The lingering good mood from that night was the only thing that kept him going in the days that followed. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was vastly approaching, and all of his time had been taken up trying to prepare them for that. It meant he and Daphne didn't get to see each other as frequent as they would have liked - but the fond memories kept him going.

Spring was slowly beginning to sink into summer. The normally lush fields of the castle grounds were now a hazy green, and the nights following up to the match were accompanied by dry thunderstorms. The temperature in the stuffy castle corridors rose so far that many students got in trouble for not wearing appropriate attire, there had been a particularly bad scare where they almost lost another player - when Katie Bell was given detention by Snape for wearing a skirt that was deemed "distracting".

The night before the match was on them in no time. Ginny sat bolt upright in the common room's arm chair, fixedly staring into space. She looked, Harry considered, quite like the way Ron had when he'd accidentally put that slug-vomiting charm on himself. Just as pale and sweaty as he had done, and seemed reluctant to open her mouth.

"If you can just zone out from the match and focus only on finding the snitch, it makes it easier," he and the others tried to help. "We're still in the lead so we don't need to score anything before you catch it, but if are able to get zero-forty then we'll be at risk and -"

" - and don't worry about bludgers, me and Cormac will be tailing you - "

" - look even if the match is turning in their favor, you just keep concentration - "

" - and if we do fall under forty then we'll send someone out to alert you - "

"Shut up, all of you, please!" she snapped at them.

She had been letting the nerves get to her. He had never seen her like this - he'd always know her to be overwhelmingly positive when it came to Qudditch. It wasn't helped that the whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match - they hadn't lost the Cup in five years and even Professor McGonagall had heavily implied that she would not be happy if she had to surrender the trophy to Snape. But Harry doubted any of them, even she, wanted to win as much as he did.

This wasn't just a Gryffindor match against Slytherin. This was his team in a match against Malfoy. Since the duel, the enmity between them was possibly at its highest ever point. He was still furious Malfoy had somehow wormed his way out of punishment. Katie also seemed to have come round to his way of thinking, and was equally as positive that he deserved to be humiliated. Ginny wasn't allowed just to win - she had to win spectacularly.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere.

They ate dinner in silence the next day. Ginny looked more confident than she had last night, but there was a certain wobble in her knees as she'd sat down that made him worry. The unexpected anxiety had crippled her to the point he was sure she was only going ahead with it because she felt he had to. Under normal circumstances, he'd have exercised his right as Captain and demanded she not play in her condition. But needs really were a must on this anticipated summer evening.

Harry had been hoping when they'd crossed into the grounds they'd catch a nice breeze, but the air was just as dry, and the only change was now the lack of shade.

As they walked down the grounds they found everyone out in bulk for the last match of the season. Huge crowds in orange and scarlet cheered and brandished flags their way, chanting slogans "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP." An equal number of green robes booed them as well, and somehow they felt overwhelmingly louder. All in all, it was about the least welcoming sight Ginny could have expected, and the normally brave, hardened girl was having to support herself on Nadia by the time they reached the changing rooms.

"Ooooh, you'll be fine! It's just the nerves!" she cooed.

"I KNOW IT'S THE NERVES! THAT'S BECAUSE I'M NERVOUS!" she snapped desperately back.

There was not much reason for Harry and Ron to be down here with them - since they couldn't play, they would have much better chance at seeing the match from the stands, but neither could bear to abandon the team in their time of need. So, though their support was reduced mostly to the moral kind, they entered the changing rooms. But one by one, came to a halt.

Harry, who had been heading up the rear, was the last to find out why.

"DA-DA-DA-DAAAAAAAA!"

The voice that had sang was one that absolutely had no right being down here. Harry fought his way in front of the team.

"What are you doing here?" he sighed.

The intruder raised their hands defensively.

"Before you shout, hear me out! I have a plan that can make us all happy…"

Feeling desperate, he listened. As cautious as all of them were, they all did. And by the time the plan had been explained to them, there was just one question left in Harry's head.

Felix Felicis couldn't still have been in his system, could it?


There was a great deal of noise going on in the castle that morning. The Great Hall was alive with green and red - though one significantly outnumbered the other. The odds were supposed to be against Slytherin for this match, but with the recent news out that Gryffindor had lost both it's combined Seeker, Captain and Keeper, the tide seemed to be changing. Tensions were swelling between the two houses and though she wouldn't dare admit it, Daphne actually caught herself being caught up in the spirit once or twice. If supporting her house didn't mean also supporting Draco Malfoy - she might even have joined in on a bit of it.

