Disclaimer: I claim no right to the characters which inhabit this story, or the location where they are or almost anything except the story idea. The characters all belong to their rightful owners.
AN: italics will indicate either emphasizing a word, syllable, phrase or sentence OR will indicate thoughts of characters Most likely to be the latter.
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It was a stupid thing really, Ginny thought as she fell. Was that really the way to impress Harry, she asked herself scornfully.
If so, she’d botched it. Of course all the boys did it, maybe not during games as important as Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, but still, they did it. It was called Chicken, they’d let the bludger target them and wait as it came barreling toward them. They would wait until the last second, until everyone was sure they’d be hit. Then they’d display their Quidditch reflexes, executing swift dodges, or pulling up just as the bludger was a hairsbreadth away.
Harry was the current champion and she had wanted to show off for him. Ginny wanted him to see her, and experience the absolute terror she felt whenever he played the game. Then when she dodged he would realize, once his heart stopped trying to come out of his chest, exactly how deep his feeling were for her.
She’d lured a bludger up here, must be 70 feet up and she was ready to win his heart. She’d grimly watched the ball hurtling toward her, she experienced the ‘first stage’ as the Quidditch boys called it, the instinctual urge to dodge, pull up, just avoid the ball. She swallowed resolutely and watched almost impassively.
Harry shouted out a warning to her, her heart leapt, it was happening. After four long years, he was finally going to realize that the affection he had always harbored for her had somehow deepened into love. A moment of pure joy caught her, and then Harry’s voice jerked her from it. Like a deer in the headlights, she gazed numbly at the ball.
It hit with a sickening crack, and everything switched to slo-mo. She was hit right in the nose, and then the ball was off to pester another player. Both her hands went up to clasp her face and her knees, clutching the broom jiggled, her weight wobbled and she tipped ever so slightly to the left then slowly started to fall.
‘No one’s going to catch me,’ Ginny thought suddenly. It was too true, while every Gryffindor was currently streaking toward her, none of them were close enough to catch her. Maybe the grass’ll be soft,’ Ginny thought wildly. She screwed her eyes shut in order to avoid watching her descent. She was falling, falling. The ground would rear up and she’d soon come in contact with it. She could imagine the sound of her form colliding with the earth.
It was all over.
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Draco was waiting, waiting for the snitch.
While he gazed around, he found his gaze resting on a certain red-haired player. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her, willing himself to remember her name. It was on the tip of his tongue. Jenny, no…it was…Ginny. Ginny Weasley.
She was poised on her broom, concentrating on an object before her, a bludger that was hurtling toward her. At first he thought that she was frozen in shock and unable to react. Then it hit him. She was just being a Gryffindor; she was being ‘brave’ playing Chicken. How thick could those guys get?
Draco heard Harry call out the girl’s name. Her head jerked in Potter’s direction.
A sneer played on Draco’s lips. He should have known, ‘Showing off for dear Potter are we little Weasel?’ He taunted mentally, ‘If you can’t lure him in with the gold, the looks or the brains then hook ‘em with the guts.’
Draco had to admit though, that she had plenty of guts, most boys would have pulled up by now. He heard Potter call her again; with any luck, she’d be dating him by dinnertime. The idea of Potter having this girl as a girlfriend, just one more thing to torment him about, strangely didn’t excite Malfoy as much as he expected. Puzzled, he continued watching.
The bludger was now a foot from her. ‘Pull up,’ he urged her mentally, ‘Pull up.’ Wait, what the hell was wrong with him, he shouldn’t care, no he didn’t care what happened to Weasel’s baby sister.
The ball was inches from her face when Draco realized that she wasn’t going to dodge in time. At that exact moment, he spotted the snitch from the corner of his eye. It was hovering by the goal posts in the other direction entirely.
Yet something in Malfoy made him hesitate. He watched as if in slo-mo, the ball hitting the girl, her hands going up, the wobble, the fall. He looked for her team, they were all streaking toward her, but at the rate she was falling, they wouldn’t get to her in time.
He alone could save her. But the snitch! It danced by the goalposts. It was his for the plucking. Harry’s attention was solely on the girl as was the attention of everyone else. He could win the game for Slytherin. He could win it!
He hesitated, and as his mind whirred, his sight grew fuzzy, everything seemed to lose focus and recede into a dream-like state. Everything was out of focus, his team, Harry, the crowd, the snitch; his eyes traveled across the field and his attention was once again arrested by the falling girl. He blinked fiercely, while the rest of the world was blurred, that girl, she was as clear as ever. Weird. With a sigh, he kicked his broom into action.
