Together (A Harry Potter love story) 3

36

MILLIES POV

"Show us what you've got then, H." I smirked playfully, crossing my arms. "Let's see what the famous Harry Potter makes of the Firebolt."

"Careful," said Harry, mounting the broom, "I might take your breath away with my amazing skills."

Everyone sniggered, while I rolled my eyes at his cockiness, saying, "I'm sure that's a risk we're all willing to take."

Harry sent me a wink, before kicking off from the ground and zooming into the air. He sped across the pitch at such speed that he turned into a red and gold blur; Harry turned it so sharply that Ron screamed in the stands, then he went into a perfectly controlled dive, brushing the grassy pitch with his toes before rising thirty, forty, fifty feet into the air again-

"Harry, I'm letting the Snitch out!" Oliver called from beside me.

Harry turned and raced a Bludger towards the goalposts; he outstripped it easily, and within ten seconds had caught the Snitch tightly in his hand.

A grin broke out onto my face as the team clapped and cheered madly. I watched as Harry let the Snitch go again, gave it a minute's head start, then tore after it, showing off by performing a loop, before catching it again.

Everyone was goggling at Harry as though he was some kind of professional Quidditch player, and when the boy landed, they all rushed over to him excitedly.

"Here, Mills," Harry said when I joined them. He held out the Firebolt to me.

"What?" I breathed, looking from him to the broom.

"Go on," he said, wrapping my hands around the handle for me, "have a go."

I gasped happily. "Thank you! And you weren't too bad, by the way."

Harry snorted. "Thanks. We'll see how good you are then, shall we?"

"We shall," I said, winking as he had done, before mounting the broom and kicking off the ground.

It was better than I'd ever dreamed. The Firebolt turned with the lightest tough; it seemed to obey my thoughts rather than my grip.

"Catch this, Millie!" I heard Oliver call over the wind, and dived down to catch the Quaffle that he'd just thrown into the air. I zoomed towards the goal posts; the stadium turning into a green and grey blur. In a swift and sudden motion, I swung my arm back, sending the Quaffle flying at a ridiculously fast speed. I skidded to a halt, watching in anticipation as the ball swiftly made its way nearer and nearer to the highest hoop, and finally flew perfectly through the centre of it.

I landed, or more stumbled, back onto the grass due to the speed of the broom, laughing happily and brushing my wind-swept hair from my face. The team ran over, congratulating me on the goal. Harry leant his elbow proudly on my shoulder, stroking my hair and saying, "That's my girl."

It was the best practice ever; the team, inspired by the presence of the Firebolt in our midst, performed our best moves faultlessly, and by the time we hit the ground again, Oliver didn't have a single criticism to make, which, as George pointed out, was a first.

"I can't see what's going to stop us tomorrow!" Oliver exclaimed, before turning slowly to Harry, who currently had his arms wrapped tightly around me from behind. "Not unless - Harry, you've sorted your Dementor problem, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Harry lied - he had told me that he had only managed to produce a feeble Patronus so far in the private lessons with Lupin.

"The Dementors won't turn up, anyway," I said, holding onto Harry's arms around my neck.