Emerald and Scarlet ~ Drarry

And the Quidditch Cup Goes to ...

"This is the match that will decide our fate!" Harry bellowed, standing atop a wooden bench in the Gryffindor team room. He looked at all his teammates dressed in their scarlet and gold robes, a sight he would be seeing for the very last time. "If we win today's game by at least fifty points Gryffindor will win the Quidditch cup!"

Cheering erupted amongst the team and Ron got up on the bench, swinging his arm around his best friend's shoulders. "I want you to all keep in mind that this is Harry and I's last cup and if we don't win, we have decided upon a suicide pact because we refuse to leave losers!"

Harry could not remember when exactly they had made this 'pact'. Harry assumed he was joking, or rather hoped.

"And besides, we can't have Hufflepuff win the cup!" Ron added. "Lions eat badgers for breakfast!"

This earned a confused sort of cheer from the team but at least Ron seemed pleased with himself.

The doors flew open and each team member scrambled for their brooms. In a triangle formation, they flew onto the pitch to the sound of cheers from the half of the stands dressed in red and gold.

After a lap or two, the team made their descent. Harry dismounted his broom and walked to the centre of the field to meet the Ravenclaw captain, Victoria Smith.

They shook hands, promising a memorable match, before returning to their teams.

Harry felt his pulse pounding in his head. This was it, his final Hogwarts Quidditch game ever. He could no longer hear the cheers of the crowd over the sound of his own shaky breath and steady heartbeat. It's now or never.

The shrill blow of the whistle triggered Harry's muscle memory and he thrust off from the ground at incredible speed, rising higher and higher into the air. This was it.

+ + +

He was almost deaf to the cheers of the crowd as he stared in disbelief at the dormant snitch that lay in the palm of his hand. His chest heaved, struggling for air after the physical stress he had been under.

The Ravenclaw seeker hung in the air beside him, clapping solemnly in defeat as the rambunctious Gryffindor team all descended around Harry, cheering along with the crowd.

As Harry slowly made his way to the grass he swore he spotted a single tear run down Ron's freckled cheek as he threw his arm around his best friend.

It was all over, it really was all over.

Harry was pushed in the direction of Madame Hooch who was now accompanied by Professor McGonagall in the centre of the field holding the large silver cup, beaming proudly at him. He tucked his broom under one arm and slipped his gloves into one of his pockets as he looked around at every student and staff member peering down at him, still applauding his victory.

He outstretched his arms toward McGonagall who placed the cup into them gently before raising it above his head, smiling lopsidedly as his brain began to catch up to reality.

+ + +

Leaving the change rooms with the rest of the Gryffindor team, Harry was greeted by the entire eighth-year cohort wearing an assortment of Gryffindor paraphernalia. In the front was Hermione and Draco, the latter fussed with the platinum blonde hair peeking out from under a Gryffindor beanie with an unamused sort of expression.

"We'd thought we'd tag along to the victory party," said Ernie. "Second place isn't that bad."

"Well, last place is!" Michael shouted. "Ravenclaw didn't win a single game this year!"

"Come on, guys," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Gryffindor Tower."

"What about me and Harry's brooms?" Ron frowned.