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In Your Hands by laughingfornow
Chapter 2 : The Quidditch Pitch
 
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Props to Holly_Mist at TDA for the snaps-y banner!
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  It took me a few hours. The reading, I mean.

Sansa had come up and gone back down, another roommate came to use the bathroom, and Kitty Meow Meow had jumped off my chest once he had seen a rat or mouse or something.




 

 




 

After I’d read the book, I was in tears. I flung the book back on Louise Mellows’s bed and rolled on my stomach, just trying to comprehend everything I’d read.




 

 




 

Sansa came back in the room and was in shock to see me crying. You see, I don’t cry.




 

 




 

I hate crying and I’ve been taught to never cry.




 

 




 

But this book. THIS BOOK.




 

 




 

I feel like an emotional pile of goo.




 

 




 

“Finn! What’s happened? Oh god, you’re dying, aren’t you?”




 

 




 

I just let out another sob and turned on my back to see Sansa sitting on the edge of the bed with her blue eyes darting everywhere as if she was terrified. Which she might have been. Again, she’d only seen me cry once before and I don’t usually cry.




 

 




 

I mumbled something and Sansa shook her head. “I don’t understand.”




 

 




 

I latched onto Sansa’s shirt, wailing pitifully. “This character, Sans. HE’S DEAD. I CAN’T GO ON WITHOUT HIM.”




 

 




 

“What? Who’s died? Who are you talking about?” Sansa was looking very scared and worried now.




 

 




 

I let one hand go from Sansa’s blue blouse and pointed to where I’d thrown the book.




 

 




 

“The Wizard in St Mungo’s? Belinda Bagshot? It’s what Louise reads, isn’t it? I remember her crying about it a couple days ago. Something about ‘Dyson and Guinevere’ or whatever.”




 

 




 

I moaned, feeling my crushed heart trying to piece itself back together.




 

 




 

“Hold on. Has Finley Wood actually begun crying over the death of a fictional character?”




 

 




 

I sniffled.




 

 




 

“Oh wow. This is…this is…I have absolutely no idea what to say.”




 

 




 

A throat was cleared from behind us and I lifted my head to turn it around and saw Lucy Weasley standing by my bed.




 

 




 

“Um, hello.”




 

 




 

There was a pause until I broke it. “Hey. Do you need something or…?”




 

 




 

“Oh. No, I just…um… I wanted to apologise.”




 

 




 

It was Sansa who replied this time. “For what?”




 

 




 

“James. He’s an arse a lot of the time. I would know. We spend a lot of time together.”




 

 




 

It was true. James Potter the second, Fred Weasley (also the second, if you were interested) and Lucy Weasley (the first) were usually joined at the hip. It was said that she was the mastermind behind all the extraordinary pranks they pulled.




 

 




 

It was also true that he’s an arse. Sometimes I would manage to keep calm around him and that would get him furious. But when I didn’t manage to control my temper, I pity anyone in my way. No one makes my blood boil like he does. If I don’t look at him and spend the time trying to come up with witty comments, I can manage to avoid killing him.




 

 




 

I have never gotten truly violent around him or with him, in fear. In truth, aside from my brothers, I haven’t roughed anyone up.




 

 




 

Mum made me promise.




 

 




 

“It’s alright, Lucy. I provoked him. It’s my fault.” Admitting that felt bitter in my mouth.




 

 




 

Lucy sighed, sitting on the other side of Sansa. “Anyway, I still think I should apologise, Finley. He’s just impulsive and stubborn and, honestly, quite arrogant. And because he believes he did nothing wrong, I’m here instead.” She seemed hesitant to finish what she wanted to say. “So…as a ‘I’m sorry’ token, here is a party invitation for you two. You must’ve heard of the Halloween Parties we throw. They get quite rowdy.”




 

 




 

I nodded. I did know. As did everyone else in the castle. It was a big affair and an honour to get invited. There would be about 250 to perhaps 400 students there.




 

 




 

Everyone knew where it was but not everyone knew how to get in. Everyone was charmed to not be able to bring anyone else or tell anyone about it.




 

 




 

It was pretty complicated magic and it was done by three sixteen year olds.




 

 




 

“I don’t know if I should go…”




 

 




 

“Finn is joking. We’re going.” Sansa spoke up for the first time in a couple minutes.




 

 




 

Her eyes were shining with excitement and her red hair seemed to sparkle with electricity.




 

 




 

Oh Merlin. This is never good.




 

 




 

“To be clear, Lucy, this is a costume party. Right?”




 

 




 

Lucy smiled widely, “yes! It’s gonna be gorgeous, just wait.”




 

 




 

Another silent moment before Lucy rose from the bed and giving me a wave, left the dorm.




 

 




 

“That was interesting.”




 

 




 

Sansa gasped. “Interesting? Finn, this is the single greatest thing to ever happen to me. We’re invited to the Halloween Bash. You know, you should get in fights with James a lot more often.”




 

 




 

I didn’t say anything, spying Kitty Meow Meow running back in my room with a note tied with a string around his tail.




 

 




 

Kitty Meow Meow jumped on my bed and let out a long yowl.




 

 




 

I pet him gently while Sansa pulled the note off his tail.




 

 




 

“Wood, stop being stupid and see me on the Quidditch Pitch tonight at 10. We’ll settle this then. Be there. –JSP,” Sansa read aloud and I suddenly got very angry. Setting Kitty Meow Meow to the floor, I took loud angry steps down the stairs and to the Common Room where I could see the back of James Potter the second’s head and he was now done with his homework and was sitting on the sofa, just lazily watching the fire burst and crackle.




