FIC: Birds or Blokes (3/4) by quidditchmum
To: st_dl
Title: Birds or Blokes Chapter Three: Practice, Pranks and Parties
Author/Artist: quidditchmum
Pairing: Harry/Ginny, Gwenog/?
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,600 this chapter/9,900 total
Summary: A championship run has sent Holyhead Harpies captain Gwenog Jones a bit off her nut and her teammates and their loved ones are paying the price. Harry and Ginny plot and scheme to teach Gwenog that there is more to life than quidditch but may be in for a surprise or two themselves.
Author/Artist's Notes: st_dl , I managed to work in a couple of your prompts - a secret spilled while drinking at The Leaky and something goes completely wrong. Thanks again to r_becca for fixing my boo-boos and for your helpful suggestions. Now that “The Plan” is out of the bag, I must credit stmargarets for some inspiration. I was struck with the idea that Gwenog really needed to get laid while reading A Time to Remember.
Birds or Blokes
Chapter Three
Practice, Pranks and Parties
Ginny got an owl off to George before breakfast and she had his suggestions and supplies in hand by lunchtime. She had told George that she wanted the pranks to address the problems at hand - too much practice and an unsatisfactory living situation. When she examined his ideas, her heart welled up with affection for her favorite one-eared brother. He had delivered in spades.
It took some stealth and finagling on Ginny’s part but she managed to switch out Gwenog’s whistle with the one George had provided just in time for the afternoon practice, the second of the day.
The already weary Harpies gathered on the pitch to await Gwenog’s instructions.
“Ladies, group off in threes and line up at the endline,” Gwenog bellowed. “On my whistle we will fly figure eights with the quaffle, one group at a time.”
Ginny didn’t understand why Gwenog was making them run such basic drills so close to the playoffs. They should be fine-tuning tactics and working on plays to exploit their upcoming opponent’s weaknesses, not running the most basic drills.
Ginny and Hadley exchanged looks as they lined up with Sharolta, the other starting chaser and awaited the whistle in more ways than one.
Gwenog put the whistle to her lips and blew. Instead of the shrill noise they were expecting, a dozen faeries sprung forth from her whistle and began an intricate dance around her head.
Seemingly nonplussed, Gwenog calmly banished the faeries away with her wand and gave it another go. The team began to snicker when her second attempt produced bubbles instead of a whistle. Ginny’s team was still on the line waiting for their starting signal. On the third attempt, Gwenog’s mouth and nose were transfigured into a duckbill. There was no fourth attempt, as a duck can’t really blow a whistle. By this time, the whole team was in hysterics and was finding it difficult to stay on their brooms. When Gwenog tried to speak and quacked instead, she calmly flew to the ground and made her way to the locker room.
It took a few minutes for the laughter to die down. Gwenog had been unable to give them instructions before she left the pitch so they looked around, not exactly sure what to do.
They hadn’t been dismissed so Ginny figured that if they had to be out there again, they might as well be doing something useful that might help them on Sunday.
After a moment of silence Ginny spoke. “Okay, we know from the scouting reports and our regular season matches that we outmatch the Cannons speed-wise. Their keeper is most vulnerable on his left side. Their beaters are strong and will likely bring it to us. Chasers, we need to be prepared to take some hits and beaters you need to come ready to mix it up. Let’s scrimmage starters against reserves but I want to put an extra bludger in play and an extra beater for the reserves. Starters, let’s try to incorporate that play that worked so well against Falmouth where we sprung Hadley up the left side early on the inbounds.”
An hour passed before Gwenog was able to break the charm and lose her beak. When she returned to the pitch she quietly observed as Ginny Potter directed an inter-squad scrimmage occasionally stopping to discuss strategy amongst the team.
After a watching for a few minutes she blew the new whistle she had procured in the locker room and dismissed the team for the day without mentioning the prank at all.
“Lovely practice, Ginny,” said Hadley and then in a quieter voice she added “and the prank was brilliant.”
“Not exactly the response I was expecting, but it was brilliant wasn’t it? George is a genius.”
The afternoon following the whistle prank, Ginny and Hadley left the dining hall after lunch with their arms linked and their heads together whispering conspiratorially.
“That wasn’t awkward at all,” deadpanned Hadley.
“Shut it!” Ginny scowled and then laughed. “Could that have gone any worse?”
Their attempt to get an answer to the bird or blokes question from Gwenog had been, in a word, a disaster. She seemed surprised when they joined her for lunch as she generally dined alone or with the team Mediwizard. Ginny had started out strong by telling her they thought it would foster team bonding if they got to know one another better and it went downhill from there, fast.
