Author's Notes
Thank you to all who've read this story so far! For any questions or discussions, feel free to follow me or message me on Tumblr honeydukesheroine! I LOVE to chat with anyone who's remotely interested in reading this story :) Typically my posting schedule is once every month. So sorry this one is past due, as it has expanded into two sections.
Comment Replies:
- TheaMama: Thank you for your comments and reading the story! I know Ginny isn't your favorite, hope you still enjoy this chapter! More Ron and Hermione is on the way, but Harry and Ginny have had a lot to say recently :)
- Navygirl2395: Thank you for commenting, this is my favorite part of HBP as well! This and next chapter are ones where all the fanfiction in the world couldn't satisfy me :) I truly hope you enjoy.
- flutterbye123: Sorry I cut it off there last time, but here you are, signed sealed and delivered.
- LadyKitai: your comment last time made my heart flutter "the way you expand on canon is beautiful" eee! Thank you thank you.
GINNY
Sunlight was just beginning to paint the early morning sky when Ginny tied the laces of her Quidditch boots with a tug and grabbed the handle of her Cleansweep.
Arnold, still snuggled against the warmth of her pillow, emitted a few questioning squeaks in the sudden lack of warmth, the change of routine apparently unpleasant for them both. Ginny shushed him softly, checking to make sure none of her dorm mates had woken at the sound. She didn't think any of them would tattletale, but would rather not take the chance.
All curtains remained still, free of sleepy suspicious eyes. Ginny tucked the blanket close up around Arnold, brushed two fingers over his soft round rump and tip toed out down the cold stone staircase, pausing to scan the common room.
Fireplaces extinguished, chairs empty.
All clear.
Despite the strong pull towards the soft comfort of her sheets, there was a thrill to be sneaking around the castle outside curfew for the first time since Fred and George were at school.
It was during her second year that the two of them caught on to her fear of navigating the lonelier corners of the castle. Particularly in the winter, when the sun sank sooner and shadows hooded the halls, the darkness stole her breath and fueled that loud, lingering voice in her head until her imagination paralyzed her legs, refusing to carry her to where she needed to go… But Fred and George didn't know that part.
They had, however, taken it upon themselves to indoctrinate her with most of their sneaking strategies - like how to persuade Peeves, where to snatch prefects' monitoring routes, and methods to accessing the secret passageways.
Once or twice this year she'd tried to convince Dean to go with her, but he didn't like risking late curfew and somehow it didn't sound fun to raid the kitchens for midnight snacks alone.
This time, though, she was on a mission. A solo, high stakes, undercover operation. None would be the wiser. At least not until she caught the Snitch from under Cho Chang's chin.
Two of the usual double-door exits to the grounds were locked, but time being of the essence, she found a squeaky window through which to slither onto a slanted roof where she straddled her broom and kicked off in the direction of the pitch.
It was the morning before the Quidditch Championship, and foggy mist came rolling off the backdrop of mountains onto the proud but empty stands of the pitch.
Once at the supply closet, Ginny pointed her wand at the lock and said, "Diffindo!"
A red beam of light shot out of her wand, slicing the lock clean in two so she could rifle through the box of practice Snitches for the freshest looking ones. She gathered a handful, kicked the door closed, turned on the spot, and came face to face with Professor McGonagall.
The Snitches rolled out of Ginny's hands, spread their wings, and fluttered in a frenzy around them.
"Professor," Ginny said, for a moment stunned - not least of which by seeing her professor in a matching set of tartan dressing gown, slippers, and dangly little hat. "H-how'd you know?"
Professor McGonagall waved her wand to immobilize the Snitches and raised one eyebrow. "You are out of bed, out of the castle, outside of curfew, and have caused destruction to school property," she said, indicating the broken lock.
"I was going to 'Reparo' it, I just -" Ginny stopped, realization hitting. She smacked her forehead and said, "The Fat Lady told you -" That snitch "- I always forget about her."
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her hands together and pleaded, "Professor McGonagall, I'm begging you, don't give me detention for this. Please don't have me miss the match. Just think of Gryffindor. I'll do anything. I'll fix first year's botched Transfigured quills or grade papers for you every week until I graduate, or-"
Professor McGonagall held up a hand to silence Ginny's rambling. She had an unreadable expression as she considered the suspended Snitches and the empty pitch around them.
"If Madam Hooch catches anyone on the pitch, she is prepared to make their respective team play one position short," she said at last.
"I know, Harry told us. But I'm out of practice and I just need one hour. Please."
McGongall pulled a pocket watch from the depths of her dressing gown. "Madam Hooch is known to take her breakfast from six -thirty to seven o'clock," she said. "That gives you … one hour." Ginny rushed out a series of "thank you"'s, only just holding herself back from giving McGonagall a hug.
