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The Match


Regulus was fastening the cloak of his Quidditch uniform ‘round his neck, his heart in his throat. Outside, there was a light snow starting, and he tugged on a pair of dragon skin gloves as the new Slytherin team captain, Antonin Dolohov, led the lot of them out onto the pitch. “Remember,” he said to Regulus, “You catch that snitch whatever it takes, knock that Meg Johnson off her broom if that’s what it takes to get it. I want to beat Potter so bloody bad I can taste it. Get him and his little mates back for what they’ve done to Rosier.”

Regulus nodded, clutching his broomstick.

“Goes for you, too,” he added, looking back at McNair and Carrow, the two Slytherin beaters. “Blast your ruddy bludgers right through him if you can!”

“My pleasure,” hissed Carrow, grinning evilly as he spit into his hand and rubbed his palms together to increase his grip on his broomstick.

Regulus shivered as a snowflake fell upon his nose as they walked across the field. The stadium was split nearly equally between red and gold supporters and green and silver. Half the crowd cheered and half booed as the Slytherins took to their brooms, flying up to meet Madam Hooch at the center of the pitch. They were quickly followed by the Gryffindors. Dolohov and Potter shook hands at Madam Hooch’s command, James adjusting his glasses with his middle finger as he approached, and Dolohov shook James’s hand with a grip that nearly snapped his fingers in half.

Hooch blew the whistle and tossed the quaffle and the game began with James zipping forward on his broom and catching the red ball from the sky before doing a literal circle around Dolohov and streaking along down the pitch. Regulus looked over at Meg Johnson on her broom as they both flew into the sky after the snitch, which glimmered brightly for a moment high over the pitch before it disappeared into the cloud cover and hey came to a halt high above the action. Meg hovered on her broom there, watching from on high while Regulus brought his back down, closer to the action.

Over the pitch came Jackson Maw’s voice as he described the game play-by-play. “McNair sends a bludger for Potter - Potter ducks it - tosses the quaffle to Prewitt, Prewitt with the quaffle, Prewitt with the quaffle -- good block by Longbottom! Prewitt to Dodge, Dodge ‘rounds Carrow - narrowly avoids that bludger from Carrow… Clement lobs the bludger back at McNair… Dodge fires the quaffle! ...Nooo, blocked by Dolohov… now Avery with the quaffle… Clement sends a bludger Avery’s way - blocked by McNair… OOOOOHhhhhhhh that’s had to hurt!”

On the field, Walden McNair had just blasted James in the shoulder with the bludger so hard that James had been thrown off course of trying to steal the quaffle from Germaine Avery. Half the stadium erupted in disapproving boos. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Gryffindor was awarded a penalty shot on the net. Dolohov and Potter faced one another as Madam Hooch handed James the quaffle for his shot and he flew like lightning toward Dolohov’s rings, faking toward the left only to attempt to sink the quaffle through the right at the last second, but he missed on account of his shoulder hurting more than he realized and he’d under compensated for it and the quaffle missed.

James spun a few tight, frustrated circles on his broom.

“Pleeeeease,” whispered Sirius, “Please let Gryffindor win. Please.” He was worried about Jame’s self-esteem if the team lost his first game.

Lily was leaning forward in her seat with both of her fingers crossed as she watched, biting her lip.

“It’s Jackson with the quaffle now, headed for the rings - Pennial prepares himself… Jackson shoots… and Slytherin’s on the board, 10-zip, Slytherin!”

James looked really even more frustrated and did a loop-de-loop as the lot of them regrouped to face off once more. He stared into Germaine Avery’s eyes in the face-off and Avery grinned evilly back at him.

If the one bludger had been a dirty move, there were loads more. McNair and Carrow were vicious beaters, they swung the bats with a ferocity that James had never seen prior beaters have. The bludgers were sailing about, and it got increasingly harder to dodge them the faster they were being sent about from the end of their beaters bats. James clutched his broom and yelled encouragement to his team, even as Slytherin sank another goal.