“The look on Gwenog’s face when you asked her if she thought the assumption that the majority of female quidditch players prefer witches was a fair stereotype,” Ginny said.
Hadley jabbed her in the stomach. “Well your attempt to find out if she had a favorite male body part was clumsy at best. For someone who’s usually so smooth, you certainly bollixed that up.”
“What can I say, the woman makes me nervous and when I get nervous I either clam up altogether or chatter incessantly, so I chattered incessantly.”
“Did she even answer my question about if she was stranded on a deserted island and could only take one person with her who would it be?” Hadley asked.
“Actually I don’t think she spoke at all,” Ginny said as they continued walking towards the pitch. “She just looked at us like she was weary of dealing with petulant children.”
“I know that look.” Hadley grimaced.
“I guess the aurors won’t be requiring our interrogation skills anytime soon.”
“Maybe we could get her drunk.”
“There’s no chance of that until the post-match party and by then the plan should already be unfolding,” Ginny said. “We’ll just have to stick to it and have one of each. How’s that coming on your end?”
“The bird is all lined up. She’ll attend the match with Ewan and meet up with us at the pub after the match.”
“Who is it?” Ginny asked but spoke again before Hadley could answer. “You know what, I don’t really want to know. As long as she is attractive, willing and able.”
“We’re good then. How’s Harry coming on his end?”
“I’ve got an appointment with him in the broomshed at midnight,” Ginny smiled wickedly. “I’ll get an update then.”
“Mind you don’t get so caught up in shagging Harry that you forget the plan.”
“I have every intention of shagging Harry rotten, but I won’t forget.”
By that time they had reached the center of the pitch where they were scheduled to meet the mind healer for a team bonding exercise. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, but not too warm. If they hadn’t already had a grueling practice that morning, Ginny would be looking forward to spending the afternoon on the pitch.
She had to begrudgingly admit that the mind healer wasn’t a total tosser. True, most of the team bonding activities had been a bit ridiculous, but the pocket pensieve filled with positive memories from each of her teammates was brilliant. It was like watching one of those programs Ron liked to watch on Hermione’s muggle twelly of all the best sports plays, except they were all of her as seen from the perspective of those who played alongside her. It was enlightening to see how her teammates perceived her play and watching it did make her feel like a bloody good quidditch player. It almost made up for having to hold hands after dinner last night, look each player in the eye and tell them what she liked most about them. Seriously, what could she possibly say about her spectacularly annoying roommate Alex, who went to bed drooling over a poster of her husband every night - that she had good taste in men?
Apparently, the ridiculous had taken a turn to the downright insane this afternoon.
“The cornerstone to any successful team is trust,” the mind healer whose name Ginny could never seem to remember addressed the team. “The chasers and seeker must trust that the beaters will be there to protect them from the bludgers. The keeper must trust the other players on the field to contribute to team defense and protect the goal from being overexposed. The team must trust the seeker to be aware of what’s happening in the match without losing focus on tracking the snitch. Without trust there is no team.”
“I trust that if she doesn’t get on with this I’m going to fall asleep standing up,” Ginny whispered and garnered snickers from her teammates that were standing close by.
“Today’s team bonding drill will allow you to demonstrate the trust that you have in your fellow Harpies,” the healer continued. “All players are to take to the air in a standard formation. In turn, one player will ascend 50 meters over the center of the pitch and on my signal will dismount her broom, trusting her teammates to halt her fall and levitate her until she can be safely lowered to the ground.”
The Harpies let out a collective gasp and several curses were uttered.
“Let me make sure I’m clear on this,” said Hadley. “When you blow your whistle, one of us is to shoot up 50 meters, take a diving header off our broom and trust that our teammates will save us from plummeting to certain death and/or dismemberment.”
“It sounds a bit crude when you put it that way, but that’s it in a nutshell,” said the healer a bit too cheerfully.
“Right,” Hadley gave a weak thumbs up and pulled a “is this woman crazy” face.
“Everyone will get a turn. Who will start us off?”
Almost to a witch, the team began to inch away from the healer. Even the usually unflappable Gwenog Jones seemed a bit taken aback at the suggested activity and did not volunteer to take the first go.
Ginny looked from her teammates to the healer and her eyes took on her infamous blazing look.
“Sod it.” She stepped forward with her broom. “You bints better catch me and my broom. If there is a twig out of alignment I’ll have all your arses.”
She endorsed the Firebolt brand and was provided with the latest models as soon as they were released, but Ginny still flew the Firebolt Extreme Harry had given her for her first birthday after the war. She had never sat a more comfortable broom and her sentimental side liked having a connection to Harry when she was in the air. In her mind, broken bones could be repaired but that broom war irreplaceable.
