Never Felt More Alive

Ginny was more nervous than she'd ever been before.

This was big. Huge. The most enormous thing she'd ever been a part of.

The Quidditch World Cup.

And this time, she wasn't a spectator. She was a player - a good one. One of the top Chasers in the league, to be exact.

To be completely honest, she never thought she'd make it this far. Sure, she'd always loved playing Quidditch with her brothers, and on the Gryffindor team, but this - this was more than she ever could have hoped for. Being a Chaser for the Tornados was a dream come true, and being picked for the National team - it didn't get much better than that. She got to do what she loved every single day.

Not to mention the fact that she got to spend time with her favorite person in the world.

Of course, he had no idea that she felt that way - it was a well-guarded secret. Ginny wasn't usually very good at keeping things to herself - in fact, she was known as the most opinionated member of the team. She never let a chance at expressing herself go by, especially if there was the opportunity for a good heated argument. She always spoke her mind.

But this was different. He was different. He always had been, from the first day they'd met. Even at the tender age of ten, she'd known that he was the only one for her. Now, twelve years later, her childish infatuation had matured into so much more.

She'd kept her secret for so long, and she would keep it longer still. This was the one risk that she would not take, no matter how much she wished she could.

Hermione kept insisting that she tell him. "You can't keep it a secret forever, Gin. Do you want to live your whole life wondering if he feels the same?"

But she didn't have to wonder. She knew he felt the same. Call it a woman's intuition, but Ginny Weasley was one hundred percent sure that Harry Potter was as much in love with her as she was with him.

Unfortunately, she couldn't just tell him like Hermione suggested. As opinionated and headstrong as she was, Ginny was old-fashioned. She wanted him to make the first move.

She'd been waiting for twelve years.

"Weasley! You alright?"

Jerked from her musings, Ginny looked up into the concerned face of her Captain. "Fine, Warrick. I'm fine." She grinned at him reassuringly. "Ready to beat the socks off the Russian team."

"Well," another voice interrupted, "you'd better be prepared to score like mad in case I don't catch the Snitch."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come off it, Harry. We'll be lucky if we get to score at all before you catch the Snitch. What's your record? Three seconds?"

Harry laughed. "It's fifty-three, thanks, but have you seen the Russian Seeker? He's amazing."

"Oh, please," Warrick groaned. "He's got nothing on you, Potter, so stop your whining and get your broom - it's time."

Harry grabbed his broom, and with a wink at Ginny, left the tent.

This is it, Ginny thought with a smile, grabbing her broom and following suit. The most important day of my life.

Cheers filled the stadium as the names were called and the players soared out onto the field. Ginny's heart swelled in her chest with overwhelming pride. She was so lucky to be a part of this.

The opposing captains shook hands, the whistle blew, and the game began. Ginny was spot on today, weaving expertly between the other players, working as one with her teammates, scoring goal after goal... she'd never felt so alive. The wind rushed in her ears as she zoomed towards the ground to intercept the fallen Quaffle, dropped by the other team's Chaser. Clutching it tightly in her arms, she pulled her broom up just in time and closed in on the goalpost, bringing the score to fifty-twenty, England. She felt like her heart would burst with the excitement of it all.

An hour later, the score was tied at one-hundred thirty points each. Ginny caught a glimpse of Harry high above the pitch, an intense look upon his face. She loved that look.

"Weasley!"

She looked up just in time to see her teammate throw the Quaffle. Ginny caught it adeptly and urged her broom forward, but a well-placed Bludger caught her by surprise and slammed into her, causing her to lose her grip. The Quaffle slipped from her fingers and into the hands of the other team.

Ginny swore under her breath and raced after them, determined to get it back. She was just inches away from her opponent when suddenly a golden blur flashed before her eyes and she crashed into something solid.

Harry.

Both of them were knocked from their brooms, and Ginny shrieked as the ground rushed up to meet her. She hit the dirt with a hard thud, although not as hard as she'd expected. Apparently she'd landed on Harry, who looked a bit green from having the wind knocked out of him.

Extremely thankful that she hadn't been very from the ground when she fell, Ginny rolled onto her knees and tried to catch her breath. "Harry... are you... alright?"

Harry grinned in a dazed and nauseated sort of way and held his fist up in the air.

He had the Snitch.

Ginny's excited scream was swallowed as the stadium erupted into cheers. She helped Harry to his feet and then threw her arms around his waist in an exuberant hug. "You did it! We did it! We won! I can't believe we won!"

Harry laughed as the rest of the team crowded around them, and the congratulating began. They lifted Harry onto their shoulders and carried him, still laughing, through the mass of screaming fans. It was better than Ginny had ever imagined. The crowd was cheering, her teammates were slapping her on the back, and reporters were swarming all around. It was completely thrilling.

"Ms. Weasley! Ms. Weasley, over here!"

Ginny spent quite a while fielding questions from overenthusiastic reporters. She'd scored a record number of goals in any World Cup - she was the woman of the hour. Harry was in the same situation, standing next to her, looking embarrassed at all the media attention, and trying to be diplomatic with his answers. Ginny grinned at him, and he winked - they both couldn't wait for this to be over so the team could celebrate properly.

"Mr. Potter," she heard a reporter ask him, "now that you've won the World Cup, what are your plans?"

Ginny froze. Harry had been talking about retiring from the public eye, and she was breathless to hear what he had decided - if he had decided - and whether he would tell the media or not.

Harry just grinned at the reporter. "I'm going to do something I should have done a long time ago."

Ginny's eyes widened as he turned that intense look upon her, and before she knew it - before she even had a chance to react - he was kissing her.

He was kissing her. Seriously, amazingly, wonderfully kissing her.

Merlin, I should win the World Cup more often.

She giggled at the unexpected thought, and Harry pulled back, blushing furiously. The reporter who had asked the seemingly innocent question looked utterly flabbergasted.

"I... I mean... well... er..." Harry stammered, obviously at a loss.

Ginny just laughed again. "It's about time," she said, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

She'd never felt more alive.

FIN