Here We Go Again
Here We Go Again
The rain was literally pounding on Grace Lean’s head as she soared higher and higher towards the clouds. Each thick drop felt like it would leave a massive lump under her sopping wet bark-brown hair. But still, she’d have to fight it off if she wanted to find the snitch.
Today was Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor, and Grace wasn’t about to let her fellow Hufflepuffs down. Even if she had a little more to worry about than the rain.
After a horrific break-up with Gryffindor beater Fred Weasley, Grace had fallen into the arms of the team’s keeper, Oliver Wood. While Oliver had always been a good friend, he quickly turned into something more when he saw how Fred’s departure had torn through Grace like this biting, chilling rain. He helped her pick up the metaphorical pieces to her broken heart, and even helped her with some new broom flying techniques to keep her mind off things. Just now she was trying a duck-and-bob move Oliver had shown her to deal with the gusting winds. Meters below her, Grace almost thought she saw Oliver give her an approving wink. She was hoping the snitch didn’t end up near him. If anything could take her eyes away from the glittering, flitting ball it was Oliver’s sparkling sienna eyes.
Gryffindor’s seeker, Harry Potter, was not too far away from Grace- looking as lost as she was in the rain. This game didn’t seem like it’d be ending any time soon- maybe her luck would be better served returning to the action and seeing if the snitch was down there.
As she lowered herself closer to the earth, the excited cheers from the stands and the warmness of the pitch returned to Grace. It was then that she heard Lee Jordan’s voice over the magic megaphone:
“And here comes Grace Lean back into view- apparently still searching for that fleeting snitch. But that may not be the only thing Grace is looking for... Word in the pitch is that the seemingly-squeaky-clean Miss Lean is trapped in a bit of a love triangle between her former beau Fred Weasley and her new alleged flame, Gryffindor’s keeper Oliver Wood. ‘Ay Olly, no letting quaffles sneak by on her account! Gryffindor won’t be happy with a loss just because you want a snog!”
“Jordan!” shrieked the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall just before the noise cut off. Grace’s heart nearly stopped.
The cheers in the stands quickly turned to whispers and sniggering. Frozen on her broom, Grace’s head turned to lock eyes with Oliver, who looked equally as shocked.
Unfortunately, with the pair’s attention on each other, both of them failed to notice Fred falling out of rank.
“Oy! What are you doing!” Alicia Spinnet yelled as Fred dashed away from her right flank and an approaching Hufflepuff chaser. Alicia was knocked clear off her path and the quaffle was stripped from her hands, drawing the crowds attention back to the match in a series of “ooooh’s.”
Oliver’s head rifled back towards the action. “Fred! Are you bloody mad?? Get back in position!”
But Fred wasn’t paying the slightest bit attention to his captain. His eyes, malicious and angry, were set on Grace- a bludger pulsating in his open hand.
Grace didn’t recognize what was happening until it was too late. The only clue she had was the color draining from Oliver’s face, his eyes filled with terror, as he shouted as loud as he could, “Fred, no!”
Crack! The bludger hit Grace square in the chest, knocking the air out of her lungs and sending her clear off her broom. As the pitch became a free-falling blur of browns and greens and reds and yellows, Grace scrambled helplessly in the air before hitting the dirt with a resounding and finalizing thump. Then, everything, even the throbbing pain shaking her ribs, faded to black...
****
When Grace awoke with a sputtering cough, she didn’t feel the cold, hard-hitting rain or the rough, lumpy earth under her back. Instead, the warmth of a soft blanket and the sterile smell of the infirmary brought her back into consciousness- along with soft, steady breathing near her.
When she stirred, that breathing caught and a crackly, tired voice asked “Grace! How do you feel?”
“Sore.” She answered. “Very, very, very, very, very sore. What happened, Oliver?”
Grace opened her eyes and let them focus again on Oliver’s baby face, smooth cheeks still reddened from spending hours in the inclement weather.
“It was chaos.” He grumbled in his Scottish way. “As soon as Lee finished making an arse of himself, Fred went ballistic. I’ve never seen someone throw a bludger so damn hard.” His fist clenched around the broom- Grace’s broom- he was holding over his lap. “If I had been just a little faster I could have caught you. As soon as you hit the ground I was there. Madame Hooch was too busy going crazy over Fred throwing every foul in the book at him. George and Alicia were trying to tag-team defend the goal while I was on the ground with you, and in the thick of it all everyone missed the fact that Harry had gone and caught the snitch right as Fred was about to beat you senseless. The game was over.”
“Wow.”
“I’m so sorry, Grace.”
“Why on earth are you sorry? You weren’t the one who obliterated my lung cavity with a bludger. Besides, your team won.”
“Yeah, well, I never would have wanted a win that way.” He grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his filthy robes. Grace gave him a warming smile.
“Thank you for being, Oliver. It means the world to me.”
He softened at her gentle words. “Of course. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else right now.”
“Now come on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Give me my broom. I hope the rain has stopped...”
“Are you honestly suggesting that you crawl out of bed and go practice Quidditch right now?!”
“Absolutely!” Grace answered. “Hufflepuff versus Slytherin is in a couple of weeks and if we have any hope of getting back in this thing we need a convincing win. Follow me.” As Grace propped herself up in bed, Oliver, in utter disbelief that somebody had a stronger will to play Quidditch than he did, rolled his eyes.
