A Foretold Love

"S'pose I'm not cut out to be a Beater?" Colin Creevy asked nervously.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it; you'll do fine. I've seen you fly before -- a little practice will make you a champion Beater. Now you should go and take a warm-up flight around the pitch before I bring out the bludgers."

Colin grinned and mounted his Nimbus 2001. It wasn't the newest broom on the market but it was still one of the best.

Harry smiled as Colin steered with broom with perfection. He and Colin had grown closer the previous year as the eldest Creevy brother had matured dramatically. He no longer begged to take Harry's picture or asked for an autograph every time they passed in the halls; he'd seemed to have outgrown that phase.

Ron flew over and landed gracefully near Harry. "D'you think he was a wise choice?" Ron inquired, nodding to Colin who was doing loop-the-loops in mid-air.

Harry nodded. "Yes." His tone left no room for question or complaint.

"Well, we still only have a team of three," Ron said. "We need another Beater and three Chasers."

"Two Chasers," Harry corrected.

"What?"

Harry pointed across the pitch to a figure standing in scarlet Quidditch robes. Ron's jaw dropped. "Ginny?"

"She's good," Harry said simply.

"How would you know?" Ron inquired almost skeptically.

"She asked me if she could join the second day of school so we went out onto the pitch and practiced. I'm surprised she managed to keep it a secret for a whole week."

"That's why I couldn't find you," Ron said, watching as Ginny ran over.

"What do you think?" she asked, spinning in a slow circle to model her clothing.

"It looks my same as my stuff!" Ron exclaimed in mock amazement. "Go figure."

With a scowl, Ginny made a move to chuck Fred's old Cleansweep Five at Ron, but he mounted his broom quickly and kicked off into the air. Harry chuckled, turning to the only Weasley girl.

"Ron doesn't think you're any good," he told her as he pulled the red quaffle out of the crate. He looked up at Ron again, smirking, though he continued talking to Ginny. "Why don't you show him what you can do?"

Ron frowned at Harry but took up his position in front of the posts for he was the Gyffindor Seeker. Taking the quaffle, Ginny swung a leg over her broom and kicked off. "Oh! And tell Creevy to get over here!" Harry called after her.

With a nod, Ginny made her way to a dizzy Colin Creevy, who was putting up a great effort not to fall off his broom after spending a full three minutes doing three hundred and sixty degree turns on his Nimbus 2001. He somehow managed to make his way over to Harry and land without planting his face in the dirt. He collapsed on the grass the instant his feet touched the ground.

"Feeling okay?" Harry asked noticing the nauseated look on Colin's face.

Colin nodded slowly as he swallowed hard, some of the colour already returning to his face.

"Good. Now, since you're to be our newest Beater, I'm going to teach you exactly what a Beater has to do. For starters, you're going to need to learn how to fly without hanging on because you're going to need to use both hands to swing at the bludgers. But don't worry -- you won't have to do any diving or fancy flying. Just the basics."

He went on to explain to Colin how violent and uncontrollable the bludgers could be and at the end of his demonstration asked Colin if he was still up to being Beater. Colin nodded, his face set in determination. Harry smiled. Opening the crate he let out a single black bludger and it whizzed up into the air.

"Go see if you can hit it, but try not to hit Ginny and Ron."

Without a word Colin mounted his broom and kicked off, gripping the bat tightly in his fist. He was flying rather slowly compared to the pace he had previously set, but Harry had to commend him on practicing without holding on.

A curse from Ron up above told Harry that Ginny had gotten a goal past him. Picking up his Firebolt from where it lay on the ground behind him, he joined them in the sky. Ginny aimed for the left goal and Ron practically jumped off his broom to catch the quaffle. Harry laughed as Ron struggled to right himself.

"All right, she's good," Ron admitted grudgingly. "But we're still two Chasers and a Beater short."

"I was considering Dean Thomas for another Chaser and Madame Hooch told me about this girl named Natalie McDonald. Hooch said she'd probably make a good Beater."

"I know McDonald," Ginny said. "She would make a good Beater. She wouldn't be afraid to go after it."

Harry nodded. "I'll ask both of them to join tomorrow's practice if they're interested. But we still need one more person."

A bludger suddenly flew by Ginny's head and a sheepish Colin came up beside her. He mumbled an apology, one that Ginny dismissed lightheartedly.

"Hey, Colin, d'you know of any good flyers?" Ron asked.

Colin was silent for a few moments as he thought. "There's the McDonald girl...." he said slowly. "I think she's pretty good."

Harry grinned. "She's already considered. Anyway, practice again tomorrow immediately after dinner. Pack up." That said, Harry, Colin and the only two remaining Weasleys at Hogwarts headed towards the ground.

