Pansy/Ginny fic: The Girl Who Dreamed of Flying--Part 1/2 (NC-17)
Title: The Girl Who Dreamed of Flying
Author: icicle33
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny, Pansy/Ginny, implied Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~9000
Warnings: infidelity, hate!sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, exhibitionism
Summary: Ginny knew that she could never be a perfect housewife like her mother. Everyone thought that she had it all and would become the future Mrs Potter, but Ginny had other dreams, like travelling the world and playing professional Quidditch. When she receives an invitation to try out for the new all female Quidditch team, the Uxbridge Unicorns, Ginny is ecstatic-that is-until she realises that the Manager and Owner of the team is one Pansy Parkinson.
A/N: This was written forbluemermaid. She asked for femmeslash, infidelity, angst, an unexpected meeting, hair pulling, hate!sex, sex in public, grass, and lipstick. Thank you so much toashiiblack for all your help.
~*~
Ginny raced down the squeaky steps of the Burrow, careful not to trip over her untied trainers, and ran straight into the kitchen. She was running late, as usual, and needed to hurry up and eat breakfast if she was going to make it to her tryout on time. It would have been easier to grab a piece of toast and leave, but of course, her mother would never let her leave the house without a proper meal.
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, dear. She heard her mother’s grating voice in the back of her mind. If you don’t eat breakfast, you’ll never have enough energy to amount to anything in life. Is that what you want, Ginevra?
No, there was no time for arguing today-not if she was going to make it all the way to West London by 10 am. With her hands tangled in her wild curls, attempting to tame them into a ponytail, Ginny plopped herself down at the kitchen table and crossed one leg underneath her.
“Morning, Mum. Harry.” Ginny flashed both Harry and her mother a bright smile that she hoped didn't appear forced.
“Morning, darling. Nice of you to finally join us.” Her mother put down the silverware she was polishing and walked over to the table, placing a kiss on Ginny’s forehead. “Sit like a lady, Ginevra,” she chided, scrunching her nose at Ginny’s crossed legs. Ginny rolled her eyes but uncrossed her legs. Of course, as soon as her mother turned her back and went back to polishing silverware, she crossed them again. She liked sitting with one leg crossed underneath her and hanging off the chair. What did she care if it was unladylike? Being a lady was overrated.
“Hi, Gin,” Harry said, with his own wide smile. “I saved you some toast.”
“Thanks.” She eyed the over-buttered toast wearily, but decided not to complain since it was a nice gesture. Munching on the toast, which was only mildly disgusting, she stole a large gulp of Harry’s tea to wash it down.
“So are you ready for your tryout?”
Ginny scarfed down the rest of her toast and took another sip of tea before responding.
“Yeah, I’m all ready.” She finished her last couple of bites of toast and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Just gotta hurry, so I’m not late.”
“Oh, right.” Harry pushed the rest of his tea toward her and chewed his bottom lip. “Well, good luck, Gin. Not that you’ll need it. And...”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Harry sighed. “And-I’m sorry that I haven’t been around to help you train. You know...and that I’ve been working so much.” Harry was fiddling with his hands and staring down at his empty plate.
Ginny almost choked on her tea. It wasn’t like Harry to apologise, let alone do it in front of her mother. What was up with him lately? He had been acting so strange. She sighed. She didn’t have the time to analyse Harry’s behaviour; it could wait until later tonight. Hopefully, after she was already a member of next year’s Uxbridge Unicorns.
“That’s quite alright, Harry. It’s not your fault that you have to work so much and can’t say no to people.”
She got up from the table and squeezed his shoulder, leaning in close enough to sniff his hair. He smelt of citrus and musk, perhaps even a hint of sandalwood as well. How odd. Was that cologne? Ginny couldn’t remember Harry ever wearing cologne before. It must be new.
Underneath her touch, Harry’s tense shoulder relaxed and he leant into her embrace, resting his head on her hand. “I-I-”
“No, Harry, it’s okay. Charlie and Ron have been working with me. I’m confident that I’ll make the team.”
“Right.”
Harry rubbed his head against Ginny’s hand, and Ginny bent over to kiss him on the forehead. “I really gotta go though.” She ruffled his thick hair, softer than usual underneath her fingertips. “You smell good too. I like your new cologne.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice taking on a bright tone, “it was a gift.”
Ginny snorted and shook her head. People were always giving her boyfriend gifts; although, it was rare for him to actually accept them. Usually, he smiled politely and declined them.
“We’ll talk tonight. Maybe go out for a drink.”
As she turned to leave, grabbing a banana for the road, Harry called out to her.
“Wait.”
“Yes?” Ginny huffed under her breath.
“I can’t get a drink with you, tonight. I-I-” Harry was stumbling over his words again and running his fingers through his hair. He only did that when he was nervous or lying. Not a good sign.
