The Fall

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"You know, it's just a stupid Quidditch game. It's not something to get worked up about."


James is running out of time, he needs to come up with a prank at some point. He hasn't done anything in the past months, even Timothy started getting bored.

"You need to come up with something, James, I can't stand it anymore." Jason started whining ever since they got back from the holidays, James wasn't very happy about it. Timothy had gotten up from his bed and left their dormitory, groaning.

"You come up with something. Can't you see I'm in the middle of a life crisis here?" James huffed, messing his hair up.

Something is wrong and he couldn't tell what it was. Was it that he felt bad for Miraline that he's unable to produce any ideas of any kind?

"I'm gonna go with Timmy," said Jason finally standing up, "Tell me if you finished moping around on the bed"

"I wasn't-" James stopped as Jason finally left the room and shuts the door behind him. Maybe James should just give up. It's almost the big game anyway and nothing happened... yet.

+++

Miraline didn't know what happened, or rather when it happened. All the previous months had merged into one blurry sequence, and now she's standing in the middle of the Quidditch field, trying to remember all the pep talks from the previous game. Why can't she remember her game with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and yet feel so nervous when she's about to go on the field against Slytherin. She had a hunch that she will remember this one. Is it because of Finnick Brown?

"Captains, shake hands!"

Miraline was trying very hard to breathe normally, or breathe at all, really. In the corners of her eyes, Finnick Brown was smiling excitedly. A sudden kick on her feet made her flinch, Miraline looked up to see that James, who had also been staring at Finnick. Although, instead of looking nervous, he looked angry.

Then the whistle was heard and every player mounted their brooms and took off into the air. Miraline was having a hard time holding on to her Beater bat, mainly because she felt a funny feeling in her stomach. Had she eaten anything strange for breakfast today? That muffin from Finn a few hours back, probably.

A bludger flew into Miraline and she weakly hit it with her bat. The bludger flew again and Miraline was trying her best to concentrate. The bludger was about to hit James when Miraline zoomed to him and hit it again with more force but no target.

"Throw it at the others, Lynch, not the bloody sky!" James said as he left her alone, catching a quaffle then scoring. 


After a few haunting minutes, Miraline was losing herself again, her head pounding. When the bludger flew ecstatically to her, she caught a glimpse of Finnick. But instead of hitting it towards him, Miraline let it hit her instead. As she fell from her broom, all the nervousness evaporates and she was filled with a new-found feeling, horror.

Flashes of images filled her head as she slept. Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup.

+++

When she opened her eyes, Miraline was surrounded by her teammates. They're covered in sweat, and Alex, the Captain, had bloodstains on his uniform. Miraline refused to talk as her teammates told her what happened. Indeed Gryffindor had lost, and Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup. They had been so close, neck to neck with Slytherins. She was glad about one thing, though: James was nowhere in sight.

Miraline can't take the humiliation when he finally can say 'i told you so'. Because maybe, that feeling in her stomach, maybe it isn't her at all. No, surely it isn't her. Had Finnick put something on her muffin this morning?

"Off you go! that was ten minutes!" Madam Pomfrey hurried the others off, and she was again left alone. Not that she's sad about it, it's better this way since she can't take any more looks of disappointment. They were all preparing for a party as well, how sad.

"Not again..." The sound of Madam Pomfrey, pulled Miraline from her thoughts. "Five minutes." She said sternly.

The curtains were drawn back and upon her stood Finnick, still wearing his Quidditch uniform, still drenched with sweat.

"I waited until your friends finished..." Finnick told her, but Miraline just curled up on her bed. "It's no big deal, you know. You can win it next year."

"You can also win it again next year," Miraline mumbled, "I had been waiting for this,"

"So did I, but anyway, we won't let a Quidditch cup ruin our friendship, right?" He sat down beside her bed, and for a moment she thought about it. Miraline shook her head. "I guess you're just sick at the worst possible time,"

"How'd you know I was sick? Maybe I didn't have any sleep." Miraline eyed him suspiciously. Finnick shrugs. "Is there something you want to tell me?" Miraline asked again, making conspiracies inside her mind.

"You look sick, not sleepy," said Finnick.

"I guess you're right," Miraline sat on her bed. "I thought maybe... nevermind."

"You know, it's just a stupid Quidditch game. It's not something to get worked up about." Finnick said with a smile. "You'd be surprised how my teammates took this game very seriously, it drains all the fun. But you know, ambition is our main trait, so who am I to judge?"

Suddenly the sound of Madam Pomfrey filled the room. "Mr. Potter, you're not allowed!" said Madam Pomfrey.

"I owe you one, Poppy!" The voice of James Potter followed, and a second later he was standing beside Miraline, eyeing her with determination. James was fresh out of the shower with his hair still wet.

"The others said you lost focus, your hand started trembling, and your stomach flipped. Have you eaten anything strange this morning?" He immediately said, and Finnick stood up. Noticing the sudden movement, Miraline's mouth opened.

"I knew it!" Miraline almost yelped, and Finnick walked away without saying anything more than a goodbye, "Finnick!"

Miraline's stomach still hurts, it's basically impossible for her to run after him. James, on the other hand, was full of energy and immediately lunged over Finnick's back.

It was at this moment that for the first time Miraline was glad James was around.

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