He knew he would regret what he was about to do.
AN: italics will indicate either emphasizing a word, syllable, phrase or sentence OR will indicate thoughts of characters Most likely to be the latter.
--------
It was a stupid thing really, Ginny thought as she fell. Was that really the way to impress Harry, she asked herself scornfully.
If so, she’d botched it. Of course all the boys did it, maybe not during games as important as Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, but still, they did it. It was called Chicken, they’d let the bludger target them and wait as it came barreling toward them. They would wait until the last second, until everyone was sure they’d be hit. Then they’d display their Quidditch reflexes, executing swift dodges, or pulling up just as the bludger was a hairsbreadth away.
Harry was the current champion and she had wanted to show off for him. Ginny wanted him to see her, and experience the absolute terror she felt whenever he played the game. Then when she dodged he would realize, once his heart stopped trying to come out of his chest, exactly how deep his feeling were for her.
She’d lured a bludger up here, must be 70 feet up and she was ready to win his heart. She’d grimly watched the ball hurtling toward her, she experienced the ‘first stage’ as the Quidditch boys called it, the instinctual urge to dodge, pull up, just avoid the ball. She swallowed resolutely and watched almost impassively.
Harry shouted out a warning to her, her heart leapt, it was happening. After four long years, he was finally going to realize that the affection he had always harbored for her had somehow deepened into love. A moment of pure joy caught her, and then Harry’s voice jerked her from it. Like a deer in the headlights, she gazed numbly at the ball.
It hit with a sickening crack, and everything switched to slo-mo. She was hit right in the nose, and then the ball was off to pester another player. Both her hands went up to clasp her face and her knees, clutching the broom jiggled, her weight wobbled and she tipped ever so slightly to the left then slowly started to fall.
‘No one’s going to catch me,’ Ginny thought suddenly. It was too true, while every Gryffindor was currently streaking toward her, none of them were close enough to catch her. Maybe the grass’ll be soft,’ Ginny thought wildly. She screwed her eyes shut in order to avoid watching her descent. She was falling, falling. The ground would rear up and she’d soon come in contact with it. She could imagine the sound of her form colliding with the earth.
It was all over.
---------
Draco was waiting, waiting for the snitch.
While he gazed around, he found his gaze resting on a certain red-haired player. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her, willing himself to remember her name. It was on the tip of his tongue. Jenny, no…it was…Ginny. Ginny Weasley.
She was poised on her broom, concentrating on an object before her, a bludger that was hurtling toward her. At first he thought that she was frozen in shock and unable to react. Then it hit him. She was just being a Gryffindor; she was being ‘brave’ playing Chicken. How thick could those guys get?
Draco heard Harry call out the girl’s name. Her head jerked in Potter’s direction.
A sneer played on Draco’s lips. He should have known, ‘Showing off for dear Potter are we little Weasel?’ He taunted mentally, ‘If you can’t lure him in with the gold, the looks or the brains then hook ‘em with the guts.’
Draco had to admit though, that she had plenty of guts, most boys would have pulled up by now. He heard Potter call her again; with any luck, she’d be dating him by dinnertime. The idea of Potter having this girl as a girlfriend, just one more thing to torment him about, strangely didn’t excite Malfoy as much as he expected. Puzzled, he continued watching.
The bludger was now a foot from her. ‘Pull up,’ he urged her mentally, ‘Pull up.’ Wait, what the hell was wrong with him, he shouldn’t care, no he didn’t care what happened to Weasel’s baby sister.
The ball was inches from her face when Draco realized that she wasn’t going to dodge in time. At that exact moment, he spotted the snitch from the corner of his eye. It was hovering by the goal posts in the other direction entirely.
Yet something in Malfoy made him hesitate. He watched as if in slo-mo, the ball hitting the girl, her hands going up, the wobble, the fall. He looked for her team, they were all streaking toward her, but at the rate she was falling, they wouldn’t get to her in time.
He alone could save her. But the snitch! It danced by the goalposts. It was his for the plucking. Harry’s attention was solely on the girl as was the attention of everyone else. He could win the game for Slytherin. He could win it!
He hesitated, and as his mind whirred, his sight grew fuzzy, everything seemed to lose focus and recede into a dream-like state. Everything was out of focus, his team, Harry, the crowd, the snitch; his eyes traveled across the field and his attention was once again arrested by the falling girl. He blinked fiercely, while the rest of the world was blurred, that girl, she was as clear as ever. Weird. With a sigh, he kicked his broom into action.
He knew he would regret what he was about to do.
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