“Why not?”
“Because...’cause...I have to work-late-again,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry.”
Ginny let out a disgruntled sigh. “What else is new? I have to go.”
Harry grimaced, his pale face taking on a greenish tinge. “I really am sorry,” he squeaked. “They scheduled me the last Potions consult again.”
Ginny waved him off. “It’s fine.”
She turned to walk out the door for the second time, squeezing the banana in her hand much harder than necessary. Lately, Harry always had an excuse for everything and was never around. Most of the time, it didn’t bother her, but she wanted him to be around to celebrate with her tonight. He was her boyfriend after all. Oh well, at least she had survived breakfast without her mother’s usual interrogations. Thank Merlin she was so wrapped up in her cleaning that she wasn’t listening to their conversation. A smile started playing on Ginny’s lips when a warm hand grabbed her ear and pulled her back into the kitchen.
“Hold it right there, young lady. Where do you think you’re going?”
“Mummmm!” Ginny whinged. “Stop it. That hurts.”
Her mother released her ear, but now stood blocking the doorway with her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. “Did you really think you were going to leave this house without telling me about this...tryout?”
Ginny squeezed the banana again and smiled at her mother as sweetly as possible.
“Mum...we’ll talk later. I can’t be late!”
“No. Now...Ginevra Molly Weasley!”
Ginny gulped. Her mother only used her full name when she was in big trouble. “Fine.” She knew that it was hopeless to argue when her mother used that voice. She might as well tell her truth. “I’m trying out for a professional Quidditch team...the Uxbridge Unicorns.”
Her mother frowned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “The Unicorns?”
“Yes, it a new a team, Molly. Part of the brand new Women’s Professional Quidditch Team League,” Harry explained calmly, breaking up the heavy tension in the room. “They won the Cup last year and beat the Harpies.”
Mum’s sharp look softened and she turned to face Harry. “Really, dear?”
“Yes, it’s a small but very prestigious league, Molly. They started last year and have a ton of fans and sponsors already. They only have six teams at the moment, but I’m certain they’ll continue expanding.”
He blinked his long eyelashes and offered Mum his most dazzling smile, showing off his pearly teeth and crinkling his eyes. Ginny’s breath hitched and she hoped that her mother had the same response. After all, that same smile had caused her to fall in love with Harry all those years ago.
“Actually, Molly,” Harry added, wide smile still in place, “it’s quite an honour that Ginny was even invited to the tryout. It would be rude not to show up. It’s not like she’s obligated to join the team just because she tries out.”
Her mother sighed and then locked eyes with Ginny, who was nodding along to Harry’s words.
“Is this true, Ginevra?” she asked, one brow arched in concern.
“Yes, Mum. Every word.”
“And this is really what you want to do. Play...” she scowled again, “Quidditch?”
Ginny’s face lit up. “Absolutely.”
Her mother shook her head and pressed a hand to the temples of her forehead. “But what about your Witches’ Finishing School and the cooking classes you were going to take?” She thinned her lips into a tight line. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
Ginny’s smile faded, but she tried to keep her face in a neutral expression. The sooner she ended this discussion, the sooner she could leave.
“No, Mum,” she said, her voice soft, “that was what you wanted me to do. I don’t...I mean...I want to play Quidditch. I always have.”
Her mother sent her a doubtful look, but Ginny refused to back down.
“You said I was too young when I finished Hogwarts to go professional and I understood that.” She swallowed loudly. “But that was three years ago. And then you said that you didn’t want me playing Quidditch because I could get hurt playing with men. That it would be different if I were only playing with women. Well...it’s different now, Mum. That time’s come.” She pouted her bottom lip and tried to force tears to well up in her eyes. “Don’t make me miss this. Please.”
Her mother huffed and let out a long sigh. “Oh, alright, Ginevra. Go play your little game. But remember this isn’t a real career...especially for a young lady, whose going to have a family of her own.” She shot Harry a dirty look. “Hopefully sooner than later.” Then she ushered Ginny out of the kitchen. “Now, don’t make me regret this. Take care of yourself and scram.”
Ginny didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick “Thanks Mum”, she was scurrying out of the kitchen and then out the door. One way or another, she was going to make it to her tryout.
~*~
Somehow, Ginny made it to her tryout with three minutes to spare. She would have had longer if she hadn’t had to argue with the locker room manager, who kept insisting that a Ginny Weasley was not on the tryout roster. At first Ginny had been furious, but it turned out that she was on the list and even had her own personal locker, which only the elite recruits were given. However, the catch was that she was listed under Ginny Potter instead of Weasley. After a terse apology to the locker room manager, Ginny accepted the locker and practise uniform she was given.
This is all a mistake. Just a simple error in paperwork. That’s all. It could happen to anyone, she kept telling herself. It had to be. Because the alternative was unimaginable.
