#chudley cannons chaser

[beyondhallowsrp]

⚡︎ SAM SPADE; biography

[we-r-loonies]

an au where no-one dies, but harry is still famous, because James Potter is the chaser for the Monrose Magpies.

so many hogwarts students are obsessed with James; partly because he's talented, partly because he's fit. harry is not amused.

(as a form of protest, harry is the Chudley Cannons biggest supporter, after ron.)

when he starts playing as a seeker for Gryffindor, nobody is surprised.

james sends a very enthusiastic howler; "i can't believe my son's a SEEKER. A SEEKER!!! we're so proud, aren't we, lils?"

"yes, we're very proud of you, hon. but, please, focus on your studies as well..." "EVANS, OUR SON IS GONNA BE A STAR, HE DOESN'T NEED-"

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

End Game: I wanna be your first string

A continuation of end game. This is stan tumblr's pov of Ginny's World Cup Semifinal match.

if you somehow got tagged in this, i am so sorry it was an accident

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

The first semi-final match will start in just under an hour with England taking on Bulgaria!

@ginwiz posted

i'm nervous, anyone else nervous?

@ginginweas replied: nervous? why would we be nervous? (i've vomited three times today)

@queezy-4-weasley replied: bulgaria's chasers still suck, so i have some hope

@bitch-witchh posted

fuck bulgaria and fuck viktor krum!

@quid-bitch reblogged @bitch-witchh

I'm trying!

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

don't make me bring out the spray bottle cat meme

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Krum will likely get the snitch over Shah, but Bulgaria's chasers still suck

@ginwiz reblogged @queezy-4-weasly

Shah could catch the snitch!

@ginginweas reblogged @ginwiz

yeah and I could win an order of merlin

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

Harry just finished the Frey Family case yesterday, so he should be able to make it to the game!

@harpies-hore reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

how do you know that?

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @harpies-hore

I listen to the auror scanner

@im-a-keeper posted

I am very excited to see England's chasers: Weasley, Alton, and Killick play against Bulgaria's beaters: Higgs and Ross. A fast, electric offense vs a brutal, widespread defense.

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

The England World team has entered the arena. They play Bulgaria in Round 2 of the World Cup.

@queezy-4-weasley posted

AND THERE SHE IS!

@ginginweas posted

GINNY WEASLEY!! THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE!!!!

@ginwiz posted

THERE IS MY MVP!!!

@quid-bitch posted

do you think Ginny Weasley, Richard Alton, and Ophelia Killick need a fourth?

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

there aren't 4 chasers

@quid-bitch reblogged @bitch-witchh

I wasn't talking about quidditch

@harpies-hore reblogged @quid-bitch

@queezy-4-weasley posted

i've been watching Higgs and Ross, and unfortunately they are on their A game today. I hope Gin, Oph, and Rick can handle them

@puddlemore-111 reblogged @queezy-4-weasley

weirdo, calling them Gin, Oph, and Rick like you actually know them

@queezy-4-weasley reblogged @puddlemore-111

how have i not blocked you yet?

@ginwiz answered

probably not yet since we haven't seen him, but he is going to be there

@ginwiz answered

95% of my blog is Ginny, and the moment i talk about her boyfriend (someone who has been heavily involved in Ginny's life since she was 11), I get this stupid ask. Go take your hate somewhere else.

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

Bulgaria World Cup team, lead by team captain, Viktor Krum, has entered the arena.

@ginginweas posted

NOT THE CAMERA PANNING FROM KRUM FLYING IN TO RON BOOING HIM!! THE LORE!!

@queezy-4-weasley reblogged @ginginweas

wait, whats the lore

@ginginweas reblogged @queezy-4-weasley

krum took hermione to the yule ball back during the triwizard tournament was happening. obviously there is no bad blood, but it's just funny to see him boo his fiance's ex

@quid-bitch posted

poor ron, only member of the golden trio to not have been with an international quidditch star

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

that's what he gets for being a Chudley Cannons fan

@drarry-is-real posted

lol so ron is there but harry isn't, even tho @hinny-luv-4-eva knows that he is free. wonder where he is then

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @drarry-is-real

well we know he is not hanging out with a death eater rn

@gin-will-win posted

GUESS WHERE I AM!

@ginginweas replied: NO WAY

@ginwiz replied: OH SHIT HAVE SO MUCH FUN!

@queezy-4-weasley replied: STOP I AM SO JEALOUS

@im-a-keeper posted

looks like the ref team will be the same team from the france game

#hahaha oh fuck

@harpieshore reblogged @im-a-keeper

@gin-will-win posted

HARRY IS HERE!! THEY JUST SHOWED HIM TAKING HIS SEAT NEXT TO RON

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

HARRY IS THERE!!!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

get fucked @drarry-is-real

@bitch-witchh posted

okay but why was he late?

@harpies-hore reblogged @bitch-witchh

what if i told you he was in England's locker room

@bitch-witchh reblogged @harpies-hore

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

The semi-final match between England and Bulgaria has officially started with the release of the quaffle!

@gin-will-win posted

they are so fast in person wtf

@queezy-4-weasley posted

that bludger that nearly hit killick came out of NO WHERE

@bitch-witchh posted

merlins beard. why did no one tell me bulgaria was actually good now?

@ginginweas posted

did... the bulgaria chasers actually just score?

@ginginweas reblogged @ginginweas

did... the bulgaria chasers actually just score again?

@harpies-hore posted

@ginginweas posted

ENGLAND!!!! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!!

@ginwiz posted

you all need to have more faith in ginny lol

@gin-will-win posted

SHE SCORED!

@ginginweas reblogged @gin-will-win

i don't like that you know what is going to happen 5 seconds before i do

@ginginweas reblogged @ginginweas

but omg yay!! she scored!!

@im-a-keeper posted

England only down 10-20 right now is somehow a miracle

@bitch-witchh posted

THANK FUCK!! POINTS!

@gin-will-win posted

I have such a good view of Harry and he is such a nervous fan, omg. he is basically clinging onto the railing

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @gin-will-win

stop, he is so sweet

@drarry-is-real reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

do you even like quidditch?

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @drarry-is-real

do you even have morals?

@queezy-4-weasley posted

FUCK DID KRUM ALREADY SPOT THE SNITCH

@ginwiz reblogged @queezy-4-weasley

i think he is feinting

@im-a-keeper posted

Shah should start looking for the snitch himself instead of trailing Krum

@ginginweas posted

killick scored!! assist by ginny!

@harpies-hore posted

@quid-bitch posted

omg they got their shit together

@queezy-4-weasley posted

STEAL FROM GINNY!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

POINTS FOR GINNY!

@ginginweas posted

THEY SHOWED RON AND HARRY CHUGGING THEIR BUTTERBEERS IN CELEBRATION!!

@ginwiz reblogged @ginginweas

Hermione looked so disappointed in them, im crying

@quid-bitch posted

what if i said ron is the hottest weasley

@harpies-hore reblogged @quid-bitch

shut up

@quid-bitch reblogged @harpies-hore

they crucified jesus for being right

@harpies-hore reblogged @quid-bitch

who the fuck is jesus?

@bitch-witchh posted

LOL the bulgaria chaser dropped the quaffle again

@queezy-4-weasley reblogged @bitch-witchh

that's the bulgaria team i remember

@im-a-keeper posted

Alton just scored with an assist from Weasley! All England chasers have now scored! 50-20 in favor for England!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Bulgaria's beaters are fucking aggressive

@bitch-witchh posted

OH FUCK

@ginginweas posted

GINNY

@ginwiz posted

FUCK FUCK FUCK! GINNY!!!

@Im-a-keeper posted

that was a NASTY hit by Ross. It looks like Ginny was hit in the face and knocked from her broom.

@ginginweas posted

that hit was terrifying

@harpies-hore posted

Oh shit! is she okay?

@gin-will-win posted

guys, there is so much blood

@ginwiz reblogged @gin-will-win

fuck, i hope she is okay

@gin-will-win reblogged @ginwiz

Richard caught her, and she is moving fine. I think it looks worse than it was.

@ginginweas posted

They showed Harry, and he looks so upset.

@bitch-witchh reblogged @ginginweas

Ross better hire some bodyguards because Auror Potter looks like he is planning his murder right now.

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Harry's heart dropped out of his ass watching that. (my heart did too)

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

Harry looks like he wants to jump down to Ginny to comfort her right now :(

@puddlemore-111 reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

if a player getting hit by a bludger makes her whiny boyfriend act like this, she should just quit and stay in the kitchen

@drarry-is-real reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

harry is faking sadness right now, he would much rather be with his boyfriend than be at this stupid quidditch game

@ginginweas posted

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @ginginweas

you already know who I voted for

@ginwiz posted

SHE IS OKAY!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

They fixed her nose and she is okay!!

@harpies-hore posted

STOP!! she just looked up at the stands and gave the "I'm okay" sign

@gin-will-win posted

Harry visibly sighed when Ginny waved to him. Hermione was rubbing his back and Ron gave him a reassuring shake

@ginginweas reblogged @gin-will-win

Every day, I become more and more thankful for the golden trio

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

After a nasty hit, and a presumed broken nose, chaser, Ginny Weasley, makes her penalty shot increasing England's lead to 70-20.

@harpies-hore posted

like we always say. ginny shooting a penalty shot = free points

@bitch-witchh posted

Bulgaria's chasers have now gotten so desperate that they are stooging

@ginwiz reblogged @bitch-witchh

and the refs have done nothing to stop them

@ginginweas reblogged @ginwiz

I feel like I need to bring back the refs vs voldemort poll

@gin-will-win posted

Ross is out of control today. He just elbowed Shah

@harpies-hore posted

Shah gets hit in the face when he is the one player who a beater cannot touch with their body and yet the refs call nothing

@ginwiz reblogged @harpies-hore

hey @ginginweas, we need the poll now

@ginginweas reblogged @harpies-hore

@im-a-keeper posted

I was really hoping that the ref team would have gotten better since the last match, but unfortunately they have not...

@bitch-witchh posted

lol while everyone was focused on Shah and Ross, Ginny scored again

@ginwiz posted

I fucking love Ginny Weasley

@qin-will-win posted

THE ENTIRE STADIUM IS CHANTING GINNY'S NAME RN (I think harry started IT!!!)

@harpies-hore posted

GINNY! GINNY! GINNY!

@ginginweas posted

okay, someone needs to take Ross's bat

@im-a-keeper posted

Ross hits a quaffle out of the hands of Alton. And of course the refs say play on.

@ginwiz posted

FUCK ROSS

@quid-bitch reblogged @ginwiz

I am not going to do that

@gin-will-win posted

KRUM IS FLYING OVER TO ROSS TO YELL AT HIM!

@harpies-hore posted

krum on his way to go yell at his beater

@quid-bitch posted

Krum can come yell at me next

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

JAIL

@ginginweas posted

WAIT

@gin-will-win posted

NO WAY

@im-a-keeper posted

Is Shah about to????

@queezy-4-weasley posted

DID SHAH JUST????

@quidditch-world-cup-updates

England's Shah catches the snitch while Krum is distracted. England wins 240-20!

@ginginweas posted

WE WIN WE WIN!!!!!!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

@bitch-witchh posted

WE ARE GOING TO THE FUCKING FINALLSSSSS!!!!!!!!

@puddlemore-111 posted

A pathetic win for England. How the hell did they make it all the way to the Quidditch World Cup?

@harpies-hore posted

@im-a-keeper posted

I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME!!! LET'S GO ENGLAND!!!!!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

IM SCREAMING!!!

@ginwiz posted

The entire team jumping on top of Shah, celebrating. What if I cry?

@gin-will-win posted

THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!

