 Wowza!
Wrong didn't even begin to cover this.
Not only was her hair going to end up being a complete and utter mess, but her robes were, too. Ridiculous. Trying not to dwell too much on this fact that she could feel that melted marshmellows were falling all over her, Willow catched one of the quaffles, and zoomed down the pitch, heading to the goal posts.
But of course it wasn't easy.
Due to he little drops of creme that belonged to the marshamellows that had fallen all over her robes, fingers, hair, face, the quaffle was very slowly slipping from her, and at least two times it entire slipped from fingers and she had to catch it once again, grumbling under her breath as she did so.
So after having avoided at least three quaffles -she had grown distracted by how ridiculous everyone else looked, covered in marshamellows- the fifth year finally reached the scoring area.
And with ease, the girl shot and the quaffle went through the right hoop.
Good. After five years of playing Quidditch, it was the least thing that could happen.
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