It is what it says, all Drarry. I decided to pull together several of my short stories into a collection of One Shots (it makes more sense to do it this way) so this was originally 'Dragon Moon Café', but now includes '25', 'Bloody Malfoy', 'In the...
A/N There's a reason for the above gif. I started to write this one a few months ago and didn't finish it straight away. It's not a swipe at English football, honest! 😉
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Anger seared through my veins as I watched Potter fly.
How could he be so utterly reckless? In this weather too.
The crowd was cheering ecstatically at his antics, as if they were here for him and not for the no-means small feat that England had actually made it into the Quidditch World Cup final for the first time since 1966.
Argentina's Seeker tailed him closely, well, as best she could. She was one of the best Seekers in the world. After Potter.
We were out of our seats as we watched him dive through the pouring rain from so high.
Mind you, I'd barely sat down since the start of the game. Partly because I'd already had to treat Rivers for a nasty gash to the brow after he was caught by a Bludger. Then Weasley and one of the Argentinian Chasers had a major collision forty-three minutes in. She was so stoked with adrenalin that she'd barely remained still while I ran a quick diagnostic and popped two dislocated fingers back into place. She didn't even wince. Just got straight back on her broom and was straight back into the fray.
It was almost predictable that Potter should perform the Wronski Feint at least once per match. The spectators wanted it. Today, they'd been demanding it with loud synchronised shouting and stamping around the stands.
Rounds of 'POT-TER! WRON-SKI!' thundered around the stadium in competition with the summer storm.
And he'd eventually answered the cries.
As his career had progressed, other teams had started to complain, suggesting he was distracting from the seriousness of the game, turning it into a circus. The one time he didn't play the fool was two years previously during the Euros. He caught the Snitch four minutes into a key game. The crowds booed and people demanded their money back because of the short-lived game. There had nearly been a riot worse than the one at the Quidditch World Cup back in 1994. The England team found the whole thing hilarious, plus they were through to the semi-finals against Denmark. Of course, it had been strategic on Potter's part; Italy had been England's biggest threat in the European Cup's knockout stages. England went on to win the Euros for the first time ever,even though the tournament had been running since 1960. After the Euros had finished, and for the first time since 1883, an official change was made to Quidditch rules: the Golden Snitch could not be captured in the first sixty minutes of any professional tournament match. It became known as the 'Potter Ruling'. All because of him. It's bloody typical of the man, if you ask me.
It meant Potter and Maria Maradona, the Argentinian Seeker, had spent the last hour flying high above the action. He occasionally shouted down instructions or flew to one end of the pitch to check on his team. He was captain this year; captain of the England squad! The rest of the time he hovered nearly out of view. Despite the poor visibility, I had even caught sight of the two Seekers idly chatting as they hovered high above the main action. Fire burned in my chest as Potter threw his head back in laughter at something Maradona said. And as I trained my Omnioculars on him, I saw water dripped from his hair, his clothes, his broom, yet he seemed blissfully unbothered. All the players were all sodden, leaving running rivulets in their wakes wherever they flew. It must have been a nightmare for them; visibility was appalling.