@bitch-witchh posted

Shah it seems I’ve grown quite fond of you tho there are no sexual urges or desires you come to me as a long lost friend whom I once picked apples with in papa’s orchard

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Ginny, Ophelia, and Richard are dancing around Shah, this is adorable

@gin-will-win posted

GUYS! HARRY IS NOT IN HIS SEAT ANYMORE

@harpies-hore reblogged @gin-will-win

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

HARRY IS ON THE FIELD!!!

@gin-wiz posted

HARRY????

@gin-will-win posted

GINNY RAN UP TO HIM AND JUST KISSED HIM!!!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

@harpie-hore posted

HE IS HER BIGGEST SUPPORTER WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE I WANT TO BE HER BIGGEST SUPPORTER!!!!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

BAD DAY TO BE A DRARRY STAN!!!!!

@drarry-is-real reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

fuck you

@ginwiz posted

I THOUGHT THE GAME AGAINST FRANCE WAS THE BEST WHEN SHE FLEW OVER TO HIM, BUT HIM COMING TO HER?? MEETING HER ON THE FIELD?? GINNY SEEING HIM AND DROPPING HER BROOM AND RUNNING OVER TO HARRY?? HARRY LIFTING HER UP OFF OF HER FEET TO KISS HER????

@harpies-hore posted

i am so single

@ginginweas posted

THEY ARE SO CUTE!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

THEY ARE SO IN LOVE!

@quid-bitch posted

THEY ARE SO HOT!

@im-a-keeper posted

What a thrilling game. I will never forget this. (also hinny are so cute)

@ginnyweasley posted

ONE MORE MATCH! ON TO THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!!!

[lanaturnergetup]

excerpt from my upcoming hinny quidditch au, heaven knows i've tried, below the read more!

(thanks to @solongdaisymayy, who made me this moodboard based off this scene and incentivized me to post an excerpt!!)

The Chudley Cannons to hold tryouts this Saturday

by Ginny Weasley

The Chudley Cannons will hold team tryouts this Saturday. The event, as all Quidditch League tryouts are, will be open to the press and to any hopeful witches and wizards hoping to end up with a spot on the team. Has the Golden Boy of Quidditch done the impossible and made a spot on the Chudley Cannons something to covet, instead of something to be whispered about in shame? Only time will tell! When asked for a comment, Ms Hermione Granger, owner of the Cannons, said, “We��re looking forward to seeing what everybody has to offer; I know Ron and Harry feel the same way.” When I asked Potter if Ms Granger’s words were true, he said, “I suppose.” Full details of the tryouts can be found on page 9. 

***

Harry hates Saturdays. 

Well. Not all Saturdays, but he hates this Saturday. He arrives at the Cannons pitch early, as directed to by Ron and Hermione. Ron’s waiting for him in the dressing room. “How did tryouts go at Puddlemere United?” he asks Harry. He seems to be attempting to inhale his coffee rather than drink it, but then again, it is just seven in the morning. 

Harry shrugs, setting his rucksack down. “Intense,” he says. “But don’t worry,” he adds, seeing the look of what can only be called pure panic on Ron’s face, “we’ll be fine. Where’s Hermione?” 

“She’ll be watching the tryouts,” Ron says. “Which is Hermione-speak for I’ll be doing paperwork in the sidelines, of course.” 

“Of course,” Harry says, amused. 

He’s written to a few of his old friends, but he’s not sure who’ll be there. Some of them have played for other teams previously, to be fair, so he’s got no idea which of them will be able to show up or not. The reserve team is… fine. They’ve had a few more days’ practice, as best as they can with a team that is still technically incomplete. Harry’s had a lot of practice holding in his temper, but it’s been hard. He’s desperately hoping for a good turnout today. 

“Morning,” says a familiar voice, and Harry turns to see Ginny Weasley at the entrance of the dressing room. She’s wearing robes today, a set of well-pressed and official-looking robes, and has an official press pass around her neck. Her official press clothes, Harry surmises. 

“You’re here early,” Ron says. 

“Early bird gets the exclusive with the Golden Boy,” Ginny says cheerfully. “So, Harry, how are you feeling about the tryouts?” 

“Oh, er. I dunno,” Harry says. 

Ginny rolls her eyes. “That would make a fun exclusive, wouldn’t it? Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of Quidditch himself, says he ‘doesn’t know’ about the tryouts. Come on, you don’t have anything better than that?” 

“I really hate the Golden Boy thing,” Harry says. 

“I know,” Ginny says. “You get all frowny whenever anyone brings it up.” 

“Frowny?” Harry repeats. 

“Yeah,” Ginny says, unfazed. “So. What are you hoping for? I’ve heard that people have already started to show up.” 

“Tryouts don’t start for an hour,” Ron says. 

“Yes, but when you get the chance to play for the Golden Boy himself…” Ginny winks at Harry, and Harry feels a spasm in his chest. A spasm of irritation, he tells himself, but he doesn’t know if he manages to convince himself in the least. “If I were you,” she continues, “I’d be hoping for a strong Keeper. You’re a strong enough Seeker that you don’t have to worry too much about the quality of your Chasers. But if you get a Keeper who lets in all the goals, you’ve lost before you even start playing, you know?” 

Harry blinks. As a matter of fact, that’d been his exact thought process. “Where are you going to watch from?” he asks Ginny. 

“The stands,” Ginny says. “In the press area. Why, is this a trick question?” 

“We’ve given the press a shit area,” Harry says. 

Ron cracks a smile at that. “I knew you did that on purpose.” 

Harry shrugs. “You should sit with Hermione,” he tells Ginny. “You’ll get a better view of everything.” 

“Are you sure?” Ginny says. 

In response, Harry gets his wand out and taps the pass Ginny’s wearing around her neck. “There.” 

“Thanks,” Ginny says. There’s a mischievous smile on her face as she says, “that’s almost as good as you giving me an official comment.”  

“Better luck next time,” Harry says. “You all set, Coach?” 

“Feels weird whenever you call me that,” Ron grumbles, but gets to his feet. “Come on, then. I’m all set.” 

---

[full fic coming soon, feel free to chat with me about it until then! <3]

[saveregblackordie0726]

Sombre et Pur'

Chapter 6

Sixth Year – 1976 

Tryouts were the next morning, and despite sleepless hours spent worrying about both flying and the prospect of patrolling Hogwarts with Regulus, I found a familiar surge of adrenaline as I stepped onto the pitch. Hufflepuffs were known for their loyalty and hard work – flashiness rarely won us matches, but sheer determination did. 

The other contenders were decent, though none truly exceptional. I, however, was on fire. Years of practicing with Sirius and James made dodging Bludgers feel like second nature. I smacked a bludger with my club so hard I heard a satisfying crack as it sailed past our chaser. 

The Hufflepuff captain, Katie Soileau, a solid seventh year with a perpetually overcast disposition, clapped enthusiastically. "Excellent hit, Clem! You've got real power behind that swing." 

I grinned, relief washing over me. This part, at least, felt right. It was normal. 

Yet, the specter of Regulus lingered in the back of my mind. We might be a million miles apart in our attitudes and allegiances, but one thing was clear – he wasn't one to shirk responsibility. If he said he'd meet me at the statue, he'd be there, a begrudgingly competent partner. 

The thought offered little in the way of comfort. This year was going to be a battle on every front – in the classroom, on the Quidditch pitch, and it seemed, even in the deserted corridors of Hogwarts. And the most frustrating part of all? It felt like with every passing day, I was no longer sure which side of the fight I was supposed to be on. 

The trek down the boathouse felt infinitely longer than usual. My legs burned in protest, and every inhale was a reminder of my overexertion. Yet, a familiar sense of anticipation pulsed through me. The boathouse, with its weathered wood and faint scent of lake water, was a common hideout for myself and the boys. It was a haven away from the bustling castle, where the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves and the occasional choked cough from Sirius or James while they snuck a spliff or two.  

Sirius, James, and Peter were already there, stretched out on the sun beached dock. James was animatedly dissecting the latest Chudley Cannons match with a fervor bordering on religious zeal, his words a near incomprehensible blur of quidditch statistics and tactical analyses. 

My arrival caused a brief pause in his commentary. “Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he announced, a grin splitting his tan face. “Tell me, Kit, are you about to claim your rightful place as the newest Hufflepuff beater?” 

I dropped down onto the dock with a tired groan, ignoring the way the wood splinters dug into my sore muscles. “Maybe,” I replied, unable to suppress a smirk. “Soileau seemed impressed, but I'm going to be feeling this for days ...” 

I stretched with a groan and laid back, resting my head on Pete’s lap. My muscles protested the change of position until I had fully relaxed. 

Sirius, who’d been absently blowing smoke rings as he stared blankly out at the lake with a detached air, stirred to life. His stormy grey eyes, so like his brother's, yet carrying a different sort of intensity, fixed on me. “Did Katie give you a hard time?” he asked. 

Katie Soileau, the new Hufflepuff Captain and team seeker was a regular force of nature both on and off the pitch, had a reputation among Gryffindors as being less than welcoming. But beneath the bluster, I knew she respected skill.  

“No, Katie knows talent when she sees it.” James interjected before I could answer, a smirk playing on his lips. “Even if she is insufferable.” 

My hand shot out and slapped him playfully in the arm. “Don’t start, Prongs.” I rolled my eyes.  

I recounted the near-misses, the satisfying thwack of the bat connecting squarely with the Bludger, and even the humiliating moment where I took a tumble trying to dodge a particularly enthusiastic rouge ball. By the time I finished, the tension of the day had melted away, replaced by a bone-deep weariness and the warm glow of friendship. 

“So tell me, Kit,” Peter piped up, breaking the comfortable silence, his hands absentmindedly sweeping through my hair. ‘what’s it like hanging out with the esteemed heir to the house of Black?” 

The question hit me like an unexpected snowball. I could see the effect it had on Sirius as well, the way his back went rigid and his head subtly turned towards our conversation. The playful mood around the dock evaporated in an instant. It was no secret that the Black brothers were barely on speaking terms. Theirs was a long and complicated history that I only understood in fragments – whispered rumors, the occasional outburst from Sirius about family gatherings, and the lingering shadows in his eyes whenever the topic arose. 

Instead of diving into the complexities of my shifting dynamic with my sister or alluding to the simmering tension between Sirius and Regulus, I opted for a deflection. 

"I have patrols with him tonight." I sighed, the thought of the endless walk spent beside him draining my mood. "Poor Evans," James said, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. "Doomed to spend the evening with the resident Slytherin overlord. Try not to be seduced by his charm."  

Sirius, who'd been staring out at the lake, shot upright. There was a flicker of something in his eyes – anger, hurt, maybe a mix of both – before he carefully masked his expression. 

"Whatever," he muttered, his tone laced with a forced indifference that didn't quite ring true. He pushed himself off the dock, the wood creaking in protest, and wandered up the bank towards the castle. "I forgot I, uh, need to practice some spells for Flitwick." 

The awkward silence that descended after his abrupt departure was almost suffocating. My gaze flitted between James, who was fiddling with a loose thread on his robe looking pointedly anywhere but at me, and Peter, whose expression was a mix of concern and a sort of helpless resignation. 

It was Peter who broke the tense quiet. "He'll be alright, you know," he said softly. "He just… sometimes…" He trailed off, unable to find the right words. 

I nodded, not because I truly believed it, but because it seemed like the only thing I could do. We finished the rest of the evening in a subdued sort of camaraderie, the unspoken rift between Sirius and his brother hanging heavy in the air. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After bidding goodnight to my dormmates later that night, I settled under a mountain of blankets on my bed, determined to make sense of our Professor’s cryptic divination notes. Dreams of swirling tea leaves and wonky crystal balls filled my head, but true understanding always seemed tantalizingly out of reach. Divination was, by far, my least favorite subject. Its frustrating combination of vague predictions and wildly inaccurate prophecies made Potions feel like an exact science by comparison. 

