Snitch

             Chapter One - Wronski Feint    

Oliver Wood straightened his navy robes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. With an unusually uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, he smoothed the white pants he wore under his Quidditch uniform down, checking the gold detailing around his kneecap. Sighing, he knelt down and began lacing his old brown Quidditch boots up; the same ones he had worn years ago at Hogwarts.

In a private dressing room two doors down, Harry Potter observed his new robes with a half-smile. The darkness of the blue fabric contrasted starkly to his pale skin; the twin golden bulrushes that marked his status as a member of Puddlemere United gleamed happily at him. Almost disbelievingly, he ran a hand along the gold stitching at the hems of the robes.

“You look wonderful, Harry.”

He looked over his shoulder in the mirror to see Hermione. “Thanks, Mione,” he said coolly, turning to face her.

She was wearing a T-shirt the same color as Harry’s robes, with the same gold silkscreen across the front. Although hers lacked the real gold stitching, it still looked nice on her, Harry decided. She was wearing Snitch earrings and was holding out a pair of leather gloves.

“You’re going to be great, you know,” she said with a smile, handing him the gloves.

He grinned. “Only because you’ll be in the stands, though,” he laughed.

She pushed him playfully. “Don’t say that,” Hermione shot. The twin Snitches bounced alluringly above her shoulders. “You know as well as I do that I’ll have nothing to do with it!”

He slid his arms around her waist, facing her with a smirk on his peach lips.

“Good luck,” she repeated, her face so close to his own.

He smirked even more, closing the distance between them. “Thanks,” he murmured, his lips meeting hers.

Oliver slid the door to his Seeker’s room open. There was Harry, embracing his girlfriend, kissing. An odd pang hit him in the stomach; no wife, no fiancée, no girlfriend, not even a date for the Post-Game Dinner.

“Harry,” he croaked finally, and the brunette’s lips left Harry’s. “It’s time for us to get out to the pitch.”

Harry nodded, kissing Hermione once more on the lips. “Good luck,” she smiled again, beguilingly.

“See you after the game,” he whispered, mouth beside one tiny Snitch. As he left the room, he slipped his leather gloves on, an odd smirk playing across his lips.

                        *

Hermione Granger was terrified, to say the least. Her relationship with Harry had granted her front seats in the top box; by now, she was starting to wish she was down near the ground.

Already, two of the starting Chasers on Harry’s team had been injured, being replaced by the slightly-less-than-astounding second string members. She watched Harry, floating high above the rest of the game, and decided that he was safe where he was. The opposing Beaters were focusing much more on the Chasers than the Seeker, which was a relief.

The opposing Seeker for the Holyhead Harpies (an all witches’ team), a pretty young girl with flaming red hair, was circling the pitch with a decidedly arrogant laissez-faire attitude. Though never a huge Quidditch fan, Hermione desperately wanted to slug the supercilious little twit for Harry’s sake.

Puddlemere scored twice. Hermione watched the starting Chaser and the better of the two second stringers give each other the high five. One of their Beaters, a tall man with shoulder-length blonde hair tied in a ponytail, whacked a Bludger towards the opposing Keeper; Wood’s counterpart fell speedily through the air, landing with a deeply resonant thud on the ground, her emerald robes and brown hair mixing with the sand.

Cheers from Puddlemere’s side erupted as a MediWizard scooped the decidedly limp girl onto his broom. With an odd gasp, Hermione realized that she was standing right up by the glass, her fingers pressed against it.

A second Keeper flew down; this time a plain-looking thirty-something woman with dishwater blond hair that licked the air behind her.

Harry circled faster, leaning forward on his broom. His shock of black hair was visible even from here; with a choked breath, Hermione found herself plastered against the window again. When he passed Hermione, she saw the grin of adrenaline on his lips; he was enjoying the chase and the kill.

The red head dove. Harry tore after her, neck-in-neck with her. At the last second, she pulled up; her smug smile was back in place as Harry crashed onto the grass. Her toes were just skimming the ground when out of nowhere, a Bludger crashed into her chest; she landed on her back, eyes closed, and Hermione let of a cheer.

Then she realized that Harry wasn’t moving. He was still lying face-down on the ground, still, broom in two pieces beside him.

Another MediWizard zoomed onto the field, dismounted, and knelt beside Harry. With a small struggle, he turned Harry over.

He was smiling. With an odd grin, he blinked and raised his arm.

Even from her seat at the top of the stands, Harry saw the glint of gold between his fingers.