Agonies of a Penalty Shoot-Out by Fire



Summary: With World Cup 2006 alive and kicking, Hermione decides the time is ripe to introduce her husband and best friends to the delights of an England match.
Rating: PG-13 starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2006.07.05
Updated: 2006.07.06


Agonies of a Penalty Shoot-Out by Fire
Chapter 1: Agonies of a Penalty Shoot-Out
Author's Notes:

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise from canon obviously belongs to JKR. All named players, commentators, presenters and officials are real people, so I don't own them either. You'd probably have guessed that anyway, but what the hell? Can't hurt right?

Agonies of a Penalty Shoot-Out

“Hermione,” moaned Ron. “Do we have to?”

“It’s just one match, Ron,” said Hermione. “Would it really kill you to see what interests me for a change?”

“But the Cannons are playing today,” said Ron. “And if they win, they’ll stay third in the league!”

“For goodness sake!” said Hermione dragging him to the living room to sit in front of a brand new television set. “It’s not as if they’re going to be the champions, is it?”

“Well no, but…”

At that moment the doorbell rang.

“Come in!” Hermione yelled.

They heard the door open, then close and seconds later Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny entered the room.

“Not managed to escape yet, Ron?” said Harry with a chuckle.

“She won’t let me,” said Ron grumpily.

Ginny laughed.

“I’ve not seen that face since I was five and mum made you put all the brooms away because I cut my finger,” she said.

Ron glared at her.

“So, what made you think of this, Hermione?” asked Harry, setting down twelve cans of beer on the coffee table.

“Well, ever since I found out I was a witch, I’ve still tried to keep track of the football, being muggle-born and all, and well, everyone thinks England have got a really good chance this year,” she explained. “So I thought it would be a fun thing for us to do together.”

“What’s that?” asked Ron, eyeing the beer cans suspiciously, while completely ignoring his wife.

“Beer,” said Harry. “You can’t watch football without beer.”

He and Ginny joined Ron on the couch. Hermione turned the television on, and then sat down beside her husband.

“And this is how England line up,” Gary Lineker, the presenter was saying. “We’ve got Paul Robinson in goal, Gary Neville at right back, Rio Ferdinand and John Terry in the centre and Ashley Cole at left back. Sven’s gone for the four-five-one formation again, but he’s decided to leave Carrick out this time, so Owen Hargreaves is playing the holding midfield position, with Beckham on the right wing and Joe Cole on the left wing, leaving Lampard and Gerrard free to move forward to support Rooney who’s up front on his own.”

Ron and Ginny looked at each other confusedly.

“Did you get any of that?” Ron asked his sister.

Ginny shook her head as Ron received an elbow in his ribs from Hermione.

“Shush!” she hissed. “I’m trying to listen.”

The our watched on in silence as the two teams of England and Portugal walked out onto the pitch with their long line of little mascots, all dressed in yellow.

“I just don’t get why they don’t use brooms,” said Ron.

Hermione decided not to dignify Ron’s comment with a reply, so instead she stared stonily at the screen.

“And so it’s over to your commentators, Marc Lawrenson and John Motson,” finished Gary Lineker.

Hermione opened a can which clicked and hissed, prompting Harry to follow suit. The England captain, David Beckham, was part way through his anti-racism speech when Ron decided that the only way to open a beer can was to stab it repeatedly with a quill. Hermione watched him disdainfully as beer spilled out onto the floor, whilst Harry and Ginny roared with laughter. Ron siphoned up the spilt liquid with his wand, trying to disguise the fact that his ears wee slowly turning red.

“Please stand for the national anthem of England!” boomed the stadium answer.

The music struck up and thousands of England fans roared the words.

God save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen.
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the Queen.


As the camera panned across the faces of the team, only Wayne Rooney, England’s wonder-boy, and Gary Neville were the only ones not joining in, and Rio Ferdinand was singing very enthusiastically.

After Portugal’s anthem had been sung, the two captains exchanged gifts, shook hands, and the two teams made their way to the positions on the pitch.

“Oh dammit!” exclaimed Hermione when the caption appeared, giving the details of he match officials.

“What?” asked Ginny.

“We’ve got an Argentinean ref,” she said, sadly.

“And that’s bad because..?” asked Ron.

“England and Argentina have a mutual hatred that dates back to the Falklands war,” Hermione explained. “You watch. We’ll end up having someone sent off.”

“Sent off?” questioned Ron.

“Yes,” said Harry. “If a player breaks the rules badly he can be sent off the pitch and can take no further part in the game, and his team have to play with one man short.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” said Ginny. “They should try being hit by a bludger. Then they’ll know what pain is.”