The determination on James’s face at the next face off was intense. The moment the ball was in the air, he grabbed hold on it and flew nearly directly at Germaine Avery, knocking him off course and shooting along down the pitch with purpose with the quaffle, dodging the bludgers with some of his fancy broom-handling, flipping himself up in loop-de-loops and spirals until he’d reached the posts and he flew very nearly into Dolohov, pulling roughly up on the broomstick at the absolute last moment before he would’ve slammed into the Slytherin Captain and Keeper, throwing him off guard, and spinning right over in a tight knot before pitching the quaffle through the center ring, right over Dolohov’s face.

He grinned as the stands went wild - even some of the Ravenclaws toting green and silver signage had to clap in respect for the precise skills it took to move like that on a broomstick. James smirked and went back down the length of the pitch.

James sank another two goals that way in the next five minutes and Dolohov was getting right pissed about it.

The moment the whistle blew, McNair swept his beaters’ bat violently through the sky and send the bludger directly into the face of Tobias Clement. It was with an explosion of blood and a grunt of pain that Tobias fell from his broom.

Arresto momentum!” James cried, drawing his wand speedily form within his robes, the spell catching Tobias only feet from the ground. He glared at the other team, “Playing a bit dirty, aren’t we?” he sneered, glaring at Antonin Dolohov in disapproval.

“Sore sportsmanship, Potter?” demanded Dolohov.

“Bludger to the face is hardly a fair play,” Ali Prewitt snapped.

And Madam Hooch agreed, of course, so that Clement was awarded a penalty shot… but his face had instantly swollen up so that he had a hard time seeing and James assigned Ali Prewitt to taking the shot for him, which Madam Hooch allowed, and they watched breathlessly as Ali took the quaffle, stared Dolohov down, and shot across the pitch, fire in her eyes.

Gryffindor were in the lead then!

The violent, dirty plays continued - even got worse as Gryffindor continued to add points playing clean. James made a point to remind his team to play honest multiple times, shouting to Frank and Tobias from down the pitch when they looked ready to fling their bats at McNair and Carrow, and reminding Ali that it did no good to call Goyle names. Alabaster Jackson was the only one playing good quidditch (other than Regulus, who was busy seeking and not involved in most of the plays, of course) and he kept looking over at James with an apology in his eyes with each cheap shot and terrible blow the Slytherins served.

Then it happened. Far up in the sky, Meg Johnson suddenly switched direction, shooting very nearly straight downward. Regulus, lower to the ground than Meg, quickly looked the direction she was aiming and saw it - the glint of gold. He turned his broom with a violent jolt and shot downwards as well, ahead of Meg by several yards.

“MISS IT!!!!!!!” Sirius hollered, seeing his brother’s arm reaching out for the snitch and feeling a twist of horrible disapproval in his stomach.

But Regulus didn’t miss it. He caught the snitch smoothly, his fingers wrapping about the little golden ball so that it’s wings stuck out between his fingers and just like that -- the game was over, the Slytherins had won, and Meg Johnson cursed, pulling up before she rammed into the back of Regulus Black.

Jams landed his broom on the pitch, looking quite pale and sick as he stumbled to a stop, followed by the rest of the battered Gryffindor team, who had flown and played their very hardest against the terrible dirty plays of the Slytherins.

“If they wanna win that way, then let them have at it, I say,” muttered Frank Longbottom to James, shaking his head, watching as the Slytherin team descended upon Regulus Black with a good deal of merriment and cheering, lifting Regulus up on their shoulders and chanting his name.

“Little bastard,” muttered Sirius in the crowds, glaring down at his brother with a dark shadow across his eyes.

Lily looked devastated as she stared down at the pitch.

“Poor James,” muttered Peter.

