Unhappy Endings

18: Quidditch Match

Severus scowled as he watched the Quidditch match. It was bad enough that the announcer was that blasted Jordan boy-- typical Gryffindor, and far too biased against Slytherin to be doing the job for a Gryffindor/Slytherin match-- but to see the Potter boy out there...

It nearly distracted him from the second situation at hand.

"I have brought you a thermos of tea, Severus." You sat down beside him, squeezing between a multitude of other professors. "A jolly good sight to see you. You seem excited, despite your dour face."

He turned to look at you, noting that your skin had a very light chartreuse color to it.

"Your skin, Esmeralda, might lead others to believe you'd like Slytherin to win this match." He looked down his nose at you, but otherwise held no harsh tone to his voice. He was quite pleased to be in attendance today-- the Potter boy's first game.

With a shake of your body, the chartreuse color-- one of feeling awkward-- faded away. "Perhaps I am partial to that particular house." You sipped from the thermos, "Is that a problem?"

"I am unbothered either way, Esmeralda. You may support who you like. However, most here would like the opposing time to prosper, if not only to see Potter succeed."

He had no doubt Harry had the skill and ability to be an excellent seeker, much as he hated to admit it. Minerva was too much in favor of the rules to be willing to break one just to make the Potter brat happy; she wouldn't have insisted that he be allowed to become a seeker in his first year if she didn't think he was capable. She couldn't favor Gryffindor in the same ways that he did Slytherin - and, knowing Minerva, wouldn't even if she could - but in small ways...

He sighed to himself, his mouth tightening as he watched Harry and Terence Higgs dive after the Snitch. Inwardly, he was happy for the tea. It was always a touch more sweet than most people made and unbeknownst to anyone, he preferred it that was. The smile on his face was easily mistaken as happiness for Marcus Flint blocking Potter. He preferred it that way. He'd trained his Slytherins well, although he'd have to speak to Marcus about being too obvious. As long as Potter didn't get himself killed out there, perhaps this game would be better than he'd feared. It would certainly be pleasant if Higgs and the team managed to defeat the Gryffindors - even more pleasant than last year. Perhaps there was a bright spot in the fact that Potter had been allowed on the Gryffindor team just like his father.

The game continued after the penalty shot, and Severus found himself relaxing a bit. He did enjoy Quidditch, though that fact would be likely to give the students a heart attack if they ever heard it. And even though Slytherin was still down ten points, it was obvious that Gryffindor had a fight on their hands. That, and he felt your heat radiating into his shoulder as you oo'd and aw'd at each play.

He was watching the chasers battle over the quaffle when a jerky movement above the pitch caught his eye. Looking up, Severus saw Harry holding desperately onto his broom as it started zig-zagging over the pitch, the movement bearing no resemblance to the smooth flying the boy had been doing earlier. No one else had noticed yet, but it was obvious that Potter was in trouble.

None of the students would have been able to do this, not even the Slytherins-- on the team or not-- Severus knew. It took a powerful jinx to overwhelm the enchantment on brooms, especially ones as new and powerful as the one Minerva had given Harry. Which meant that it had to be one of the faculty... But there wasn't time to consider who it might be just at the moment, not when the broom was starting to roll over, obviously trying to unseat the boy-- which would kill him, as high up as he was.