She deserved to be here. She knew she did, but all she could do was wait her turn and try her hardest. She hadn’t been invited because of her boyfriend; she was invited because of her pure and natural talent. That was all.
With shaky hands, she braided her long ponytail into a tight plait. She didn’t want her fiery curls striking her in the face when she was trying to fly. She closed her eyes and took deep, soothing breaths, trying to get her nerves under control. Before stepping into that locker room and seeing that dreadful locker plate, Ginny hadn’t been nervous. Not even a bit.
She had been confident in her skills, confident that she would make the team, perhaps even start. But now she wasn’t so sure. The other girls she saw around the locker room were giants, some almost twice her size. How could she compete with them? And there had to be a least 100 names on that stupid list. All those names and only 14 players would make the team. Merlin’s beard, she was doomed.
After taking another series of calming breaths, Ginny’s hands stopped shaking enough for her to put on her uniform. Obviously, she hadn’t expected a full set of Quidditch robes and leathers since this was only a tryout, but she hadn’t been expecting this either.
The Unicorn’s practise gear consisted of the shortest pair of black shorts she had ever seen and a tight, sheer white tank top. The top was so tight that it left nothing to the imagination; her bra was completely visible through the shirt as well as every freckle on her chest and arms, and a patch of her pale, flat stomach peeked out the bottom.
Tugging on her shirt, Ginny looked in the nearby mirror and frowned. She looked absolutely ridiculous. This wasn’t Quidditch gear; she looked like a tart with her arse hanging out of her shorts and her stomach and breasts peaking out. She grinded her teeth and attempted to spell her shirt longer, so it would at least cover her stomach-but of course, the uniform had been charmed against any alterations. Bloody fucking hell. Banging her head against the lockers, Ginny closed her eyes and fell to the floor. She needed to relax. Immediately.
This wasn’t so bad. It could be worse, she told herself. At least she was here. And if she landed a spot on the team, then it would all be worth it.
~*~
“Prospective Chasers,” a shrill, haughty voice, drawled. “Please step forward and state your full name and recruit numbers. From the top.”
Ginny followed the group of girls in front of her and walked slowly in queue with them, keeping her head down and eyes glued to floor as everyone else seemed to be doing. Apparently, the manager of the Unicorns was a psychotic bitch. Or at least that’s what she had overheard in the locker room. Ginny had been smart enough not to get involved with the gossip because if this coach really was a crazy bitch, then there was a good chance she had set recording charms on the locker room. She was not getting caught badmouthing a coach she didn’t even know. For now, she was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was just tough. And tough was good for Quidditch. Tough won Championships.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw a tall, dark haired girl step forward first. “Elizabeth A. Stevens. Recruit 68,” the girl said, voice deep and formal.
Next in line, an even taller blonde, stepped forward. “Margaret A. Brown. Recruit 69.”
Then, a brunette about Ginny’s height, who was well muscled and must have had a least two stone on her, stepped forward. “Victoria S. Pemberton III. Recruit 70.”
Finally, it was Ginny’s turn. Clearing her throat loudly, she stepped forward with her chin held high and shoulders back. She might be smaller than these other girls, but she was a Gryffindor for a reason and refused to be intimidated, even if for some strange reason her uniform appeared to be twice as tight as the other girls’.
“Ginevra Molly Weasley. Recruit 71.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” came the tight reply. “Now, don’t be shy, my darlings, everyone can raise their heads. I promise I won’t bite.” A loud, familiar chortle filled the air. “Much.”
Ginny’s head snapped forward and she gasped when she realised who was in front of her. That screechy voice had seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Not until now.
“Pa-Parkinson,” she croaked, before she could stop herself.
Pansy’s dark eyes locked on Ginny and a strong shiver ran down her back. Ginny had not seen Pansy since school, and most certainly had not excepted to see her here. She didn’t even think that Pansy played Quidditch. At least she hadn’t at school. Then again, none of the Slytherin girls did. Perhaps they hadn’t been allowed.
“Hmm, Gin-ev-ra,” Pansy rasped, voice deep and sultry. “You’re here. I wasn’t sure if you would come.” She looked Ginny over slowly, her eyes lingering on her shorts and breasts much longer than necessary.
“Well, I am here,” Ginny snapped, her voice firm.
“So you are. However,” she stepped closer to Ginny, her dark, menacing eyes only inches away from Ginny’s face, “I have a Ginevra Molly Potter on my list...not Weasley.”
Ginny bit down on her bottom lip and tried to keep her face as blank as possible. She’s only trying to rile me up, Ginny thought. I can’t let her do that. That’s what she wants. “No,” Ginny said, voice more forceful now, “it’s Weasley. Not Potter.”