Truth be told, she didn't know what was making her care about the coming match. She had no formal interest in the sport prior to this year and hated flying herself. But it was after hearing what it meant to Tracey and attending the practices that it had grown on her. She felt enough of a connection between her and the anticipation of this big, final match that if she didn't go she would actively be letting somebody down.

As dinner arrived, a dilemma made itself known. The question occurred to her about if attending the match was a good idea or not. She had the idea that if Tracey wasn't able to play, the least she could do was use her Prefect abilities to ensure they had good seating for the match. That had the plan, but after failing to find her in her dorm, common room or Great Hall, it occurred to her the match might be the last place she'd want to be. Suppose Draco won - then she'd have front row seats to see him claim her victory. Then she thought of Harry and where he was - and arrived at the same conclusion that he was probably just as annoyed as she was.

Both of them would have been completely justified boycotting the match all together. If both were essentially doing that, how would they feel about her going? She wanted to show support, but what if support wasn't what they wanted for it? On the flip side of that, she didn't want to put words in mouths and not attend, only to then appear uninterested... She debated her chances of just finding Harry and asking. The house pride was out in droves today, being a Sunday, so they would have little chance of being able to find each other...

And then, her heart erupted into a swarm of butterflies and dizziness, as often it did thinking of him these days. They hadn't seen each other since that fabled night, of which was now deeply ingrained as a core memory. He had quickly become the first thing she thought of when waking up and the last thing through her head as she went to bed. She'd been in a resounding good mood the past few days because of that night - she'd never left less like the Ice Queen if tried.

She loved him. She was in love with him. Why had it taken her so long to realize it? Him breaking down her boundaries in ways she never thought possible, the euphoric escapism experienced being in his presence and the relentless, powerful draw to each other when divided … She didn't just fancy him. She loved him - and truth be told, probably had for a while now.

And then he loved her back. A sweep of something... odd, but pleasant, swept Daphne's back and she felt positively giddy. She stared at her reflection in her soup. She had a unusual smile plastered on her face - the exact same goofy, messy one she always saw on him. Was this why he always had that smile, she wondered? Was this the smile of someone in love?

She hoped she would get to see him at the match. Though she might have embarrassed herself with her behavior the past few days, she had been right about one thing - she really couldn't care less if people knew about them anymore. To the Death Eaters, when news inevitably got back to them, she would just look like she was fulfilling her role. And as for the other students in the castle… she wouldn't hesitate to take more house points if needed. She wasn't scared of any of them, and got more happiness out of being with Harry than she did with any of their approval. Though he seemed reluctantly about it, there was not a single thing stopping her from going public about it.

In the soup, her goofy smile turned into something more wicked, and slightly evil. Imagine telling her fourth year self this was her future. This was the future she had willingly chosen for herself

Despite the buzz and energy about the school, the rest of Daphne's day passed quickly and quietly and when time finally came, she began the trip down to the Qudditch pitch. She had accepted the daunting truth - yes, a small part of her had grown to enjoy the sport. She wanted to see the match. As for quite who she wanted to win, she'd have to wait to see. She would support her own house out of principle, if routing for Slytherin didn't also mean routing for Draco Malfoy. But her presence on the Gryffindor side of the bleachers probably wouldn't be the most welcomed either.

Her mixed feelings on attending made her arrive late, and most were already seated by the time she reached the Slytherin bleachers. An outrageous amount of noise was being made from all sides of the stands, and she quickly remembered one of the reasons she never thought to attend a match before. There were simply too many people in close proximity to be allowed.

To make matters worse, as she moved deeper and deeper through the noisy aisles, the only spare seat she happened across was not ideal. When it became apparent there was nowhere else, though she and Dominique caught one another's eyes.

"Ah am surprised you 'ar 'er," she said over the crowd.

Truth be told, Daphne was surprised herself. She would admit it to nobody, much less her, that over the course of attending group practices, she had secretly grown to enjoy the game a small amount.

The sun was setting early tonight, painting the stadium with violet and scarlet. The patterns molded in the clouds above them were almost as appealing to watch as the game was. Finally, and leaving behind a distinct ringing in her ears, the crowd around them died down.