Time slipped away with alarming speed as I tried to decipher garbled scribbles about the significance of the number thirteen and the potential perils of misaligned planets. A glance at the enchanted clock beside my bed jolted me out of my trance. With a gasp, I realized I was perilously close to being late for my dreaded patrol with Regulus. 

Panic fueled a flurry of movement. Divination notes were hastily shoved into my bag, the crumpled pages a testament to my fruitless deciphering attempts. I kicked off my school robes, yanking on a pair of faded jeans and a worn borrowed Gryffindor sweatshirt with more haste than grace. My wand was tucked into the back pocket of my jeans – not exactly regulation, but I was starting to doubt that McGonagall and her love of rules were going to be my salvation this year. A last glance in the mirror revealed copper curls that stubbornly refused to cooperate and a pair of mismatched socks. I let out an exasperated sigh and shoved them haphazardly into my trainers. Perfection would have to wait. 

With a frantic last check for my patrol schedule, I bolted from the dorm room, my worn-out trainers squeaking against the stone floor. The corridors were deserted, echoing slightly with each panicked footfall. The statue in the Transfiguration Courtyard loomed ever closer, a harsh reminder of my rapidly dwindling time. 

As I burst onto the landing, I spotted Regulus, his pristine form leaning casually against the statue. He didn't look up from the parchment in his hands, but I could practically feel the disapproval radiating from him. 

"Sorry I'm a bit late," I gasped out, breathless from my sprint across the castle. "Divination…" I trailed off, offering a half-hearted shrug by way of explanation. 

Regulus didn't respond to my breathless apology, just tucked the parchment back into his robes with practiced ease. Internally, I groaned. My hopes for a quick, minimally-awkward patrol were dashed in that single, silent gesture. It was going to be a long night. 

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice cold and flat. His eyes travelled to my sweater, a mocking smirk spreading across his face. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and began walking. 

Scrambling to catch up, I found myself struggling to match his brisk pace. It was maddening. He moved with the effortless grace of someone who spent far too much time brooding in shadowy corners, while I felt like a clumsy hippogriff attempting its first flight. A flare of irritation bubbled beneath the surface. It wasn't just the patrol itself that was the problem; it was him. The way he carried himself, the barely-concealed disdain in his eyes, it all grated on my nerves. 

After what felt like an eternity of silence punctuated only by the echo of our footsteps, Regulus finally spoke. "This route is incredibly inefficient," he declared, a hint of disdain creeping into his voice. "We'll double back twice before we reach the Astronomy Tower." 

I bristled. I knew this castle like the back of my hand, every hidden passageway and shortcut etched into my memory from years of exploration with my friends. "It's fine," I retorted, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. "It's the route I always use." 

His answering laugh was devoid of any amusement. "While these might be the routes you and your delinquent friends use to get around, the more efficient route is through the West Wing, cutting past the Charms Corridor." His tone dripped with condescension. 

My annoyance flared into full-blown anger. "Look, if you know the castle so well, why don't you just lead?" I snapped, my control slipping. 

For just a moment, surprise flashed across his face. Then, a smirk – a cold, cruel twist of his lips that made my blood boil – curved across his features. "As you wish, Evans," he said smoothly. 

He took off down a shadowy corridor I'd barely noticed before, his long strides forcing me into an ungainly half-jog to keep up. Of course he'd choose a route I'd never traveled, just another way to remind me I was the bumbling Hufflepuff and he was the all-knowing Slytherin. 

We walked for what felt like hours. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft rustle of our robes and the distant hoot of an owl. The atmosphere was so thick with animosity I began to wonder if some sort of malevolent poltergeist had decided to torment us. 

To break the unbearable tension, I cleared my throat. "So," I began and immediately regretted it. "How's… how's Slytherin? Enjoying the new sixth-year dorms?" 

The question was pathetically lame, even for me. Regulus didn't even bother to dignify it with a response, simply continuing his march through dimly lit passages I barely recognized. 

The urge to ask the questions that burned inside me was nearly overwhelming. What was it like to have your brother turn his back on your family? How did you sleep at night knowing the darkness that festered in those ancient halls? But something stopped me, a strange cocktail of pride and a self-preservation instinct that warned me the answers would only lead to more conflict.  

The remainder of the patrol was torture. With each corner we turned, each flight of stairs we climbed, I found myself further away from the familiar comforts and easy camaraderie of my own life. The air felt colder, the shadows a little deeper. Yet, even amidst the discomfort, a strange sort of understanding began to take root. Patrolling with Regulus was never going to be an exercise in pleasantries or cheerful banter. Our shared duty wasn't about forming a connection, it was about fulfilling our roles in this increasingly dangerous game we were all forced to play. 

He was right about one thing, though – his route was far more efficient. We managed to cover the entire patrol area in record time, with minimal detours to avoid particularly grumpy ghosts. As we arrived back at the Transfiguration Courtyard, a sliver of grudging respect stirred within me. 

Regulus turned to face me, his eyes glinting in the dim moonlight.

"Same time, next week, Evans?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral. 

I stifled a sigh. "Don't be late." It was as close to a concession as I was going to get. 

With a raise of one of his perfectly arched brows and a curt nod, he melted back into the shadows, leaving me alone with the lingering echo of his footsteps. 

The walk back to the Hufflepuff common room felt like an uphill battle. My legs, already screaming in protest from the day's Quidditch tryouts, were now burdened by the added weight of exhaustion and the lingering tension of my patrol with Regulus. Each step was a conscious effort, every twist and turn of the castle's labyrinthine corridors a reminder of just how far from home I felt. 

As I passed the flickering torches that lined the walls, my reflection wavered in the dancing light. Smudges of dirt stained my face, my hair had long escaped its haphazard ponytail, and the mismatched socks peeked out from beneath my trainers – a testament to my hasty departure for patrol. I looked every bit the disheveled Hogwarts student battling exhaustion and navigating a world that felt increasingly out of joint. 

Finally, the familiar warmth of the Hufflepuff common room beckoned. The cheerful yellow walls and overstuffed armchairs were a far cry from the austere elegance of the Slytherin dungeons or the bold chaos of the Gryffindor tower. Here, kindness always took precedence over cleverness or bravado. Yet, tonight, even the cozy atmosphere couldn't fully dispel the lingering unease. 

Instead of ascending the spiral staircase towards my dormitory, I made my way to the small tea set near the large fireplace that was charmed to always stay full and warm. A simmering kettle and a tray of half-eaten biscuits awaited, a testament to the ever-thoughtful  house elves. With hands that trembled slightly, I poured myself a steaming cup of chamomile tea, the warmth radiating through the chipped ceramic and into my chilled fingers. 

As I sipped the sweet, floral brew, my mind replayed the events of the evening. The satisfying whoosh of the bludger narrowly missing my head, Sirius's conflicted expression, Regulus's icy stare… It was all too much. With a defeated sigh, I surrendered. I didn't have the energy to change or decipher my Divination notes or even brush my teeth. Crawling onto my bed, I burrowed under the patchwork quilt that had been a welcome gift on my first day at Hogwarts. The scent of lavender and worn cotton was strangely comforting. With the last vestiges of my waning resolve, I managed to nudge my trainers off my feet, a final token offering to the gods of aching muscles.  

Sleep washed over me in a relentless tide, pulling me into its inky depths. Dreams of swirling tea leaves, Bludgers the size of Quaffles, and a pair of mismatched grey-green eyes danced behind my eyelids. Even in the sanctuary of sleep, the world of Hogwarts, with all its contradictions and complexities, refused to release its hold on me. 

[carewyncromwell]

Day 3 (Stargazing) for @hphm-ship-week

"A look in somebody's eyes To light up the skies, To open the world and send it reeling... A voice that says, "I'll be here And you'll be alright." I don't care if I know Just where I will go 'Cause all that I need's this crazy feeling -- A rat-tat-tat on my heart -- Think I want it to stay..."

~"City of Stars (cover)" by Kenzie Nimmo and Harris Heller

x~x~x~x

2007 was an exciting year in Wizarding Britain. The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, was named the new Head of the Auror Department; a biography about war hero Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody was published in time for the tenth anniversary of his death; and in the Quidditch world, the Chudley Cannons made it to the League Finals for the first time in over a century, though they did still end up losing to League favorite the Montrose Magpies.

For the Magpies' Star Chaser and Captain Orion Amari specifically, however, 2007 was also an emotional year -- for it was the year that his daughter Eos was set to start her Hogwarts education.

When Eos received her letter from Deputy Headmaster Neville Longbottom, she tried to hold in her excitement. She had always been rather soft-spoken, and her hands were shaking with nerves, but she also couldn't stop herself from showering her father with eager questions. Even as she and her father sat out on the roof that night, looking up at the stars like they always did before bed, she couldn't stop talking about the letter still clutched in her hands.

"Right here they say no broomsticks..." Eos mumbled, pointing out the postscript on her school supply list as she looked up at Orion imploringly, "...but they still have brooms at school I can borrow, right? I can still fly if I want to...right, Dad?"

"Of course," said Orion serenely. "Their thought is to protect those students without the flying education you've had. It would be silly and pointless to ask a bird not to use her wings."

This calmed Eos down significantly. "Oh, good. I really hoped they wouldn't stop me from trying out for my house team..."

"They would not. But be aware that Hogwarts's house teams rarely consider first years for their roster, Mooncalf. Even Skye and I had to wait until our second year to be considered."

"Really...?"

Eos visibly deflated. Orion brought his hand down onto his daughter's head.

"Do not take my caution as discouragement," he said gently. "I merely wish to set expectations for you. I would be delighted if you defied the odds and earned a spot on your house team in your first year -- but I would be just as proud, just knowing that you chose to fight those odds to your utmost...or that you wanted to train up before trying out next year. Even if you ultimately chose not to try out at all."

Eos looked appalled. "Not play Quidditch? Why would I do that?"

"However like Nifflers we both are, Carewyn had a different kind of gold to chase at school than I did, and I never resented that," Orion said in amusement.

Eos bit back a grin at the mention of her father's romantic partner.

"I thought Carewyn was your Abraxan, Dad, not a Niffler."

"We are all akin to Nifflers in a way, so long as we have a goal we pursue fearlessly, little Mooncalf."

"Well, my goal is to play Quidditch! Just like you."

Orion chuckled as he lightly ruffled her dark hair.

"If that is what your heart desires, then don't let that go, for an instant. Listen to your heart...and I will always be proud of you."

Eos's face lit up like a silent sunbeam. Beaming from ear to ear, the skinny dark-haired preteen threw her arms around her father's chest and gave him a big hug. Orion cradled her for a moment, looking up at the sky. It was only when he was sure his daughter wasn't looking at him that he took that breath he'd been holding, but truly hadn't wanted her to see him take.

x~x~x~x

The two hugged once again, just that tightly, on Platform 9 3/4 that September 1st. Eos then turned to Carewyn and silently swept over to give her just as big of a hug. At age 11, Eos was quickly catching up with Carewyn height-wise, so her face landed right beside her honorary "stepmother's" chest.

"Write to your father or me if you need anything," Carewyn told her quietly.

Eos nodded. Carewyn's twenty-two-year-old son ward Erik Apollo brought a hand onto Eos's shoulder from behind.

"Don't worry so much," he said with a smirk. "I'll see Doe-Eyes in the halls almost every day -- I'll keep an eye on her."

"Don't think I don't notice you're not promising to keep her out of trouble like I asked you to," Carewyn said very coolly.

Erik gave a bark of laughter. "Hey, I'm a TA, not a fuckin' babysitter."