"Tell no one," she said with a stern look. She waved her wand to re-enervate the Snitches and, turning to go added: "These will return to me at the top of the hour. And I'll look forward to seeing you in my office this evening after dinner."
"What for Professor?"
"Helping me grade papers, Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall said with a twinkle in her eye as if to say: You didn't think I'd let you get off that easy, did you?
"Dammit," Ginny said under her breath once McGonagall was far enough away. As she picked up her broom and repaired the broken lock, she could hear Fred and George, in unison, say: "And never forget about the Fat Lady."
But ultimately, she decided, an under the table detention with McGonagall was a small price to pay for the hour of Seeking practice on the pitch.
That was until an icy wind kicked up, cutting through her extra layer of robes, straight through her bones. The wind somehow seemed to blow in all directions, the strong gusts pushing her Cleansweep off course, making her eyes water so that spotting Snitches became even more challenging.
She continued to circle the pitch, doubt creeping in, wondering if perhaps one or more of the seven Snitches had been taken ransom, dragged away by the frigid wind.
Spectacular dives and feints had never been her favorite part of Quidditch. Admitting that had been the first time she disagreed with Charlie. When he learned she'd trained herself to fly, he encouraged her to be Seeker. Something about being short and small. Didn't he know that that only made her want to be Seeker even less?
Ginny coaxed her Cleansweep into accelerations on the straightaways, but it resisted, its movements feeling stiff this morning.
On principle, she'd tell anyone that a Quidditch player's success came down to skill more than a good broom. Cho Chang's Comet 260 couldn't catch the Snitch for her any more than throwing a sack of galleons at it.
However, after spending the next nauseating hour chasing, studying movement patterns and catching only two of the Golden Snitches on a broom that produced vibrating lurches during hairpin turns, she could admit that having a broom made in the last decade might be beneficial.
Ginny missed breakfast that morning to take a hot shower, but even standing under the steaming water for twenty minutes didn't seem to warm her core. Her skin still felt sensitive and windburnt, her stomach in queasy twists from chasing the Snitches. She had trouble focusing in her first class, where - instead of the tops Flitwick had given them - Ginny accidentally charmed Luna's double plaits to spin in pinwheel formations. The charm wore off in an hour, much to Luna's disappointment.
By lunchtime, Ginny started to feel like she might be hungry, but the feeling went away after passing Hermione's upturned nose in the hallway, marching away in militant resistance. They hadn't spoken since their confrontation when Ginny had taken Harry's side after cursing Malfoy.
Ginny groaned aloud. Until that moment, she'd forgotten their conversation the night before.
"Let's have it out then," Ginny had said once the boys went to bed.
Hermione checked to ensure no one was around before leaning over the middle chair and saying, "You know I think you and Harry are great together, but if that's how it's going to be, I -"
"Oh please, don't make it about that," Ginny said, earning an incensed glare from Hermione. "Couldn't you see how badly he felt already?"
"I don't think he feels nearly bad enough. That Prince's book has experimental Dark Magic. Harry's been following its instructions blindly and it led him to perform a spell he couldn't control."
"He only meant to defend himself, not hurt Malfoy."
"But that's exactly my point. He thinks he knows this Prince, and trusts this awful book. He's not thinking objectively," Hermione moved into the chair next to Ginny and lowered her voice even further. "You have to understand what it's been like being around him all these years. He gets caught up in his ideas and it can turn out really dangerous sometimes."
"Thank goodness for that, or I'd be dead."
"Of course I'm glad you're not dead," Hermione snapped impatiently. "But you have to agree that that spell was corrupt, and the person who crafted it probably was - or is - as well. And I'm not going to stop trying to prove it."
"Hope you have a nice trip to the library."
Seeing that they wouldn't come to an agreement, Hermione gave her head a quick shake and made a show of gathering her books, whipping her hair, and stomping up the stairs to bed.
Ginny now hugged herself, tucking her hands in her elbows to warm them as she hurried through the courtyard towards the History of Magic classroom.
She knew better than to pick fights with Hermione, had taken every effort to remain patient and understanding with her this term. Which, between the shunning of Ron, the advice to tell Dean about the Chamber, and the accusations of cheating with Harry, had been a giantess effort.
Ginny also resented the implication that she'd have to be the one to break the ice with Hermione, but worried that if put off too long, this tiff would trigger months of frost over their friendship.
Either way, she decided to worry about that after the match.
If only she hadn't given Ron the last of her Anti-Puking Pastilles the other day, Ginny's stomach might've gotten through History of Magic with less queasiness. To distract herself, she wrote Bill a lengthy, rambling reply about his house-hunting (" They'd better all be on this side of the English Channel. If you think we'll miss Mum's Christmas Feast to visit you for the holidays and slurp escargots on top of the Eiffel Tower, you can guess again… actually that kind of sounds fun … I must be delusional from starvation.") , and added a shameless request for a pep-talk in the postscript.
