

That was often how the nights before Quidditch games went for us. I wondered if the boys handled the stress any better.

---

The final game came and went in a blur. The Slytherins play rough, but we were prepared for them. Even so, I don't think I've ever been in a game with more penalties than that one.

I got hit by bludgers twice, but managed to stay on my broom and play well anyway. Poor Oliver was attacked by the Slytherin beaters, Alica, Angelina, and I were ganged up on, and Harry had his own problems trying to fend off Malfoy. The twins were having trouble keeping up with it all, but somehow still managed to fend off an incredible number of Bludger-attacks.

Through it all, we somehow made Oliver's ridiculous plays work, and I even managed to score three of the eight goals for Gryffindor.

Angelina was the first to score, but just barely. A moment later and Marcus Flint would have messed it up completely. He flew strait into her, claiming he couldn't see her, which is how we got our first foul. My first score was a penalty, after Montague somehow mistook my head for the Quaffle. Idiot. Alicia wasn't fareing very well, being the constant target of Bole.

It was, of course, Harry who won us the game, after a spectacular dive. We all sped toward the seeker, and enveloped each other in a hug that quickly became a tangle of limbs and brooms. We sank to the ground, Oliver sobbing uncontrollably in the center of the pile of Gyffindors. I worked my way to him and wrapped him in an excited hug. He cried into my robes.

"We won, Katie!" he exclaimed. He lifted his head, and I saw an ecstatic shine in his eyes that made my heart jump.