James’s shoulders were slumped and they watched as Frank Longbottom patted James’s back reassuringly, and the team gathered about him before they all went off into the locker room together, leaving the Slytherins to celebrate. Sirius’s fists were balled as they went down the steps to the grounds, and he said, “I’m going to go see Moony, I think I might punch my brother if I saw him right now and I don’t need another detention, I’ve already got one with Minnie for charming the suits of armor again.”

“Bye,” Peter said and he and Lily watched as Sirius marched off toward the Whomping Willow.

Peter looked up at the castle, “You wanna go get dinner?”

Lily shrugged, “I thought we could wait for James and cheer him up when he comes out of the locker room…”

Peter looked at the pitch, then back to the castle. He was starving. “Well, we’ll see him at dinner, too, won’t we? We could just cheer him up there.”

“I suppose,” Lily said.

“Well. I’m going to go to dinner anyway,” Peter said. “I feel a bit faint. I haven’t eaten in --” he did quick math, realized it’d only been two hours, and said, sheepishly, “A while.” He waved Lily off and ran up the path toward the castle, his fists deep in his pockets against the cold as snowflakes started falling from the sky.

Lily watched him go.

She walked down closer to the locker room doors and leaned against the wall of the clubhouse, waiting for the teams to come out. Slytherin came out first and they ran off across the grounds, cheering and chanting revelries still, carrying Regulus Black up on their shoulders again, singing his praises as they went. She shifted uneasily, trying to stay inconspicuous, and was glad when none of them noticed her there.

Then the Gryffindor team started to come out in small clusters. Frank and Ali were holding hands and Meg stormed across the grounds with her head down and a scowl on her face. Nigel Pennial and Tobias Clement and Ellen Dodge all came out together, talking and discussing how much they’d like to blast a bludger to McNair’s face… Lily caught Ellen Dodge’s arm before they could get too far. “Is James still in there?”

Ellen sighed, “Yeah. He’s really frustrated. We tried to get him to come along with us, but he said he wanted to be alone.”

“Oh,” Lily said.

“You want to walk up to the castle with us?” Ellen offered.

Lily shook her head. “I’m going to wait for James.”

“Alright.” The three of them went off across the grounds to the castle.

Lily stood facing the clubhouse door a moment, then took a deep breath and let herself inside. Madam Hooch was just picking up her things to go when Lily walked in. She looked up and smiled, “Hello Miss. Evans.”

“Hey…” Lily said, “Just… looking for Potter.”

Madam Hooch pointed in the way of the Gryffindor locker room. “Taking the loss hard, Miss. Evans, I’d be gentle.” Madam Hooch turned and slipped out the door of the clubhouse.

Lily stepped into the familiar locker room and she felt a jolt of nostalgia, missing the rush of being in here, preparing for a game and the heady feeling of winning. She ran her fingers over the school-issued broom sticks as she walked past them, and paused to smile at her old locker. She rounded the corner and came to the open space where the team went over plays before going out onto the field and there was James, sitting on the bench before the chalkboard that contained Derek Bell’s last play, bent forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his messy black hair hanging over his forehead. He had his glasses off, held by the arm in one hand as he covered his face and sat there, silent and unmoving.

Lily walked slowly across the room. He looked up for a moment as she stepped around the front of him and sank down so she was straddling the bench, facing him. He leaned back down. She was quiet a moment, letting him get used to her presence, then he said, “You played a good game.”

“We lost, Evans, dunno if you noticed.”

“Regardless, you played a good game,” she said. “You played fair, which is more than the Slytherin lot can say.”

James closed his eyes.

“I know you hate losing, Potter, but it’s more important that you didn’t sink to their level. You took the high road and - and that doesn’t always pay off in the little ways, but it pays off in other ways…” she reached out a tentative hand and put it on his shoulder, “I heard a lot of people talking about how ruddy amazing you were. You did some really spectacular plays out there! That one goal you sank, flying at Dolohov like a steam engine! James, it was breathtaking broom handling you did. Everyone was amazed.”

He opened his eyes and stared at his trainers a moment, then turned his face to look at her blearily, still holding his glasses. She was a pretty blur, he thought. He sat up, “Why did you call me James?”