“And so Portugal have kicked off,” said John Motson the commentator. “And the question is, will England be able to beat Portugal, or will big Phil Scolari thwart us again as he did four years ago as Brazil’s coach, and two years ago, when England lost to Portugal on penalties?”

Motson carried on talking to describe the events on the pitch, as England passed the ball between them, slowly building up the tempo. Hermione was on the edge of her seat as the ball went sailing past the goal.

“That was a good passage of play,” said Marc Lawrenson. “They were patient, and built up nicely, and that’s what they need to do if they hope to score. They’ve definitely got Portugal on the back foot early on.”

Ron was staring at the screen, incredulously.

“Why don’t they just pick it up and throw it?” he asked.

Hermione clobbered him on the back of his head.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ron. “What was that for?”

“Being stupid,” said Hermione.

Turning back to the match, Hermione saw that Portugal were in possession, and was suddenly more nervous.

“…Cristiano Ronaldo!” John Motson was yelling. “To Maniche, and Maniche shoots!… Saved, by Paul Robinson.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why Motty,” she said to the TV. “Why do you have to say Maniche as though it means goal?”

Ginny stared at Hermione, as though wondering where her friend was, and who it was who had taken her place.

The first half droned on. Neither goalkeeper had much to do, as there were very few chances created. A couple of poor set pieces by David Beckham, and a less than inspiring performance by Portugal meant that it was nil-nil at half time. As the referee’s whistle blew, the teams made their way back to the dressing rooms, and the television coverage returned to the studio, where Gary Lineker and his guests Alan Shearer, Alan Hansen and Ian Wright were waiting to analyse the action so far.

“This is so boring!” said Ron, as the presenters began to discuss replays of the few chances there had been for England.

“…resort to the long ball, which just isn’t working,” said Alan Shearer.

“I admit that it’s not the best match there’s ever been,” said Hermione. “But you can’t deny that it’s tense. What do you think, Harry?”

“I just hope it doesn’t go penalties,” he said. “I remember watching Italia ninety, through the gap between the living room door and the frame, mind you, but I remember when England lost on penalties to Germany. Stuart Pearce missed, and I remember Gazza crying. It’s the worst thing, penalties.”

“What do you mean, penalties?” asked Ron.

“Well,” said Hermione. “If the scores are still level at the end of the second half, they play half an hour of extra time. If the scores are still level, then they do what’s called a penalty shoot-out. Five players from each team have to take a penalty, and the team that scores the best out of five wins.”

“That’s not very fair,” said Ron.

“True,” said Harry. “But it’s not like Quidditch. They can’t play for days until there’s an outright winner. The result has to be settled there and then.”

“It’s so rubbish,” said Ron. “I don’t know what muggles see in it.”

“I think it’s exciting,” said Ginny. “It’s not Quidditch, that’s for sure, but I could definitely get into it.”

“See, Ron,” said Hermione. “It’s only you who’s so narrow-minded.”

Fifteen minutes of endless analysis later, the teams re-emerged for the second half. True to form, it continued where the first half had left off for about ten minutes until David Beckham, the England captain had to be substituted due to injury.

“Oh good,” said Hermione. “They’re bringing on Lennon.”

The young player jogged to his position on the pitch, and as play restarted, England had some pace which they had earlier been lacking. Hermione seemed to relax, as England began to play better, but it was short lived.

A long ball up pitch left Wayne Rooney tussling with the Portuguese Carvalio, which ended with Carvalio on the floor and Rooney standing on his crown jewels. The referee’s whistle blew and Cristiano Ronaldo came rushing over to throw in his two cents.

Rooney pushed Ronaldo away. The referee called him aside.

“He’s reaching for his pocket!” John Motson exclaimed.

The referee, Elizondo, flashed the red card at Rooney, who’s head drooped.

“It’s a straight red!” said Motty.

“Well, it can only be for stamping,” said Marc Lawrenson, as Rooney left the pitch.

“And now David Beckham has left the bench to argue with the referee,” said Motty. “And look. Ronaldo’s just winked to his dugout!”

Hermione sat on the couch with her head in her hands.

“We’ve no Rooney,” she said, sadly. “Whether we get through or not we’re totally screwed.”

Ron rubbed her back in what he hoped was a consoling manner, but sadly, it just succeeded in irritating her further.

As play resumed once again, Joe Cole had to be sacrificed in order to bring on Peter Crouch. Without their hero, and on their back foot, England rallied around and played as one. They built their chances better, and strangely looked more hopeful of scoring. They didn’t manage it and after the full ninety minutes, neither team had scored.