Carewyn whacked Erik on the arm with her purse while Eos burst into stifled, girlish giggles. The group's banter was cut short, though, when Hogwarts Express gave a loud toot.

"That's our cue, Doe-Eyes," Erik said stridently. "We'd better get moving."

Picking up Eos's trunk, he hoisted it up onto the train, climbed up, and then helped Eos up onto the train as well.

Eos turned around, back toward Orion. Her father gave her a small smile.

"Look up at the stars tonight, Mooncalf," he reminded her.

Eos bit her lip. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she gave the bravest nod she could. "Mm-hmm..."

The train gave a lurch and Eos had to grab onto the railing on the edge of the door frame to keep from falling over. Erik brought an arm around to support her as the Hogwarts Express began to inch out of the station -- Orion raised a hand in a static wave goodbye, and Eos waved back more actively, even as her big black eyes began to flood with tears.

It was only after the train finally left the station that Orion very slowly lowered his arm and his smile faded. He stared at the opening the train had left through for a very, very long time in silence. Carewyn stood beside him, her shoulder resting beside his before her fingers enclosed gently around his wrist.

Orion looked at her. The red-haired lawyer was likewise looking out at where the Hogwarts Express had vanished rather than at him, but her hand on his wrist was warm and reassuring. She even tried to match his breathing -- as if she was trying to quietly take the heavy weight on Orion's shoulders partially onto hers as well.

Orion's face softened as he exhaled. He leaned in to place a kiss to the top of Carewyn's head, grateful for her support. Carewyn looked up at him.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Orion said with another heavy sigh. "Yes, I believe so."

Carewyn turned to him. Bringing a hand up to run over his cheek, she held it in place so she could place a soft peck to the side of his chin. Then, securing her arm around her partner's, she walked with him out of the train station.

x~x~x~x

Carewyn and Orion walked through London that afternoon, stopping by Diagon Alley to pick up a new Broom Compass at Quality Quidditch Supplies and some flavor-changing mood tea at Rosa Lee Teabag. They then stopped into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes briefly to visit Carewyn's old friend George Weasley. Orion ended up taking to the one lone black Pygmy Puff in the cage by the front desk, though once he'd gently scooped it up, he somehow attracted all of the remaining pink and purple Puffs up onto his arms, shoulder, head and clothes, and Carewyn and George couldn't fight back laughter as they worked together to "rescue" Orion from the overly affectionate bundles of fluff.

"Pygmy Puffs are supposed to be very good pets," Carewyn said later, as they strolled back through London together. "Maybe we could surprise Eos with one for Christmas."

Orion glanced away. "...Yes. Hopefully our new furry friend would like our woods as much as we do..."

Carewyn could sense slight melancholy coming off her partner. She knew how close Orion and Eos had always been -- she figured Christmastime had to feel so very, very far away, in that moment.

"...I'm sure they will," she said gently.

She unlocked the door to her flat and headed on inside. Once Orion closed the door behind them, she took his hand.

"Come on," said Carewyn. "There's one more thing I have planned, before we settle in for dinner."

Orion cocked his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Carewyn avoided his eyes as she led him into the center of the room with both hands. Their matching gold partnership bands glinted in the light of the side lamp.

"I'll have to use Side-Along Apparition," Carewyn said bracingly.

Orion ran his thumbs along the back of her hands. "I shall go where you go, my Abraxan."

Carewyn's red lips curled up in a comforted smile as she gave his hands a light squeeze.

CRACK.

In seconds, Orion had been yanked through space after Carewyn, and suddenly the two of them were on a hill just outside of London.

Orion looked around. The view was impressive -- London by night glittered with thousands and thousands of tiny lights, akin to stars...and just above them, twinkling down from above, were the actual stars, blending in with the city below.

When Orion looked at Carewyn, she was smiling self-consciously as she looked out at the view too.

"You always have such a beautiful view of the stars, back in Montrose," she muttered. "I knew I couldn't give you that in London, but...well, I thought at least this way, it'd be easier for us to look at the stars together. ...To tell Eos that we saw the same stars she did."

Orion watched Carewyn as she stared out at the night sky rather than him.

"I missed Erik so much, when he first left for school. I missed him even more when he moved out, remember? And you were there for me then. ...I want to be here for you now. Even if I'm happy for Eos, and I know you are too...that doesn't mean I don't understand how hard it is...knowing that she's growing up. That soon she's going to be her own person, separate from you...and she won't need you so much anymore. ...That's why I want to be there. Because I know it's a happy time, and it will only be happier as time goes by...but that doesn't mean it isn't also scary."

Little by little, Orion's expression melted.

"...Carewyn..."

He brought up his hand to rest under her chin. With his pointer finger and thumb, he gently coaxed her to look at him -- then, swooping in, he kissed her fully. When he broke the kiss, he remained right beside her, their foreheads and noses touching.

"My dear Abraxan...your presence will never fail to give me courage."

Carewyn smiled. Leaning in to peck his lips again briefly, she then brought her head down beside his shoulder as she looked above them.

"Your constellation wouldn't be out tonight, would it?" she asked.

"No," said Orion. "Orion appears in the spring. But Cygnus is very bright tonight -- see? Those are his wings."

"Oh! Right, Cygnus is a swan," recalled Carewyn. "I see him. That really bright star is his tail, right?"

"Yes. That is Deneb. His name is even derived from the Arabic for 'tail.'"

"Hmm..."

Carewyn looked up at the constellation thoughtfully. Orion raised his eyebrows at her.

"Does Cygnus trouble you?"

Carewyn shook her head. "No...just a bit disappointed I can't think of any songs about swans right now."

Orion's black eyes softened. "Ah."

He brought an arm around her as they looked up at the sky together.

"Well...if you think of any, we can enclose the lyrics in our letter to Eos."

Carewyn smiled up at him and nodded. She looked back up at the sky, resting her head back on his shoulder. Orion leaned his head gently beside hers in return.

"I could reach out to my old friend Pitts," Carewyn suggested. "He's a house elf who works in the Hogwarts kitchens. He's Disapparated in and out of the school before...he might leave our letter on Eos's pillow in her new dorm tonight, if I ask him nicely. And reassure him that Eos is a good girl who never gets into trouble and loves sandwiches more than anything in the world."

Orion chuckled. He loved that idea.

[usagirln120]

Sarusuke Jet: Hogwarts AU

Sarusuke Jet is a Muggleborn wizard that was born on the 28th of March 1979 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1990, being sorted into Hufflepuff house.

He almost became one of the many Muggleborn children who were kidnapped to become slaves to Purebloods but he, and his childhood friends Droy and Levy, managed to escape and eventually found their way to the Fairy Tail Orphanage where they then grew up.

Both he and Droy had a crush on Levy since an early age but it never really developed into anything due to the fact that Levy didn't feel the same way about them but she did agree to go to the Yule Ball with him.

In his sixth year, he became a member of Makarov's Army and eventually was forced to go on the run due to his Muggleborn status alongside his friends before he returned to Hogwarts to participate in the Battle of Hogwarts which he survived.

Both he and Droy entered a heavy depression due to the fact that Levy was believed to have perished during the battle but the boys eventually moved on with their lives.

Jet eventually became a Chaser for the Chudley Cannons while Droy ended up working as an herbologist.

Jet eventually ended up meeting and moving on with Risley Law around the time that Levy returned, with him and Risley having three daughters together.

He has an Alder wand with a Unicorn Hair Core.

His Patronus is a Cheetah.

His favorite subjects are Flying and Potions.

His least favorite subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic.

[lifeofkaze]

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 36: DESPERATE OFFERS

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Warning: Language

WIGTOWN'S WANDERERS IN WORRYING DISARRY

The final hunt for the Quidditch Cup has officially begun. Will Parkins’ Wanderers shoot the Magpies off their throne, or will they end up as bird feed? Rita Skeeter investigates.

With the teams at the bottom half of the table deciding among themselves who’s going to be kicked down a division, a much more prestigious fight awaits on the other end of the spectrum (read how many Galleons Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Ludo Bagman set on the Chudley Cannons’ demise on page 7).

If this season’s League trend can be trusted, the hunt for the trophy will be settled between the Montrose Magpies - current Quidditch champion and very comfortable at the top of the table - and their iron pursuers, the Kenmare Kestrels and the Wigtown Wanderers.

After the bombshell of Wigtown Chaser Jameson’s abrupt split from former agent and fiancé Matthew McRae - which both refused to comment on - it poses the question of whether her relationship is all Jameson is ready to throw to the wind. Reports of her attending meetings with Montrose Magpies affiliates and her alleged absence from practice sessions do nothing to stop the rumour mill.

With Montrose and Wigtown almost even in points, all eyes will be trained on their showdown on the final season day. Will Jameson stand with her Wanderers, or will Coach Parkin have to watch his back?

Lizzie had barely slept after she had broken the news about her transfer to Orion. Tossing and turning in her bed, she had run their conversation through her mind over and over again, and each time she had felt more like crying and laughing at the bitter irony of it all. It was a cruel joke fate had played on them, but not one they could undo now, either. Lizzie had made her decision, and considering all the pain it had brought her, maybe her time in Wigtown coming to an end was for the best. 

She repeated the thought to herself until she almost believed it, but when she next entered the changing room, her resolution to lay her cards on the table straightaway faltered. The team’s mood was good - excited, even, with the final round so close at hand - and the thought of having to spoil it made Lizzie’s stomach churn. 

The only one to give her a dark look as she passed her was Morgaine, but Lizzie didn’t care for her. She searched the room for the two men she needed but didn’t want to face, and found them standing by the door leading into the men’s section. Ethan was talking at Orion with a subdued voice, but the angry look on his face gave Lizzie a good idea of what his telling-off was about; no matter what Orion had told him about his reasons for missing practice, Ethan hadn’t taken his absence lightly. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Lizzie stepped closer to them, her heart beating in her ears. It took Ethan a moment to register her presence; when he did, he gave her a sharp look.

“What do you want?”

Feeling her courage dwindle, Lizzie ducked her head. 

“Nothing.”

Ethan looked like she had lost his mind, rolled his eyes and turned back to Orion. Cursing her cowardice, Lizzie left them to it, walking back to her seat with knees feeling like Jelly Slugs. 

The feeling of the ground beneath her feet slipping continued as practice began. With her lousy performance adding to her already fluttery nerves, Lizzie felt physically sick by the time the team trudged back into the changing room shortly before lunch. Pushing away the tight knot in her chest and she stood in the middle of the room, awkwardly clearing her throat. 

“Listen up, guys. There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“For Godric’s sake,” muttered Morgaine, not bothering with keeping her voice down. “Can you be quick about it? Some of us were headed out.”

Lizzie balled her fists at her side. Suddenly, the words seemed to pass her lips more easily.

“As you’re all aware, there’s been a lot of back and forth with my contract this season.” 

She looked over the room filled with the people who had been by her side for the last couple of years, her friends, her team. Her eyes settled on Ethan and a bewildered-looking Skye standing next to him. There was no turning back now.

“Having taken my career matters into my own hands again, I wanted to let you know that I’ve finally made a decision about my professional future.” 

From the corners of her eyes, Lizzie saw smiles spreading on Bethany and Scout’s faces, but before they could move in to congratulate her on her renewed contract, she carried on.

“I’m proud of how far we’ve come, and I loved my time here more than anything.” She took a deep breath. “Regardless, these will be my last matches with the Wigtown Wanderers. Come next season, I’m going to play for the Montrose Magpies.” 

The silence following her words was deafening. Lizzie dropped her gaze, studying the pattern in the tiled floor so she wouldn’t have to see the shocked and disappointed looks directed at her. Eventually, Skye spoke up.

“You’re kidding, right?” she said, her voice flat. “Jameson, come on. That’s bullshit.”

