Chapter Fifteen

When Ginny was getting ready to leave for the Quidditch match the next afternoon, she still felt vaguely upset - or at least disquieted - over her discussion with Harry. He seemed to be ignoring the fact that it had happened at all, so she hadn't tried to explain anything further for fear of ruffling his calm right before they went out. For some reason, she felt strange about the fact that Oliver might guess that she and Harry were arguing at all - but, then again, Hermione was right, she really never did let anyone know anything about her. She usually didn't even tell George if she had had a spat with her boyfriend, although that was mostly because he would just tease her about it.

Ginny took a little more time than usual getting ready. She typically liked to look nice when she went out with Harry, but today she buried her clothes under a warm jacket and scarf. The high altitude seats at Quidditch matches didn't help the already-chilly English weather. She did, however, do her makeup more nicely than usual, and she made sure her ponytail was neat. "Harry!" she called, hastily putting on her earrings. "Are you ready?"

"Merlin's beard," her boyfriend shouted from the hallway. "We're not going to be late, we're Apparating!"

"Yes, I know," Ginny called back, "but Oliver wanted to meet us a little before the game so we could find our seats." She could almost hear Harry sighing downstairs; he hated to be pressured, or even to feel pressured. "I'm sorry, baby, I just don't want to be late because I don't know how picking up the tickets will work."

"All right," Harry said, appearing behind her in the mirror as she checked her hair for the hundredth time. He kissed her cheek curtly. "You look great," he added. "Let's go, I just have to grab my jacket on the way out."

Ginny followed her boyfriend down the stairs, to the closet, and out onto the front steps. "Sorry if I rushed you, baby," she said, hoping things were completely smoothed over although nothing had actually been done to resolve last night's issues. "I guess I'm just excited to be going out with you."

Harry smiled down at her. "You're cute," he said, kissing her on the nose. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry for being difficult."

And although he didn't specify as they Apparated together, Ginny knew that his apology covered more than just a lack of motivation to be ready on time.

When Ginny and Harry finally got to the Puddlemere ticket booth, the wizard inside instantly recognized them - or, at least Harry.

"Mr. Potter!" the man exclaimed, beginning to rummage through bins in his office. "It's nice to see you out on a day like today. And with your lovely lady friend, too," he added, sparing a smile and a wink for Ginny. Ginny smiled back, tightening her grip on Harry's arm. Sometimes she really was proud to be with Harry.

"We have tickets waiting for us," Harry said, his best dealing-with-the-public smile on his face. "I think they're under-"

"Wood," the man finished, emerging from the bins with two tickets. "Yes, Mr. Wood stopped by earlier this week to reserve them for you, and of course I remembered."

"Thanks," Ginny said as Harry reached out to take the tickets.

"You're welcome, ma'am," the man replied, smiling and bobbing his head at them. "Enjoy the match, you two!"

Ginny waved over Harry's shoulder as they walked toward the stands. Puddlemere's stadium wasn't the nicest in the league, but it was the oldest, and something about stepping onto the old wooden steps felt historic and somehow homey.

Harry studied the tickets as they slowly made their way up the stairs; there weren't many people who hadn't found their seats yet, so the steps were mainly empty. "Bloody hell," he said, "these tickets are for the top box. Oliver must be making more money as a painting teacher than he lets on."

"Well," Ginny said, "didn't he play Quidditch at some point?"

Harry frowned at her. "You don't know?" he asked. "What on earth did you talk about all night?"

Ginny sighed. "We weren't out all night, silly," she said. "And we just didn't get around to talking about work, I guess. He probably didn't feel like discussing his job right after a day of doing it, you know?"

"Mmm," Harry grunted. "Feel like just Apparating to the top?"

Ginny laughed. "You're the laziest bastard I've ever met," she said. "And yes, I do."

In the blink of an eye, Ginny fond herself face-to-face with Oliver, who happened to be on his way to the stairs. "Ginny!" he exclaimed. "Thank Merlin, I was resigned to watching the match by myself."

"Well now you don't have to," Ginny said, smiling. "And anyway, I told you I would be coming."

"Yeah, but what does a promise mean in our day and age?" Oliver replied in a humorously overdramatic tone of voice. "Anyway, I'm glad you're here." After grinning at Ginny in a way that just made her feel warm in her chest, Oliver turned to Harry. "Potter!" he said, every bit as enthusiastic as he was in Quidditch practice at Hogwarts. "Good to see you, man. I see you've been doing well for yourself."

Harry grinned, shaking the hand that Oliver extended firmly enough that Ginny could tell from where she stood. "Pretty well, Wood," Harry agreed. "But you're not doing so bad either, I guess."

"I get by," Oliver smiled. "Well enough to come to a match sometimes!" He turned slightly so it was clear he was addressing both Harry and Ginny. "Do you have a favorite today?"

"Honestly I don't even know who the other team is," Harry chuckled. "Ginny left out some crucial details when she briefed me on the schedule for today."

"My bad," Oliver said smiling, probably seeing the beginnings of irritation crossing Ginny's face. "I didn't tell her anything, honestly. I just remembered that you both used to play at Hogwarts and I'm tired of going by myself."

"We were happy to come," Ginny smiled. "Thanks for inviting us, Oliver."

"No problem," he replied. "In case you were wondering, by the way, the Cannons are playing today. Personally, I think Puddlemere is going to run away with the win."

Led by Oliver's easy remarks about the game, potential outcomes, and players that he knew, the conversation rambled easily through the opening minutes of the game. When Puddlemere scored their first goal, Oliver cheered for the Chaser who'd made it by name, which gave Harry the opportunity that Ginny could tell he'd been waiting for a while.

"Oliver, you seem to know everyone on the team," Harry said. "Do you come to all the games or just follow the sport?"

Oliver chuckled. "I guess Ginny and I never got around to this the other night," he said. Ginny frowned. It seemed like a weird and unrelated thing to say, but Harry didn't seem affected by it. "I used to play for Puddlemere."

"Really?" Ginny asked. "How did you get into art teaching, then?"

"Well, that's kind of complicated for a Quidditch match," Oliver responded. "Do you two want to get dinner after Puddlemere wins? That way all we have to feel obligated to talk about is the goals scored or who we think is a horrible player."

Ginny looked over to Harry to see what he thought, but his eyes were focused somewhere over Ginny's shoulder, squinting. "Is that a-"

"Ginny, look out!" Oliver shouted.

Ginny whirled around to see what they were talking about but then her vision went black. She felt a stunning impact against her skull, heard people shouting, and then nothing.

Author's Note: I am so sorry for not updating last week! I finished my semester and moved out of my dorm, so I was fairly busy! In return, I'm planning on updating two chapters next week rather than one! Thanks so very much for reading, all!

-TheGoldenAge