It's Not Whether You Win Or Lose / It's How You Play The Game Title: It's Not Whether You Win Or Lose / It's How You Play The Game. Characters: Andrew Kirke and Michael Corner. NPCs: TBA. When: Andy's 4th year. Rating: PGish. Status: Incomplete / 500 out of 10,000. Word Count: 100 drabbles, 100 words each, 10,000 words total. Challenge: Each drabble must contain the word "Quidditch" as per Jen's Challenge. Author's Note: The first half (meaning the first 50) of the drabbles fall under the title of "It's Not Whether You Win Or Lose". The second half (the latter 50) fall under the title of "It's How You Play The Game". Disclaimer: I do not own Andrew Kirke, Michael Corner or any of the characters in the Harry Potter series. They all belong solely to JK Rowling. The interpretation of Andy's character is my own, and the interpretation of Michael's character belongs to Jen.
I
The changing rooms were not much brighter than the inside of a dragon’s belly. One practically had to walk around with a Lumos spell at the end of their wands in order to properly see that they were, in fact, sticking their feet into their own trousers and not someone else’s. Andy had done that far more times that he cared to remember, not that it had embarrassed him. Though, it did seem to annoy others quite a bit.
“You comin’ to play Quidditch, Kirke?”
That had snapped him out of his daydreaming, and he quickly nodded and ran off.
II
The Quidditch Pitch was empty save for the few Gryffindors already out on their brooms running plays. Every position was important in Quidditch, but as the Beater, Andy had the very special task of protecting the rest of the players from the bludgers. Without him, the team just wouldn’t be able to play.
Lithe as a cheetah, Andy straddled his broom and took off, smashing bludgers right and left like it was going out of style. His light, small build was perfect for outrunning bludgers. He worked out the entire length of the field...
As someone’s watchful eyes looked on.
III
Being new to the team meant nothing to Andy. He’d known these people for four years, and they were all his mates. They flew through the air in formation like birds as if they had all been born to work together in this way. Andy was having the time of his life.
One play required him to guard the far edge of the Quidditch Pitch where the stands were. He hovered in mid-air, trying to keep his balance on the broom. His anxiety to prove himself made him more jittery than normal.
And that was when he saw him.
IV
“What if he has a concussion?”
“He doesn’t have a concussion.”
“But he might have a concussion! He fell from over a hundred feet!”
“You’re exaggerating, Creevey. He did not fall from over a hundred feet.”
“But you could still get a concussion. Loads of Quidditch players get concussions after they...”
“Creevey, enough!”
“Yeah, Denny mate, I’m all right.” Andy opened one eye and glanced up at the assortment of teammates and housemates surrounding his hospital bed. He grinned weakly, glad to see them all here.
But then he frowned. Someone wasn’t there to make sure he was all right.
V
He had to stop thinking about him. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about him? Brown flowing hair, piercing eyes and a stare that made Andy’s heart race even more than usual when he thought of it. He’d been staring right at him, and Andy could only stare back for a second before that bludger took him down.
“Mate, you need to eat,” Dennis told him, “Quidditch game’s tomorrow. You’re going to be Ravenclaw rubbish if you don’t get your strength up.”
Andy sighed. Dennis was right, but there was nothing he could do about the thoughts in his head now.