Lizzie slowly raised her eyes and shook her head.

“It’s not.”

Skye’s face changed from white to red more quickly than Lizzie had thought possible. 

“You let us blow smoke up your arse all this year, and now you have the guts to stand here and tell us that you want to leave? For Montrose?” Skye pushed herself off the locker she had been leaning against, joining Lizzie in the middle of the room with a couple of wide, angry strides. “Have you lost your bloody mind? You can’t do that to us!”

Lizzie couldn’t hold Skye’s burning gaze any longer, looking down at the tip of her Quidditch boots instead.

“Yes, I can. And I have. I’m sorry.”

“As you should be!” Skye’s voice was barely short of screaming. “You’re the co-captain! We’re banking on you, and you just go and drop us because some bloody club from bloody Montrose waves their trophies and money at you!”

“That’s not the reason I’m going.”

“Yes, it is. Everyone knows all you care about is fame. Be honest about it, at least.”

“That’s not the reason,” Lizzie repeated, her voice pressed.

“What is then, huh? Spit it out!”

Skye had raised her hands to Lizzie’s shoulders, looking like she was about to shove her, but then Ethan was there, bringing his hands between the two witches and firmly pushing them apart. 

“Enough,” he said sternly. His face was anything but friendly as he turned to Lizzie. “That true, lass? You’re leaving?”

All Lizzie could do was nod. Ethan’s face was unreadable. 

“Got anything else to say on the matter?” 

There were a lot of things, actually, but it wasn’t like Lizzie could say any of them out loud. Her eyes flicked to Orion, who sat beneath his locker, staring at the ground. Her anger dying down, Lizzie pressed her lips together and shook her head. Skye scoffed.

“Aye, keep quiet, like always when it counts.” She jerked her shoulder away from her father’s hand. “You did a lot of crappy things lately, but this is taking the Cauldron Cake.” 

Lizzie shook her head again, desperately now. “Skye, please. You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t,” Skye barked. “How could I? Can say much about me, but one thing I’m certainly not - a traitor.”

Lizzie opened her mouth in protest. “I’m not a traitor!”

“Yes, you are. You smile in people’s faces and then stab them in the back without batting an eye. But what goes around, comes around, Jameson, you wait and see. Now get out of my changing room.”

Lizzie stared at Skye, tears of anger and helplessness pricking at her eyes. She fought them down, looking around the room for some sign of support. She didn’t find any. 

Blinking back the tears that were starting to rise, Lizzie drew her shoulders back, picked up her bag and walked away from the people she had - and still did - considered her team. Once the door had fallen shut behind her, her steps accelerated until she burst out into the open, greedily gulping down the fresh air already smelling faintly of summer and the nearby end of the season.

Walking at a brisk pace, Lizzie soon put a distance between herself and the changing rooms. By then, the tears she’d been holding at bay had begun down her face. When someone called her name from behind, she quickly wiped them away before turning around. 

“Quite the bombshell you just dropped,” Ethan said as he approached her with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Are you okay?”

Lizzie sniffled. “I didn’t think it would be that nasty.”

“No gentle way of delivering such a blow. Skye took it quite personally.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Lizzie shrugged helplessly. “She’d have found out one way or another.”

Ethan made a sceptical sound. “Didn’t think about talking to her first? Or me, for that matter? Would’ve been fair to give us a little heads-up, I do think.” 

“I did try to tell you this morning.”

“Doesn’t matter what you tried, Lizzie. Matters what you did. Or, rather, what you didn’t do.”

Lizzie bit her lip. Ethan was right, of course, but telling Orion about her transfer had been crushing enough; she hadn’t wanted to go through it more times than strictly necessary. 

“Don’t fret,” Ethan sighed when Lizzie hung her head. “No use barring the doors when the Abraxan’s bolted. But cards on the table now,” he added, watching her closely. “What are you really playing at?”

Surprised, Lizzie blinked. “Nothing.”

“Aren’t you? I’d say quite the opposite. You and your agent -”

“He’s not my agent anymore.”

“- have kept us at arm’s length for over a year. You said Wigtown is your home, turned down every offer you got, and now suddenly you wanna go and play for the Magpies? The Magpies, of all teams?” Ethan shook his head. “If that’s not playing games, lassie, I don’t know what is.”

Lizzie swallowed the urge to tell Ethan about Matthew and his schemes. It didn’t matter anymore. Matthew was a thing of the past, and accepting Montrose’s offer had been her choice and hers alone. She wouldn’t push the responsibility for her decisions away any longer.

“No more games from now, I promise,” she told Ethan, looking him straight in the eye. “I’m sorry how everything went, but I stand by it. I’m leaving after the end of the season.”

“What do they have that we don’t?”

“It’s not that.”

“Is it money? Success? A safe spot on the roster? What do you want?” Ethan’s gaze was hard. “I don’t know what they promised you, but I guarantee that we can match it. Outdo it, even.”

“Ethan, listen…”

“Tell me what you’re after, and you’re gonna get it,” Ethan continued, not minding Lizzie’s protest. He lowered his voice, his words quick and urgent now. “All I want is to lead this club back to its rightful place at the top, and we’re almost there. We haven’t won the Cup in years, but we’re so close, Lizzie. So close. My father, my grandfather, my whole family… Do you know how proud they’d be? How proud Skye would be?” 

He stopped himself, running his hand over his receding hairline. “I want to win, but not for me - for them. To do that, I need the best team I can get, and that includes you. I can’t just let you go like this.” 

“The Wanderers are your legacy, not mine,” Lizzie said softly but firmly. “For me, Wigtown is a dead end.”

Ethan’s lips turned into a thin line. “Alright, I got you. I see what the issue is.”

“You do?”

“Sure as a Quaffle is red. You think you’re not getting recognised. You want the world to know that you matter.”

“That’s not -”

“Have your way, then. Be our captain.”

Whatever it was Lizzie had wanted to say, she had suddenly forgotten.

“Sorry, what?”

“You heard me. I get it. Being co-captain just isn’t the same. We can’t do it without you, and it’s only fair that this is being recognised.”

“You can’t mean that. Skye’s the captain. You can’t take that away from her!”

A look of irritation passed Ethan’s face. “Skye’s captain for as long as I say she is.” 

Lizzie was aghast at how easily Ethan was ready to demote his daughter.

“Do you even know how proud Skye is to be the captain? You publicly put her down time and time again, and still she gives it her all. You can’t just act like she’s interchangeable. How can you do that to her?” 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Ethan replied coolly.

“What’s that supposed to mean now?”

“You say that I don’t care for Skye, but I could say the same of you. Can’t even remember how often the two of you locked horns over the years, and still, you stuck around. It’s handy, having a friend like Skye, ain’t it?” 

Lizzie struggled for words at the implication, but Ethan didn’t give her time to reply.

“Was a smart move to make, I’ll give you that. Quidditch business is tough, and you gotta look out for number one. You did well on that front, for sure.”

“Skye is my friend,” Lizzie said hotly, her speechlessness quickly turning to outrage. “I never used her for anything at all.”

“Is that so? Let me spell it out for you. Who talked the captain of your school team into doing out-of-turn-tryouts specifically for you? Who gave you a more thorough knowledge of Quidditch basics than the rest of your team?” Ethan’s face hardened. “Who made sure you got an invitation and contract with the Wanderers after school?

“And don’t come at me saying that it wasn’t Skye,” he raised his hand when Lizzie made to object. “No team in their right mind would have looked twice at an arrogant schoolgirl who turned them down because she thought she could go straight for number one. I wouldn’t have either. The only reason I gave you a second chance was because Skye begged me to.

“Maybe I am hard on her, no denying it, but that’s because I have her best interests at heart. Our legacy is no joke, and contrary to you, Skye hasn’t forgotten where she came from. You, Lizzie, would do well to do the same.”

“I know exactly where I came from, and also who took me where I am.” Anger bubbled beneath her skin, making Lizzie ball her hands into fists. “It was me. Everything I am today is because I worked for it. I deserve to be here.” 

“Tell that to yourself. How many players get a spot on the roster straight after school? Get a say in how the team is run? Get appointed co-captain even though they have a dated contract?” Ethan raised a hand to his ear. “What’s that, Lizzie? You gotta speak up, girl. Can’t hear you over all that self-entitled blabbering of yours.”

Lizzie gritted her teeth but remained quiet. As much as she hated it, Ethan wasn’t wrong. She had worked hard for her career, but so had all the others. So had Morgaine, for a fact, who - despite her talent - had never amounted to more than being Lizzie’s stand-in. 

Angrily, she shook her head. “I never asked for any of this.”

“Didn’t bother turning it down either,” Ethan shrugged. “I even looked the other way when you and Orion hit it off again. Stop gaping like a Mooncalf,” he added when the colour drained from Lizzie’s face. “Didn’t take the press reports to figure that one out. That’s the reason right there I didn’t want you kids to mess with each other. Nothing but trouble for anyone involved.” 

“You don’t understand,” Lizzie said, quietly now. 

“Maybe, and I honestly don’t care. I care about my team and where we’ll stand in the League in a few weeks. I’d do a lot to make sure it is on top. If you want to be there with us, you had better consider my offer and stay. Trust me, no other team will make it as easy for you as we do.”

Whatever sympathy Lizzie had had for Ethan vanished. She raised her chin defiantly. “Nothing you can offer me will change my mind, and that’s the last of it. But if you want to give my spot on the roster to Morgaine now, I’ll understand that.”

“Don’t think I’ll let you off the hook like that. I expect you to give this team your all until the very last second.”

“As if that ever was a question.”

“Good.” Ethan jerked his head toward the exit of the training grounds. “Go home for the rest of the day, or Skye will hang your butt from the goalposts. And from tomorrow, you’ll be the first to come and the last to leave, do you get me?”

“Clear as day.”

Giving her a curt nod, Ethan returned to the team while Lizzie headed home to pack her things. After everything that had happened, she didn’t want to suffer the humiliation of getting kicked out of the house by Skye on top.

Stuffing the few things she had unpacked the day before into her old school trunk, she thought about what Ethan had said. She hated the thought of owning her success to someone else but couldn’t dismiss the truth of it entirely, either. 

What if he was right? What if she didn’t have what it took to make it on her own? Montrose had crushed Orion when he’d been there. What if she failed, just like him?

The nagging doubts Ethan had planted in her head steadily grew over the next couple of weeks, during which Lizzie’s life reduced itself to being on the Quidditch pitch or contemplating her decision lying curled up in her room at her parents’ house in Dorset. 

Soon, even the thought of having to attend practice became exhausting. Lizzie didn’t feel welcome in Wigtown anymore, the more or less open hostility of her teammates draining her more than Ethan’s drill ever could. The only person who didn’t seem to be angry with her was Orion, but Lizzie would sooner face the collective disdain of her team than deal with how her heart hurt a little more every time he avoided her eyes. 

It was lonely without him and Skye, but it wasn’t like she could change it now. All Lizzie could do was grit her teeth, work harder than ever, and hope that the season would be over soon.

[cursedwithwords]

James and Teddy when the Chudley Cannons Keeper tells them that the Falcons new Chaser, some guy named Gaton, has a gnarly, fucked up scar on his mouth and gets really angry and defensive whenever people point it out or ask about it:

[lilahisntsadanymore]

Y/n goes to a dinner at Weasleys, where she finds out James Potter has a special effect on her. Unfortunately for her, he could read all her flithy thoughts about him.

My earlier smut was a success so I'm posting another one. Dunno yet how I feel about this one, but I can always delete it oop-

The reader pronouns: she/her

Pairing: friend's dad!James Potter x reader, mentions of previous Fred Weasley x reader

Tw: not proofread, smut with some backstory, age gap (reader is over 18), unprotected sex (but please use protection irl), slight degradation

Words count: 2.2k

Of course it is 18+ but I can't control who reads my stuff so idk just don't read if you're under 18.