"Helloooooooo Ladies and Gentlemen! Lee Jordan coming at you for what will be his time as Qudditch commentator! I know, I know! Ladies, try not to cry! There's simply so much more out there in the world for me now than this dingy old place… but until then, how about we make this a good one, yeah?"

The spectators screamed and clapped again. Hundreds of house pride flags waved, adding discordant national anthems to the racket. Daphne was somewhat relieved to see Dominique's prim and proper attitude was just as discouraged by this aggressive attitude as she was.

"Let's start with the Slytherins! We have Slave Owne- I mean Captain! It's GRAHAM MONTAGUE!"

A green blur zoomed out onto the field, making a noise like a zipper being done up very fast. Their side of the stands, which was a solid block of green and silver roared with approval. She and Dominique settled for clapping politely.

"Neeeext up is the Seeker who definitely isn't on the team because of his daddy's blood money, it's DRACO MALFOY!"

Another green blur shot onto the field, folded by another, then another.

"We have the Chasers! We've goooooot ADRIAN PUCEY, it's his last year as well, which means the lucky second years are about to get their girls back! The Fresh Prince Of Bellend, it's BLAISE ZAAAAAAABINI! OLIVER HARPER! No joke there, but he's also a bit of a nob. And laaaaaastly everyone's favorite trolls with wings, VINCENT CRABBE and GREGORY GOYLE!"

There was a horrific fumbling of static through the microphone. Daphne would have shielded her ears from it as others did, were she not too busy trying to hide her smile.

"It was a joke, Professor! It's my last one, alright? Let me have a little fun! And here are the Gryffindors! Our Chasers! We have KATIEEE BELL, a fantastic player, that girl! I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me! Next, we have the daughter of wand makers, so you know she can handle her wood! It's NAAAAADIA KHANNA! Next, the only thing redder than her hair will be her teammates' sorry ass...Wait, wasn't she..? Okay, Okay! It's GINNYYYYY WEASLEY!"

As the red blurs joined the field, Jordan's comments were drowned out by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end. Daphne and Dominique exchanged pitfiful glances - and brought themselves lower in their seats, shamefully.

"Its mighty CORMAC MCLAGGEN filling in for Ron Weasley as Keeper - tough old luck Ron, but live to play another day, ey? This matches Beaters are DEMELZA BASKIN-ROBBINS and Gryffindor's resident stud bike, DEAN THOMAS! And finally… Seriously? Is that allowed?"

For the second time, Lee Jordan was pulled aside from the microphone to have a conversation with, she presumed, was Professor McGonagall.

" Blimey - Alright then! In a never before seen move - and with special permission from Professor McGonagall, please welcome - Gryffindors FIRST guest Seeker, Slytherin's very own - TRACEEEEEY DAVIS!"

The noise stopped dead.

Flags were lowered.

The boos and cheers faded to nothing as a stunned, haunting quiet took over the pitch. Everyone looked at each other, excitement quite abandoned, as they were all sure they must have misheard what was said.

The final zipping noise sounded and a scarlet streak shot into the pitch. Everyone watched as it performed a loop-de-loop before stopping dead, though the rider continued on, pirouetting around their broom like a gymnast. They came to a rest, dangling by their knees. Turned out, everyone had heard correctly. Tracey Davis was wearing Gryffindors trademark orange and yellow uniform, and looked inordinately happy with herself.

Daphne blinked.

"What the fu-"

A thunderous chorus of cheers and applause erupted from the Gryffindor side of the stands. It was enough to drown out the entire stadium, though the other houses were too stunned and to join in or protest. Daphne's eyes leapt to their side of the pitch, where the Slytherin team looked shaken. She could see Blaise shouting furiously at Crabbe and Goyle. Draco wasn't moving, but even at this distance, she could tell he was infuriated.

Jordan's salty laughter haunted the stands.

"I think this one's going to be a gooden. Players, positions!"

The sound of Madam Hooch's whistle was lost in the roar that finally sounded from the rest of the stadium. From their side of the pitch, Daphne could hear shouts and swearing directed down into the grounds, words like "cheating" and "shouldn't be allowed" stood out, as though they, of all people, had all suddenly sprouted a supreme and passionate love of school rules.

"'Ow can zhe do zhat? 'Ow can zhe play for another team? Ah did not know zhat waz allowed!"

As she watched Tracey, in her gold and yellow robes, streak across the pitch, all she could do was smile.

"When has that ever stopped her before?"

