Till Forever Falls Apart

Chapter 7: Harry's First Quidditch Match

November 3, 1991

"At least this way you won't have to mail anything to Uncle Pads for his birthday," Harry suggested as he ate. This comment was not helping Val's rapidly increasing nervousness, having not seen her family for almost two and a half months. She wondered if she was all that different from the girl she had been when she boarded the Hogwarts Express- sure, she now knew magic and was becoming quite good at learning all different kinds of spells with the books Hermione had given her. She had gained a bit of newfound confidence, having to stand up to people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, but had she been like that all along? Would her fathers see her, and look right through this fabricated lie she had so carefully created?

Harry was right. This way, she wouldn't have to tie the bundle to the feet of two owls, who she always felt rather bad for, thinking about how the weight of such parcels must drag them down and make their wings sore. Val started to ponder if seeing Sirius today would be a silver lining. It was his birthday, after all, and she couldn't wait to see Marlene and Dorcas after they had been in France all summer and autumn. This was a good thing. It had to be.

Except for the part where she would be lying.

Turning her wandering thoughts back to Harry, who she had never seen eat as much as he was eating right now, she nudged her food mindlessly with her fork, watching the sausage link roll around on her plate. Hermione had lent Val an extra pair of Gryffindor mittens and a scarf, but insisted that Hermione keep the red hat, to prevent it from messing up her hair.

Harry seemed stressed, more than he ever was as the clock ticked, signaling that it was another moment closer to the start of the game.

"Harry," Val pulled his plate away from him. Harry gave her a condescending look.

"There's a lot riding on this match, Val," he said, snatching the plate back from her. "I need my sustenance."

"And if you eat anymore," Val tugged at the plate, "You'll get sick riding on that broom."

He grunted, reluctantly letting her take the plate, staring longingly at the orange he wanted to eat.

At that moment, Oliver Wood came over, pulling Harry up by the back of his shirt.

"Come on, Harry! I think if we get there now, we can squeeze in a last-minute scrimmage."

Harry mouthed "help me" to Val, who laughed as she drank the rest of his chocolate milk. It was only forty minutes till the match would start, but she knew from what Harry had been saying about Wood that he treated every practice as if it was do or die.

Ron was almost as eager to get onto the field as Wood, pulling the two girls by their hands as he dragged them, breaking into a run as Hermione and Val followed him.

"Ron," Val panted, leaning against the stone wall that led them out to the stands. Ron crossed his arms impatiently.

"You can catch your breath later! I want good seats!"

Hermione mumbled under her breath. "If only he tried this hard in his schoolwork."

Ron and Hermione started to bicker, and Val pulled them apart, checking Hermione's pocket watch to see what time it was.

"Now that we've been standing here, we've only got twenty minutes left!"

Ron immediately shut up, looking as though he was going to have a breakdown.

"We're never going to get good seats at this point! I wanted to be in the middle, where you can see everything and you're not too close, but you're not high up, it's perfect! Just perfect!"