People Watching.

Chapter Thirty-One.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall the next day to enormous applause. Harry couldn't help grinning broadly as he saw that both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were applauding them too. The Slytherin table hissed loudly as they passed. Harry noticed that Draco looked even paler than usual.
Oliver spent the whole of breakfast urging his team to eat, while touching nothing himself. Then he hurried off to the field before anyone else had finished so they could get an idea of the conditions. As they left the Great Hall, everyone applauded again.

"Good luck, Harry!" called Cho. Harry's grin widened as he looked at the girl beside her. (Y/n) playfully blew him kisses and Harry felt himself blush.

"Okay— no wind to speak of— sun's a bit bright, that could impair your vision, watch out for it— ground's fairly hard, good, that'll give us a fast kickoff—"
Oliver paced the field, staring around with the team behind him. Finally, they saw the front door of the castle open in the distance and the rest of the school came spilling onto the lawn.
"Locker rooms," Oliver said tersely.
None of them spoke as they changed into their scarlet robes. Harry wondered if they were feeling as he was: as though he'd eaten something extremely wriggly for breakfast. In what seemed like no time at all, Oliver was saying, "Okay, it's time, let's go—"

They walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of noise. Three-quarters of the crowd were wearing scarlet clothing, waving scarlet flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or brandishing banners with slogans like "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP!" Behind the Slytherin goalposts, however, two hundred or so people were wearing green; the silver serpent of Slytherin glittered on their flags, and Professor Snape sat in the very front row, wearing green like everyone else, and a very grim smile. 

"And here are the Gryffindors!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator as usual. (Y/n) was sitting up there with him, lost in her own world. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"
Lee's comments were drowned by a tide of "boos" from the Slytherin end.
"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill—"
More boos from the Slytherin crowd. Harry, however, thought Lee had a point. Draco was easily the smallest person on the Slytherin team; the rest of them were enormous.
"Quite a nice date, wouldn't you agree, (Y/n)?" Lee flirted. "Just us, commentating and watching the most intense Quidditch game of the season." Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Yes, Lee, very nice," (Y/n) said, distracted. She held onto the railing that boxed the booth and leaned over it, meeting Cassius' eyes and grinning. 
(Y/n) continuously looked between two of the three enchanted projections; One with the Gryffindors, one with the Slytherins, and the third of the commentator's booth.

"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.
Flint and Oliver approached each other and grasped one another's hand very tightly; it looked as though each was trying to break the other's fingers.
"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch instructed. "Three... two... one..."
The sound of her whistle was lost in the roar from the crowd as fourteen brooms rose into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight; he glanced around, saw Draco on his tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no— Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field— WHAM!— Nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by... Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina— nice swerve around Montague— duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!— SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"