"And they're off! Straight away it's Gryffindor in possession! Katie Bell of Gryffindor with the quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Katie! Argh, no — quaffle intercepted by Zabini, Zabini of Slytherin tearing UP the field — OOF! — nice bludger work there by Dean Thomas, Zabini drops the wuaffle, it's caught by — Weasley, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Weasley! — nice swerve around Harper — duck, Katie, that's a bludger! – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR ALREADY!"

Bell punched the air as she soared around the end of the field. Daphne dared a glance - the sea of scarlet opposite them was screaming with delight. When she turned back, it was just in time to see Bell nearly thrown from her broom as Oliver Harper smashed into her.

"OOOOH! YEAH, FINE WAY TO BEHAVE!"

"Sorry!" Harper shouted as the crowd booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, the Gryffindor beater angled a bludger at the back of his head. It collided, smashing his nose into the handle of his broom. Madam Hooch shrieked as she zoomed toward them.

"That will do!" she shrieked "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

She heard one of the Gryffindor Chasers yell, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and one of them flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Khanna!" Lee yelled into the silence that had descended on the crowd.

The ball soared through the air, over the head of Graham Montague and through the goalpost.

"YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-TEN TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Harper, now bleeding freely from his nose, flew forward to take the Slytherin penalty. The Gryffindor replacing Weasley - Daphne struggled to keep up to date with that names - hovered ominous.

"'Course, McLaggans a fine substitute Keeper!" Lee Jordan told the crowd as they waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"

Satisfied, Daphne turned her attention, gazing around for where Tracey had gotten to, though still making sure she caught every word of Lee's commentary. She was now extremely glad she had decided to come watch this match. It was absolutely essential that Gryffindor won tonight.

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Ginny Weasley, Weasley for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field — OOOOH THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

Blaise had swerved, too late for her to avoid, and smashed into the side of her. Her broom was sent cart-wheeling through the air with her barely attached - and she didn't manage to hold onto the quaffle. For the third time since the match started barely ten minutes ago, Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again. She soared to Blaise and began shouting at him and a minute later, Ginny put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper.

"THIRTY-TEN! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING —"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way —"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Daphne felt a jolt of morbid excitement. The game was slowly devolving into some kind of airborne-wrestling match.

It was quickly becoming obvious that Slytherin was playing dirty. Clearly enraged that their ex-Seeker had sold them out, combined with Gryffindor taking such an early lead, they were quickly resorting to any means necessary to win. From the glances she caught of their faces, every one of them looked ready to physically attack anything that got in their way. That could either be from the sheer principle of the betrayal, or the fact they knew what an asset Tracey would be to the Gryffindor. She wasn't just a skilled player in her own right after all - she had also helped organize the Slytherin team, which meant she also knew each and every one of their tactics.

And it had probably gone over all of their heads that their anger would cause them to be sloppy and disorganized, making them the easiest kind of opponent to win against.

Goyle hit Demelza Robbins with his club and tried saying he'd thought she was a bludger - Madam Hooch wasn't convinced and it was another penalty shot to Gryffindor. Soon after, Dean Thomas elbowed Adrian Pucey in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded penalties to Slytherin, but Cormac - Daphne was sure - pulled off a very close save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

At this point, she began to worry a little. After her initial entrance, Tracey seemed to have completely vanished from the pitch. Her eyes searched the stands, grounds below and the support structures, but nowhere she turned could she glimpse head nor tail of her.

Another point had been scored, but nobody had a chance to hear who.

"Another point scored by - OOOH! CLOSE ONE!"

Tracey had appeared materialized in the middle of the pitch, seemingly from nowhere, and one of the bludgers came streaking within inches of her face. Seconds later, another bludger thundered past and looked to graze her elbow.

"OOOOOOOH! CLOSE TWO!"

Daphne had a fleeting glimpse of two large shapes rushing towards her - but far too fast for eyes to see, Tracey had brought her Siberian Arrow upward and Crabbe and Goyle collided midair with a sickening crouch.

"AHHH AHAHAHA! Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to catch Davis! I bet Professor Snape is regretting getting her kicked from the team now!"

Surprisingly, there was no chorus of boos or hisses from their side. Instead, there was a very heated silence. Daphne looked around to see furious faces, but none that looked like they disagreed with Jordans announcement. Probably half of them thought it would be worth Gryffindor winning just to have Professor Snape live with his shame. Daphne certainly felt that way.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Khanna passes to Bell — Pucey comes in alongside her — spit in his eye, Katie! — another joke, Professor, only a joke — oh no! — Pucey in possession, Pucey flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, McLaggen, save —!"

