why did it have to be so frigid in february?

the sharp, chilled air of winter poked and dulled the skin of every student in the stands of the pitch. splatters of crimson and emerald dotted the arena like a watercolor painting.

you had been lucky enough to be dragged along with remus to the score keeper’s seat. great. “a group effort” as he so called it, saying that you could commentate and he could keep track of the score. he had to survive his boredom somehow. why not bother you?

neither of you were particularly enthusiastic about the sport, and only really went along to support james, marlene and the other gryffindors on the team. but at least it wasn’t too fatally boring. the boring part was the seekers. phoebe dawson, gryffindor’s seeker, warily floated above the pitch, glancing around rapidly in hopes to catch a glimpse of the snitch. regulus, on the other hand, was actually making some attempt at actively searching for the thing, zipping around and trying to locate the minuscule winged ball.

about an hour into this event, remus groaned irritably and slammed his head down on the table you both were stationed at.

“this is quite literally the most bored i’ve ever felt in my life,” he grumbled, jerking his head up as he willed himself not to doze off.

gryffindor was up by a few dozen points, and counting. james scored probably the twentieth goal of the game. but the match wouldn’t be over until the snitch was caught. remus irritably gestured toward the sky, where phoebe hovered above the pitch, still looking around as if she was lost.

“i honestly don’t even care if gryffindor loses at this point. phoebe needs to get going. and if she doesn’t, i’m praying that black wraps this up soon. merlin’s sake-“

he slumped down against the table again, on the verge of tearing his hair out.

you were just as bored as he was, propping you head up with a weary hand as you glumly watched the players flit back and forth like clumsy dragonflies.

if only this could be over sooner.