Lily flushed. She hadn’t realized she’d done it. “Sorry,” she said.

“No, I don’t mind, I just -- you’ve done it a couple times now and… you never call me James.”

Lily shrugged.

James stared at her, and his big brown eyes were all wide and wonderful as he did. She felt that pang in her stomach again, the one that she’d felt that day in the hall outside Dumbledore’s office. “No reason,” she murmured. “I… I suppose it just comes out sometimes since it’s your name and all.”

“Right.” James looked back to his trainers.

Lily felt herself breathe in relief. His eyes were too much to resist sometimes and she was terrified what would happen if she lost herself in them… if she kissed him by accident… She looked away, too, toward the play on the wall.

James looked over and saw her staring up at it. “I want to be great like him,” he said suddenly.

“Like Derek Bell?” Lily asked.

James nodded, jamming his glasses back on his nose so he could see. “He was brilliant. He knew how to be a Captain without being bossy and he built people up. Always knew what to say out on the pitch to build your spirit, remember? You’ve got this Potter, you can do it Potter, I believe in you Potter.” James stared at Derek’s handwriting on the board. He shook his head and looked down at the floor once again, “I’d do anything to be as great as he was.”

“You will be.”

James shook his head, “I’m not so sure.”

Lily gently nudged his shoulder, “C’mon. Where’s that ego?”

“Bit smashed at the moment.”

Lily stared at him.

He looked over, “What? Can’t you believe that the great James Potter’s got a bit of a vulnerable side?” he laughed. “You look bloody stunned.”

“You don’t let it show. Ever.”

“Of course I don’t. You ever go around showing off your weaknesses?”

Lily shook her head.

James ran a hand through his hair, “Well, there you have it, Evans. My weakness. I worry that I’m not good enough. I worry it all the time.”

“You’re good enough, James.”

He looked over at her. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her.

Lily stared back.

The moment seemed to stretch for centuries, though it was only a few very long seconds. James felt as though everything inside him had ground to a halt and he wondered what she was thinking - why she would say he was good enough when he knew if he asked her out right now she’d say no. The funny thing was, she was sitting there staring back, everything inside her spinning out of control and mentally begging him to please, ask her out now, do the thing you always do -- she’d say yes if he did, she told herself. She’d let go of all the hesitation, all the doubts… She’d shove out that little echo of Severus Snape’s voice telling her that James Potter was no good… the one that always kept her from taking that leap into him…

He stood up without saying a word and he held out his hand to her.

She gave it to him and he pulled her to her feet.

They stood there… staring at each other…

“We should… go… up to the castle,” James mumbled finally. He knew if he kept staring at her he’d kiss her and despite all the energy streaming between them just now, he wasn’t sure if it was all just in his head or whether it was real and she’d have to be the one to make the first move because he didn’t trust himself to do it, afraid of the reaction that might come if he tried to… afraid of being rejected on top of the loss on the pitch.

After all, she’d rejected her stag in the woods.

Of course she’d reject James Potter in the locker room.

Lily nodded, dazed, and she followed him as he led the way off onto the grounds.

It was snowing harder now, great fluffs of white spiraling from the sky and Lily stood, staring up at it as James locked up the clubhouse before jogging over to her. She looked at him, “Winter’s coming.”

“Yeah,” he said, “Feels like it’s bleedin’ here already. Can you believe it? Nearly Christmas already again.”

“Yeah.” She looked up at him. “What do you want for Christmas, Potter?”

James shrugged, “Dunno. Nothing galleons could buy.” He looked down at her, “You?”

Lily shook her head, “I’m pretty happy right now.”

“Well. Good.”

“Maybe a warm jumper,” she laughed. “It’s freezing out here.”

Without hesitation, he took off his jumper and put it ‘round her shoulders, “Here you are, Evans,” he said, and he rubbed her arm to warm her as he led her up toward the castle along the path.