Pansy continued to hold Ginny’s stare, neither girl wanting to back down and admit defeat. It was as if they were the only two girls on the pitch. The other girls were completely forgotten.
“Very well,” Pansy said, after a pointed silence, her dark eyes, burning a hole through Ginny’s eyes, right through her soul. “Perhaps you’d like to start us off then Weas-ley.”
She gave Ginny a wicked smirk, and ran a hand through her black hair. Everything about her was just so fucking dark. Ginny gulped; her stomach was in knots and her breakfast threatened to expunge itself. But she couldn’t show weakness, not even a hint, and especially not to a Slytherin. She raised her chin in her best impression of Pansy and scowled, pretending to be bored and unaffected by Pansy’s request.
“I’d love to,” she said, her voice a haughty sneer.
~*~
Two hours later, Ginny was exhausted. The tryout had gone much better than she had expected-her flying had been tight, rolls elegant and sharp, and her aim precise. She had only missed three goals, which was a personal best for her. Yet, she wasn’t sure if it was enough. Two of the girls hadn’t missed a goal at all, and the other girl in her group had only missed four. Unless she was in the most competitive group, which was a definite possibility now that she knew that Pansy was the manager and had issued her invitation. But something in her gut told her that wasn’t the case, and even if she were in the top three scorers, she was still the smallest girl. Well, at least the smallest girl trying out for Chaser. Of course, the potential Seekers were all Ginny’s size or smaller.
It’s not that she was intimidated by the larger girls because she wasn’t. She was used to being small, smaller than her competition. Growing up with six brothers had given her years of practise. But how could she ever convince Pansy and the other coaches that even though she wasn’t as strong as the other girls nor could she throw as hard as them-that she deserved to be there? If only she could explain, explain that being smaller could be used as an advantage as she’d be able to outrun Bludgers quicker and would be underestimated by the other teams.
“Fuck!” Ginny banged her head against her locker for the second time that day.
This was her once chance and she had blown it. She needed to be better than the others not equal, better in every fucking way, especially with sodding Parkinson as a coach. There was no way that she would make the team now. It had taken her three years just to get this chance and even longer to convince her mother. Hell, her mother still wasn’t convinced that Quidditch was a viable career option. She was praying that Harry would pop the question soon, and then Ginny could get married and have tons of little Potter-Weasleys just like her mother. Godric’s hairy balls! That idea made her nauseous. She hated children and was allergic to dust and housework. What she wanted to do was to fly. And play Quidditch.
Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of flying-flying far away from the Burrow, far away from her barmy family. Sure, she loved her family; there was no denying that, but they drove her completely mental. When she first got on a broom, she was free, fast, equal to her brothers, faster even. It had been like a dream come true, and once she discovered that an all female Quidditch team existed, she knew that it was the only job she would ever want. If she made the team, she could fly every day, get paid, and travel the world. What more could she possibly ask for?
She screamed at the top of her lungs, thankful that she was the only person left in the locker rooms. This couldn’t be the end of her dream. She clawed at her shirt, trying to remove the offensive garment that was sticking to her sweat soaked chest. When the shirt didn’t budge, Ginny lost her patience and ripped it off, feeling satisfied at the loud tear that echoed through the room. Of course, at that exact minute, Pansy bloody Parkinson had to walk into the locker room, catching Ginny in the middle of her mental breakdown.
“Weasley,” Parkinson sneered, scrunching that pert little nose of hers that was no longer as pug-faced as Ginny had remembered it. “Please refrain from destroying my property.”
“Your property?” Ginny scoffed. “I didn’t know coaches owned the uniforms. Whoops.”
Pansy rolled her eyes and blew her long fringe out of her face. “It is when I own the bloody team.”
Ginny’s eyes widened and her heart started to flutter. She’s bluffing. She had to be bluffing. “Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you lying snake?”
Pansy shook her head out, her long hair freeing itself from its bun and falling on her shoulders in loose waves. How the hell did she do that? Why couldn’t Ginny do that?
“Believe what you want, Weasley,” she said in her usual bored tone. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk down to your coach. I do have your future in my hands after all.”
Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed the last remaining strand of her pride. No matter how she felt about Parkinson, how much she hated that annoying twat, she couldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way. Parkinson was right. She was the coach and Ginny had been out of line.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse and foreign. “I’m just tired.”
Pansy regarded her closely again, her eyes travelling down her half-naked body, resting on Ginny’s chest and stomach. She locked eyes with Ginny, and it was almost as if she were impressed, hungry. But that was insane, wasn’t it?
“You surprise me, Red.” Pansy pursed her red lips and ran her tongue over them, slowly, licking them completely around and then sucking on her bottom lip, her dark gaze never once leaving Ginny’s eyes. “Perhaps I misjudged you.” Her lips were parted now and slightly swollen. “Meet me outside in five minutes. We need to discuss...your little tryout.”