"Have you always kept this there?" Ginny asked when she arrived in McGonagall's office later that evening, indicating the Quidditch Cup which had been ostentatiously placed on the corner of the professor's desk closest to Ginny's detention desk.
Professor McGonagall looked over the top rim of her glasses. "Consider it a source of inspiration," she said, flicking her wand so a batch of third year examinations and a corresponding answer key floated towards Ginny.
No pressure… Ginny thought as she sat down, admiring the way dancing firelight from the candles on McGonagall's desk highlighted the cup's curved edges and ornate embellishments.
Ginny sighed, remembering the feeling of catching the Snitch last year to win Gryffindor the title. That accomplished, glowing pride of holding the cup before it all became tarnished.
Everyone acted as if she hadn't fully earned it. Cho hadn't paid her a second thought the entire match, hadn't bothered to stay anywhere near her in case she spotted the Snitch. Had underestimated her.
And Michael too. "I can't believe you caught it. Lucky, I suppose, having Cho on the opposite side of the pitch. Or else you'd have had to race her for it."
Yet, if Harry or Cho had caught the Snitch in the same way, they'd've said it was a show of pure talent.
Maybe they all hadn't really forgotten. Maybe they all still talked about it behind closed doors, out of earshot, spitting whispers as she walked past, about the girl who opened the Chamber of Secrets.
They'll never forget, not completely.
It doesn't matter. I'm different now, stronger. My friends and my family see it.
I'm your friend, Ginny, we're stronger together. I'll listen to you… No one else does, not like me.
Fuck you. Harry does.
Ahh, but isn't he the reason you're here right now?
The image materialized of Harry yesterday, blood stained robes, explaining to the team what had happened with Malfoy and how he wouldn't be playing in the match was disturbing to relive.
On top of that, this change of position was like filling up a water bucket with a spoon only for someone to kick it over once full. She'd put in countless hours on the pitch, perfecting her shots and blocks, mentally preparing for her chance to use them for a high-scoring match. She was disappointed. Not in Harry, necessarily. Just disappointed in … all of it. But he didn't need to see that.
It was true, this wasn't how anything was supposed to go. But again, that wasn't Harry's fault. And the cup - standing resolute in its resplendence, fixing her with its gaze like a directed beam of light - couldn't be won on disappointment.
It didn't care about Tom, Malfoy, Cho, or any other number of evils at Hogwarts. All it was concerned with was the score, and who had enough grit to fight for the title.
—
Ginny woke up the next morning hoping that Bill's reply would come in time for the match, but the owl post came and went without it and now she sat with the heavy, lopsided weight of the captain's badge on her chest.
Harry was right, she had wanted the captaincy. But not like this. Not with him sitting beside her, spine rounded again under the weight of the world, staring in misery at an empty plate.
She really didn't give a damn if Malfoy lived or died. As long as the blood on Harry's robes wasn't his own, as long as there was a chance of putting that shining smile back on his face, the one he'd come to reserve just for her.
She might've thought twice about reaching for his hand not so long ago. In that moment, though, it felt like holding onto him might hold them both together.
As they said goodbye, him whispering "good luck" in her ear, she briefly wondered what this might mean for them. But as the pitch rose into view, she decided there would be plenty of time to talk after the match.
Once in the locker room, the rousing thunders of spectators' footsteps from above echoed off the tiled walls and the scarlet shapes of her teammates surrounded her in muted preparations for the match.
"So, Harry made you captain?" Katie asked from beside her.
"Yeah," Ginny said, something in Katie's tone making alarm bells go off in her mind.
Katie nodded, focused on wrapping her wrists and cinching her forearm protective gear. Realization sank heavy to the pits of Ginny's stomach. Of course Katie would have expected to be captain. She'd played Chaser on the Gryffindor team for six years and this was her last match, probably ever.
"I expect it's because of -"
"That stupid necklace? Yeah, just another reason for me to wish I'd never touched the fucking thing," Katie said, cutting Ginny off and shaking her head. "It makes the most sense, you being captain. I've barely played with most of the team. They really respect you… You deserve it, Ginny … Honestly, you do."
Katie sounded sincere, but she also didn't wait for a reply before standing, grabbing her broom and heading for the toilets. Ginny watched the emblazoned golden letters - "Bell 3" - on the back of her robes as they whipped around the corner.
Well, shit.
"So - erm - obviously, Harry asked me to be captain this morning," Ginny said five minutes later, standing up facing her team on the benches for a pre-match debrief, feeling a jolt of guilt when meeting Katie's eye.
Her other teammates looked up at her from the benches. Demelza, Jimmy and Ritchie fixing her with the pressure of their pure faith expressions. Ron, still vaguely pale, forcing a smile that seemed intended to comfort her. Dean staring at the empty space between her shoulder and her ear.
