One ear tuned into Noah's very refreshing commentary and both eyes glued to every aspect of the match, it was a pure miracle that Niamh was able to walk around at all without tripping and falling on something. As zoned in as she was, determined to watch her house's team have some glory and perhaps even more determined to exercise her right to take pictures as much as she please, maneuvering through the crowd was difficult indeed. Don't let it be said that Niamh MacNamara would not try, though. No, the tall blonde screamed and cheered her team along, groaning quite audibly when they proved that beating the Ravenclaw team was going to be a task indeed and trying not to burst out laughing to destabilize her aim when Noah proved to her why she loved him so much time and time again.

Every once in a while, the girl looked up towards the top box to give an appreciative shout to the commentator, a laugh lacing the sound each time. The poor boy seemed swamped by girls in his little box. With a vague smirk, Niamh snapped a photo of the commentator's section as McGonagall looked ready to strangle the boy and the girls around him exchanged words. Yet another cheer erupted from the Ravenclaw section (which she was nearing just now as she made her way down her current stand) prompting another unsuppressed groan from the Gryffindor. So much for house pride, she thought as the Eagles scored their sixth goal and her team had only managed one. With a partially amused, partially disappointed chorus of 'Your Quidditch, your Quidditch, your Quidditch is fuckin shite!' Niamh brushed the fringe from her face before going back snapping photos.