Ginny's nightmare was just the sort of nightmare everybody hates; it made her feeling utterly helpless, thoroughly distraught, and of course, gave her the sensation of falling into an abyss...
The Stings were in the lead by forty points. Ginny wildly searched for the snitch, though Nikki kept shooting past her on her broom, cackling wickedly and distracting her every time she caught sight of the tiny winged ball. Ginny looked down; the ground was screened by a thick fog As she glanced back up, she saw the snitch flutter into view and then plunge down into the mist. Ginny dove in after it, urging the Firebolt forward. She could barely make it out as she pursued it, the rapid flutter of its wings the only indication that it was almost within her grasp. But as she carefully let one hand go of her broom to seize it, somebody blocked her path. It was Harry. He stood before her, suspended in mid-air, scowling.
"Liar," he spat angrily. "How could you lie to me about my Firebolt? MY FIREBOLT!"
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'm so sorry! Please, take it."
She immediately dismounted and offered the broom to Harry, who grabbed it and climbed on, watching her with a look of disdain.
"I never want to see you again, Ginny Weasley," he said savagely.
It then occurred to Ginny that she was pending in the sky, with nothing to keep her there. Promptly, Ginny began to fall. She screamed Harry's name into the impenetrable air, but the only reply she got was, "You are a LIAR, Ginny Weasley!" as she continued to plummet down, down... down...
"Ginny Weasley!"
Ginny shot up with a start. Bill stood at the door, smiling.
"Sorry, didn't mean to sound like Mum, I just- hey, are you alright?" he asked her.
Her whole body was trembling, her mouth parched. For a moment she couldn't speak, and simply nodded.
"Had a nightmare, didn't you," he guessed, coming over to her. "I assume it was Quidditch- related."
Ginny nodded again, feeling sick.
"I can't do it," she croaked.
"Of course you can! You've been 'doing it' all summer!"
"I've been lucky all summer. It ends today. Nikki's going to squash me."
"Is she?" Bill queried. "Funny. I don't remember her being, um, large."
"Bill!"
"Okay, alright, you're nervous. But you'll be great! You've got the Weasley genes and a gazillion hours of training behind you. Just don't think about it until this afternoon. Ryan stopped by earlier- he's invited the entire team to his house for breakfast this morning."
"He did?" Ginny asked, forgetting her dream for a moment.
"Yup, otherwise I would have let you sleep a little longer."
"Lovely. But urgh," she said, clutching her stomach. "I can't even tolerate the thought of eating at this present moment."
"His mom is making the breakfast."
"But then again, one simply cannot go hungry the morning of a Quidditch final," declared Ginny, throwing off her covers. Mrs. Buchanan was a gourmet chef, as Ginny had been lucky enough to discover (and rediscover) several times that summer.
"Blimey, I hope they keep inviting me to dinner after you've left," Bill remarked hopefully.
Ginny, her clothes in hand, stopped at the door of the loo and flashed him a sleepy grin.
"'Course they will. And you'll be sending me owls carting leftovers."
---
Ginny knew she liked Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan from the moment she had met them several weeks ago. Ryan bore a very strong resemblance to his father, although Ryan was a great deal more tanned and fit, the result of many hours of Quidditch practice outdoors. Same intense blue eyes, though. The hair was his mother's, as was his Quidditch talent. In her school days, Adelaide Buchanan had been captain of her Quidditch team, the best chaser they had ever seen. Upon her graduation she'd been sought after by the Thundelarra Thunderers, but decided to pursue a career where she'd be less likely to get clobbered. As editor of a cooking magazine called Conjure in the Kitchen, she was wholly riveted by the culinary arts, and thus spent endless hours perfecting her skill, to the great delight of her husband and son...and Ginny and Bill.
When Ginny arrived at the Buchanan house (I say house, to be modest, as the Buchanan's are. It is actually a rather resplendent mansion with sweeping grounds, a house-elf, etc.), she was greeted byRussell Buchanan himself, in his robe and slippers, carrying a steaming mug of coffee.