Although used to holding the team's attention, usually it was accompanied by laughter in response to a joke she'd make or cheers after she'd scored. This, however, this tense pre-match silence, waiting for her instruction, felt too serious. Too formal.
Ginny wished that Bill's reply had come in time, perhaps she could've stolen some of his words to offer them now.
She cleared her throat and continued. "So, yeah, winning by more than three hundred points is going to be a tough ask… We'll need to score fifteen goals on them before I can even go for the Snitch and -"
"Sixteen," Dean interrupted, his eyes now seeming to shoot curses at her. "Winning by over three hundred will mean sixteen goals."
Ginny glared at him, unable to decide if she was more irritated that he'd interrupted or that he had been correct. "Right, sixteen."
Halfway through the debrief, it occurred to Ginny that they all should've met yesterday to talk through how they'd adjust Chaser responsibilities now that Dean was back. The disagreement between Harry's established strategies for the match and Dean's strengths as a defensive Chaser only added pressure to the feeling of her back against the clock, counting down until the Quaffle toss.
"Hey, are we going to be okay today?" Ginny asked Dean as they followed the team onto the pitch.
In the end, she'd decided to keep to Harry's largely offensive strategy, having Dean join the attack with Katie and Demelza. Even if it was the wrong choice, they'd run out of time to debate further.
"What? Because I spoke up?" Dean asked. "I was right, wasn't I?"
"You didn't have to interrupt me like that in front of everyone."
"Really, Ginny? Would you have minded if it was anyone else?"
"Just focus on supporting Katie and Dem while on attack, and shoot as many good shots as you can."
"I'll try my best," he said, a biting edge to his voice. "But I'm telling you I should be on defense, they're leagues better than me, I can't always keep up."
"You'll be fine," Ginny said, distracted by seeing the Ravenclaw team already in starting formations. "Just stick to the plan, and you'll be fine."
Dean shook his head, mounted his broom and kicked off to the third Chaser's starting position.
The pitch really did appear so much larger when occupied, as if someone had placed a massive Engorgement Charm on it. She couldn't help remembering that the last time she stood on the pitch like this during a match she had been watching an unconscious Harry being carted off on a stretcher.
Ginny now squared up opposite Cho Chang at the center of the field. They were waiting for Madam Hooch to bring over the gear while the weighted awareness of a thousand eyes pressed in on them from all directions.
Cho stood several inches taller, head and shoulders held gracefully in perfect posture with her shiny black hair pulled back in one of those stupid elaborate braids.
Ginny closed her eyes to absorb the resulting eye roll, and instead focused on the highest stands, hoping to pick out Hermione, Neville and Luna from the crowd. But she could shake the feeling of the older girl standing directly in front of her, studying her.
It occurred to Ginny that today would be Cho's last Hogwarts Quidditch match as well, giving her an edge, a reason to fight. Cho held the better broom, had been officially chosen for captain, had more Seeking practice hours, more experience…
You'll never measure up, you and your stupid, pathetic crush.
Her chest threatened to tighten, as though preparing to be submerged by water.
Not true, she said, focusing on the remembered pressure of Harry's hand in hers.
But then the memory turned into Harry falling, his skull cracked open, thick blood soaking her hands, making her sleeves stick to her wrists.
Block him out and breatheeee, Harry's alright, you're alright. Just win this and -
"First Madam Hooch will release the Bludgers and the Snitch," Cho's voice jarred her back to the present, sounding as though she were addressing a dimwitted little sister. "She'll wait to loose the Quaffle until we've gone over rules and timeout allocations, then we shake hands."
"I've been to a Quidditch match before, thanks."
"Right. You just seemed nervous," Cho said, her voice seeming to have the sweetness of Sherbert Lemons just before turning sour. "Being captain and playing a different position must be nerve-wracking. I hope you don't feel … unprepared."
Oh, so that's how it's going to be.
If that was the kind of game Cho wanted, she could play. Madam Hooch was several paces away now, unlatching the trunk and unleashing the Bludgers.
"Seeking's not so hard," Ginny bluffed. "Didn't have much of a problem last year."
"Lucky catch," Cho snapped back.
"Maybe. Exciting day for you, though. You don't always get a second chance to be unlucky."
"Speaking of, so sorry to hear about your break up."
"And yours."
"It can be so emotional, being on the same team. And with it being so recent. How is Dean, by the way?" Cho's eyes flicked behind Ginny. "He looks exhausted."
"Has Michael looked that bitter since I broke up with him? I feel sorry for you. You've snogged better."
"Is that how you got that captain's badge?"
