Across the Quidditch Pitch

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Continuation and final passage of….


Chapter Fourteen: The Quidditch Final




Snape’s heart pounded in his chest with the full monstrosity of fury. James Potter’s grimy hands closed over the Golden Snitch!

Snape watched as the Seeker caught it deftly between his fingers, where it nestled in his sweaty palm. And then the Pureblood prat looked up expectantly, knowing he would once again be showered with attention.

And as if on queue, most of the school screamed. In the triumph of the moment, James sailed easily to the ground; fist held aloft and joined his teammates in bestowing congratulations on each other.

Slytherin had lost. They had come so close to winning this year, if they had only beat Gryffindor today. And now Gryffindor would seize the Quidditch Cup, and for good measure, probably the House cup at the end of the year. The match had not lasted long – in half an hour’s time Snape witnessed his dreams of Lily shatter forever….

She was running down the Gryffindor stands to join James and his league on the Quidditch field. It was taking Lily quite a long moment to reach him, as she had to fight through the dazed and bedazzled Gryffindors. As this happened Mulciber slumped on the bench, muttering something. Snape listened to hear his friend express his astonishment that the “Whore” had scored an astounding sixty points for her team!

Snape had had enough of Mary Macdonald. He skulked away to the end of the row. There in the shadows Snape stood. He had a perfect view of James and Lily, down below and just across the short width of the field.

Lily ran pell-mell towards James. As she approached the star seeker, James hands came out and he embraced her. Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and then they kissed. At once the crowd roared it’s approval for the two popular students to become a couple. But Severus was feeling worse than he ever had in his lifetime. It may have been a beautiful day but to Snape the moment felt like a thousand days of darkness.

James did not let go of Lily but kissed her inexorably, enjoying his audience more than getting to hold and snog Lily. Across the Quidditch pitch, Snape remained shrouded in the sidelines. He was in the shadows, away from the sun where nobody would care to notice.

Minus the angry Slytherins, the crowd was still cheering wildly for Gryffindor’s victory, yet all Snape knew was loss. In the noon sun his figure was eclipsed in shadow, away from the sun and away from everyone. He felt more isolated and alone than ever.

He could drown in desire. He wanted to covet Lily as his own and nobody else’s. Least of all James. But then a painful epiphany suddenly hit him. He must abandon that hope for Lily forever. The crowd evinced waves of joy amidst Snape’s contrasting pools of sorrow. The distance between Lily and the rift in their estranged relationship felt like it could be across the universe itself.

Inwardly Snape struggled to remember those times he had watched Lily when they were little. He had had that same longing in the playground when she flew joyfully off the swing. Always. But now she would never be his. A lump formed in his throat. But then Snape focused on another thought that transformed him from cold sorrow to burning jealously. He wanted to jinx Potter for all he had done! Snape had found it within himself to blame James, thus distracting Snape from his deep sense of guilt. Afterall it had ended because he had called her Mudblood.

Snape imagined himself with Lily instead of seeing James with her. He tried to see himself possessing her like he had pretended to on the banks of the Black Lake the other day. If Lily could only have given in to the advances. And why had she willingly thrown herself on Potter just now? He saw himself lovingly caress her soft, rosy skin and bend down to kiss her. At least in the mind's eye he could consume every ounce of her, until he had her as his full possession.

But then Snape’s fantasy was rudely interrupted by Mulciber’s capriciousness. “That Evans is a proud Mudblood! How about we plan something else? Maybe this time, we’ll share the goods?”

Mulciber looked at Snape hopefully. For if his friend wouldn’t help him get Mary, maybe Mulciber could rape Lily instead. Snape was jolted out of his reverie and an animalistic tendency seized him.

A mighty force impacted Mulciber’s broad chest and he toppled down the last row of the aisle. Snape kicked him and then jumped on top to overpower him. For such a thin even scrawny teenager, Snape was doing a hell of a job.

Mulciber was shocked by what Snape had done; he had meant it as a nice gesture, or a show of endorsement that they could stoop as low as Muggle-borns.

The two of them were rolling on the green field now, and the entire school watched the row, enraptured. The strong sunlight served well like a spotlight. Meanwhile the Gryffindor and Slytherin team was shaking hands on the match.

Snape was consumed by a rage. He wanted to pound and beat every inch of his friend. Again, and again Snape punched Mulciber, mostly hitting his skull and his stomach.

Switching tactics, Snape pulled out his wand to finish the job and hopefully humiliate his friend in front of the school. But then Mulciber gained leverage. Mulciber grabbed the collar of Snape’s robes and with a mighty force swung him around.

He punched Snape in the eye, so that he would sport a black one too. “There. Now we’re even. I guess. What the fuck was that for?”

Nobody but Snape could hear this conversation. It was too loud, as hundreds of people loudly speculated over what was going on between the two Slytherin Fifth-years.

“You’re not getting anywhere near Lily!” Snape was ranting insanely, spit flying from his thin-lipped mouth. “Stay away from her. Go after Mary. I don’t care. But don’t you dare touch Lily!”

“Fine. If you feel so strongly against it. Though if I were such a despised pathetic sod like you, I’d forget about a worthless Mudblood!”

From his designated place at the top box Slughorn made his way down onto the field as fast as he could. Snape briefly looked up and saw Dumbledore watching, but it was impossible to tell in the sun’s glare what the headmaster thought of the brawl.

Quickly the Head of Slytherin rushed over and as a placating move, put his pudgy arms around both boys’ shoulders. He led Mulciber and Snape towards the nearest exit. “My dear boy’s…Stop this. Let’s go to my office and talk things over with words. Not wands!”

Both boys had equally sneering looks on their faces. Mulciber was trying to staunch the flow of blood from an abrasion on his skull from Snape’s fist hitting over and over. He mopped his forehead.

As Snape was being led away he caught a glimpse of James and Lily further off, still together. He felt a desire to curse Potter again and get his revenge for everything, especially for today when James taunted him about the love potion fiasco.

From across the Quidditch pitch, Snape subtly pointed his wand between his robes where nobody would see. “Langlock!”

Abruptly James stopped talking. He had no idea how it happened that his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. But he saw Snape’s slinking figure disappear off the pitch and thought he could wager a likely guess. The Half-blood Prince wore a small, sly grin on his face thinking that the specially invented spell should keep Potter’s big, fat mouth shut for awhile.

The Potions Master complained; “Don’t you lose your tempers like that again. It’s bad enough you lot are put in detention with Dumbledore through end of term!”

And Slughorn never discovered that the fight was over a girl, as Snape and Mulciber successfully kept that out of the story. Meanwhile James never said anything about the jinx that day, for he knew he had no evidence it was Snape.

Dumbledore observed from his place above, almost like that of an omnipotent god. The music faded, drifting and rolling over the Scottish hillocks. The clamor of a thousand students, ceased to be heard by him. Dumbledore was alone in his thoughts observing it all and he envisioned the violent times. He knew that it would only get worse. The conflict between Voldemort's philosophy and his own would escalate. And these young people would be drawn into the fight, regardless of whatever side they chose. It would be like a thousand years ago: Slytherin versus Gryffindor all over again. The roaring crowd faded and died down as they left the pitch. It was like the lonesome sound of warriors, screaming and beating their drums. And as they departed, it faded away.


NOTE: Now that this chapter is finished, the action starts to fall. The story is reaching the conclusion! Please review or rate. This is a very important scene and it is the reason I call it, "Across the Quidditch Pitch."