Ginny, her broom and the rest of the Harpies survived the drill and the remaining two days leading up to the match. They entered the stadium tired, but determined to put on a good show for the fans whilst taking it to their first round opponents.
Ginny smiled when she glanced over at the friends and family box as she circled the pitch. All the red hair made the Weasleys easy to pick out in any crowd but it was even easier today thanks to her brother Ron.
No one could accuse him of being an unenthusiastic quidditch fan. Besides Harry, he was probably his baby sister’s biggest supporter, and though he would always bleed Cannons orange, he had become quite the Harpies fan. His loyalties were being seriously tested, as the Harpies’ first round opponents were his beloved Chudley Cannons, the same Chudley Cannons who were making their first playoff appearance in almost a century. His appearance expressed his conflict. He was covered in paint from head to toe, Chudley orange on the left side and Holyhead green on the right. His shorts showed support for the Cannons but he proudly wore Ginny’s number seven Harpies’ jersey across his chest. To finish off his ensemble, he sported a sock of each color. He made quite the spectacle and she loved him for it.
Ron’s orangeness led Ginny’s thoughts to some of the pranks they had pulled on Gwenog this week and her disturbing lack of response to any of them. Besides charming her whistle, which totally disrupted practice, a combination of a special WWW powder and a spell on her door charmed Gwenog’s clothing and hair Chudley orange every time she left her room. Since Ginny had never seen Gwenog in anything other than Harpy green or black even at social and formal occasions, she thought it was sure to rattle her. Gwenog showed up at practice, breakfast, lunch and dinner covered in orange (which was not a good color for her) but never uttered a peep. No threats, no accusations, no nothing.
And then two days ago, Ginny and Hadley waited for the explosion after Gwenog returned to her room after their afternoon training session. She knew it was juvenile but they had stuck all her furniture to the ceiling with a permanent sticking charm. Gwenog had turned her living conditions into a nightmare and Ginny was happy to return the favor. They waited and waited and the explosion never came. In fact, she never left the room. Ginny was pretty sure that Gwenog wouldn’t be able to break the charm on her own and if she entered her room at this moment the furniture would still be on the ceiling. Still Gwenog said nothing and that was about to send Ginny round the twist.
Ginny brought her thoughts back to the present. She flew by the box, gave her family a wave and blew a kiss to Harry and Teddy before putting all thoughts but quidditch out of her mind and taking her position in the air to wait for the opening whistle.
It should have been a relatively easy match for the Harpies. The Cannons had made the playoffs by the skin of their teeth and the Harpies had destroyed them not once, but twice in the regular season. However, Gwenog’s extreme training regime was starting to take its toll and her players were flat out exhausted. Four hours into the match they were only up on the Cannons by 20 points when the snitch elected to make its appearance. Fortunately, the Harpies' seeker spotted it well before the Cannons', and she had it in her hand before he was able to give much of a chase.
The post-match party started at The Leaky Cauldron and was pretty low-key for a team that had just won a playoff match. The Harpies were scattered around the pub visiting with friends and family and Seamus Finnigan was chatting up a couple of witches at the bar. The hardcore group of fans that followed the team pretty much everywhere was busy mingling with the players and rehashing the match with anyone that would listen. The consensus was that the Harpies did not play like a team destined to win a championship this year.
Ginny and Harry apparated to the pub with Justin Richards in tow. They immediately sought out Gwenog and made the introduction. They spent an awkward few minutes trying to generate conversation but despite Justin’s obvious charm, Gwenog didn’t say much. Ginny had always been a bit intimidated by her captain but she was just beginning to realize that Gwenog was incredibly difficult to engage in conversation, period.
They were just about to give it up as a bad job when Hadley and Kelly Scott, the bird, joined them. Hadley introduced Kelly around and conversation picked up a bit as she and Gwenog were acquainted, having run across each other on the pitch from time to time. They talked quidditch and Justin joined in like the smooth operator he was. Ginny, Harry and Hadley eventually excused themselves and hoped nature would take its course. If she was to wager on it, Ginny would have put her money on birds as Gwenog’s response to Kelly had been more positive and Hadley was right, she was attractive.
More than an hour had passed and with the Butter Beer Edge, fire whiskey and muggle ale flowing freely, conversation at the corner booth where Ginny, Harry, Hadley, Ewan, Ron and Hermione were holding court began to flow as well.
“Arrrgh, this is so frustrating,” Ginny said between gulps of ale. “We played liked shite and I’ve got splinters in my arse from being forced to shag in the club’s broomshed like a randy teenager.”