Seconds later, Madam Hooch arrived with the Quaffle tucked under her arm and went through her usual preamble. Only Ginny didn't hear any of it. She was fixing every ounce of her intensity on Cho Chang's shifty, guilty looking face. When asked to shake hands, Ginny gripped Cho's with what she hoped would be enough force to trigger a hand cramp.
On Madam Hooch's whistle, the Quaffle soared upwards and the match began.
"Quaffle is tossed and - Corner takes first possession!"
Ginny's fury rose several degrees as she spun around to see McLaggen in the commentator's box.
"What fucking else could go wrong," Ginny said to the wind, seeing even from this distance how Ron's face flushed bright red as Michael hurdled toward him with the Quaffle.
"Corner weaves through Gryffindor's defense, dodges Peakes' attempt at a Bludger block and — SCORES! Ten - zero, Ravenclaw!"
Panicked, Ginny could only watch as they lost first possession, but Katie quickly regained it, and to Ginny's relief, she scored Gryffindor's first goal immediately after.
Ravenclaw took back the Quaffle, shot down the field and "Weasley just barely saves it!" McLaggen announced over Gryffindor's cheers. "If I were in his position, I'd have stayed just off center, he's lucky he made it there in time."
"C'mon Ron," Ginny murmured, floating several feet above the game play, "He doesn't matter. Block him out."
"It appears that Younger Weasley has been promoted to Gryffindor captain. Interesting choice, given Bell is the more experienced overall player."
Ginny gripped the handle of her broom.
"Younger Weasley is also a woman known for fits of rage and foul language. During the last match, when Potter was unfortunately struck down by a Bludger, she -"
Block him out, block him out, knock - block - him out .
For the next twenty minutes, Ginny managed to ignore McLaggen's magnified droning. However, both Ginny and the Ravenclaw team couldn't ignore McLaggen's accurate observation that Katie was increasingly reluctant to pass the Quaffle. The Ravenclaw defense fell into a full field press. Ginny took a breath to adjust her Chasers, when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cho speed off across the pitch.
Kicking herself for forgetting to stay focused on her actual position, she laid herself out flat on her broom and urged it forward to cut through the gameplay, shortcutting her way to Cho, forcing down the rising panic as they sped shoulder to shoulder after the Snitch.
It was too early, if either of them caught the Snitch now, Gryffindor would not only lose the cup but come in very last place.
The Snitch took a slow sloping dive down over several seconds, giving Ginny a swooping stomach sensation. Then - all of a sudden - it changed direction, shooting skyward.
Cho executed a sharp angled turn, gaining on the Snitch while Ginny's fingers slipped dangerously on the handle of her broom and her Cleansweep started vibrating from the all out acceleration.
No, no, no, this can't be the reason, this can't end like this.
As Cho's fingers inched closer to the Snitch, Ginny felt her broom threaten to buck and she knew she'd never reach it in time. Ginny tore her eyes off the blur of the vibrating wings and with a reckless yank that threatened to tear her grip from her broom, she went for the block, slamming her forearm into Cho's side so hard it slipped and collided with her broom, sending them both into a tailspin.
"Penalty!" Cho yelled when they'd both recovered control. She reeled around, looking to Madam Hooch for retribution. "She pushed my broom off course!"
"We've got a dispute on field," McLaggen said. "Looks like Ravenclaw's Seeker is demanding a penalty for broom interference. First contact was clearly made on body. Although, considering the degrading quality of Younger Weasley's broom, it's entirely possible Chang's deviation off course was unintentional … Ref determines… no penalty!"
"There's no tampering with the broom when Seekers are in pursuit!" Cho shouted at Ginny. "That was against the rules!"
"Ref says not," Ginny said, refusing to feel guilty. It wasn't her fault Seeker's never learned to take a little contact. Madam Hooch returned to the Chaser's below and gameplay resumed.
Cho's face screwed up in indignation. "You're a cheat."
"Sorry - six brothers. They play rough. By the way, your braid-thingy is coming loose, do you need a time out to fix it?"
The close call with the Snitch had passed, but the Chasers were still neck and neck. Demelza was performing well, but Ginny was soon wringing her hands, cracking her knuckles from the effort of staying patient as Dean missed a string of passes and Katie took a Bludger to her left shoulder.
Forbidden from intervening, from being a part of the action, Ginny hated being relegated to the sidelines, to sit and wait …
"Bell and Robbins, now making braiding passes to bring the Quaffle down the pitch, Robbins passes to Thomas and … Chambers intercepts!"
No, no, no, nonono ... "No, no, NO!"
"Chambers speeds down center, dodges a block from Thomas, spins right, shoots and… SCORES!" The crowd of Ravenclaws erupted in a wall of noise. "One hundred and eleven to ninety, Ravenclaw leads!"
"DEAN! You have to catch your fucking passes!" Ginny yelled to Dean, unable to remain silent, speeding across the pitch towards him.
