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You woke with a jolt at the sound of your alarm clock going off. The last remnants of your uneasy sleep still held you in your grip as you tried to remember the dream you’d just had. It had been one of those nonsense scenarios coming to you after lying nervously awake for the whole of the night, only to fall asleep shortly before the break of dawn.
And nervous you were, God forbid. But more than anything else, it was the sheer excitement coursing through your body at the thought of what was awaiting you today that had you literally jump out of your bed.
You had waited so long for this to happen; you first match as a professional Beater for the Caerphilly Catapults.
A small squeal of joy escaped your lips as you bounced through into your kitchen to put on some coffee. As the delicious scent of your favourite French Roast started spreading in the room, you felt exhilarated at the thought of being greeted by a thundering crowd in a matter of hours.
You knew everyone you cared about would be there; your dad had moved heaven and earth to be able to attend your first game, Orion had taken a break from his travels and Skye had promised to drop in as the Wanderers weren’t playing that day themselves. Even some of your old Quidditch friends from school wanted to come as well.
Everyone would be there to cheer you on; everyone but the one person you needed to see the most.
The fire burning in your chest dampened at the thought of how much you missed Murphy, especially today. But he was miles and miles away in London, working for the Quidditch sector of The Daily Prophet. He was assigned to report on the match of the Montrose Magpie’s on the same day as yours, so there was no way he would make it to watch your debut.
Of course he would be proud of you no matter what; you just wished he could actually see your dream become reality and share that moment with you.
Caught up in your musings, you didn’t notice the small barn owl sitting outside your window. It must have been waiting for you for quite some time because the tapping of its beak against the glass sounded more impatient than anything. You could have sworn it was glaring at you as you hurried over to the window to let it in.
Sure enough, after you had untied the letter fixed to its leg, it gave you an indignant hoot, hopped back onto the window sill and flew off.
You paid it no mind, however. A wide smile had spread on your face as soon as you had noticed the handwriting on the envelope. You would have recognised Murphy’s incredibly neat hand among thousands.
Settling down on your couch, you took another sip of coffee before flicking the letter open; a warmth spread in your whole body that didn’t solely come from your favourite beverage and your heart started beating faster as your eyes darted over the lines.
My dearest Rising Star,
Today is your big day! Your first match as the Beater you were destined to be. I can’t even tell you how sad it makes me that I’m not with you today.
I thought what facts would best describe how proud I am of you. I could tell you about how my heart beats faster by 35.7 % every time I mention your name in an article.
How there is only a 1.4 % chance my day isn’t made 88.7 % better whenever I look at a picture of you.
I could also tell you about the 79.9 % odds of me punching my colleague who called you ‘pretty but not promising’ if I didn’t know he has absolutely no idea about Quidditch in the first place, but let’s not talk about that.
Because all these statistics don’t matter when I think about you. All the numbers in my head are meaningless compared to the way it makes me feel to know you are mine and I am yours.
Quidditch means the world to both of us, whether on the pitch or on the side-lines. You know I don’t believe in absolutes, but the one thing I can say for sure is that without you I would 100 % lose my voice; because without you, not even Quidditch makes sense.
I’ll be forever grateful that I could witness how your star ignited and rose, because now you’re shining your light on me even when we are apart.
And like all the stars in the sky, no matter what, it will always stay with me.
I am as proud as I can be to call you my own, my fiery star, and I don’t have the slightest doubt that once you are in the air where you belong, everyone else will see what you can do.
Show them what my girl is made of! Make me proud!
I’m counting the days until I can finally hold you again,
Murphy
You sank back into the pillows of your couch and held the letter closer to your heart. Murphy’s words had edged themselves into your conscience, making you ache with longing for him and the burning desire to do just what he had told you to.
It was still a few hours until you had to be at the pitch to meet your teammates, but you couldn’t wait a second longer. Your determination burning brighter than ever before, you got changed into your new jersey and headed out for the Catapults stadium.
Time to show the world what you were capable of.