“Well, technically you are still a teenager for another month, and the fact that you have been shagging in a broomshed attests to your randiness,” observed Hermione.
“I am a married, adult witch, thank you. I thought I was done shagging in broomsheds when I left Hogwarts.”
Ron spewed his drink across the table, and goggled at Ginny as Hermione attempted to mop up the spilled lager.
“Did I just say that out loud?” Ginny asked.
“Nice going, Love,” Harry said.
“Ginny Weasley!” Hermione said. “Harry wasn’t even at Hogwarts your seventh year. Do you mean to tell me you and Harry were shagging all the way back in your fifth year!”
“Oh get a grip, Hermione. It’s no secret that Harry came to all my matches and managed to sneak into the castle from time to time seventh year. And it’s Potter by the way.”
“Good, I’d hate to think you became a scarlet woman at fifteen.” Ginny could hold her liquor pretty well for such a small witch and was only a little buzzed, but Hermione was a lightweight and her tongue had already been considerably loosened.
Harry looked from Ginny to Hermione expecting bat bogies at the least, if not an Avada Kedavra. Ginny did not take kindly to being called a scarlet woman, whether it was The Daily Prophet or her best friend making the insinuation.
“Scarlet woman! Well I like that. We were engaged to be married at the time which is more than I can say for you Ms. Hermione ‘I’m too focused on my career to get married right now but I’m happy to shack up with you” Granger!”
“Ginny, play nice and please don’t tell any more of our secrets,” Harry said whilst checking to make sure her wand was still in her pocket.
“All this is beside the point.” Ginny waved her hand in front of her as if to banish the current topic of conversation. “We barely made it by the Cannons today and no offense Ron, but they’re dreadful.”
“But it’s the Cannons, Gin.” Ron’s long face expressed exactly how he felt about the Cannons’ early departure from the play-offs.
“Sorry, but if we look like this against Puddlemere next week, we will have no chance. We’re overtraining and everyone knows that I play better when I’m getting regular sex!”
In the midst of this exchange, Ron put his hands over his ears and began singing rather loudly, “I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!”
“Yes, I remember reading an article about that in The Daily Prophet or was it Witch Weekly,” Ewan said.
“Witch Weekly,” said Hermione. “ They hinted your scoring slump at the end of last season had to do with Harry spending his mandatory month abroad when he was finishing his auror training and you not getting any.”
“Exactly how eight goals per match is considered a scoring slump, I’m sure I don’t know.” Ginny pouted.
“Well, when your average is twelve,” said Harry.
“Still eight per match is better than ninety percent of the chasers in the league.” Ron would know. He was a virtual encyclopedia of quidditch statistics.
“Thanks Ron,” Ginny said feeling vindicated.
“It’s only a little disturbing that you’re more upset that they questioned your quidditch prowess than the speculation about your sex life or lack thereof,” said Hadley.
“If I got upset every time something was published about our sex life or the state of our marriage I’d be upset all the time. I’m embracing it. I’ve started a scrap book.”
“Something to show the grandchildren,” Harry gave his wife a squeeze around the shoulders and a kiss on the forehead. He was proud of how Ginny had learned to handle the press, as it seemed like they were destined to be a constant, if annoying, presence in their lives. She rarely lost her temper any more and did her best to find some humor in it.
“Back to the matter at hand,” Ginny called the group to attention. “If the plan doesn’t work, I’m going to have to just witch up and confront Gwenog.”
“Speaking of the plan, how’s it working out so far?” asked Ewan.
“Let’s have a look shall we,” said Hadley.
The three couples turned as one to find Justin Richards with a witch pressed up against the bar, kissing her fiercely.
“That looks promising,” said Hadley.
“Guess it’s blokes then,” Harry opined.
Justin shifted a bit to the right revealing his snogging partner.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“Hadley, I thought you said she was…”
“Are you sure she’s a quidditch player?”
Harry, Ginny and Ewan all spoke at once.
The witch he was kissing had come into full view and it was not Gwenog Jones. It was Kelly Scott. Gwenog was sitting alone at the bar nursing her ale.
“Maybe she’s switched teams?” Hadley said sheepishly.
At that instant, Justin and Kelly broke apart. Justin whispered in her ear then took her hand and they made their way to the door. Justin gave Harry a mock salute and a cheeky grin, Kelly gave a little wave to Hadley and they left the pub together.
“As far as plans go, I’d have to say that one was an epic fail,” Ron said using his gift for always stating the obvious.
Ginny groaned and put her head in her hands whilst Harry called for a round of Odgen’s for the table.