"I'm TRYING! I should be back on defense!"
"That's not the plan! We need points!" she screamed back at Dean, thirty feet below.
"They're winning! We need to defend!" Dean shouted back. "Harry's not here, Ginny! His plan won't work!"
"Younger Weasley, demonstrating her characteristic temperament for outrage, is now shouting with the mild-mannered stand-in Chaser, Dean Thomas," announced McLaggen.
Block him out!
Katie and Demelza hovered nearby. Did the team think Dean was right? Was he right? Ginny couldn't think through McLaggen's announcements and the crowd's rousing volume around her, drowning out her thoughts.
"TIME OUT!"
Ginny landed heavy on the bench in front of her locker and dropped her face in her hands. Panic was lancing from her chest, down her arms, and through to her fingertips. If they went on like this they'd not only lose the match, but come in last in the league, imploding Gryffindor's reputation and the team Harry built and everything they'd worked for over this entire year and -
Breatheee, she told herself, inhaling until her lungs were stretched full, forcing away the mental spiral. Just think and breathe.
If she took everything away - the deafening crowd, McLaggen's magnified voice, her frustration with Dean, the stupid badge - this was just Quidditch. And she knew Quidditch. She knew her team. Knew how to hold herself together, stay fighting even when it all faded to black.
Ginny straightened her back and looked up.
In the back of her locker was an old poster - half-obscured by crumpled shirts and energy snack wrappers, camouflaged by familiarity - of Wanda Royals, the first female Chaser to outscore both males and females in a single season.
Percy had given her that poster for her twelfth birthday. Even despite that, she still liked it, and decided to hang it up back in September after making the team.
Below the moving image of Wanda shooting a famous trick shot was her quote:
"Be bold enough to believe.
Train hard enough to score the risks.
Remember: Victory is earned, never given."
Ginny exhaled long and slow.
She read it again.
Believe, she repeated, igniting a spark of hope.
The match is still happening. This was possible. Winning was possible. Anything was possible.
Believe. Be bold and believe.
She breathed in again, fanning the spark to flame.
Sticking to Harry's plan wouldn't work. Dean was right, they couldn't get ahead with Ravenclaw still scoring. Ron was doing well despite McLaggen, but they were leaving him out to dry. Katie and Demelza would lead the scoring, if Katie passed the Quaffle, they still had a good chance.
She pulled out her hair tie, tossed her hair twice, and secured it in a high ponytail with a tug. At the chalkboard, she erased several sections of Harry's sketched out plays and replaced them with her own and turned to face the team.
"Dean, you're right," Ginny said, followed by a moment of unsure silence, her team wondering if she might start yelling again. "Feel free to make me a t-shirt out of it that says 'Ask Me About the Time Dean Was Right' and I'll wear it on Free Dress Days."
Nervous laughs broke out from the team as Ginny smiled at Dean, hoping he read the apology in her eyes. He gave back an appreciative smirk.
"So you'll fall back to help Ron protect goal," she continued. "But you have to help them advance the Quaffle at least midway…Katie, stop listening to fucking McLaggen. There's a reason we all ignore him. He flies a Vintage AeroFlyer, for Merlin's sake." The team laughed again. "Ignore him like the rest of us, pass more to Dem. Trust her, she actually knows a Quaffle from a Beater's bat …"
With a renewed sense of hope, the team soared back on the pitch and half an hour later, their plan seemed to be working.
After their success in the first half, the Ravenclaw team was making micro game-time adjustments based on his "suggestions" from the commentator's box. Their Keeper now drifted off center, their Chasers reduced the number of passes, and all of this made it easier for the Gryffindor team to anticipate their movements.
Dean was able to intercept or block most of Ravenclaw's passes, and Katie and Demelza no longer seemed to miss.
As the next thirty minutes progressed and Gryffindor pulled ahead, Ginny finally recentered and reminded herself to trust her team. She felt the warm breeze lift her higher as she rose above the crowd, the noise, the self-doubt, and instead focused on searching for the Snitch.
"Bell scores! Two hundred ninety to one forty, Gryffindor!"
This was it. Her moment was soon. One more goal.
She scanned the pitch as Harry said a few weeks ago, cutting the field into thirds. "Scan one third," he'd said. "Leave no spot unchecked. Then only when you're sure it's not there, move to the next. Every few moments, check back in the previous third. Just repeat that, and you'll spot it."
It took three or four passes over the entire pitch for her to spot it, but there it was, a tiny glimmering flash, hiding behind one of the goal posts.
The flame of hope erupted into fire, but Ginny could make no move toward the Snitch. Since the time out, Cho had been circling fifteen feet above Ginny like a vulture, watching her every move. So she waited, her hands burning in anticipation, determined not to lose sight or focus.
