Like a Bludger to the Head (Marcus/Ginny, 499 words)
Title: Like a Bludger to the Head
Pairing: Marcus Flint/Ginny Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 499 words
Summary: Marcus struggled to catch his breath, feeling like he'd been blindsided by a Bludger to the head.
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs week 68. Prompt: Marcus, Ginny, blindsided. I won second place!
The Quaffle zipped past and Marcus dove to intercept, but a blur of green and orange darted ahead, and he was too late. Marcus missed his target and went hurtling into thin air, and it was a moment before he could right himself and look back at the player who’d beaten him: a smiling, redheaded witch in Harpy robes.
Marcus struggled to catch his breath, feeling like he'd been blindsided by a Bludger to the head. Her bright red hair shone in the sun like a fiery torch, and she wore a satisfied smile on her face. She met his eyes and deliberately sent him a wink, as if to taunt him, and then dove back into the game.
There was no time to rest; his coach was already screaming from the sideline. Marcus shook his head and followed the redhead back into the game, but images of her kept dancing behind his eyelids.
Who was that witch? She was beautiful, quick and clever on a broom, and that teasing wink showed she knew it. Marcus's heart beat faster at the very thought of her. Whoever she was, he knew that he wanted her.
After the match, he promised himself. After the match he would pull her aside, charm her, ask her out for drinks, or maybe a weekend in Bali. Anything. He would give anything just to spend some time with her.
The rest of the match lasted forever. The Quaffle and Bludgers swarmed like angry bees, and Marcus's usually iron-clad concentration was shot. He struggled to catch and throw, fly and maneuver. He was saved only by his endless hours of training; his body knew the motions of Quidditch, even if his mind was distracted.
Finally, the Snitch was caught and he could drop to the pitch. Clutching his broom in one hand, Marcus approached the knot of Harpies players, celebrating their win. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rattled hard against his ribcage, as if he'd never talked to a witch before.
"Great game, Weasley!" another Harpy called out, and the redhead turned her head and smiled.
Marcus's brain repeated Weasley, and he felt blindsided for the second time that day. His feet skipped a step and he stumbled, nearly falling. She was a Weasley? He'd hated the Weasleys in school. They'd been enemies for seven years, bloodied his knuckles and his nose and put him in detention again and again. And she was one of them?
His blurred vision cleared, and Marcus saw her again, walking right toward him. Her smile was even more dazzling up close. In that moment Marcus knew -- her name wasn't important. She was an amazing, beautiful witch, and he had to know her.
"I'm Ginny," she said, holding out a hand to shake.
Marcus took her hand in his, feeling an electric charge run through him at the touch of her skin. "I know," he said.
Nothing else mattered.
Pairing: Marcus Flint/Ginny Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 499 words
Summary: Marcus struggled to catch his breath, feeling like he'd been blindsided by a Bludger to the head.
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs week 68. Prompt: Marcus, Ginny, blindsided. I won second place!
The Quaffle zipped past and Marcus dove to intercept, but a blur of green and orange darted ahead, and he was too late. Marcus missed his target and went hurtling into thin air, and it was a moment before he could right himself and look back at the player who’d beaten him: a smiling, redheaded witch in Harpy robes.
Marcus struggled to catch his breath, feeling like he'd been blindsided by a Bludger to the head. Her bright red hair shone in the sun like a fiery torch, and she wore a satisfied smile on her face. She met his eyes and deliberately sent him a wink, as if to taunt him, and then dove back into the game.
There was no time to rest; his coach was already screaming from the sideline. Marcus shook his head and followed the redhead back into the game, but images of her kept dancing behind his eyelids.
Who was that witch? She was beautiful, quick and clever on a broom, and that teasing wink showed she knew it. Marcus's heart beat faster at the very thought of her. Whoever she was, he knew that he wanted her.
After the match, he promised himself. After the match he would pull her aside, charm her, ask her out for drinks, or maybe a weekend in Bali. Anything. He would give anything just to spend some time with her.
The rest of the match lasted forever. The Quaffle and Bludgers swarmed like angry bees, and Marcus's usually iron-clad concentration was shot. He struggled to catch and throw, fly and maneuver. He was saved only by his endless hours of training; his body knew the motions of Quidditch, even if his mind was distracted.
Finally, the Snitch was caught and he could drop to the pitch. Clutching his broom in one hand, Marcus approached the knot of Harpies players, celebrating their win. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rattled hard against his ribcage, as if he'd never talked to a witch before.
"Great game, Weasley!" another Harpy called out, and the redhead turned her head and smiled.
Marcus's brain repeated Weasley, and he felt blindsided for the second time that day. His feet skipped a step and he stumbled, nearly falling. She was a Weasley? He'd hated the Weasleys in school. They'd been enemies for seven years, bloodied his knuckles and his nose and put him in detention again and again. And she was one of them?
His blurred vision cleared, and Marcus saw her again, walking right toward him. Her smile was even more dazzling up close. In that moment Marcus knew -- her name wasn't important. She was an amazing, beautiful witch, and he had to know her.
"I'm Ginny," she said, holding out a hand to shake.
Marcus took her hand in his, feeling an electric charge run through him at the touch of her skin. "I know," he said.
Nothing else mattered.