Go to Part 2
Author: icicle33
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny, Pansy/Ginny, implied Harry/Draco
Word Count: ~9000
Warnings: infidelity, hate!sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, exhibitionism
Summary: Ginny knew that she could never be a perfect housewife like her mother. Everyone thought that she had it all and would become the future Mrs Potter, but Ginny had other dreams, like travelling the world and playing professional Quidditch. When she receives an invitation to try out for the new all female Quidditch team, the Uxbridge Unicorns, Ginny is ecstatic-that is-until she realises that the Manager and Owner of the team is one Pansy Parkinson.
A/N: This was written forbluemermaid. She asked for femmeslash, infidelity, angst, an unexpected meeting, hair pulling, hate!sex, sex in public, grass, and lipstick. Thank you so much toashiiblack for all your help.
~*~
Ginny raced down the squeaky steps of the Burrow, careful not to trip over her untied trainers, and ran straight into the kitchen. She was running late, as usual, and needed to hurry up and eat breakfast if she was going to make it to her tryout on time. It would have been easier to grab a piece of toast and leave, but of course, her mother would never let her leave the house without a proper meal.
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, dear. She heard her mother’s grating voice in the back of her mind. If you don’t eat breakfast, you’ll never have enough energy to amount to anything in life. Is that what you want, Ginevra?
No, there was no time for arguing today-not if she was going to make it all the way to West London by 10 am. With her hands tangled in her wild curls, attempting to tame them into a ponytail, Ginny plopped herself down at the kitchen table and crossed one leg underneath her.
“Morning, Mum. Harry.” Ginny flashed both Harry and her mother a bright smile that she hoped didn't appear forced.
“Morning, darling. Nice of you to finally join us.” Her mother put down the silverware she was polishing and walked over to the table, placing a kiss on Ginny’s forehead. “Sit like a lady, Ginevra,” she chided, scrunching her nose at Ginny’s crossed legs. Ginny rolled her eyes but uncrossed her legs. Of course, as soon as her mother turned her back and went back to polishing silverware, she crossed them again. She liked sitting with one leg crossed underneath her and hanging off the chair. What did she care if it was unladylike? Being a lady was overrated.
“Hi, Gin,” Harry said, with his own wide smile. “I saved you some toast.”
“Thanks.” She eyed the over-buttered toast wearily, but decided not to complain since it was a nice gesture. Munching on the toast, which was only mildly disgusting, she stole a large gulp of Harry’s tea to wash it down.
“So are you ready for your tryout?”
Ginny scarfed down the rest of her toast and took another sip of tea before responding.
“Yeah, I’m all ready.” She finished her last couple of bites of toast and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Just gotta hurry, so I’m not late.”
“Oh, right.” Harry pushed the rest of his tea toward her and chewed his bottom lip. “Well, good luck, Gin. Not that you’ll need it. And...”
Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Harry sighed. “And-I’m sorry that I haven’t been around to help you train. You know...and that I’ve been working so much.” Harry was fiddling with his hands and staring down at his empty plate.
Ginny almost choked on her tea. It wasn’t like Harry to apologise, let alone do it in front of her mother. What was up with him lately? He had been acting so strange. She sighed. She didn’t have the time to analyse Harry’s behaviour; it could wait until later tonight. Hopefully, after she was already a member of next year’s Uxbridge Unicorns.
“That’s quite alright, Harry. It’s not your fault that you have to work so much and can’t say no to people.”
She got up from the table and squeezed his shoulder, leaning in close enough to sniff his hair. He smelt of citrus and musk, perhaps even a hint of sandalwood as well. How odd. Was that cologne? Ginny couldn’t remember Harry ever wearing cologne before. It must be new.
Underneath her touch, Harry’s tense shoulder relaxed and he leant into her embrace, resting his head on her hand. “I-I-”
“No, Harry, it’s okay. Charlie and Ron have been working with me. I’m confident that I’ll make the team.”
“Right.”
Harry rubbed his head against Ginny’s hand, and Ginny bent over to kiss him on the forehead. “I really gotta go though.” She ruffled his thick hair, softer than usual underneath her fingertips. “You smell good too. I like your new cologne.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, his voice taking on a bright tone, “it was a gift.”
Ginny snorted and shook her head. People were always giving her boyfriend gifts; although, it was rare for him to actually accept them. Usually, he smiled politely and declined them.
“We’ll talk tonight. Maybe go out for a drink.”
As she turned to leave, grabbing a banana for the road, Harry called out to her.
“Wait.”
“Yes?” Ginny huffed under her breath.
“I can’t get a drink with you, tonight. I-I-” Harry was stumbling over his words again and running his fingers through his hair. He only did that when he was nervous or lying. Not a good sign.
“Why not?”
“Because...’cause...I have to work-late-again,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry.”