"Robbins scores! Three hundred, Gryffindor. One forty, Ravenclaw!"
Ginny didn't wait to hear McLaggen's full announcement. Immediately after Demelza scored, she shot towards the Snitch, laying herself flat on her broom, eyes wide, blocking out everything but the glinting hints of gold. Seconds later, Cho had caught up and this time it was her shoving, pushing, and desperately trying to push Ginny off course as they hurdled in pursuit of the Snitch.
Ginny almost smiled at Cho's meager attempts. They were tickles compared to summer pick-up games at the Burrow.
The Snitch began zigzagging, wide enough that they lost speed with having to course correct. It rose up, then took a sloping downturn for the ground, plummeting for several seconds as if in slow motion, making Ginny's stomach swoop.
She recognized the movement. In a split decision, on pure instinct, she wrenched on her handle with all her strength. Her broom dragged from the rapid direction change, before accelerating her skyward.
She kept her eyes on the tiny golden ball, her neck straining against gravity, no choice but to believe she read the Snitch correctly. One hand clung to her broom, threatening to slip, while her other reached out to receive the Snitch as it flew directly into her open palm, her fingers automatically clasping tightly around it.
She felt the whizzing wings slow to a flutter, the wings wrapping neatly around itself to settle in her hand and she realized, in one blazing moment of triumph, that she'd caught the Snitch.
—
As Ginny landed on the ground with her hand held high, her team rushed to surround her, shouting out, pulling her and hugging her. Waves of raucous cheers erupted from Gryffindor's stands, and across the pitch, Ginny saw Michael throwing his broom on the ground and Cho wiping her eyes with her sleeves.
The trophy ceremony passed with the blurred shapes and indistinguishable noises of a glorious dream. When Madam Hooch presented her the Quidditch Cup - impossibly radiant, her own reflection shining back at her - all she could think of was how long she'd have to wait to tell Harry everything.
Ginny and her team were carried back on the shoulders of fellow Gryffindors to celebrate in their common room. The fireplaces had roared to life, casting a gold shimmer reflected from the suspended golden flakes of confetti, waves of chants and laughter rose like pendulums above the happy crackle of the radio. Every Gryffindor seemed to be there, replaying their favorite moments of the match with their friends, munching on the spread of sandwiches, snacks and desserts that Professor McGonagall allowed in the common room for the occasion. Colin captured it all on camera, even when a crowd gathered to laugh at Ron feeding Luna's paper mache lion's head from the Quidditch Cup.
"Brilliant catch, Ginny!"
"Thanks, Neville," Ginny said, grinning back at him.
"McLaggen didn't help anything, though, did he?" Neville said, now watching McLaggen pry the cup from Demelza's hands and wave Colin over to take a photo of him holding it next to a scarlet and gold banner. "I think he's just bitter he bungled his chance to be on the team. But that's no reason to take it out on you."
"I think it was all a clever ruse to distract the Ravenclaw team. Do you always have these decorative floating ribbons?" Luna said, her radish earrings dangling as she peered around the Gryffindor common room for the first time. The three looked up to see the continuous gentle swirling of confetti that had been charmed to stay several feet above the level of the crowd.
"No, that's just for winning the match," Ginny said.
"Oh, I wonder if I could take a few?" Luna said, her eyes bright and excited. "A fairy cluster has chosen to dwell in the leaf-carved bookshelf in the Ravenclaw common room. I suspect they miss their outdoor glens. These might brighten their nest."
"I don't see why not," Neville said, and clambered precariously onto an armchair to retrieve several strips of confetti. As he did so, his foot slipped, knee colliding with a lamp, and sent it crashing onto the ground. The sound attracted the attention of several excitable Gryffindors, who at the sight of Neville standing up a chair began to chant his name.
Ginny continued pacing through the busy common room, fielding congratulations from groups of Gryffindors, half listening as they went through the match play by play. Ginny barely listened. Every few seconds her eyes were pulled from the common room's entrance to the clock, anticipating the a mess of black hair and glasses stepping through the portrait hole at any moment.
She bit down on her cheek, clutching the Golden Snitch in her pocket, forcing herself not to check the entrance and let time pass without being watched.
"You must be patient, Ginny!" said her mum's voice in her head, reminding her of the time she and her mum had gone to King's Cross to pick up her brothers after Ron's first year at Hogwarts. "And remember, no pointing. It's rude."
An uncontrollable grin spread across her face, her cheeks felt warm, her hands restless the way they had been that day. She supposed there were parts of herself that just were, and wanting and waiting for the boy with green eyes to see her must be one of them.
She could feel that flame she'd always carried for him grow larger now, consuming all the doubt, telling her to trust that shining look on his face, the way he laughed with her and spoke to her when they were alone. This was more than a pathetic, stupid crush. It was real and returned.