 

 




 

Oh hey! The fire’s imitating my temper.




 

 




 

“JAMES POTTER! Why did you attack Kitty Meow Meow!?”




 

 




 

He turned around in surprise and I stopped in my tracks.




 

 




 

Apparently tussled, messy, black hair ran in the family because that definitely was not James Potter the second.




 

 




 

Nope.




 

 




 

T’was not.




 

 




 

“Albus…sorry. I… um… you look the same… from the back… y’know?” I mumbled, taking a step back and my cheeks heating up.




 

 




 

He chuckled and his green eyes twinkled like a happy version of the fire. How do his eyes twinkle? Is there a spell for that?




 

 




 

“It’s okay, Finley. He’s at the Quidditch Pitch. Practising and whatnot.”




 

 




 

I thanked him and ran off, my anger fueling me for the sprint to the Quidditch Pitch where I could see a dark figure flying around on the darkening sky.




 

 




 

Looking at my watch, I saw in surprise that it was ten past nine. Time must have really gone by quickly. The wind was blowing my hair in all directions and a faint voice told me that in less than a minute, my hair would look like a very fuzzy rat just died on my head.




 

 




 

“James Potter!”




 

 




 

My voice didn’t carry all the way to where he was and I knew that. So, quickly deciding between giving up (which I would usually do. What was the use?) and doing something, I rushed the broom shed and pulled out an ancient Comet model before swinging one leg over and pushing off the ground.




 

 




 

I was too furious to actually realise I’d done something for once and wasn’t just waiting for things to happen.




 

 




 

The wind was whistling in my ears and I could feel my nose getting cold while I could barely keep my eyes open from the speed I was going.




 

 




 

I could see more and more of him the closer I got. First I could just his messy hair and then I could see his eyes and then I got close enough to count the bristles on his broom and then there was impact.




 

 




 

I may have forgotten how fast I was going and hadn’t realised I had to stop. Just a tiny problem.




 

 




 

The brooms broke and suddenly we were both falling from a fourty metre drop.




 

 




 

Fourty.




 

 




 

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him.




 

 




 

Thirty.




 

 




 

I pulled out my wand and pointed it towards the ground .




 

 




 

Twenty.




 

 




 

I yelled the spell towards the ground.




 

 




 

Ten.




 

 




 

His grip on me tightened and I could hear him praying.




 

 




 

Zero.




 

 




 

We bounced.




 

 




 

And I don’t mean into hell or heaven.




 

 




 

I meant on a bouncy castle.




 

 




 

That spell I did? I learned it from my brother. It makes a really fluffy bouncy house out of several strands of the grass.




 

 




 

James Potter the second was frozen on top of me.




 

 




 

“Hello, James Potter. Do you mind?”




 

 




 

His eyes opened slowly. “I’m alive?”




 

 




 

“Yes. You’re welcome.”




 

 




 

Pause.




 

 




 

“You’re welcome? You’re welcome!? You nearly killed us. What in Merlin’s name would have compelled you to decide to murder yourself and me? Seriously, Wood, what is wrong with you?”




 

 




 

“You pestered my cat…” My rebuttal fell on deaf ears. He was now ranting, his face red and angry.




 

 




 

I tuned him out, observing at the way he would take a gulp of fresh air after every point made and the way he breathed so heavily (almost like his entire life depended on one breath of air) and the way he smells like a mix of honey, deodorant, and Christmas trees.




 

 




 

That was a nice smell- and what am I doing? Why is he still on me. He’s gonna get off.




 

 




 

He’s going to notice eventually. I mean, he’s squishing my chest. It’s hurting.




 

 




 

I give a pointed glance down to where his body is still flush against mine and he doesn’t notice. How can he not notice? He was leaning on his elbows which were on my hair (just, FWI).




 

 




 

Ow. It’s really starting to hurt. I hate my chest.




 

 




 

Stupid boobs.




 

 




 

What did Mum say about getting people off you? Doing quick revision, I nodded once.




 

 




 

I wove my arms under his and he stopped talking because I was doing this really awkward hugging move.




 

 




 

It stopped him mid-rant.




 

 




 

A few seconds more and he was pinned under me.




 

 




 

“Will you stop straddling me, Wood? What would your mother say?” James Potter the second commented and I pulled half of my body up so I was sitting on his ribs.




 

 




 

I felt like I had been slapped.




 

 




 

“You know full well what my mother would say, you arrogant piece of craptulence,” I hissed, giving him a nice slap.




 

 




 

His face snapped to the side. It slowly rolled back to face me with the angry red mark on his cheek.




 

 




 

“Craptulence?”




 

 




 

“I was going to call you crap or flatulence so I mixed it together. But you know what? It suits you. James Potter the Arrogant Piece of Craptulence. Nice ring to it.”




 

 




 

He snorted. In a fit of rage, I did whatever any other sane person would do. I punched his nose and I heard a crunch.




 

 




 

I should have immediately been apologizing but I was feeling too elated. I’d punched the Infallible James Potter and I would get away with it. Once I ran away.




 

 




 

Which reminds me.




 

 




 

Getting up and taking very awkward steps to get off the bouncy house, I finally tumbled out.




 

 




 

The moment my legs touched ground and I’d dusted myself off, I took off in another sprint back towards the castle and away from James Potter (the second) the Arrogant




 

Piece of Craptulence.




 

 




 

The moment I reached my dorm after the very strenuous run (I have no idea how I managed) to the Fat Lady portrait and up the stairs to my dorm, I collapsed on my bed. I was too tired to change into a nightie before I curled up and fell asleep with my head on my arm.


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