The Taming of The Viper

Chapter 19: The Anticipation of Impact

Waiting. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Angelina Johnson was racing towards the Slytherin goal posts, her long braids whipping through the air behind her, waiting for a clear shot at the goal. Crabbe and Goyle were gaining on her. Keeping control of a Bludger by smacking it back and forth between them, they were waiting for the perfect moment to direct it at Angelina. Graham Montague had strategically positioned himself directly below the three, waiting for the Gryffindor Chaser to drop the Quaffle. Meanwhile, Harry Potter was scouring the pitch, waiting for a glint of gold.

As for Draco, well, he was just waiting. Hovering in midair, in the center of the pitch, stationary ever since the umpire blew the whistle. He felt useless. He was useless; sitting there like an obstacle, forcing the other players to fly around him, flashes of green and scarlet racing between goal posts. But Amicia had told him to wait, and with no better alternatives, Draco decided to do as he was told, never taking his eyes off of Potter, who had yet to show any sign of spotting the Snitch.

"Ouch! Johnson takes a Bludger to the back from Vincent Crabbe and drops the Quaffle. Don't sweat it, Angelina, it was a cheap shot anyways." Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium. "Slytherin Captain Graham Montague now has possession of the Quaffle. He's heading back up the pitch, dodges a Bludger from Weasley —  Fred or George, can't say. You'd think after six years I would've figured it out — Montague reverse passes to Cassius Warrington — Merlin's beard, the lads on this team are massive — Warrington speeds off with Quaffle, takes a body blow from Katie Bell — atta girl, Katie! — but still manages to keep hold of the ball. He's in the scoring zone now, with only the Keeper standing in his way!"

Amicia fixed her Omnioculars on Ron, zooming in as much as she could. The Gryffindor Keeper looked as though a slug was stuck in the back of his throat. The color had drained from his face and he was swaying on the spot, not certain of which goal post he should be covering.

Warrington, on the other hand, looked quite confident. He pulled back his arm, winding up the throw, and darted towards the leftmost ring.

Ron watched the Chaser like one of the spectators, marveling at his speed. It wasn't until Angelina yelled at him from across the pitch that he sprang into action, now racing against Warrington to get to the left ring in time.

"Come on, Ron!" Whether that was Lee Jordan's voice or the one inside her head, Amicia couldn't tell.

Theo felt her tense up beside him. He told her to relax, although he was the one who was bouncing his leg. "Weasley doesn't stand a chance. Warrington throws a fastball unseen to the naked eye."

It was true. Once Warrington hurled the Quaffle it was little more than a blur streaking through the air at the unattended goal.

The Slytherins rose to their feet.

"WARRINGTON SHOOTS — HE —"

A solid thud echoed through the now silent stadium as the Quaffle bounced off of Ron's shoulder. Ron toppled over the side of his broom from the impact, his legs flailing while he dangled from it by his arms. One undoubtedly sweaty hand slipped off the handle and the crowd gasped. Madam Pomfrey, always at the ready, gathered her skirts and rushed out onto the pitch but Ron found the strength to pull himself back up. He looked about unassumingly, wondering why everyone was frozen in place and gawking at him.

"I can't believe this. Ron Weasley blocks the shot," Lee announced in disbelief, phrasing it more like a question than a statement, before shortly shaking off the uncertainty. "RON WEASLEY BLOCKS THE SHOT FROM WARRINGTON!"

The Gryffindors went wild with applause while the Slytherins sat back down, collectively disappointed. Through her Omnioculars, Amicia could see Ron turning a bashful red. He had the biggest grin she'd ever seen plastered on his face. Her palms itched to applaud him and it made her feel like a horrible friend when all she could do was swallow the pride she felt and feign disappointment instead.