Ginny filled her plate with food. Snacks were the only useful distraction as this anticipation, like waiting to take flight while standing on the edge of a precipice, threatened to undo her. She propped herself on the armrest of the couch where Neville, Luna, Colin played a tournament of Exploding Snap and stuffed her face with a bite of sandwich when Hermione appeared in front of her, clutching a bottle of Butterbeer.
"Hey," said Hermione, now blocking Ginny's line of sight to the portrait hole. "Congratulations on the match. That was an incredible catch."
"Fanks," Ginny said through mouthfuls.
"How was playing against Cho?"
Ginny swallowed. "She's a conceited cow."
Hermione's snort of laughter was followed by an awkward pause where she had nothing to do but take another swig of her Butterbeer. Ginny watched her friend pick at the label of the bottle for a moment before losing her patience and figuring this was the best version of a peace proposition from Hermione that she could hope for.
"Look, I don't want to fight anymore," Ginny said, and Hermione finally looked up from the bottle. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, and still don't think you should've been so hard on Harry, but … truce?"
Hermione took a breath, almost like she might like to debate the issue, but they were interrupted by Ron slinging one arm around Hermione's shoulders, the other cradling the Quidditch Cup.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Ron said in reverence, gazing at the trophy in his hands, apparently hypnotized with awed inspiration.
"Yes, Ronald, it's … spectacular," Hermione said, rolling her eyes with Ginny.
"Touch it," he demanded.
The once shining trophy was now smudged all over with handprints where he'd asked others to do the same. Ginny laid her hand directly over the front crest while Hermione touched the tip of her index finger to the cleanest looking section she could find.
Ron kissed the cup, then raised it above his head, shouting "GRYFFINDOR!" to lead another wave of chants.
"You keep looking at the portrait hole," Hermione murmured under the noise level of the crowd, giving Ginny a knowing smirk.
Ginny compulsively sought the entrance again. Still empty.
"I decided don't want anymore games, or this back and forth. I just want to be with him," Ginny said, making Hermione's eyebrows shoot up. Ginny tossed her snack plate on the table beside her and continued: "When he gets back, he'll probably like to celebrate with Ron and the team. But then I'll ask to talk with him and -" she pulled the Snitch out of the pocket of her Quidditch robes "- Madam Hooch let me keep this. I'm going to give it to him, ask him out with it somehow … I dunno, is that stupid?"
Hermione's face melted into a smile. "No, not at all."
"You're asking Harry out?"
Ginny looked up at her brother, his eyes were wide and shooting side to side between her and Hermione. Ginny carefully pocketed the Snitch and her heartbeat sped into arhythmic flutters in her chest as she said, "Yes."
Ron's face broke out into a wide grin. "Good. He's always been rubbish at asking girls out."
"What? You knew?"
Ron grinned and passed the cup to his other arm. "I may be thick, but I know my best mate."
"Harry!" Someone shouted, and several others joined in.
Ginny bolted to her feet and pushed Ron aside to see Harry standing there, scanning the room, looking out of breath, taking in the celebration and common room's golden decorations with an expression of amazed disbelief.
Every nerve in her body came alive at once. She hadn't planned to, but she was now running towards him, that flamelike hope in her chest set ablaze. His green eyes found her and his face broke out into that brilliant, shining smile that she'd come to know as hers.
Ginny collided with him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her into a hug and for a moment she was soaring, supported in his arms. She could feel the heat of his neck on her cheek as she gripped one hand in the hood of his jumper, breathing in the scent of him.
He was real and solid, the waiting was over and winning the Quidditch Cup was real now that he was here, not just a fanciful daydream.
Harry set her down. She loosened her arms around his shoulders to turn and tell him they'd won, when - in front of her brother, their friends, her ex-boyfriend, all their teammates and fellow Gryffindors - he swept her open lips up with his and kissed her.
Her stomach swooped as if taking a dive mid-flight, if her eyes hadn't been open she might not have believed that Harry was kissing her, leaning into her in a way that made her abandon it all, close her eyes and reach up on tiptoes to kiss him back.
All other sound and sensation washed away but for his arms circled tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, his breath tickling the side of her face, and his lips gliding across hers, feeling better than she'd ever imagined.
She didn't know kissing someone could make her feel like this, like she wanted to catch this golden moment, hold onto it, relive the warmth of Harry's kiss time and time again for the rest of her life.
When they resurfaced the space between them felt unnatural and a charged silence had descended over the common room. Ginny ignored it. Sliding her hands down Harry's chest, biting down on her bottom lip, she smiled at the embroidered lion on the front of Harry's Quidditch jumper which roared in triumph atop two crossed brooms.
Seconds later, people behind her began to hoot and cheer, but she looked only up to Harry to see him beaming down at her before taking her hand and leading her out of the portrait hole.