Ginny's Yule Ball (Harry Potter Fanfiction) (not hinny)

I know you told me to leave you alone but..

After my pretty awkward talk with Cho this morning, I went out to the Quidditch pitch, the one place in Hogwarts where I felt safe and secure. Where all my troubles drifted away because I had something to focus on – and that was winning. The pitch looked beautiful too with its freshly mown grass, and towering gold hoops at either end. The pitch was enclosed within an oval ring of stands. Some stands being, higher than others. Each section was decorated with either scarlet, canary yellow, emerald green or midnight blue hangings and posters – most of which were from last year as Quidditch was cancelled this year due to the tournament. 

I stepped forward nervously onto the pitch, wearing my muggle clothes and carrying my ancient comet. I wasn’t technically one of the team but I loved Quidditch and vowed I would get into the team some day. The only problem was that the only seeker for Gryffindor was Harry and I didn’t exactly want to bump him off the team – not that I could if I wanted to. Quidditch was Harry’s true calling in life and he was as talented on a broom as Hermione was clever. I also sometimes played chaser but that was out of the question too as my brothers Fred and George were the only beaters and I wouldn’t definitely get a beating if I dared to try out for their precious places. So I would have to settle for this until my brothers left school. 

I held my shaking hand out in front of me and slowly opened my fingers. The golden ball took off into the sky, it’s golden wings beating furiously as it fought to climb yet higher. It then dived suddenly down until it was an inch from the ground before swerving violently to the left, gently looping in between the golden hoops. And then it was gone, I held my hand over my eyes to deflect some of the blindingly white shine the snow was emitting. When my eyes had become fully accustomed to their new surroundings I straddled my broom and kicked off. 

I lurched forward about a metre, my feet only a foot off the ground. Gripping my useless broom harder and pushed off the ground again with all my might. This time I soared forward, nearly flying into the stands. On my third attempt I used the stand to kick off from. Smacking the sole of my blue ked into that wood so hard that I was surprised I didn’t punch a hole in it. It worked and I flew up, metres into the air. I admit it was the most beautiful broom to be riding – every time I tried to turn I had to grab the handle and literally rench it round – but it did the job. I figured that if I could look good on this old broom then when I made it to the team and received my nimbus 2001, or maybe even firebolt, I would look entirely professional. 

I looped the stadium several times before finding the snitch was nowhere to be seen. So I had to go higher. I pulled my broom into an upright position and I shot up, defying gravity. The wind roared in my ears, my hair flew out behind me as I torpedoed into the clouds. The wind was now screaming at me, my clothes and hair felt like they were getting ripped from me when I saw it – a flash of golden, just below my feet. I crawled down a bit, my eyes constantly searching. There it was just below my feet, again. It was taunting me, teasing me, luring me down and down just before it soared back up again. Dropping my charade I flew towards it, faster than I’d ever flown before. It continued on its downward plunge – flying just that little bit faster than me, its wings just a few tantalising centimetres away from my fingers. As the ground speeded towards me, I realised what it was doing. It was going to pull up from the ground just before it reached it. So I beat it to it. I swerved diagonally and caught the snitch as it pulled out of the dive. 

I held the snitch’s wings trembling between my clenched fingers. I was delighted with myself, never having caught it so fast before. I spiralled the length of the pitch – my version of a victory lap – the snitch still trapped in my fist. Its wings stopped as I came to a slow and retreated inside its sparkling shell. I pocketed it and touched down so that just the tips of my toes just came into contact with the grass.