Next
Chapter Four
The Payoff
Chapter Two
The Plan
Title: Birds or Blokes Chapter Three: Practice, Pranks and Parties
Author/Artist: quidditchmum
Pairing: Harry/Ginny, Gwenog/?
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,600 this chapter/9,900 total
Summary: A championship run has sent Holyhead Harpies captain Gwenog Jones a bit off her nut and her teammates and their loved ones are paying the price. Harry and Ginny plot and scheme to teach Gwenog that there is more to life than quidditch but may be in for a surprise or two themselves.
Author/Artist's Notes: st_dl , I managed to work in a couple of your prompts - a secret spilled while drinking at The Leaky and something goes completely wrong. Thanks again to r_becca for fixing my boo-boos and for your helpful suggestions. Now that “The Plan” is out of the bag, I must credit stmargarets for some inspiration. I was struck with the idea that Gwenog really needed to get laid while reading A Time to Remember.
Birds or Blokes
Chapter Three
Practice, Pranks and Parties
Ginny got an owl off to George before breakfast and she had his suggestions and supplies in hand by lunchtime. She had told George that she wanted the pranks to address the problems at hand - too much practice and an unsatisfactory living situation. When she examined his ideas, her heart welled up with affection for her favorite one-eared brother. He had delivered in spades.
It took some stealth and finagling on Ginny’s part but she managed to switch out Gwenog’s whistle with the one George had provided just in time for the afternoon practice, the second of the day.
The already weary Harpies gathered on the pitch to await Gwenog’s instructions.
“Ladies, group off in threes and line up at the endline,” Gwenog bellowed. “On my whistle we will fly figure eights with the quaffle, one group at a time.”
Ginny didn’t understand why Gwenog was making them run such basic drills so close to the playoffs. They should be fine-tuning tactics and working on plays to exploit their upcoming opponent’s weaknesses, not running the most basic drills.
Ginny and Hadley exchanged looks as they lined up with Sharolta, the other starting chaser and awaited the whistle in more ways than one.
Gwenog put the whistle to her lips and blew. Instead of the shrill noise they were expecting, a dozen faeries sprung forth from her whistle and began an intricate dance around her head.
Seemingly nonplussed, Gwenog calmly banished the faeries away with her wand and gave it another go. The team began to snicker when her second attempt produced bubbles instead of a whistle. Ginny’s team was still on the line waiting for their starting signal. On the third attempt, Gwenog’s mouth and nose were transfigured into a duckbill. There was no fourth attempt, as a duck can’t really blow a whistle. By this time, the whole team was in hysterics and was finding it difficult to stay on their brooms. When Gwenog tried to speak and quacked instead, she calmly flew to the ground and made her way to the locker room.
It took a few minutes for the laughter to die down. Gwenog had been unable to give them instructions before she left the pitch so they looked around, not exactly sure what to do.
They hadn’t been dismissed so Ginny figured that if they had to be out there again, they might as well be doing something useful that might help them on Sunday.
After a moment of silence Ginny spoke. “Okay, we know from the scouting reports and our regular season matches that we outmatch the Cannons speed-wise. Their keeper is most vulnerable on his left side. Their beaters are strong and will likely bring it to us. Chasers, we need to be prepared to take some hits and beaters you need to come ready to mix it up. Let’s scrimmage starters against reserves but I want to put an extra bludger in play and an extra beater for the reserves. Starters, let’s try to incorporate that play that worked so well against Falmouth where we sprung Hadley up the left side early on the inbounds.”
An hour passed before Gwenog was able to break the charm and lose her beak. When she returned to the pitch she quietly observed as Ginny Potter directed an inter-squad scrimmage occasionally stopping to discuss strategy amongst the team.
After a watching for a few minutes she blew the new whistle she had procured in the locker room and dismissed the team for the day without mentioning the prank at all.
“Lovely practice, Ginny,” said Hadley and then in a quieter voice she added “and the prank was brilliant.”
“Not exactly the response I was expecting, but it was brilliant wasn’t it? George is a genius.”
The afternoon following the whistle prank, Ginny and Hadley left the dining hall after lunch with their arms linked and their heads together whispering conspiratorially.
“That wasn’t awkward at all,” deadpanned Hadley.
“Shut it!” Ginny scowled and then laughed. “Could that have gone any worse?”
Their attempt to get an answer to the bird or blokes question from Gwenog had been, in a word, a disaster. She seemed surprised when they joined her for lunch as she generally dined alone or with the team Mediwizard. Ginny had started out strong by telling her they thought it would foster team bonding if they got to know one another better and it went downhill from there, fast.
