Romance Americana

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"You know what, Matt?"

"What, Kate?"

"I say, or I hear anyone else say 'We're fucked' for the duration of this trip, I may loose my mind." She smiled, taking a sip of butterbeer and relaxing into the overstuffed couch in front of the fire. "Alex is right. I need to stop swearing." She moved closer to him. "How long has it been since you've stayed in your own house's dorm?"

"Awhile."

"You know that if you stay here any longer, I'll have the whole of us in here."

Matt laughed. "That would be a problem?"

"Uh, yeah. Have you ever slept anywhere NEAR Benny? The boy snores like a mack truck!" She giggled. "Whoever thought that the supposed saviors of the free world would be people like us? I mean, think about it. There's me, the actress, Dani the singer, Nikola the friggin' interior decorator, Jarrod, the future developer of the commercial hover car, or some other wonder of the future, your sister, who of all things wants to be as normal as a teacher, Benny, who will make it in the major leagues, and Lauren, Ms. Pediatric Oncologist. But what about you, Matt? What are you gonna be? Of all of us, I should be, I am closest to you, but I don't know what your dreams are. I know ours, but not yours."

"You're talking like a drunk on Waveland, fresh off the bleachers. I'm starting to wonder what you've been drinking, other than butterbeer."

Kate stuck her tongue out.

"Rather undignified for an actress, don't you think?"

"See, Matt, that's what I mean! Do you see any of us as great, or outstanding?"

"No, not really."

"But we've been chosen to save the world. Doesn't it seem strange when you think about it? And is it any wonder that the rest of the world hates us, and thinks that we think we're God's gift to the world?"

"What did you just say? I didn't understand a word."

"Pay attention, Matt. Americans have a reputation for saving everyone's ass, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"And this makes people think we're pompous assholes, right?"

"What the hell's your point?"

"So maybe, they're wrong. Maybe we do deserve that reputation. We HAVE saved the world, time after time after time. Maybe they should just back the hell off and let us do out thing. I mean, it's not like we're marching the whole of the American army in here. It's just us."

"Kate, go to bed. Take Pedialite in the morning, and I'll see you. We both need just a little bit of sleep right now. Love you."

"Ditto. Good night."

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Lauren Malfoy sat in one of the big, overstuffed leather armchairs in the Slytherin common room. She was staring into the fire when her cousin came in.

"Hullo, Lauren."

"Draco."

Draco's eyes snapped around at his cousin's tone. He knew that she didn't like his parents, but they had always been on friendly terms. He had even hoped of telling her his plans, but, seeing as how she was treating him now, that might not be the brightest idea.

"What is it, Lauren?"

"You got her pregnant."

"What?"

"You fucked Ginny Weasley, with out using a goddamn contraceptive!"

"We used charms."

"Charms can be faulty! And you're lying to me. I was there when Ginny told Ron you guys didn't use anything!"

"What the hell is it to you?! It's none of you're fucking business. And besides, to use your own words, we Malfoys have sex drives that can kill."

"That's no excuse. What happens when her family comes swooping in here to kick your sorry ass? Eight of them, versus you and your father, 'cause Lord know your mother would do nothing to damage her fingernails..."

"Lauren, what's done is done. Just leave it be."

"Fine, I'll leave it be, Draco. Just don't drag that poor girl down with you, when you finally make it to your own personal hell."

And on that somber and angry note, Lauren left the common room for the dorm she shared with the other girls. Draco took his own place by the fire. As he stared into the flames, he thought, 'Women- only have two purposes. To shag and keep house.'

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"Harry!"

Harry turned around and stopped to wait for Ron while he said goodbye to Shannon and ran to catch up.

"Morning, Ron."

"Same to you. Say, did you hear the news?"

"What news?"

"The Quidditch totals are in. It's going to be Gryffindor versus Gryffindor for the final game."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Like you didn't completely see that one coming, Ron."

"You're right," Ron consented.

"So, what does Shannon have to say?"

Ron chuckled. "We actually have a bet on the outcome."

"Watch what you say, Weasley, her brother has a funny habit of popping up around school at the most inopportune times..."

The boys spun around to face the speaker. Kate and Matt were behind them.

"Hey you two." Harry looked past them, to see where they were coming from. It appeared to be a deserted corridor. "And just where were you guys?" He saw Matt turn to wipe lip gloss off his check.

Ron switched to his sing-song voice. "Somebody's been snogging..."

Matt punched his shoulder. "Watch what you say," he said, gesturing to Kate. "She can get some wicked aim with her stiletto heels. In fact, I think I still have a scar..."

"Shaddup."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good boy."

Harry looked away, and asked, "Does anyone else feel sick?"

Kate looked up. "I'll make you pay for that on the pitch, Potter."

"I'd like to see you try, Morgan."

"Potter, get your bum to class. We'll settle this on the pitch next weekend."

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The Following Saturday

"Where the bloody hell are they?!" Ron shouted as he and Harry approached Madame Hooch in the middle of the pitch.

"Ron, relax. Kate wouldn't miss the chance to play us."