.

"You're back," Hermione noted as Harry and Ron walked over. She was standing in front of the fire, the heat it radiated drying her hair.

"How very observant of you, Hermione," Ron replied mockingly, earning himself a hard glare from the bushy-haired girl.

Hermione turned her attention to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. "How was practice?"

"Pretty good," Harry replied. "I'm going to ask Dean Thomas and Natalie McDonald if they're interested in trying-out."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "Sounds good." She turned back to Ron. "Did you manage to improve any over the summer?" she inquired coolly.

"Shut-up! At least I made the bloody team!" Ron snarled.

"That was--" Hermione was cut short as Lavender Brown shoved her aside.

"Hi, Ron," Lavender said in an almost cooing voice, grinning as she did so. "I saw you practicing outside. You're really good."

A blush began to creep up Ron's face. "Oh, uh, thanks."

"The Quidditch robes go with your hair, too," she continued, her voice flattering. "Stunning, really."

The flush on Ron's face deepened. "Thank -- thank-you," he said uncomfortably as Harry began to snicker from beside him.

"Lavender! C'mon!" Everyone turned to see Parvati Patil standing near the portrait motioning for Lavender to join her.

"Will you join me for breakfast tomorrow, Ron?" Lavender asked flirtingly turning away from Parvati.

"Um.... Okay...." This struck him as slightly odd considering they always ate at the same table anyway.

Lavender grinned brightly. "Okay, then. I'll see you tomorrow!" she said before she hurried away. Ron stood rigid as Harry burst out into peals of laughter.

"Someone likes you, Ron!" Harry hooted. "And she certainly isn't modest about it! It did kind of come out of nowhere, though...."

"Did she really just -- did she...." Ron's stunned voice trailed off as his gaze landed on Hermione. Her face was white but her eyes were blazing, her fists clenched at her sides.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked her as Harry began to regain his composure.

Hermione only shook her head as she walked stiffly by and up the stairs to her dorm. Ron shook his head and sat down hard on a nearby table, not bothering to walk the short distance to the couch, thoroughly bewildered.

.

The instant Draco Malfoy walked into the Slytherin common room with a pair of ominoculors in his hands, Pansy Parkinson knew exactly what he had been doing. She smirked as she sidled up to him before he could escape to his dormitory.

"Spying on the Gyffindor team?" she asked innocently.

"That's what I intended to do, but it seems they don't even have a team yet!" Draco growled. "They only have four players. They hardly practiced at all. Though I must say the Weasley girl does seem rather good at being a Chaser." He frowned at this.

"Don't worry about it, Dracie," Pansy cooed. She reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek but he pushed her away, not bothering to comment on the hated pet-name Pansy had given him.

"I have to finish my homework," he grunted as he made his way over to one of the tables where a Transfiguration text book, a piece of parchment, a quill and ink bottle lay.

"You're actually going to do your homework?" Pansy seemed surprised, hiding her hurt expression.

"Yes. I'm not going to become a brainless git like the rest of you," Draco replied shortly as he opened the text book and flipped to the page he had left off at.

Pansy ignored the insult. "Can I copy it later?"

"No," Draco told her as he turned from the book to the parchment and began to write.

"Please?"

"No."

Pansy sighed and sat down beside him, pressing her thigh against the blonde's. Draco seemed completely unaffected as he continued writing. Hurt but determined, Pansy placed a hand on Draco's leg and sat up straighter to whisper in his ear, "Why not?"

Her breath tickled the Malfoy boy's ear and neck but he didn't flinch. Indeed he acted as though he hadn't felt anything at all. "You can do it yourself."

"Oh, fine," Pansy snapped, clearly annoyed, and she stood to leave. "See if I ever do anything for you again, you bastard."

In a flash, Draco had dropped his quill and stood, grabbed Pansy's hips and pulled her to his chest. Leaning down, he said into her ear, "Want to see how long you stay mad?"

But Pansy had already forgiven him. Draco had that affect upon her. She melted against his well defined chest and the remaining occupants of the Slytherin common room left hurriedly, assuming, as always, that the worst was about to come.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy," Pansy said in a seductive tone.

Draco didn't respond to her words. Love was too strong of a word for him. He couldn't truthfully say that he loved anyone, not even his own parents, and he couldn't truthfully say that anyone loved him. Not that he particularly minded -- love was a pointless emotion in his opinion.

But while Draco Malfoy didn't respond to Pansy's words, he did respond to her tone. Cupping both of her breasts through her Slytherin robes, he bent forward and caught Pansy's lips in his own. A second later they had fallen to the couch.