“The look on Gwenog’s face when you asked her if she thought the assumption that the majority of female quidditch players prefer witches was a fair stereotype,” Ginny said.
Hadley jabbed her in the stomach. “Well your attempt to find out if she had a favorite male body part was clumsy at best. For someone who’s usually so smooth, you certainly bollixed that up.”
“What can I say, the woman makes me nervous and when I get nervous I either clam up altogether or chatter incessantly, so I chattered incessantly.”
“Did she even answer my question about if she was stranded on a deserted island and could only take one person with her who would it be?” Hadley asked.
“Actually I don’t think she spoke at all,” Ginny said as they continued walking towards the pitch. “She just looked at us like she was weary of dealing with petulant children.”
“I know that look.” Hadley grimaced.
“I guess the aurors won’t be requiring our interrogation skills anytime soon.”
“Maybe we could get her drunk.”
“There’s no chance of that until the post-match party and by then the plan should already be unfolding,” Ginny said. “We’ll just have to stick to it and have one of each. How’s that coming on your end?”
“The bird is all lined up. She’ll attend the match with Ewan and meet up with us at the pub after the match.”
“Who is it?” Ginny asked but spoke again before Hadley could answer. “You know what, I don’t really want to know. As long as she is attractive, willing and able.”
“We’re good then. How’s Harry coming on his end?”
“I’ve got an appointment with him in the broomshed at midnight,” Ginny smiled wickedly. “I’ll get an update then.”
“Mind you don’t get so caught up in shagging Harry that you forget the plan.”
“I have every intention of shagging Harry rotten, but I won’t forget.”
By that time they had reached the center of the pitch where they were scheduled to meet the mind healer for a team bonding exercise. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, but not too warm. If they hadn’t already had a grueling practice that morning, Ginny would be looking forward to spending the afternoon on the pitch.
She had to begrudgingly admit that the mind healer wasn’t a total tosser. True, most of the team bonding activities had been a bit ridiculous, but the pocket pensieve filled with positive memories from each of her teammates was brilliant. It was like watching one of those programs Ron liked to watch on Hermione’s muggle twelly of all the best sports plays, except they were all of her as seen from the perspective of those who played alongside her. It was enlightening to see how her teammates perceived her play and watching it did make her feel like a bloody good quidditch player. It almost made up for having to hold hands after dinner last night, look each player in the eye and tell them what she liked most about them. Seriously, what could she possibly say about her spectacularly annoying roommate Alex, who went to bed drooling over a poster of her husband every night - that she had good taste in men?
Apparently, the ridiculous had taken a turn to the downright insane this afternoon.
“The cornerstone to any successful team is trust,” the mind healer whose name Ginny could never seem to remember addressed the team. “The chasers and seeker must trust that the beaters will be there to protect them from the bludgers. The keeper must trust the other players on the field to contribute to team defense and protect the goal from being overexposed. The team must trust the seeker to be aware of what’s happening in the match without losing focus on tracking the snitch. Without trust there is no team.”
“I trust that if she doesn’t get on with this I’m going to fall asleep standing up,” Ginny whispered and garnered snickers from her teammates that were standing close by.
“Today’s team bonding drill will allow you to demonstrate the trust that you have in your fellow Harpies,” the healer continued. “All players are to take to the air in a standard formation. In turn, one player will ascend 50 meters over the center of the pitch and on my signal will dismount her broom, trusting her teammates to halt her fall and levitate her until she can be safely lowered to the ground.”
The Harpies let out a collective gasp and several curses were uttered.
“Let me make sure I’m clear on this,” said Hadley. “When you blow your whistle, one of us is to shoot up 50 meters, take a diving header off our broom and trust that our teammates will save us from plummeting to certain death and/or dismemberment.”
“It sounds a bit crude when you put it that way, but that’s it in a nutshell,” said the healer a bit too cheerfully.
“Right,” Hadley gave a weak thumbs up and pulled a “is this woman crazy” face.
“Everyone will get a turn. Who will start us off?”
Almost to a witch, the team began to inch away from the healer. Even the usually unflappable Gwenog Jones seemed a bit taken aback at the suggested activity and did not volunteer to take the first go.
Ginny looked from her teammates to the healer and her eyes took on her infamous blazing look.
“Sod it.” She stepped forward with her broom. “You bints better catch me and my broom. If there is a twig out of alignment I’ll have all your arses.”
She endorsed the Firebolt brand and was provided with the latest models as soon as they were released, but Ginny still flew the Firebolt Extreme Harry had given her for her first birthday after the war. She had never sat a more comfortable broom and her sentimental side liked having a connection to Harry when she was in the air. In her mind, broken bones could be repaired but that broom war irreplaceable.