Ginny let out a disgruntled sigh. “What else is new? I have to go.”
Harry grimaced, his pale face taking on a greenish tinge. “I really am sorry,” he squeaked. “They scheduled me the last Potions consult again.”
Ginny waved him off. “It’s fine.”
She turned to walk out the door for the second time, squeezing the banana in her hand much harder than necessary. Lately, Harry always had an excuse for everything and was never around. Most of the time, it didn’t bother her, but she wanted him to be around to celebrate with her tonight. He was her boyfriend after all. Oh well, at least she had survived breakfast without her mother’s usual interrogations. Thank Merlin she was so wrapped up in her cleaning that she wasn’t listening to their conversation. A smile started playing on Ginny’s lips when a warm hand grabbed her ear and pulled her back into the kitchen.
“Hold it right there, young lady. Where do you think you’re going?”
“Mummmm!” Ginny whinged. “Stop it. That hurts.”
Her mother released her ear, but now stood blocking the doorway with her hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. “Did you really think you were going to leave this house without telling me about this...tryout?”
Ginny squeezed the banana again and smiled at her mother as sweetly as possible.
“Mum...we’ll talk later. I can’t be late!”
“No. Now...Ginevra Molly Weasley!”
Ginny gulped. Her mother only used her full name when she was in big trouble. “Fine.” She knew that it was hopeless to argue when her mother used that voice. She might as well tell her truth. “I’m trying out for a professional Quidditch team...the Uxbridge Unicorns.”
Her mother frowned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “The Unicorns?”
“Yes, it a new a team, Molly. Part of the brand new Women’s Professional Quidditch Team League,” Harry explained calmly, breaking up the heavy tension in the room. “They won the Cup last year and beat the Harpies.”
Mum’s sharp look softened and she turned to face Harry. “Really, dear?”
“Yes, it’s a small but very prestigious league, Molly. They started last year and have a ton of fans and sponsors already. They only have six teams at the moment, but I’m certain they’ll continue expanding.”
He blinked his long eyelashes and offered Mum his most dazzling smile, showing off his pearly teeth and crinkling his eyes. Ginny’s breath hitched and she hoped that her mother had the same response. After all, that same smile had caused her to fall in love with Harry all those years ago.
“Actually, Molly,” Harry added, wide smile still in place, “it’s quite an honour that Ginny was even invited to the tryout. It would be rude not to show up. It’s not like she’s obligated to join the team just because she tries out.”
Her mother sighed and then locked eyes with Ginny, who was nodding along to Harry’s words.
“Is this true, Ginevra?” she asked, one brow arched in concern.
“Yes, Mum. Every word.”
“And this is really what you want to do. Play...” she scowled again, “Quidditch?”
Ginny’s face lit up. “Absolutely.”
Her mother shook her head and pressed a hand to the temples of her forehead. “But what about your Witches’ Finishing School and the cooking classes you were going to take?” She thinned her lips into a tight line. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
Ginny’s smile faded, but she tried to keep her face in a neutral expression. The sooner she ended this discussion, the sooner she could leave.
“No, Mum,” she said, her voice soft, “that was what you wanted me to do. I don’t...I mean...I want to play Quidditch. I always have.”
Her mother sent her a doubtful look, but Ginny refused to back down.
“You said I was too young when I finished Hogwarts to go professional and I understood that.” She swallowed loudly. “But that was three years ago. And then you said that you didn’t want me playing Quidditch because I could get hurt playing with men. That it would be different if I were only playing with women. Well...it’s different now, Mum. That time’s come.” She pouted her bottom lip and tried to force tears to well up in her eyes. “Don’t make me miss this. Please.”
Her mother huffed and let out a long sigh. “Oh, alright, Ginevra. Go play your little game. But remember this isn’t a real career...especially for a young lady, whose going to have a family of her own.” She shot Harry a dirty look. “Hopefully sooner than later.” Then she ushered Ginny out of the kitchen. “Now, don’t make me regret this. Take care of yourself and scram.”
Ginny didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick “Thanks Mum”, she was scurrying out of the kitchen and then out the door. One way or another, she was going to make it to her tryout.
~*~
Somehow, Ginny made it to her tryout with three minutes to spare. She would have had longer if she hadn’t had to argue with the locker room manager, who kept insisting that a Ginny Weasley was not on the tryout roster. At first Ginny had been furious, but it turned out that she was on the list and even had her own personal locker, which only the elite recruits were given. However, the catch was that she was listed under Ginny Potter instead of Weasley. After a terse apology to the locker room manager, Ginny accepted the locker and practise uniform she was given.
This is all a mistake. Just a simple error in paperwork. That’s all. It could happen to anyone, she kept telling herself. It had to be. Because the alternative was unimaginable.
