Disclaimer: You think I came up with the Potterverse? I wish! No, all that belongs to my dear friend, Jo Rowling.
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The rain threatened, the clouds eclipsing the sun. The ground was hard, the air dry for the moment. Little wind. Oliver Wood would have died for conditions like these.
“For Gryffindor we have Captain Bell, Sloper, Kirke, Creevey, Thomas, Weasley and Weasley!” A roar went up from the scarlet clad end of the pitch. Ginny Weasley followed her brother, Ron, out onto the field as Seamus Finnegan shouted their names through the magical mega phone.
Ginny tried taking deep, calming breaths as the Gryffindor Quidditch team met Madam Hooch halfway down the field. Harry should be here, not her. No Seeker had ever beaten Draco Malfoy at a game of Quidditch, save for Harry Potter. Harry had declined the position, much to everyone’s dismay. His lifetime ban had been lifted, but he refused all the same. He had even tried to give Ginny his Firebolt.
“Absolutely not,” she had told Harry, her Weasley allergy to charity kicking in. He insisted that she at least borrow it for the season.
“No sense in a having a Firebolt lay around doing nothing.”
Ginny agreed to that, and now she gripped Harry’s Firebolt in her sweating palm as Katie Bell and Malfoy shook hands. Ginny didn’t understand it; she had never been this nervous before a match. On the hand, she had never played Malfoy. And he played dirty, everyone knew.
The two teams rose into the air, tensely waiting for Madam Hooch’s whistle. Ginny watched Malfoy’s movement, ready to mark him. Malfoy narrowed his eyes with intense dislike at the youngest Weasley. TWEEEET! The match began.
“Gryffindor in possession, Dennis Creevey zooming up the pitch! He’s going for a shot”LOOK OUT, BOY, THAT’S A BLUDGER!” Dennis barely got out of the bludger’s way in time. A Slytherin scooped up the Quaffle and streaked down the field to Ron.
Ginny shook her head to clear her thoughts and concentrated on looking for the Snitch. Barely twenty feet away from the Gryffindor Seeker was Malfoy.
“If it isn’t the Weaslette!” he called to her. “What’s that you’re riding, Weaslette? Could that be Potter’s broom? Too poor to buy your own?” Malfoy laughed cruelly at his jokes. Ginny ignored him, her jaw set, searching for the Snitch. She sped away from Malfoy, but he followed
“Is that why Potter decided not to show his face here? Because he felt bad for the poor Weaslette and decided to give up his broom?” Malfoy’s jokes were grinding Ginny’s temper. She curled one hand into a fist.
“I myself don’t get it. Potter should have handed the broom over to your brother. Merlin knows he could use the help.” He smirked as Ron failed a save.
Ginny turned around on her broom to glare at the Slytherin. “Shut it, Malfoy or I’ll hex you to next Wednesday! You know I can, ferret-boy.”
Smiling grimly to herself at the look on Malfoy’s face, Ginny went into a dive. She had seen it. The Snitch. Malfoy was right behind her, gaining. Ginny flattened herself against the Firebolt, just as she had seen Harry many times before. Letting go of the broom with both hands, she felt them close around a small, winged ball.
***
Ginny took a long time changing from her Quidditch robes to school robes, and even longer thinking. Everyone else had left; the pitch was deserted when Ginny finally left the locker rooms. It was a chilly November day, the clouds swirling threateningly overhead. Even more threatening was the boy leaning against a tree, waiting for Ginny.
“So Weaslette,” the boy drawled, “pretty proud of yourself, eh?” It was Malfoy. Ginny kept walking, her eyes forward. Malfoy followed after her, calling an incessant stream of insults at her.
“Maybe you and those brothers of yours should go back to that dump you came from.” Ignore him, she thought determinedly. “Yeah, all you Weasels, and Saint Potter and the Mudblood. No need to get excited Weaslette.” Ginny had turned around to face the pale-faced little ferret, her wand pointed between his eyes.
“You keep your shut about my friends,” Ginny growled, trying to be menacing. The six-inch height difference made that difficult. “And leave me alone.” Ginny turned on her heel, leaving Malfoy standing on the grounds, glaring after her.
Ginny stormed her way up to Gryffindor Tower, offending Sir Cadogan on the fourth floor when she refused a duel. Reaching the Fat Lady, she muttered the password (“Pollywogs”) and climbed through the portrait hole. The Gryffindor Common Room showed unmistakable signs of a recent party; Chocolate Frog wrappers littered the ground, someone had spilled a bag of Every Flavor Beans and a large banner bearing the Gryffindor lion (drawn by Dean Thomas, no doubt) was hung across one wall. It seemed that most everyone had gone off to bed. The room was empty but for two people in armchairs by the fire.
“He didn’t even come to the match, Ron,” Hermione was saying anxiously.
“Can you blame him, Hermione? He isn’t going to want to watch Ginny flying the broom from Sirius”“
“Harry needs to get out, with people. I’m getting really worried, Ron; he barely even talks to us anymore.” Ron didn’t argue with this, but merely gazed into the fire. The silence was broken by Ginny slamming the portrait behind her. Ron and Hermione jerked around.
“Where have you been?” Ron demanded. “I haven’t seen you since the match!”
“I was outside,” Ginny snapped angrily. “Is that a problem?” Ron raised his eyebrows at her response.
“Sorry, Gin. What’s the matter with you?” Ginny hung her cloak over an empty armchair and plopped into the seat between Ron and Hermione. Where Harry usually sat.
“Malfoy,” she sneered, and perfectly imitaded the Slytherin brat: “’Where’d you get the broom, Weasley? That thing costs a stack gold, you know. When was your family able to afford such luxuries? I thought your parents were on a hunger strike so they could afford to keep you out of the orphanage.’”
“Don’t let Malfoy get to you, Gin,” Hermione said consolingly. “He was just sore that you beat him.”
“Don’t worry, Ginny, we’ll keep an eye on him. We always do.” Ron grinned.
“Thanks, guys.” Ginny stood up, feeling better, “I guess I’ll go to bed now.” They bid her goodnight, and Ginny climbed the stairs to her dormitory.
One thing was odd when Ginny got beneath her sheets. Her window was open. She never left it open. Ginny climbed out of her four-poster and made to close the curtains. She hesitated, however, when she noticed a scrap of parchment lying on the sill. In green ink someone had written four words:
You flew beautifully today.
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Author’s Note: First fic! R&R! Please and thank you.