The Off Season

Ginny leaned forward, resting her elbows on the narrow railing and watching the sky intently. She held a forgotten drink in one hand, and in the box behind her the party went on without her.

Her eyes tracked the orange-clad figures as they dipped and spun through the air, running through drills and warm-up routines that were both familiar and foreign. Her palms itched and fingers tingled, as though her hands remembered the thrumming of a broomstick and the impact of a Quaffle.

She heard footsteps from behind but did not turn her head, and in a moment, Ron stepped up to the railing beside her. Together they watched one of the Chasers barrel-roll over the cheap seats at the bottom of the stands, still filling up with spectators.

"You were better than that," he said. He was right, although she'd never say it out loud.

Her eyes stung, and she raised her cup to her lips to cover it up.

"Great party," he said, keeping his eyes on the players as they dropped out of the sky and flew down to the entrance gates. "Thanks for planning it."

"Happy birthday," she replied, nudging him with her shoulder. "Thanks for being the excuse."

He laughed. "Any time."

They fell silent as the announcer's voice filled the stadium. "Wizards and Witches," he boomed, and the crowd of Weasleys and friends that filled the luxury box hushed in excitement. "The Professional Quidditch League of Britain and Ireland is proud to present its three hundred and twenty-seventh annual championship match!" Cheering filled the stands but the magically magnified voice went on. "Now, in orange, the challengers, the Chudley Cannons... Brown, Fink, Fellows, Hebert, Flint, Carlisle, aaaaaand Potter!" The box behind Ginny erupted in cheers as Harry flew onto the pitch, his black hair shining in the sun.

The announcer went on to introduce the home team Appleby Arrows, and the stadium erupted in cheers. Ginny clapped politely when he introduced Oliver Wood, and there was a smattering of applause from the group behind her.

Through the duration of the game, Ginny stayed at the railing, watching intently as the six Chasers and four Beaters danced through the air, moving the three balls between them. Their brooms gleamed in the spring sunlight and the brightly colored robes whipped in the wind.

Slowly, in ones and twos, the guests stepped up to the railing. She responded to them automatically, without taking her eyes off the game. Yes, it was a great game. Yes, she was very happy. No, it had been very easy to plan, Harry had got the box, she hadn't done much at all. After enough polite chitchat, they drifted away again and left her to watch the game in peace.

The box was so well placed, right at the top of the stands, that the players were nearly at eye level. She saw the Chasers' expressions of determination and concentration as they flew in formation, passing the Quaffle so quickly it nearly became a blur, and the triumph in the eyes of the Keeper when he stopped a shot successfully and passed it to his own team.

She had been standing for so long that her leg was beginning to ache, and she shifted uncomfortably.

Another red-haired brother stepped up to the railing beside her as Wood dove headlong toward the leftmost hoop, hanging from his broom by one knee to stop a goal. Ginny gasped and the person beside her whistled.

"I taught him everything he knows!" proclaimed Charlie loudly, and Ginny laughed along with the rest of the group.

"Did you now?" she asked teasingly, nudging him gently with her elbow.

"'Course I did! Would I lie to you, my favorite sister?"

"Yes," Ginny replied, giggling.

They both watched as one of the Arrows' Chasers took the Quaffle and rose into the air with it, flying toward the goal.

"Porskoff ploy," said Ginny shortly, watching another Chaser get into position below to receive the Quaffle from her teammate.

"Obvious," agreed Charlie, and sure enough, the Quaffle dropped through the air into the Chaser's outstretched arms. A split-second later, the sharp impact of a Bludger knocked it away again, and this time there was a player in orange there to receive it.

"Sloppy," scoffed Ginny.

"Appleby are good enough," said Charlie, "but they play by the book."

Ginny nodded. "They'd never be in the championship without Wood," she said.

Charlie swung his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly.

"You miss it, don't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said softly, biting her lip and looking down at her hands.

He leaned closer and spoke quietly into her ear, so that no one else could hear. "You could still be playing, if you wanted to." Her heart leaped into her throat as he clarified unnecessarily, "Out there," and nodded to the pitch.