As he was saying this, he saw Kate, followed by the rest of her team come out of the locker rooms. But their uniforms were different. They had on skin tight red pants, with a "WH" on the left hip, black shirts made out of what appeared to be the same material, with their number on the right shoulder, and short black and red cape. Even their shoes were made to be aerodynamic, and we polished to a shine. Their shin and arm guards seemed to be made out of graphite, or some other blackish- grey material. They looked impressive; this was what being the best in your nation could get you.

"Harry, Ron."

"Kate," Harry replied. "Did you order new brooms?"

"Oh, Lord no. we've had these since before summer vacation. The SyncMaster500, the American equivalent to your Firebolt 3000. Our sponsors bought them for us. You ready to go?"

Harry nodded. He suddenly didn't feel so confident. He looked up, into the stands, looking for Hermione. She blew him a good luck kiss, and winked. He smiled back at her, and then glanced over to where Dean sat. He saw his dorm mate looking quite unhappy. Jon had moved next to Dean in the announcer's seat, nudging him to move over. Harry could hear them arguing; apparently, they forgot about the microphone.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? I announce the games in this school. You need to get back to your seat right now."

"And you need to take that stick out of your ass. Move over, I see no reason why we can't do this together."

Dean kept mutter stuff under his breath, but didn't protest further.

Jon made himself comfortable at the mic. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. Welcome to the final game of the Quidditch season, the Americana War Hawks versus the Gryffindor Lions!!!"

The crowd went wild. Half of the stands were waving black and red flags, and the other half was waving red and gold. Harry saw that Dean had brought out his old "Potter for President" banner, and the Americans and their supporters had painted banners of their seven players, and had charmed them to move. That would be a little disturbing, Harry thought. He would have to fly by 20 foot picture of Kate, Shannon, and the rest of the team. He would be distracted by the pictures flying around. They approached the center of the field, mounted their brooms, and began to play.

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"Quaffle goes to Morgan first, Morgan to Jordan, to Quinnlin, back to Morgan, intercepted by Seamus Finnegan! Finnegan to Creevey, to Flores, back to Creevey, shot on goal, Mitchell blocks, no points! Mitchell kicks the Quaffle to Quinnlin, and the War Hawks take a new run down the field. Quinnlin to Jordan, to Morgan, back to Quinnlin, shot on goal...its good! War Hawks draw first blood!"

The red and black half of the stands erupted. The Americana Chasers did a victory lap around the field, and got right back in position to face the Gryffindor attack. Dean took his turn announcing this bit of the match.

"And sixth year Colin Creevey receives the Quaffle, tearing down the field, passing it to Jenna Flores, en excellent fifth year find of Potter's. Flores tears up the pitch, passes to Finnegan, Finnegan back to Creevey, intercepted by Jordan..."

"Move over, rookie. We've missed half the damn game already!" Jon pushed Dean out of the way. Dean's clear, concise voice was soon drown out by Jon's big booming one. "Morgan to Quinn, to Jordan, back to... stole by Jenna Flores!"

The game continued in this vain for sometime. How either team managed to score was beyond Hermione. The score was Harry's team had managed to score 100 points, but Kate, Shannon, and Chris seemed to be too damn good. They scored goal after goal... it reminded Hermione of watching the Irish side play at the Quidditch World Cup before her fourth year. She snapped out of her thoughts just in time to hear Jon announce the score.

"It's 240 to 100, War Hawks with the lead, Potter better come up with the Snitch soon, or his team will lose this Trans-Atlantic brawl between schools... Wait, Potter's gone into a dive; Maloney follows him into it... Jordan steals the Quaffle! He's speeding towards Weasley... Weasley looks like he's going to be sick...must've eaten a bit too much at breakfast... Potter and Maloney neck and neck at the Snitch, Jordan pulling back for the goal, he shoots, Potter reaches..."

And the ding signaling a goal sounded... just as the entire stadium had seen Harry grab the Snitch. Silence filled the air. The two teams had tied. That had never happened before. And since it had never happened, there were no tie breakers.

"SHIT!!!" Kate's opinion was hear loud and clear. Harry just looked ready to kill. Hermione and Ron hadn't seen him as angry since he took and Voldemort the last time. Madame Hooch met them as they landed on the field.

"Potter, Morgan, come here."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"As both of you should know, there are no tie breakers when it comes to Quidditch. There for, it is up to you two to decide. You can accept the tie; twin cups will be made for both teams to display in their home school's respective trophy rooms. Or, you can play a fifteen minute death match. First to score wins. I'll give you a minute to decide." She walked away, leaving Kate and Harry to their own devices.

"So, what'll it be, Potter?"

"Well, we'd both win with the second option..."

"But it would be so much fun to play another fifteen minutes," Kate pouted.

"Don't bullshit me, Morgan. Take the draw. We both win, no questions asked."

"Fine."

"Very well then." Harry turned and called Madame Hooch over. "We've come to a decision. We'll take the draw."

Madame Hooch nodded, and motioned the rest of the players off their broomsticks. Chris and Shannon landed first.

"Kate, what's the deal?"

"We're taking the draw."

"What?!"

"We're taking the draw," she said, smiling as Madame Hooch handed her and Harry the cup. She pointed to the Daily Prophet reporter there to take the pictures of the match. "Smile!"

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