This happens in an AU where Voldemort died in 1981, so the battle of Hogwarts in 1998 didn't happen.

All characters engaging in sexual activities are over the age of 18.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shameful thoughts

Y/n was woken up by birds singing outside, what a bad of an idea it was to sleep with an open window. It wasn't even nine in the morning, yet still it was later than the usual time Y/n used to wake up after becoming Chudley Cannons' chaser.

Despite closing the window, Y/n decided not to go back to sleep. It was the first day "off work", but she didn't want to ruin her sleep/waking up schedule. Half past eight was a good time to start the day anyways. Y/n promised to visit the Weasleys as soon as she isn't busy with work. They were like a family to her and she hadn't payed them a visit in the past year. Or at least almost a year.

Y/n thought that 'after graduating, you lose contact with most people' was a popular lie, a myth, but it wasn't. Adult life was way different. She didn't have much time for herself, let alone for all her friends she'd made at Hogwarts. Sure, they exchanged letters once in a while, but Y/n couldn't remember when was the last time she spent time with Ron, Hermione or Harry. Probably on George and Angelina's wedding, but it didn't count because there were lots of other people too.

The Weasley twins. It was a difficult topic for Y/n. Not the both of them, just Fred. Fred Weasley was a difficult topic for Y/n Y/l/n. They had a past, they used to date, but it didn't work, they just weren't made for each other. As much as their breakup shocked everyone, Y/n was glad they could end the relationship on good terms, so that nobody hated anybody

In the afternoon Y/n decided to go to the Burrow the muggle way, since it wasn't so far and the weather was nice. Instead of the Floo, apparition or a broom, Y/n took a walk. It also helped her calm down from the thought of seeing her ex again. Y/n didn't even know why she worried about seeing him so badly. She tried to remind herself they were on good terms, but it didn't work.

"Good afternoon, Molly!" Y/n said when the older woman opened the door.

"So good to finally see you, Y/n!" Molly exclaimed, pulling the girl into a very tight embrace.

After walking inside, Y/n tried to lightly put her bag on the kitchen table, but it was so heavy it landed with a thud.

"Oh Merlin, what do you have in there?" Molly asked worryingly.

"You'd never guess! Made it this morning, it's still very fresh!"

Y/n pulled out a cake out of her bag. It was really huge and heavy, but Y/n thought baking a cake was a good way of apologizing for not visiting for so long. The cake had to be big, because there were supposed to be more quests at the Burrow that day.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to, it must've took you much effort-"

"I couldn't come empty-handed. You practically raised me, Molly, that's the least I can do."

"It's nothing, sweetheart, you don't owe us anything."

The conversation was interrupted by Arthur coming back from work. He was very happy to see Y/n. Then Ron and Hermione came in, Y/n wanted to catch up in the living room with everything that happened recently.

"I still can't believe you're in Chudley Cannons!" Ron squeaked. "They, you, did so well this season, thanks to you."

"You remind me of back in the fourth year when you were excited over Krum." Y/n giggled. "But if we're talking about things we can't believe, congratulations on getting engaged!"

Y/n pointed at the ring on Hermione's hand. It was truly gorgeous, probably pricey too. They must've been so happy together.

"What about you?" Hermione asked. "Have you got anyone?"

The door of the Burrow opened once again and just like that, the Weasley twins and Angelina walked in. Fred noticed Y/n immediately. For a quick second their eyes locked, but then Y/n turned her head back to her friends.

"No, not really. I don't have time for dating, you know?" Y/n tried to laugh off the topic, but it was partially true. Most of the time, she was busy with trainings and games and the rest of the time she was tired from the trainings and games.

The house lit up with joy and chatter as more people came in. The next quests were Bill and Fleur and later on even Percy appeared. Unfortunately Charlie couldn't be there, but that wasn't anything new.

"The last guests and we can start!" Molly announced when the doorbell rang.

There he was. James Potter. Standing there, next to his son. Despite being quite good friends with Harry, Y/n never really got to know his dad. She saw him a few times before, but she could count those on fingers of one hand.

"Hey, good to see you, Y/n!" Harry said, giving Y/n a hug. "The best Chudley Cannons chaser!"

Y/n smiled. "Thank you, but the others are pretty good too!"

James pulled out a hand for Y/n to shake, which she did.

"The team had been winning much more matches since you've became their chaser, I think it speaks for itself." The man chuckled. He was, obviously, a huge fan of Quidditch. Whenever there was a game nearby, he would go to it either with his friends or Harry, or both.

"Thank you, Mr Potter." Y/n could feel her cheeks heat up. She always could take compliments, why did his compliment have such an effect on her?

"Oh, please, call me James, you're grown up."

Suddenly, Molly interrupted the conversation.

"Now I'd like to see you at the table before the food is cold. You can talk more after or during dinner."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was no moment where the room would be quiet. People were talking about everything, but in Y/n's mind the constant chatter faded away when she looked at James. It was the worst when she was fixated on him and someone would ask her a question. Just as if she was splashed with a bucket of ice cold water, Y/n would come back to the real world and stutter an answer.

"...we thought the game would never end, but thankfully our seeker caught the snitch. Although, the longest match in history-"

"-lasted for three months." Fred chimed in, grinning.

"Exactly, thank you."

"Always, darling."

Y/n almost choked on her food. What was that supposed to mean? Did he still have feelings for her? They definitely had to talk about it later.

For the first time that day, the room fell silent. Deadly silent. Uncomfortably silent. Bill attempted to break it.

"Do you remember the ice curse that spread through Hogwarts back when I was there? Well, we've encountered something similar recently at the bank..."

His story seemed to be interesting enough to draw attention of the others. Or maybe the rest also wanted to get rid of the sudden uncomfortable atmosphere.

Y/n didn't really listen, she kept secretly glancing at James, occasionally making up several scenarios with him in her mind. Some more some less shameful. Thankfully there was no one to read the girl's mind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Darling? Darling?! What the hell was that supposed to mean?" Y/n whisper-shouted, locking herself with Fred in twins' old room.

"Calm down, I wanted to...spice things up!" Fred gave her another one of his grins.

"Spice things up? You're so immature. After we broke up, I had to make sure Molly is okay, had to convince everyone the breakup was nobody's fault and now you're doing something like this-"

"You're my friend, I use nicknames for my friends."

"This one made everyone at the table uncomfortable."

"Not more uncomfortable than your not-so-secret glances at Harry's dad. Really, Y/n? Isn't he like twenty years older?"

"Oh, shut up. I am a grown woman, you shouldn't care about who I like."

"Just saying. If Harry wasn't so oblivious, he would hate you." A chuckle escaped Fred's mouth. This only angered Y/n.

"You're saying this because you're jealous."

"Am not. Y/n, we established we don't work out as a couple, we're good as friends. I want you to be happy, but seriously? Harry's dad?"

"It's not like this silly little attraction could evolve into anything more. Anyways, we shouldn't argue, not today, we can't ruin everyone's mood. Let's get out of here."

Y/n unlocked the door. Just as she and Fred walked out of the bedroom, they almost bumped into James. Without a word, Fred walked downstairs and Y/n stayed there. She didn't even know why. Her brain just didn't work properly when she was standing so close to James.

"Is he your boyfriend or any of that kind?" James asked. He already knew the answer to this question, but it was a way to start a conversation.

Y/n felt as if he appeared out of nowhere, but a little did she know he was there all the time. Not like he was eavesdropping, but the walls were thin and James happened to have good hearing.

"An ex, we're still friends though. Why?"

"Just curious," a mischievous smile made its way to James' face, "a boyfriend wouldn't be very pleased with the thoughts you had about me, but it's all good since he's an ex."

Y/n's eyes widened. He read her mind, she was fucked. The girl's heart was beating so fast. The only times she remembered it beat that fast were before Quidditch matches.

"I- I- I don't know what to say. I'm extremely sorry. I didn't know I could ever see you in such way, but when I saw you today, I just-"

Y/n felt so embarrassed. She thought James was going to be furious, because who wouldn't be? It was so disrespectful. Y/n was disgusted by herself. She heard he wasn't in a relationship after Lily died. And now a friend of his son was making up sexual scenarios in her head with James as the main character.

"I know."

"You- what?"

To the girl's surprise, James was far from angry. He took a few steps forward, causing Y/n to take a few steps back. Her back met the wall and James was still getting closer.

"How about we fulfill those little fantasies of yours?" The man grabbed Y/n's chin, then brushed his thumb over her lower lip.

[!!!SMUT!!!]

Y/n had no idea how it happened, but a few minutes later she was with James in the bathroom, bent over the sink.

"Aren't you scared someone will hear you?" James taunted, pounding into Y/n. She didn't even answer, only sound she was able to make were moans. "You probably enjoy it, dirty slut."

James grabbed Y/n's hair to pull her head up and force her to look in the mirror.

"You're so beautiful," he said and sucked the girl's neck. He would probably leave hickeys, but it didn't matter for now.

Y/n didn't focus on the consequences. She felt so good, it could as well never end. James' dick was hitting just the right spot inside of her.

"I didn't lock the door. Anyone could walk in right now and see you getting all ruined by my cock."

The thought of getting caught made Y/n clench around James' dick. It wasn't moral, it was so immoral, but so exciting, so new. She was close. Her mouth opened wide as she came.

James slowed down, feeling his own orgasm approaching. His grip on Y/n's hips tightened, pulling her even closer. He came deep inside of her. Both of them were panting heavily.

"We should probably get dressed and go downstairs, or the rest will get suspicious." James advised, giving Y/n her clothes.

"Could we repeat that someday though?" Y/n smiled flirtatiously.

"Sure, whenever you're free."

"I've just started my two weeks off from work..."

"Well, then we'll spend a fun two weeks."

[END OF SMUT]

Y/n walked downstairs to the kitchen, James would go there a bit after her. The girl's mind was now clean, without being faded by inappropriate thoughts, she started feeling guilty.

"There you are!" Ron exclaimed. "We were just talking about that one fantastic maneuver you performed on your latest match."

"Ah, yes," Y/n faked a smile, "I love performing Parkin's Pincer. Although I think the bloke from the opposite team ended up in hospital."

"It's so brutal." Hermione shook her head. "How is that even legal?"

"Just don't delegalize it when you become the Minister of Magic, alright?"

Everyone laughed. They were laughing just like back in the good, old Hogwarts days in the common room or on a feast in the Great Hall. Their laughter was so loud, they didn't hear someone coming.

Y/n turned around and saw James. He looked straight into her eyes for a second and then sat back on his seat by the table.

Y/n, Ron, Hermione and Harry continued their chatter. Their little circle was so busy, no one even noticed the glances Y/n was giving to Harry's father. James on the other hand wasn't so discreet. When Y/n looked at him, he winked and then snapped back into a conversation with Arthur and Percy.

The girl blushed. What was she doing? The man was like twenty years older than her, she couldn't understand why did she feel so attracted to him. Not to mention, Harry would probably unfriend Y/n for the rest of their lives if he found out. Which meant he couldn't ever find out. A smirk appeared on Y/n's face when she was thinking about all her future 'dates' with James. She wasn't anymore listening to what her friends were talking about.

[pottrcore]

she’s a quidditch mom

platonic!marauders x reader, james lives au, set 1984.

very small drabble, i saw that trending lulu lemon jacket and thought of soccer moms then thought of this concept. i did not read thru this enough for spelling mistakes or grammar errors so if there are any… no there aren’t :$

works

Children were so enamoured by the prospects of it all, having watched multiple games of the real deal. It was mesmerizing, their big doe eyes flitting back and forth to track the players on their brooms, bums barely keeping themselves on the edge of their seats when the chasers had one hand on their broom and a quaffles tucked under the other, while an opposing beater was right on their trails, bat held out and ready to swing; the whole ordeal was captivating.