“Here we go again...”
Today was Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor, and Grace wasn’t about to let her fellow Hufflepuffs down. Even if she had a little more to worry about than the rain.
After a horrific break-up with Gryffindor beater Fred Weasley, Grace had fallen into the arms of the team’s keeper, Oliver Wood. While Oliver had always been a good friend, he quickly turned into something more when he saw how Fred’s departure had torn through Grace like this biting, chilling rain. He helped her pick up the metaphorical pieces to her broken heart, and even helped her with some new broom flying techniques to keep her mind off things. Just now she was trying a duck-and-bob move Oliver had shown her to deal with the gusting winds. Meters below her, Grace almost thought she saw Oliver give her an approving wink. She was hoping the snitch didn’t end up near him. If anything could take her eyes away from the glittering, flitting ball it was Oliver’s sparkling sienna eyes.
Gryffindor’s seeker, Harry Potter, was not too far away from Grace- looking as lost as she was in the rain. This game didn’t seem like it’d be ending any time soon- maybe her luck would be better served returning to the action and seeing if the snitch was down there.
As she lowered herself closer to the earth, the excited cheers from the stands and the warmness of the pitch returned to Grace. It was then that she heard Lee Jordan’s voice over the magic megaphone:
“And here comes Grace Lean back into view- apparently still searching for that fleeting snitch. But that may not be the only thing Grace is looking for... Word in the pitch is that the seemingly-squeaky-clean Miss Lean is trapped in a bit of a love triangle between her former beau Fred Weasley and her new alleged flame, Gryffindor’s keeper Oliver Wood. ‘Ay Olly, no letting quaffles sneak by on her account! Gryffindor won’t be happy with a loss just because you want a snog!”
“Jordan!” shrieked the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall just before the noise cut off. Grace’s heart nearly stopped.
The cheers in the stands quickly turned to whispers and sniggering. Frozen on her broom, Grace’s head turned to lock eyes with Oliver, who looked equally as shocked.
Unfortunately, with the pair’s attention on each other, both of them failed to notice Fred falling out of rank.
“Oy! What are you doing!” Alicia Spinnet yelled as Fred dashed away from her right flank and an approaching Hufflepuff chaser. Alicia was knocked clear off her path and the quaffle was stripped from her hands, drawing the crowds attention back to the match in a series of “ooooh’s.”
Oliver’s head rifled back towards the action. “Fred! Are you bloody mad?? Get back in position!”
But Fred wasn’t paying the slightest bit attention to his captain. His eyes, malicious and angry, were set on Grace- a bludger pulsating in his open hand.
Grace didn’t recognize what was happening until it was too late. The only clue she had was the color draining from Oliver’s face, his eyes filled with terror, as he shouted as loud as he could, “Fred, no!”
Crack! The bludger hit Grace square in the chest, knocking the air out of her lungs and sending her clear off her broom. As the pitch became a free-falling blur of browns and greens and reds and yellows, Grace scrambled helplessly in the air before hitting the dirt with a resounding and finalizing thump. Then, everything, even the throbbing pain shaking her ribs, faded to black...
****
When Grace awoke with a sputtering cough, she didn’t feel the cold, hard-hitting rain or the rough, lumpy earth under her back. Instead, the warmth of a soft blanket and the sterile smell of the infirmary brought her back into consciousness- along with soft, steady breathing near her.
When she stirred, that breathing caught and a crackly, tired voice asked “Grace! How do you feel?”
“Sore.” She answered. “Very, very, very, very, very sore. What happened, Oliver?”
Grace opened her eyes and let them focus again on Oliver’s baby face, smooth cheeks still reddened from spending hours in the inclement weather.
“It was chaos.” He grumbled in his Scottish way. “As soon as Lee finished making an arse of himself, Fred went ballistic. I’ve never seen someone throw a bludger so damn hard.” His fist clenched around the broom- Grace’s broom- he was holding over his lap. “If I had been just a little faster I could have caught you. As soon as you hit the ground I was there. Madame Hooch was too busy going crazy over Fred throwing every foul in the book at him. George and Alicia were trying to tag-team defend the goal while I was on the ground with you, and in the thick of it all everyone missed the fact that Harry had gone and caught the snitch right as Fred was about to beat you senseless. The game was over.”
“Wow.”
“I’m so sorry, Grace.”
“Why on earth are you sorry? You weren’t the one who obliterated my lung cavity with a bludger. Besides, your team won.”
“Yeah, well, I never would have wanted a win that way.” He grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his filthy robes. Grace gave him a warming smile.
“Thank you for being, Oliver. It means the world to me.”
He softened at her gentle words. “Of course. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else right now.”
“Now come on.”
“Excuse me?”
“Give me my broom. I hope the rain has stopped...”
“Are you honestly suggesting that you crawl out of bed and go practice Quidditch right now?!”
“Absolutely!” Grace answered. “Hufflepuff versus Slytherin is in a couple of weeks and if we have any hope of getting back in this thing we need a convincing win. Follow me.” As Grace propped herself up in bed, Oliver, in utter disbelief that somebody had a stronger will to play Quidditch than he did, rolled his eyes.
“Here we go again...”