But Pucey scored; there was finally a change of rhythm around Daphne and the boos became an eruption of cheers.

Lee Jordan sighed.

"Rat bastards… Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, sixty points to twenty, and Gryffindor in possession —"

Tracey had disappeared again. She clearly had a good tactic for that, Daphne observed. Wherever she was hiding, Draco was sticking close to the center of the pitch, looking for both her and the snitch.

Katie scored again - now it was seventy to twenty. Dean and Demezla hovered around her defensively, since she was proving to be the Slytherins' main target, after Tracey. However, Crabbe and Goyle took advantage of their short absence to aim both bludgers at McLaggen and they caught him in the stomach, one after the other. The stadium simultaneously winced as Cormac rolled over in the air, clutching his broom and moaning.

Madam Hooch was absolutely beside herself —

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at them. "Gryffindor penalty!"

Then Ginny scored. That put them at eighty-twenty. Moments later, Dean Thomas pelted a bludger at Harper and knocked the quaffle out of his hands; Bell seized it and put it through another goal, which put them at ninety-twenty. The Gryffindor crowd opposite was screaming itself hoarse. The more they scored, the angrier and more violent the Slytherin team seemed to get. Daphne had to keep consciously reminding herself to look around for Tracey, more out of worry for her safety than hoping she would catch the snitch.

"OOOOOH HERE WE GO!"

The crowd realized what was happening before she did; everyone rose to their feet and craned themselves to get a better look. Tracey had appeared and was thundering across the pitch, Draco close on her tail. She must have seen the snitch — Daphne couldn't tell where — but the look of sudden concentration was unmistakable. She flattened herself against her Siberian Arrow and sped towards the ground — Draco harrowing closely after her.

"Zhe are goin' to crash!" Dominique screamed.

She was half right — but at the very last second, Tracey pulled out of it. Draco didn't match her response time and hit the ground with a painful thud, heard all throughout the stadium. Tracey hovered in the air, feet above the grounds. She dropped backwards off her broom again, clinging to it with only her knees, and pressed and large 'L' to her forehead. The stadium roared with cheers. Daphne covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

"SHE FEINTED HIM! SHE'S ONLY - BLOODY - GONE AND FEINTED HIM! MERLINS BEARD, HE MUST FEEL LIKE A COMPLETE AND TOTAL TIT!"

Daphne didn't know what a feint was - but it didn't take her long to figure it out. By Tracey continuing to linger and mock Draco's crippled form - slowly, the pieces clicked together. She had never seen the snitch in the first place. A satisfied smugness took her face. Suddenly, she didn't put it past Tracey to join the Gryffindor team tonight with the soul intention of getting to do that.

It was a dangerous world they were livin' in these days, after all.

Shortly after, a timeout was set in place. While the Slytherins argued and Draco tried to fistfight Madam Pomfrey, Tracey remained high in the sky above the rest. She flipped, dived, loop-de-looped and did all manner of movements Daphne never thought possible. She was showing off to the hundreds of eyes following her, and for a few brief minutes, the Quidditch match had turned into a ballet show.

"This lass is on fire! What a queen! If he can do that with a broomstick, imagine what she can do with-"

"JORDAN!"

"With a bat! I was gonna say bat!"

Judging by his lovesick tone of voice, he was definitely not going to say a bat.

Daphne dared a glance around her. Even a few members of their own house had become entranced watching Tracey movements.

The game was still ninety-twenty now. Slytherin was awarded a penalty because of Tracey's feint, but Blaise was so angry he missed by several feet. Not only was their team losing concentration but the Gryffindors, delighted by Tracey's energy, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores —" Lee groaned. "Seventy-forty to Gryffindor…"

Draco wasn't going to let Tracey disappear this time, it seemed. He was marking her so closely that their legs looked to be touching. It made Daphne anxious, knowing he could easily strike out against her at any moment. But it seemed a victory was the only revenge he wanted, as that violence never came.

"Ginny Weasley gets the quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Ginny, COME ON!"

Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward — all desperately moving to block her, but Daphne turned back just in time to see Tracey fire into the scene. The green blurs scattered as the Arrow cut them in half; Ginny's way was clear.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads one-hundred to forty!"