So much so that, to your discontentment, your child was caught in the webs of it. At a mere 4 years, your little girl had accumulated a collection of quidditch paraphernalia and memorabilia, all courtesy of your weak inhibitions and your family’s indulgence to spoil your daughter rotten. You shook your head at them all, but not without gifting your daughter another beater’s bat, this time a new color, at the same time.

You don’t exactly know how she came to her obsession with quidditch, but you figured that the influence of your own quidditch enthusiasm was the root of it.

You, yourself, had the same penchant for collecting quidditch merchandise. It was so often that it was a problem, you concerned even yourself.

It started with posters, like it always does, ones you buy from a shop, then it progresses to the foldout posters from magazines, to prints. Then it was the shirts, quidditch gear, and you were in the quicksand before you could even notice it.

You even owned an limited edition Bally Castle Bats x Gladrags underwear set with patterns of red bats and signatures of the whole roster. (You particularly treasured Humphrey Higgins’, the Bats’ star chaser, who was also heralded Rookie Of The Year by Quidditch Now Magazine.)

Your daughter didn’t share this sentiment with you, preferring Chudley Cannons for some reason, but you suspect it was because your father had been whispering into her ear about it. He was an avid Cannons supporter, your dad was. It irked you, having to bite your tongue with each slight he snarks out, but the streak of their losses satiate you enough.

So in hindsight, it wasn’t a surprise when your daughter shrieked happily when you told her there was a community led program hosting an open quidditch game for children aged 4-6 years. She immediately ran to her room, tiny feet comically padding along the hardwood floor, and lugged out her bright orange beater’s bat.

It was from a Chudley Cannons junior quidditch kit that came from your (traitorous) mother, you remember scowling as she hid it behind her back to surprise your daughter on her 2 and a half birthday.

Was that even a thing? You had outrageously exclaimed aloud, and your mother sniffed, nose turning up, “yes, yes it is!”

You didn’t have it in you to argue when you saw your daughter cuddling up to the bat in her bed.

But now, you were severely regretting it, standing in complete shock to see her speeding around the miniature pitch, flying circles around all the other kids, her orange bat held tightly in her hand. She had her lower lip jutted out, and her eyebrows pinched, and you knew from this that she was much too engrossed into the game.

She was chasing the opposing team’s seeker, a small boy with unruly black hair that stuck out in every direction. He was fast, just as fast as her, but she was proving to be a menace on the pitch, leaving her fellow beater in the dust.

You were bewildered to see her manipulate the games’ modifications that were set in place to protect them. The bludgers were much softer and lighter, easier to push and it was absorbing energy from impacts so the hits would hurt less. They were charmed to move slower, only side to side, a bit sluggishly, and less aggressively that the children could dodge it.

Unfortunately, this meant that they were easily controllable and your daughter was fully aware of it, as she quickly maneuvered it with her bat to move in tandem with her, dribbling it like a football, as she swiped at it side to side, fast enough that it wouldn’t go out of reach from her.

It would have been impressive, if it were not for the sole fact that she was a beater and that she should not have been chasing another player.

You wanted to cover your face in embarrassment but when a young man with similar untamed black hair stood, yelling out the words, “Foul! That beater is a menace!”, your face soured and you jumped to your feet, coming to her defense.

She might have been a menace, but she was your menace. And what she was doing was hardly a foul, it just wasn’t very conventional! In fact, it was original— you said in your head, trying to convince yourself.

“Keep going, darling, Mummy’s so proud! He’s gonna turn at the end of the pitch,” You cupped your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, “swing when he moves to the corner!”

He looked at you with indignation, a scandalised gasp slipping from his mouth.

The banter went on between you two, advising your flying children and coaching them from the sidelines. Sometimes you’d catch a troubled look on their faces, looking at the parent section then back at the game. But the more you heard the man’s annoying voice, the louder you got.

He had a couple of friends by his side, one was very good looking, with long sleek hair and a glass like complexion, and the other had shades on, his sandy hair was mussed up and there were scars littering on his exposed forearms. There was a few small ones on his face as well.

They had seemed amused by this interaction. The good looking one had a crooked smile, you found, as he roared with laughter. The scarred one had an attractive smirk playing on his lips.

“You tell your daughter to follow the rules!”

“Piss off! She is following the rules, not her fault your boy can’t see the snitch!” You pointed at the boy. “Look at him, he’s squinting around.”

It was true. The snitch flew lazily in front of the seeker, but although it was in reach of him, his hand was stretched out and kept missing whenever it moved a bit. It was still right in his face though.

“His glasses aren’t meant for quidditch!” The man protested.

“He has goggles, mate.” His friend wearing shades commented, arms now crossed.

The father groaned unhappily, “You know how fussy he got when I tried putting them on him!”

The whines had almost distracted you, nearly causing you to miss it.

The two children reached the end of the pitch, and just as you had said, the seeker made to turn the corner, and your daughter stopped dribbling the ball, only to grin widely and swing hard.

You cheered loudly, “Go (D/N)*!” You whistled, clapping like mad.

When the soft bludger had floated ceremoniously towards the boy, and bumped into him, the light force wobbled him for a few seconds before he promptly lost balance and fell, laying splayed out on the terf. The snitch fluttered a few seconds on top of him, then flew over to the middle of the pitch.

The father of the seeker held his head in his hands, “We need to get you used to the goggles, Haz.”

Your daughter flew a few inches down and patted the seeker— ‘Haz’s’ head, before zooming right off to see to another bludger, one that she planned on aiming straight for a chaser that finally grabbed a hold of a quaffles.

You wanted to tell her that that chaser was on her team but she was grinning so wide, you didn’t have the heart to.

“Great sportsmanship— keep going, baby!” You urged her on, and smiled softly when she looked up at you to giggle.

When you sat back down, you found that the three men were heading your way. Your fingers nimbly found the strings of grass beneath you and began to rip them out. You hoped they were just going to pass by, but the father of that Haz boy had his eyes trained on you.

With a sigh, you had steeled your courage and faced their approach with a big (fake) smile.

“Hullo boys.” You blocked out the sun, which seemed to burn a little hotter in that moment. “Good day, wouldn’t you agree?”

*: (D/N) means Daughter’s Name

[roonilwazlibimagines]

the bet ch.4 - r.b x female reader

Blurb: the office holds a friendly game of quidditch, well, an intended friendly game of quidditch

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: my milkshake wasn't that good :( i'm tired so next update will be tomorrow probably around this same time Warnings - regulus and evan are a little misogynistic and by a little i mean a lot, sex is heavily referenced, head injury and mention of feeling like throwing up. also lots of swearing

Masterlist | ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8 | ch.9 | ch.10 | FINISHED

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

On Wednesday they had their weekly meeting held in the breakroom considering that was the only room big enough to hold everyone in. 

Regulus had taken the risk of sitting next to her and he tried not to take it personally when she moved her chair away from him ever so slightly. 

“I have great news,” their boss started with, as she walked in and went to the front of the room. “It has come to my attention that we haven’t done a group bonding activity since our new arrival.” Her hand waved over in her direction and Regulus could practically feel her stiffen. “So, on Friday we will be having a friendly game of Quidditch.” She clapped her hands in front of her. “Indoors, of course, it’s fucking freezing.” 

Regulus wasn't sure how, but he felt her go even more stiff. Probably at the language of their boss, no doubt. Regulus wasn’t a prude, or at least not as much of a prude as he thought she was, but even he was shocked by their boss's language when he first started. 

“I’ve already organised teams because I don’t want Regulus and Evan on the same team.” Evan was sitting behind her and she felt his arm brush on her shoulder as he brought it forward to high five Regulus. She tried not to shudder away. 

She was going to be on a team with Evan and the safety manager and it would be them against their boss, Regulus, and Louie. They would only have a seeker, chaser and keeper per team as it was only a friendly competition and therefore no need for a beater. 

“I will give you tomorrow afternoon to organise your game plan, but until then you have to focus on work.” There was still no new potion request, so her and Regulus were stuck trying to think of a new idea. 

“So, are you ready to lose on Friday?” Regulus asked when they were back in the breakroom for lunch. 

“Sorry Reggie, we have the old Slytherin Quidditch Captain on our team, the one who declined an offer from the Chudley Cannons because she was way too good for them.” He put an arm around her shoulders as he sat down next to her and she shrugged it off. 

Regulus was starting to appreciate her attitude. Maybe he thought she was uptight and bossy during school, but now he admired how she stood her ground and never let people make her feel uncomfortable. It was sometimes, even funny. Especially when it was his friend on the receiving end of it. 

“And when was the last time this amazing Quidditch star actually played Quidditch?” Regulus didn’t know the answer, but from the context clues of their previous conversations, he was feeling confident that it wasn’t since Hogwarts, almost three years ago. 

“Irrelevant,” she said in a way that made the edges of Regulus’ lips quirk up, “when you’re that good, the skill never leaves.” Evan was sitting beside her so she didn’t see the way he widened his eyes at Regulus who was sitting across from them. 

But it seemed even Evan had come to appreciate her directness in this post school life because it was a look that was a mix of being amused and impressed. 

“Look, I love you Reggie,” Evan began, “but I’d take her on my team over you any day.” Apparently, though, Evan hadn’t learnt his lesson because he threw another arm over her shoulders, only to have it pushed off once more. 

She gave him an innocent look and Regulus took this as progress. Even if it was completely self centred, it seemed like she was actually joking around with them which meant that they were getting closer to friends which meant that Regulus was getting closer to being five hundred galleons richer. 

This was going into their third week of the bet. Regulus barely had two months left and he felt like he hadn’t made much progress, but he had to remind himself who this was and that really, even getting to this stage where they could hold a conversation was a feat of itself. 

And really, Regulus was learning that she wasn’t even that bad. There was still something wound up extremely tight inside of her, but there were occasions where whatever it was started to loosen and she seemed like a normal human when that happened. 

Then, of course, there was the fact that she was very pretty which Regulus was really starting to appreciate. Especially on Friday morning when she arrived at the indoor stadium in a pair of leggings that were basically a second skin on her as well as a tight long sleeved top that made Regulus’ eyes wander. 

Evan whistled in Regulus’ ear when she showed up and Regulus nudged him with his elbow. 

“Shut up,�� he mumbled. 

Regulus wondered if she knew she was hot. Surely she did. But she didn’t seem arrogant about it in the way that he’d expect someone who looked like that to be. 

But he pushed that thought aside because for some reason, she was walking over to them. 

“Good morning,” she said, “Evan.” She nodded towards the boy who had his arm rested on Regulus’ shoulder, making no effort to hide the way his eyes looked her up and down. “Regulus,” she said, “are you ready to lose?” 

Regulus let out an unattractive laugh. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

“Shame you won’t be in your usual position,” she said in a way that made it sound like she really didn’t think it was a shame. 

“I’m assuming you’ll be keeper then?” 

“Of course,” she said. The first thing she had said on Thursday afternoon was that there was no way she wouldn’t be her usual position. “What are you playing?” 

“Chaser.”

“Interesting.” She wanted to say that he was never good at being Chaser, but she wanted to say it in a way that would sound like a joke and considering their history, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control that tone. 

“Alright teams,” their boss walked over to them, “are we ready?” 

Everyone mumbled out a yes and made their way into a circle. 

“Okay, so one of the coaches will referee and please,” she said, looking individually at them all, “this is a friendly competition.” She gave an extra glance to Regulus and Evan who gave her a faux innocent look. 