By the time she'd blinked away the tears and composed herself enough to look back to the game, Harry had caught the Snitch and it was all over.

She drew a shaky breath and pasted a false smile on her face to talk to her guests. She began making her way around the room, greeting people and thanking them for coming. She'd already talked to many of them during the course of the game, but could not quite remember who they were, or what they'd talked about.

Lavender Brown had just handed her a glass of punch when the door burst open and Harry entered. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his face glowed with the excitement of victory. He walked from the door straight to Ginny's side and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey, Gin," he said in a low voice, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. "Thanks for letting me crash your party."

She laughed weakly, thinking but not saying, It wouldn't be a party without you.

-----

Pain lanced through Ginny's calf, rousing her from a deep, peaceful sleep. She curled up, bringing her knees to her chest and clutching her leg in her hands. Moaning in pain, she fought to control her breathing. After several minutes, she managed to reach out to her bedside table and grasp her wand. She muttered a quick numbing charm and felt it take effect. Leaning back on the pillows, exhausted, she heard a noise from the living room.

"Helloooo? Ginny?" a female voice called.

Grasping her wand, Ginny pushed herself out of bed and staggered slightly, unable to feel the floor beneath her numbed right leg.

"Bloody numbing charms," she muttered to herself, hobbling slowly toward the door. "Can't feel a blasted thing, can't even walk. Couldn't sit down for a little while, oh nooo, have to stand up for hours at a time when I know I'll be sore the next day like a halfwit..."

She opened the bedroom door and came face-to-face with Hermione.

"Oh, hello," Ginny said, leaning heavily on the wall for support and hoping she looked casual rather than debilitated by pain.

"Good morning," Hermione said brightly. "We've brought you breakfast."

"Oh, you didn't have to - I already -" Ginny began, flustered. "We?"

"I know we didn't have to. We wanted to," Hermione replied, beaming. "As a thank you for the party."

"We?" Ginny asked again, looking down at her ratty red and gold pyjama pants and t-shirt that said "Chasers do it in threes."

"Oh, just us," Hermione said briefly, waving her hand in dismissal.

Swallowing her misgivings, Ginny limped after her into the living room, where Harry and Ron already sat, along with a pot of coffee and a basket of what was unmistakably her mother's scones.

"Oooh, Mum's scones!" Ginny cried, forgetting her self-consciousness and flinging herself across the room towards them.

Laughing, the others dug in as well. There was a companionable silence in the room as they ate, broken by the clink of cup and saucer.

Hermione finished first and wiped her mouth primly. "The party was wonderful, Ginny. You really did a very good job."

"Thank you," Ginny replied. "It wasn't really that much work, though."

"I admit that I don't particularly follow Quidditch, but--" Hermione broke off as Ron let out a loud cough that sounded suspiciously like laughter. She looked for a moment as though she was going to say something else to him, but instead she took a deep breath and went on, looking away from his freckled face. "But you seemed to be enjoying the game."

"It was a great match-up," Ginny explained. "Appleby have the top defense in the league, and the Cannons have some great offensive moves - they have this one maneuver they do where -"

But Hermione, seemingly uninterested in the Chudley Chasers' tactical prowess, was already halfway to the kitchen, her hands full of dirty dishes.

"You miss it, don't you?" asked Ron, echoing Charlie's question from the night before.

"Doesn't everyone?" asked Ginny, confused. "Don't you?"

"Not me." Harry grinned at her and she blew a raspberry at him in response.

"I suppose," Ron said with a shrug. "I don't miss the practices much. Or the crowds. Or getting hit in the face with Quaffles all the time."

"So you don't miss it at all, then."

"That's not true! I miss the parties." Suddenly serious, he turned to Ginny. "You could still play, you know."

"I haven't flown in ages," she said flatly, knowing that she wasn't really responding to Ron's assertion.

"Well, it's like riding a bike, isn't it?" asked Harry. The other two looked at him blankly. "Once you learn how, you never forget," he clarified.

"I didn't forget," Ginny said evenly, meeting his green eyes.

"Then you still know how," he returned, and Ginny was the first one to look away.