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It's How You Play The Game

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"Hey," he says, clapping her on the shoulder. "You'll be great. Break a leg, yeah?"

She grins. "I may not be Charlie Weasley, but I'm not your run of the mill Quidditch player either. Your bets are safe."

"Ha, ha," Charlie rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. "The Cannons are playing rough this season," he adds, face turning serious. "Don't get yourself hurt."

"Have I ever?" she says.

"Second year, third year, fo-"

"Shut up!" she says with a snort, grabbing her broom. "I'll be fine."

"You'd better be," he says. "I'm not marrying you if you die."

She pats his hand and the diamond on her finger glitters in the dim light of the broom shed. "It'd be a bit creepy if you did," she says, and, laughing, she leaves at the announcer's yell of "BELL!"

"Katie," he says to the empty broom shed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Marry me, idiot!" she screams from outside. He jumps, hits his head on the roof, and curses.

He opens the door and goes to his seat to watch the game, but not before leaving his gum on the floor, strategically located by her broom slot. He'll show her who the idiot is…