"Good morning, sir!"
Russell peered down at her.
"Ah, good morning, Ginny. I think you'll find Ryan and the rest of the team in the kitchen. Can't get why my son loves to get up so early, and on a Saturday morning too, but..."
He let her in, reminded her where the kitchen was ("Straight down this corridor, make a left, than a sharp right. Or just follow the noise."), then disaparated (Off to a more peaceful part of the house, no doubt).
Ginny entered the kitchen to find all of the Airbornes already there. They greeted her heartily, on the most part; Wirrinun and Wirruna seemed to be sleeping sitting up while Benjy appeared to her a little green, not remotely tempted by the feast before him.
Ryan dropped his French toast and jumped up to welcome her.
"I was worried Bill might've forgotten to tell ya," he explained, ushering her to the empty seat beside his. "I would've come to getcha if you didn't show in the next few minutes. You 'right? Y'look tired."
"I'm fine, I just had a rough night." Ginny glanced around the kitchen and spotted his mother. She was sporting a pretty apron over a pair of spiffy (though comfortable-looking) tan trousers and a lilac blouse.
"Good morning, Mrs. B!"
"G'morning, Ginny!" Adelaide flicked her wand over the cooker and had the pancakes flip themselves as she gave Ginny a warm hug.
"How's my adopted daughter doing?"
Ginny laughed.
"Alright, but utterly craving your scrumptious food."
"Why d'you need to adopt Ginny, m'I not sufficient?" Ryan protested.
"Maybe if you gave me compliments like that I wouldn't need to," retorted his mother, winking at Ginny. "Now have a seat both of you, I need space if I'm going to work my magic."
Ginny was seated between Ryan and Benjy. She gently patted the latter on the back.
"That bacon smells great, would you like me to serve you some?" she said, attempting to divert him (for if Mrs. B's cooking didn't do the trick, what would?)
"Nah, 'm not hungry," came the reply.
"Benjy, come on," Ryan urged, picking up the plate and waving it under his nose. "Bacon and eggs, y'favorite, mate!"
Benjy, now a shade greener than he was before, shook his head no.
"Benj, what've you got to be so afraid of? I mean," Ginny tried to say this as gently as she could, "You're not even playing."
"I…might…have to," Benjy explained, each word coming out with difficulty. "If- if you get injured."
"No one's getting injured," Ryan said sharply. The table fell quiet, their eyes going from Ryan to Ginny. "Not today."
Ginny glanced around, her nerves awakening once more. She managed a small (though quite pathetic) laugh.
"Um, what do you mean, not today?"
All eyes on Ryan again.
"We lost to the Stings last year because our seeker got injured," Ryan said shortly.
"And you didn't have a back-" Ginny asked, but upon seeing Benjy's face regretted it at once.
"I lost it," Benjy said hoarsely.
"He had the snitch in his hand only Wigdon knocked him and it slipped," Danny corrected him, angrily. The rest of the team seemed to be reliving it too, vehemently nodding their heads.
"None of us ever blamed you, Benj," Ryan said firmly. He looked around at his team. "And this year, we're not going to let any of that happen. No injuries, no humouring the fiddlers. Today we win."
The table hooted and cheered, and Benjy's face brightened and resumed its natural colour. The rest of breakfast was very agreeable, with loads of laughter and excited chatter and of course, excellent cuisine. At the end of it, Wirrinun and Wirruna began to drum with their cutlery, glasses, and everything they could reach while Audrey and Danny began to sing Born to Fly, The Plunky Queeves' hit of the summer (The Wireless had been playing it without repose, but the Airbornes had embraced the song as their own, and never got tired of hearing it.). The others quickly joined in enthusiastically, not all of them in tune, but somehow it didn't matter; the song was magical to them, and singing it, in tune or not, inspirited them and made the Stings seem very small indeed.
Fiddler- swindler/cheat