Tracey almost pelted herself headfirst into the stands, but managed to skid to a halt in time, reverse midair, and zoom back into the middle of the field. Unfortunately, it was as though this maneuver had been specifically timed to happen now.

"SNITCH SIGHTED! SNITCH SIGHTED! MALFOY IS GAINING, COME ONNNN, DAVIS!"

Daphne and Dominique both lurched forward in their seat, squinting to see. Tracey put on a huge burst of speed. The stadium erupted once again as she and Draco shot, plummeting through the center of the Chasers, fast enough that they looked as though they had both been fired from cannons.

Draco was in the lead - how he had any idea where he was going, Daphne had no idea - but Tracey was gaining on him. She was at his ankles — his chest — she flattened herself against her broom hard — she was level with him — just about pulling ahead — her hand reached out for the golden snitch —

"CHEATING SCUM!"

Daphne's earlier suspicions had proven right — Draco hammered his fist down hard on Tracey's chest.

"YOU FIFTHLY, CHEATING LITTLE SHIT!"

It wasn't Jordan that time - Professor McGonagall had torn the microphone from his hands and was shouting into it herself. Daphne was suddenly so angry the only thing that stopped her leaping from her seat and casting a curse across the pitch as she was frozen to the spot with anticipation.

Time itself seemed to be slowing down. As the race for the Snitch brought them closer to the stands, she caught a glimpse of Tracey's face. Sheer, unfiltered anger was etched across it. He delivered a series of quick and swift punches, each one sending her back a few inches. She elected not to defend herself and took each force as it came, instead stretching herself further and further out towards the dancing snitch. The crowd around her was going mental, an ungodly of cheering and booing. Draco continued to deliver swift painful looking hits, most of which were now slipping harmlessly off her shoulder.

Finally, she retaliated. Her fist collided with his already blooded face and he was sent hurtling backwards off his broom — but not without clasping his hand around her leg first. Together, they were torn from their broomsticks and fell the remaining twenty feet through the air, landing with a bone-chilling crunch onto the ground.

A second later, Tracey's solitary shoe landed beside them.

Then, Daphne saw something that made her heart stand still. From the heap they had landed in, a single hand rose into the air - the snitch held tight in it's fist, beating its wings hopelessly. And belonging to a Gryffindor sleeve.

"SHE'S GOT THE SNITCH! SHE'S GOT THE SNITCH! TRACEY DAVIS HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!"

Daphne and Dominique catapulted out of their seats.

"YEEEEEESSSSSSSS!"

Opposite them, the Gryffindor stand exploded as well. Thousands of shrieks and screams of delight echoed across the castle grounds, while nothing but a stunned silence came from the Slytherins. A stunned silence, and the few hundred eyes glaring at Daphne and Dominique, who were the only ones standing. Cheeks glowing, they returned their bottoms to their seats.


Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers and onto the field. Daphne fought her way through the crowd to get to the changing room, Dominique hotly behind her, as a chorus of song filled her ears.

"DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN! DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN!"

If anything could have made Daphne's evening any better, it was this. Dominique, had fought her way through to her side, doubled over with laughter as they watched Tracey being hoisted high above the rest, on the shoulders of a cheering Harry and Dean Thomas. Harry had abandoned all professionalism and as energetic as the rest, meaning it was Dean who noticed them first.

"Hey, check this out!" he jabbed a finger at her. "We got the Ice Queen, and the Fire Queen!"

Then something strange happened. Another cheer went up and Daphne felt two large impacts as Parvati Patil and Fay Dunbar dove into her - to her great surprise, there was suddenly dozens of people she barely knew attempting to hug her. For a few seconds she was on the receiving end of a messy blur of noise and body contact, then suddenly she and Dominique were scooped up by the crowd. Frankly, she was too stunned by this completely opposite reaction to be able to fight it.

"FIRE QUEEN! FIRE QUEEN! FIRE QUEEN!" the Gryffindor crowd chanted.

Supported on Parvati and Fay shoulders, her head was now feet from the tent ceiling. At last, she met Tracey with direct eye-contact. Words failed her. Tracey smiled knowingly, but made no effort to explain herself.

"Hey, don't suppose you grabbed my shoe?"


A/N Yes, Lee Jordan should have left the year before, but his commentaries are my favorite in the books and I couldn't not write for him. And before you ask - it doesn't TECHNICALLY state anywhere that you can't play for another house's team, so I rolled with it.