She deserved to be here. She knew she did, but all she could do was wait her turn and try her hardest. She hadn’t been invited because of her boyfriend; she was invited because of her pure and natural talent. That was all.
With shaky hands, she braided her long ponytail into a tight plait. She didn’t want her fiery curls striking her in the face when she was trying to fly. She closed her eyes and took deep, soothing breaths, trying to get her nerves under control. Before stepping into that locker room and seeing that dreadful locker plate, Ginny hadn’t been nervous. Not even a bit.
She had been confident in her skills, confident that she would make the team, perhaps even start. But now she wasn’t so sure. The other girls she saw around the locker room were giants, some almost twice her size. How could she compete with them? And there had to be a least 100 names on that stupid list. All those names and only 14 players would make the team. Merlin’s beard, she was doomed.
After taking another series of calming breaths, Ginny’s hands stopped shaking enough for her to put on her uniform. Obviously, she hadn’t expected a full set of Quidditch robes and leathers since this was only a tryout, but she hadn’t been expecting this either.
The Unicorn’s practise gear consisted of the shortest pair of black shorts she had ever seen and a tight, sheer white tank top. The top was so tight that it left nothing to the imagination; her bra was completely visible through the shirt as well as every freckle on her chest and arms, and a patch of her pale, flat stomach peeked out the bottom.
Tugging on her shirt, Ginny looked in the nearby mirror and frowned. She looked absolutely ridiculous. This wasn’t Quidditch gear; she looked like a tart with her arse hanging out of her shorts and her stomach and breasts peaking out. She grinded her teeth and attempted to spell her shirt longer, so it would at least cover her stomach-but of course, the uniform had been charmed against any alterations. Bloody fucking hell. Banging her head against the lockers, Ginny closed her eyes and fell to the floor. She needed to relax. Immediately.
This wasn’t so bad. It could be worse, she told herself. At least she was here. And if she landed a spot on the team, then it would all be worth it.
~*~
“Prospective Chasers,” a shrill, haughty voice, drawled. “Please step forward and state your full name and recruit numbers. From the top.”
Ginny followed the group of girls in front of her and walked slowly in queue with them, keeping her head down and eyes glued to floor as everyone else seemed to be doing. Apparently, the manager of the Unicorns was a psychotic bitch. Or at least that’s what she had overheard in the locker room. Ginny had been smart enough not to get involved with the gossip because if this coach really was a crazy bitch, then there was a good chance she had set recording charms on the locker room. She was not getting caught badmouthing a coach she didn’t even know. For now, she was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was just tough. And tough was good for Quidditch. Tough won Championships.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw a tall, dark haired girl step forward first. “Elizabeth A. Stevens. Recruit 68,” the girl said, voice deep and formal.
Next in line, an even taller blonde, stepped forward. “Margaret A. Brown. Recruit 69.”
Then, a brunette about Ginny’s height, who was well muscled and must have had a least two stone on her, stepped forward. “Victoria S. Pemberton III. Recruit 70.”
Finally, it was Ginny’s turn. Clearing her throat loudly, she stepped forward with her chin held high and shoulders back. She might be smaller than these other girls, but she was a Gryffindor for a reason and refused to be intimidated, even if for some strange reason her uniform appeared to be twice as tight as the other girls’.
“Ginevra Molly Weasley. Recruit 71.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” came the tight reply. “Now, don’t be shy, my darlings, everyone can raise their heads. I promise I won’t bite.” A loud, familiar chortle filled the air. “Much.”
Ginny’s head snapped forward and she gasped when she realised who was in front of her. That screechy voice had seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Not until now.
“Pa-Parkinson,” she croaked, before she could stop herself.
Pansy’s dark eyes locked on Ginny and a strong shiver ran down her back. Ginny had not seen Pansy since school, and most certainly had not excepted to see her here. She didn’t even think that Pansy played Quidditch. At least she hadn’t at school. Then again, none of the Slytherin girls did. Perhaps they hadn’t been allowed.
“Hmm, Gin-ev-ra,” Pansy rasped, voice deep and sultry. “You’re here. I wasn’t sure if you would come.” She looked Ginny over slowly, her eyes lingering on her shorts and breasts much longer than necessary.
“Well, I am here,” Ginny snapped, her voice firm.
“So you are. However,” she stepped closer to Ginny, her dark, menacing eyes only inches away from Ginny’s face, “I have a Ginevra Molly Potter on my list...not Weasley.”
Ginny bit down on her bottom lip and tried to keep her face as blank as possible. She’s only trying to rile me up, Ginny thought. I can’t let her do that. That’s what she wants. “No,” Ginny said, voice more forceful now, “it’s Weasley. Not Potter.”
Pansy continued to hold Ginny’s stare, neither girl wanting to back down and admit defeat. It was as if they were the only two girls on the pitch. The other girls were completely forgotten.
