❝ god, it looks like he's
eating her face, doesn't it ? ❞
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MAEVE'S ATTITUDE HAD SOMEWHAT mellowed by the next day, thanks to hermione— but unbeknownst to everyone else. harry assumed it was because she had taken her anger out on him— and they were back onto speaking terms. plus, his nose had been fixed by nurse pomfrey.
however, ron was still being grumpy and surly— and nothing that anyone would say made any difference. harry and maeve's efforts in the common room to tell him that the whole team would be devastated if he left was undermined by the fact that the rest of the team were sitting in a huddle in the corner, very clearly muttering about ron and giving him irritated looks.
so, breakfast was an excitable affair on the day of the match — the slytherin team booed and jeered as every member of the gryffindor team entered the great hall, hoping to put them off their game.
"how was it, then?" ron grumbled, sliding into his usual seat at the table.
"how was what?" hermione asked, putting down the daily prophet.
"your dinner party?" he frowned incredulously.
slughorn's dinner party the night before was also an interesting affair, with people attending such as: blaise zabini, theodore nott, flora and hestia carrow, melinda bobbin, marcus belby, clover, neville, ginny, harry, hermione and maeve; and to the latter's dismay— cormac mclaggen. she didn't mind though, as the food was delicious, and apart from professor slughorn's occasional babble, it was fine.
"pretty boring, actually. though i think harry enjoyed dessert." hermione grinned, and maeve snickered. "slughorn is having a christmas-do, you know? and we're supposed to bring someone."
"great. another thing i'll be left out of." the red-headed boy mumbled.
"no, actually." maeve corrected him, cutting her bacon rash with her knife. "i know
someone who was thinking of inviting you, ronald."
"yeah, right." he scoffed.
"good luck today, ron!" clover smiled as she skipped past them, towards the hufflepuff table.
"i'm resigning." he fussed, his cheeks flushed with nervousness. "after today's match— mclaggen can have my spot."
"suit yourself." harry shrugged. "juice?" he pushed a chalice across the table towards him.
"hello everyone," luna greeted. "you look dreadful, ron." she turned to harry. "is that why you put something in his cup? is it a tonic?"
maeve frowned, looking at harry, but hermione said what she was thinking first. "liquid luck..."
"is that allowed?" maeve asked.
"no! it's not!" hermione snapped. "don't drink it, ron!" the boy ignored her, bringing the chalice to his lips and downing it. "you could be expelled for that!"
"don't know what you're talking about." harry shrugged mischievously.
"come on, harry, come on, maeve!" ron grinned, standing up excitedly. "we've got a game to win!"
"CONDITIONS LOOK IDEAL." GINNY SAID, as the gryffindor team strode down to the stadium. the grass was frosty, and crunched underfoot as they went. "and guess what? that slytherin chaser, vaisey, took a bludger to the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! and even better than that— malfoy's gone off sick, too!"
"what?" harry exclaimed, sure he was faking. "he's sick? what's wrong with him?"
"no idea," ginny shrugged. "but it's great for us. they're playing harper instead; he's in my year and he's a right idiot."
". . . fishy, isn't it?" harry whispered to maeve and ron. "malfoy not playing?"
"lucky, i call it." ron beamed.
"i agree," maeve nodded. "and with vaisey off too— he's their best goal-scorer."
"right? i didn't fancy trying to block him."
when they finally reached the pitch— you could see the separation of the crowd; one half wearing red and gold colours, the other half wearing green and silver.
"captains, shake hands." madame hooch called, who was ready to release the balls from their crate. "mount your brooms. and on the whistle! three, two, one. . ."
the whistle sounded, and everyone kicked off hard from the frozen ground— and they were away, up in the sky.
maeve soared around the perimeter of the grounds, one hand on her broom, and the other clutching her beater's bat.
"well, there you go, i think we're all surprised to see the team that potter's put together this year." came a voice, that was different from the usual commentator's. lee jordan was usually the commentator, but since he had left hogwarts, the job was given to zacharias smith. "maeve foster playing as gryffindor beater, alongside jimmy peakes. we all know about the tragedy of her twin brother, and gryffindor's ex-keeper, levi foster— so all we have to assume is her close friendship with the gryffindor captain ensured her a pity position—"
maeve's grip around her bat tightened, blood boiling. she had never liked the smith boy, and this just sent her over the edge. she was close to taking the bat and whacking him right around his head with it.
"oh, and here's slytherin's first attempt on a goal: it's urquhart streaking down the pitch, and— oh. weasley saves it. . . well, he's bound to get lucky sometime i suppose. . ." zacharias sounded surprised.
with half an hour of the game gone, gryffindor were leading sixty pints to zero, with ron having made some truly spectacular saves, ginny having scored four of gryffindor's six goals, and maeve having whacked at least three bludgers accurately towards the opposing slytherin players.
spinning round on her broom and watching a bludger come straight for her, the blonde girl raised her bat and hit it, aiming it towards harper (the slytherin seeker)— who was just passing harry in the opposite direction.
hermione cheered significantly louder than everyone else, applauding with her gloved-hands as she jumped up and down.
"of course foster isn't really the usual build for a beater," zacharias said loftily into the mic. "they've generally got a bit more muscle—"
maeve rolled her eyes— wanting nothing more than to knock zacharias smith right off that commentator's stand.
"and i think harper's seen the snitch! yes, he's certainly seen something that potter hasn't!"
this time, smith was right— the snitch was speeding along high above them, glinting brightly against the clear blue sky.
harry accelerated; and maeve looked up to see him yell something at harper— making him fumble, and accidentally shoot right past it.
gryffindor was only a hundred points up— so if harper had caught it first, slytherin would win. luckily, due to harry's distraction, he was able to outstretch his arm and seize it.
"yes!" everyone cheered, and the great sound drowned out the whistle that signalled the end of the game.
THE GRYFFINDOR CELEBRATION PARTY WAS IN FULL SWING, ron was in the center being surrounded by a mob of people congratulating him, cheering and chanting his name as he basked in the glory.
"god, it looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" ginny shook her head, as they watched ron kiss clover. "bloody hypocrite, he is."
"you really shouldn't have done it." hermione told harry, shaking her head in disapproval.
"i know," harry shrugged. "suppose i could've just confuded maeve's bludger?"
"that's different— that was try-outs." hermione blushed. "not an actual game..."
harry pulled the vial of liquid luck out of his pocket, revealing all of the potion still inside.
"you didn't put it in?"
harry shook his head. "nope."
"ron only thought you did?"
"maeve did say it seemed like the placebo effect."
"mhm." he hummed. "speaking of maeve, where is she?"
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lara speaks the party will
continue in the next chapter !!