Ginny, her broom and the rest of the Harpies survived the drill and the remaining two days leading up to the match. They entered the stadium tired, but determined to put on a good show for the fans whilst taking it to their first round opponents.
Ginny smiled when she glanced over at the friends and family box as she circled the pitch. All the red hair made the Weasleys easy to pick out in any crowd but it was even easier today thanks to her brother Ron.
No one could accuse him of being an unenthusiastic quidditch fan. Besides Harry, he was probably his baby sister’s biggest supporter, and though he would always bleed Cannons orange, he had become quite the Harpies fan. His loyalties were being seriously tested, as the Harpies’ first round opponents were his beloved Chudley Cannons, the same Chudley Cannons who were making their first playoff appearance in almost a century. His appearance expressed his conflict. He was covered in paint from head to toe, Chudley orange on the left side and Holyhead green on the right. His shorts showed support for the Cannons but he proudly wore Ginny’s number seven Harpies’ jersey across his chest. To finish off his ensemble, he sported a sock of each color. He made quite the spectacle and she loved him for it.
Ron’s orangeness led Ginny’s thoughts to some of the pranks they had pulled on Gwenog this week and her disturbing lack of response to any of them. Besides charming her whistle, which totally disrupted practice, a combination of a special WWW powder and a spell on her door charmed Gwenog’s clothing and hair Chudley orange every time she left her room. Since Ginny had never seen Gwenog in anything other than Harpy green or black even at social and formal occasions, she thought it was sure to rattle her. Gwenog showed up at practice, breakfast, lunch and dinner covered in orange (which was not a good color for her) but never uttered a peep. No threats, no accusations, no nothing.
And then two days ago, Ginny and Hadley waited for the explosion after Gwenog returned to her room after their afternoon training session. She knew it was juvenile but they had stuck all her furniture to the ceiling with a permanent sticking charm. Gwenog had turned her living conditions into a nightmare and Ginny was happy to return the favor. They waited and waited and the explosion never came. In fact, she never left the room. Ginny was pretty sure that Gwenog wouldn’t be able to break the charm on her own and if she entered her room at this moment the furniture would still be on the ceiling. Still Gwenog said nothing and that was about to send Ginny round the twist.
Ginny brought her thoughts back to the present. She flew by the box, gave her family a wave and blew a kiss to Harry and Teddy before putting all thoughts but quidditch out of her mind and taking her position in the air to wait for the opening whistle.
It should have been a relatively easy match for the Harpies. The Cannons had made the playoffs by the skin of their teeth and the Harpies had destroyed them not once, but twice in the regular season. However, Gwenog’s extreme training regime was starting to take its toll and her players were flat out exhausted. Four hours into the match they were only up on the Cannons by 20 points when the snitch elected to make its appearance. Fortunately, the Harpies' seeker spotted it well before the Cannons', and she had it in her hand before he was able to give much of a chase.
The post-match party started at The Leaky Cauldron and was pretty low-key for a team that had just won a playoff match. The Harpies were scattered around the pub visiting with friends and family and Seamus Finnigan was chatting up a couple of witches at the bar. The hardcore group of fans that followed the team pretty much everywhere was busy mingling with the players and rehashing the match with anyone that would listen. The consensus was that the Harpies did not play like a team destined to win a championship this year.
Ginny and Harry apparated to the pub with Justin Richards in tow. They immediately sought out Gwenog and made the introduction. They spent an awkward few minutes trying to generate conversation but despite Justin’s obvious charm, Gwenog didn’t say much. Ginny had always been a bit intimidated by her captain but she was just beginning to realize that Gwenog was incredibly difficult to engage in conversation, period.
They were just about to give it up as a bad job when Hadley and Kelly Scott, the bird, joined them. Hadley introduced Kelly around and conversation picked up a bit as she and Gwenog were acquainted, having run across each other on the pitch from time to time. They talked quidditch and Justin joined in like the smooth operator he was. Ginny, Harry and Hadley eventually excused themselves and hoped nature would take its course. If she was to wager on it, Ginny would have put her money on birds as Gwenog’s response to Kelly had been more positive and Hadley was right, she was attractive.
More than an hour had passed and with the Butter Beer Edge, fire whiskey and muggle ale flowing freely, conversation at the corner booth where Ginny, Harry, Hadley, Ewan, Ron and Hermione were holding court began to flow as well.
“Arrrgh, this is so frustrating,” Ginny said between gulps of ale. “We played liked shite and I’ve got splinters in my arse from being forced to shag in the club’s broomshed like a randy teenager.”