“Very well,” Pansy said, after a pointed silence, her dark eyes, burning a hole through Ginny’s eyes, right through her soul. “Perhaps you’d like to start us off then Weas-ley.”
She gave Ginny a wicked smirk, and ran a hand through her black hair. Everything about her was just so fucking dark. Ginny gulped; her stomach was in knots and her breakfast threatened to expunge itself. But she couldn’t show weakness, not even a hint, and especially not to a Slytherin. She raised her chin in her best impression of Pansy and scowled, pretending to be bored and unaffected by Pansy’s request.
“I’d love to,” she said, her voice a haughty sneer.
~*~
Two hours later, Ginny was exhausted. The tryout had gone much better than she had expected-her flying had been tight, rolls elegant and sharp, and her aim precise. She had only missed three goals, which was a personal best for her. Yet, she wasn’t sure if it was enough. Two of the girls hadn’t missed a goal at all, and the other girl in her group had only missed four. Unless she was in the most competitive group, which was a definite possibility now that she knew that Pansy was the manager and had issued her invitation. But something in her gut told her that wasn’t the case, and even if she were in the top three scorers, she was still the smallest girl. Well, at least the smallest girl trying out for Chaser. Of course, the potential Seekers were all Ginny’s size or smaller.
It’s not that she was intimidated by the larger girls because she wasn’t. She was used to being small, smaller than her competition. Growing up with six brothers had given her years of practise. But how could she ever convince Pansy and the other coaches that even though she wasn’t as strong as the other girls nor could she throw as hard as them-that she deserved to be there? If only she could explain, explain that being smaller could be used as an advantage as she’d be able to outrun Bludgers quicker and would be underestimated by the other teams.
“Fuck!” Ginny banged her head against her locker for the second time that day.
This was her once chance and she had blown it. She needed to be better than the others not equal, better in every fucking way, especially with sodding Parkinson as a coach. There was no way that she would make the team now. It had taken her three years just to get this chance and even longer to convince her mother. Hell, her mother still wasn’t convinced that Quidditch was a viable career option. She was praying that Harry would pop the question soon, and then Ginny could get married and have tons of little Potter-Weasleys just like her mother. Godric’s hairy balls! That idea made her nauseous. She hated children and was allergic to dust and housework. What she wanted to do was to fly. And play Quidditch.
Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of flying-flying far away from the Burrow, far away from her barmy family. Sure, she loved her family; there was no denying that, but they drove her completely mental. When she first got on a broom, she was free, fast, equal to her brothers, faster even. It had been like a dream come true, and once she discovered that an all female Quidditch team existed, she knew that it was the only job she would ever want. If she made the team, she could fly every day, get paid, and travel the world. What more could she possibly ask for?
She screamed at the top of her lungs, thankful that she was the only person left in the locker rooms. This couldn’t be the end of her dream. She clawed at her shirt, trying to remove the offensive garment that was sticking to her sweat soaked chest. When the shirt didn’t budge, Ginny lost her patience and ripped it off, feeling satisfied at the loud tear that echoed through the room. Of course, at that exact minute, Pansy bloody Parkinson had to walk into the locker room, catching Ginny in the middle of her mental breakdown.
“Weasley,” Parkinson sneered, scrunching that pert little nose of hers that was no longer as pug-faced as Ginny had remembered it. “Please refrain from destroying my property.”
“Your property?” Ginny scoffed. “I didn’t know coaches owned the uniforms. Whoops.”
Pansy rolled her eyes and blew her long fringe out of her face. “It is when I own the bloody team.”
Ginny’s eyes widened and her heart started to flutter. She’s bluffing. She had to be bluffing. “Yeah, right. You expect me to believe that you lying snake?”
Pansy shook her head out, her long hair freeing itself from its bun and falling on her shoulders in loose waves. How the hell did she do that? Why couldn’t Ginny do that?
“Believe what you want, Weasley,” she said in her usual bored tone. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk down to your coach. I do have your future in my hands after all.”
Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed the last remaining strand of her pride. No matter how she felt about Parkinson, how much she hated that annoying twat, she couldn’t let her personal feelings get in the way. Parkinson was right. She was the coach and Ginny had been out of line.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse and foreign. “I’m just tired.”
Pansy regarded her closely again, her eyes travelling down her half-naked body, resting on Ginny’s chest and stomach. She locked eyes with Ginny, and it was almost as if she were impressed, hungry. But that was insane, wasn’t it?
“You surprise me, Red.” Pansy pursed her red lips and ran her tongue over them, slowly, licking them completely around and then sucking on her bottom lip, her dark gaze never once leaving Ginny’s eyes. “Perhaps I misjudged you.” Her lips were parted now and slightly swollen. “Meet me outside in five minutes. We need to discuss...your little tryout.”
Go to Part 2