“So the question is,” said Motty. “Do England continue to try for the goal, or do they play for penalties?”

“No!” screamed Hermione. “Don’t play for penalties. England don’t win penalty shoot-outs!”

But Hermione’s pleas fell on deaf ears, and as extra time reached twenty-eight minutes, Sven made his final substitution. He replaced Lennon, who had been playing so well, with Carragher.

“That’s it then,” said Marc Lawrenson. “Carragher is a penalty taker. Sven’s playing for penalties.”

The whistle signalling the end of extra time blew, and with the scores still level at nil-nil, it was time for a penalty shoot-out.

“Looks like England are going home,” said Hermione.

Arrangements were made on the pitch and as the first Portuguese playing faced Paul Robinson, ready to take his shot, John Motson really put the nail in the coffin.

“This is England’s fifth penalty shoot-out in a major championship,” he said. “Can they win one for the first time, today?”

“Well they won’t now,” said Hermione, angrily.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. The whistle blew. The player struck the ball. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper’s outstretched hand and found the back of the net.

“One-nil to Portugal,” said Motson.

Portugal’s goalkeeper, Ricardo, waited on his line. Frank Lampard walked forward and placed the ball on the spot. He then took a few steps back, ready to take his run up.

“This is going to miss,” said Hermione, as they waited for the whistle.

“Why’d you say that?” Ginny asked.

“Lampard’s been dreadful the whole way through the tournament. He’s had more shots than anyone and he’s missed all of them. There’s no way this is going in,” explained Hermione, defeatedly.

The whistle blew. Lampard virtually strolled to the ball and kicked it. Ricardo dove to his left and collected the ball in an easy save.

“Lampard misses!” shouted Motson.

Lampard rejoined his team with his head in his hands.

“Useless pile of shite!” yelled Hermione.

“Hermione!” exclaimed her three companions, looking shocked.

“Sorry,” she said.

Portugal’s next penalty was taken, and by some miracle it hit the post and bounced away. Owen Hargreaves stepped forward to take the next penalty for England knowing that if he scored, they would be level pegging again. Confidently, he kicked the ball, and with a slight graze of Ricardo’s fingers, it found the back of the net.

“Yes!” shouted Hermione.

“It’s one all!” said Marc Lawrenson.

With their next penalty, Portugal scored, leaving Gerrard needing to score to keep England’s hopes alive.

“I’ve done some nerve-wracking things in my time,” said Harry. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt tension quite like this. I’ve fought a Hungarian Horntail. I’ve fought Voldemort. I asked Ginny to marry me. But never has my heart been pounding this much.”

Ginny found that no matter how hard she tried, she could not stop her legs from bouncing up and down on her toes, and Hermione was watching the screen through the gaps between the fingers that were now covering her eyes.

Gerrard made his run up, and kicked the ball with less power than can be found in a baby’s little finger. It was another easy save for Ricardo.

“Gerrard you pathetic excuse for a player!” Hermione yelled, followed by a string of obscenities.

Portugal scored again.

“Carragher needs to score,” said Motson. “Or it could be all over for England.”

Carragher, the man brought on purely to take this penalty, took his shot which landed in the back of the net. But the referee wasn’t happy. He had not blown his whistle and Ricardo was not ready. Taking his shot again, Carragher tried a stop-start run up, then sank his shot straight into the arms of the waiting goalkeeper.

It seemed this time as though Hermione had no more words left to say.

“If Portugal score here,” said Motson “Then England are out of the World Cup. And in a cruel twist of fate, the player to take it is none other than Cristiano Ronaldo.”

The handsome but calculating player stepped forward. As the whistle blew, Robinson dived, but it was to no avail. Ronaldo’s shot found its target, and England’s World Cup was over.

As Portugal celebrated their victory, the inconsolable England team, sat on the pitch, speechless. Their dreams had been shattered.

The four young wizards watching the match stared glumly at the screen.

“I’m sorry for making you watch it,” she said to the others. “I just thought they had such a good chance.”

She wiped tears angrily from her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, Hermione,” said Ginny. “Sure, they lost. But I enjoyed it. I mean, it’s no Quidditch, but it’s tense and nervy, and you just don’t get that kind of feeling from watching a Quidditch game. The feeling that time is slowly disappearing. There’s no build up of urgency.”

“I know what you mean,” said Ron. “I might get in touch with Dean, see if he won’t mind taking me to a West Pork match one day.”

“West Ham, Ron,” said Hermione, reproachfully.

There was a moment of silence, followed by the clang on an empty beer can hitting the floor as Harry rose from his seat.

“Anyone fancy a kick-a-bout in the garden?” he said.

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