“Well, technically you are still a teenager for another month, and the fact that you have been shagging in a broomshed attests to your randiness,” observed Hermione.
“I am a married, adult witch, thank you. I thought I was done shagging in broomsheds when I left Hogwarts.”
Ron spewed his drink across the table, and goggled at Ginny as Hermione attempted to mop up the spilled lager.
“Did I just say that out loud?” Ginny asked.
“Nice going, Love,” Harry said.
“Ginny Weasley!” Hermione said. “Harry wasn’t even at Hogwarts your seventh year. Do you mean to tell me you and Harry were shagging all the way back in your fifth year!”
“Oh get a grip, Hermione. It’s no secret that Harry came to all my matches and managed to sneak into the castle from time to time seventh year. And it’s Potter by the way.”
“Good, I’d hate to think you became a scarlet woman at fifteen.” Ginny could hold her liquor pretty well for such a small witch and was only a little buzzed, but Hermione was a lightweight and her tongue had already been considerably loosened.
Harry looked from Ginny to Hermione expecting bat bogies at the least, if not an Avada Kedavra. Ginny did not take kindly to being called a scarlet woman, whether it was The Daily Prophet or her best friend making the insinuation.
“Scarlet woman! Well I like that. We were engaged to be married at the time which is more than I can say for you Ms. Hermione ‘I’m too focused on my career to get married right now but I’m happy to shack up with you” Granger!”
“Ginny, play nice and please don’t tell any more of our secrets,” Harry said whilst checking to make sure her wand was still in her pocket.
“All this is beside the point.” Ginny waved her hand in front of her as if to banish the current topic of conversation. “We barely made it by the Cannons today and no offense Ron, but they’re dreadful.”
“But it’s the Cannons, Gin.” Ron’s long face expressed exactly how he felt about the Cannons’ early departure from the play-offs.
“Sorry, but if we look like this against Puddlemere next week, we will have no chance. We’re overtraining and everyone knows that I play better when I’m getting regular sex!”
In the midst of this exchange, Ron put his hands over his ears and began singing rather loudly, “I can’t hear you! I can’t hear you!”
“Yes, I remember reading an article about that in The Daily Prophet or was it Witch Weekly,” Ewan said.
“Witch Weekly,” said Hermione. “ They hinted your scoring slump at the end of last season had to do with Harry spending his mandatory month abroad when he was finishing his auror training and you not getting any.”
“Exactly how eight goals per match is considered a scoring slump, I’m sure I don’t know.” Ginny pouted.
“Well, when your average is twelve,” said Harry.
“Still eight per match is better than ninety percent of the chasers in the league.” Ron would know. He was a virtual encyclopedia of quidditch statistics.
“Thanks Ron,” Ginny said feeling vindicated.
“It’s only a little disturbing that you’re more upset that they questioned your quidditch prowess than the speculation about your sex life or lack thereof,” said Hadley.
“If I got upset every time something was published about our sex life or the state of our marriage I’d be upset all the time. I’m embracing it. I’ve started a scrap book.”
“Something to show the grandchildren,” Harry gave his wife a squeeze around the shoulders and a kiss on the forehead. He was proud of how Ginny had learned to handle the press, as it seemed like they were destined to be a constant, if annoying, presence in their lives. She rarely lost her temper any more and did her best to find some humor in it.
“Back to the matter at hand,” Ginny called the group to attention. “If the plan doesn’t work, I’m going to have to just witch up and confront Gwenog.”
“Speaking of the plan, how’s it working out so far?” asked Ewan.
“Let’s have a look shall we,” said Hadley.
The three couples turned as one to find Justin Richards with a witch pressed up against the bar, kissing her fiercely.
“That looks promising,” said Hadley.
“Guess it’s blokes then,” Harry opined.
Justin shifted a bit to the right revealing his snogging partner.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“Hadley, I thought you said she was…”
“Are you sure she’s a quidditch player?”
Harry, Ginny and Ewan all spoke at once.
The witch he was kissing had come into full view and it was not Gwenog Jones. It was Kelly Scott. Gwenog was sitting alone at the bar nursing her ale.
“Maybe she’s switched teams?” Hadley said sheepishly.
At that instant, Justin and Kelly broke apart. Justin whispered in her ear then took her hand and they made their way to the door. Justin gave Harry a mock salute and a cheeky grin, Kelly gave a little wave to Hadley and they left the pub together.
“As far as plans go, I’d have to say that one was an epic fail,” Ron said using his gift for always stating the obvious.
Ginny groaned and put her head in her hands whilst Harry called for a round of Odgen’s for the table.
Next
Chapter Four
The Payoff
Chapter Two
The Plan