The referee came over, a young girl who they found out volunteered at the indoor stadium, and she went over safety. They had basic healing and pain relief potions and she knew some basic healing spells, but this was a friendly game and a friendly environment and they hadn’t had to use it all year so it was all mainly precautionary. 

“Do you mind just signing this?” She asked the boss, handing over a quill and some parchment.

“Sure,” the boss said. There seemed to be quite a few pages to fill out so she turned to them all and said, “why don’t you all get warmed up while I do this?”

They didn’t have to be told twice and so the referee released the balls and they all zoomed up into the air on the broomsticks the indoor stadium had provided. 

She wasn’t really sure what the plan was for ‘warm ups’. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to be like what she used to make her team do before games back in Hogwarts. 

Regulus had the quaffle and Evan was flying close by to him, the safety manager coming closer to her and she smiled at her as she approached. 

“Have you played Quidditch before?” The safety manager asked as she hovered next to her. 

“I have,” she said, “I was Quidditch Captain.” She let out a noise of surprise. 

“Wow,” the safety manager said, “I’ve never played competitively.” 

In the back of her mind, she could hear Regulus and Evan messing around, throwing the quaffle around and zooming between the two girls talking, as well as Louie who was hovering on the other side of the indoor field near the goals. 

“Do you watch it?” She asked the safety manager, but she never heard her reply. 

As the safety manager opened her mouth, she heard Evan shout heads up as he zoomed past the two girls and then she heard the sound of the quaffle whizzing past before she heard the sound of the wind rushing past her ears as she began to fall. 

Regulus wasn’t sure whether the scream came from her or from him. On instinct, he raced down to the floor where their boss had dropped the parchment and had her wand pointed to the girl now falling slowly from her broom. 

She landed gracefully thanks to the boss’ quick reflexes, but she still let out a groan when she got to the ground, sitting on the floor, seemingly unable to stand up. 

The bastard had hit her in the face with a quaffle. 

“Ow,” she moaned, bringing a hand to her head. Everything was spinning and even though she knew the pain was in her head, it felt like her whole body had seized up. 

“Shit, fuck,” Regulus swore as he got off his broomstick and knelt next to her. “Are you okay?” 

“What do you think?” Regulus thought she must be okay if she was still able to sass him. The referee had come back with a potion and was making her drink it. 

She had a swollen lip but the referee cast a spell and it went back to normal, even though she grimaced as she did it. 

She wanted to cry. Merlin, she was in so much pain. But she already felt embarrassed by falling off her broom after getting hit in the face with a quaffle and she didn’t want to make it worse.

“Everything hurts,” she whimpered instead, and although his heart was already thumping in his chest, he felt it start to haywire. Wasn’t the potion meant to make it better?

Regulus was a beater, meaning he was pretty confident in the power of his throws and he definitely wasn’t holding back when he was throwing it to Evan. If anything, he was probably using all of his power to make it harder for his friend to catch, but she wasn’t meant to be in the way of that. 

“Look at me,” their boss said, still somehow remaining calm even after Regulus had just seriously injured her. Everyone was crowding around her on the floor. Everyone else had come down from their brooms and were standing close trying to see what was going on while still trying to give her some space. “Follow my finger darling.” He watched as the boss moved her finger up and down and his eyes flickered back and forth, hoping that her eyes were following. 

“That’s a good sign,” the referee said and Regulus wished he’d be able to let out a breath of relief, but there was guilt still knotted in his chest and he wasn’t sure it would ever go away. 

“I think she should still go to St Mungo’s.”

“I’ll take her,” Regulus said instinctively. He was sure he heard her mumble out a no, but it was drained out by the boss's voice. 

“Merlin Regulus, first the potion blows up in her face and now this? I don’t know if I should trust you.” She was joking, but as they tried to help her stand up, the boss still pushed her to Regulus. She was closing her eyes and Regulus didn’t know a lot about medicine and injuries, but he wasn’t sure that was a good sign. 

She was resting most of her weight on him and he put an arm around her as the boss and referee let go of her. 

“Be careful when you apparate,” the referee said, “she’ll probably be sick when you get there.” 

She let out a groan in Regulus’ arms and Regulus gave them a curt nod before he apparated to St Mungos.

“Fuck, I’m going to be sick.” Were the first words she said when they got there. Her eyes were still closed and she doubled over causing Regulus to go with her. 

“C’mon, you’re okay.” He tried to use a soothing voice, hoping the words of encouragement would help her as he guided her to stand back up. 

Her eyes opened. 

“You don’t get to tell me I’m okay after you hit me in the face with a quaffle.” So maybe he didn’t help her, but maybe he had distracted her because she didn’t say anything else about being sick. 

She went back to leaning on him almost instantly, her eyes closing once more as another groan left her lips. 

St Mungos was busy. There were healers and nurses moving around in a hurry and patients, moaning in pain and hobbling around. The main area was always busy and apparently today wasn’t an exception. 

Regulus moved her over to the counter. There were three people in front of them and with the way she was holding her head, Regulus was scared that the wait would be too long. Eventually, they got to the desk and one of the nurses gave him a bright smile. 

“How can we help you today, sir?” The nurse gave her a weary look but then went back to smiling at Regulus. 

“She got hit in the face with a quaffle.”

“Oh no.” Wow, Regulus thought, really helpful. “Has she taken anything?” The nurse was getting some parchment and a quill and Regulus quickly recalled what the referee had done. 

“She had a swollen lip but they got rid of that and she took a pain relief potion.”

“But I haven’t felt relief,” she mumbled. 

“But she hasn’t felt relief,” Regulus echoed so the nurse could hear. 

“Alright,” the nurse said looking up from his parchment, “I’ll get you to look up here for me and follow my quill.” Regulus looked down to see her with her eyes open, trying to stand up straighter. 

She followed the quill with her eyes and the nurse must have been satisfied with that because he hummed and ticked something on the form. 

“Wonderful,” he said, “we’ll get you to go sit over there and wait if that’s okay, a healer will be with you shortly.” 

“How long is shortly?” Regulus asked, recalling the horror stories of people waiting half a day in St Mungos before they were actually helped. 

“We’re very busy today sir, unfortunately, I can’t give you an exact time.”

“She has a head injury,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I’m aware,” the nurse said a little too indignantly, “but there are a lot of patients here with a lot of needs and unfortunately we can only do what we can.” 

“She can barely stand up,” he said, losing his patience. 

She couldn’t. He was right. She was also only half conscious considering the amount of pain she was in and considering the pain relief potion had done nothing. 

Her face was numb and it seemed the rest of her body had followed suit because she was very aware that Regulus was basically holding her up. 

She was also very aware of the tone Regulus was using. There was a small vein on his neck that she could see when she looked up at him from how she was resting her head on him. 

Maybe she was delirious from all the pain, or maybe she had just been really spoilt her whole life and liked people doing things for her, but seeing Regulus argue with this nurse about getting her a healer made her tummy feel funny in a way that she knew wasn’t because she had just gotten hit in the face with a quaffle. 

She came back from her train of thought when the nurse said, “the best I can do is offer her a stronger pain relief potion.” She hummed in agreement before Regulus could reply. 

“Thank you,” Regulus said, but his tone didn’t sound too grateful. 

Regulus guided her over to the waiting area and just as she sat down the nurse came with the potion and she drank it quickly. 

She barely recalled drinking the other potion, but she thought she’d never forget the foul taste of this one. It was what she imagined a dead body would smell like, but she pushed that thought to the back of her head as she finally felt some relief. 

She could still feel a second pulse thumping through her head, but she felt strong enough to open her eyes and lift her head away from Regulus, so it was progress at least. 

“Did that help?” Regulus asked once the nurse had left. 

“A little,” she mumbled and Regulus nodded. His leg was bouncing now that she wasn’t leaning on him and he was biting his lip anxiously. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning to look at her, “I didn’t-”

“You were never good at being chaser,” she cut him off. He looked at her with his mouth open and she continued. “I was going to tell you this morning, but I didn’t want to be mean.” She was talking softly and Regulus wasn’t sure whether or not he was meant to laugh. 

He’d been trying to laugh with her all week, but he wasn’t sure this was an appropriate time. 

“When have you ever stopped yourself from being mean?” She shrugged her shoulders, wondering if the potion the nurse had given her was making her loopy because she regretted saying that. 

“Obviously you have no self control when it comes to being mean,” she said accusingly. Both of them were staring at the other and she saw the way Regulus’ eyebrows quickly furrowed together in confusion. “First the potion and now this.”

“Both of them were an accident,” he was almost pleading with her and for some reason she giggled. 

“I don’t believe you.” He gave her a pointed look. His eyebrows raised and his forehead creased and for some reason, she giggled again. 

Yeah, that potion was definitely making her feel loopy. 

She rested her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes. It was much easier than looking at Regulus, it made the knot in her tummy come undone. 

“I don’t think you should close your eyes.” She heard him whisper and she slowly opened them, looking up at him. He had brought his face slightly closer to hers and for some reason, her heart started beating the tiniest bit quicker. 

“Why not?” She pouted, whispering back. 

“I’m not sure,” Regulus admitted, still keeping his voice low, “I feel like I’ve read somewhere that you shouldn’t.”

She didn’t know what to say so she did what he told her to do and she kept her eyes open, looking into Regulus’ grey ones. 

He kept looking back. 

Regulus had been swearing ever since he saw Evan move at the last second and tried to follow him, knowing it was a bad throw as soon as the quaffle left his hands. 

This was ending his third week into the bet and it wasn’t a good way to end it. Hitting her in the face with a quaffle. 

“You can go home if you want,” she whispered. She seemed drowsy and Regulus genuinely did feel bad so the least he could do was stay here until a healer came to see her. 

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, thinking that if she said yes, he’d have a hard time leaving her. He may be arrogant, but his mother did raise him with some manners and he knew his mother would be mortified if she found out he left someone he had injured by themselves, especially when they had her last name.

She blinked up at him quickly. Weirdly enough, she didn’t. 

She already had her suspicions that the potion was making her loopy but this was all the confirmation she needed. She would never want to spend more time with Regulus Black, this was the potion speaking. 

“No,” she mumbled it so quietly that Regulus wasn’t sure he’d even hear her if he didn’t see the way her lips moved. 

“I wouldn’t have left you,” he found himself saying, “I was the one who injured you.” He paused, “And I am really sorry.” 

She was looking up at him and Regulus couldn’t believe he had known her for almost ten years and had never noticed how pretty her eyes were. She was blinking slowly and Regulus was sure the guilt was getting to him because he was ready to do anything to get rid of the pain etched on her face. 

“I can’t feel my face,” she admitted, finally lifting her head up and repositioning herself. Regulus pulled his head away from her and sighed. “If you had done this when I was captain I would have kicked you off the team.” 

“Would you really?” He asked, the start of a chuckle already forming on his lips. 

She hummed. 

“If you hit the captain in the face with a quaffle?” She asked incredulously. “Yes,” she scoffed, “firstly, you were beater so what were you doing with a quaffle in the first place? And secondly,” she paused, suddenly not as confident as she was mere seconds ago, “I would have thought you did it on purpose.” Regulus couldn’t help the way his lips curved up. 

“Well you thought I blew the potion up in your face on purpose.” 

“And I still kinda think you did this on purpose too,” she cocked her head to the side as she looked at him and he frowned. 

“I didn’t,” he said and she sighed. 

“The only reason I believe you is because I don’t think you’d purposely injure me in front of the boss.” She paused. “Unless you’re just really good at faking accidents.” He laughed, he couldn’t help it. 

“If I wanted to make it look like an accident I would have done it during the game.”

“Good to know,” she scoffed, but she was smiling. And Regulus was smiling. And for a brief second, he forgot about the five hundred galleons. 

“Well anyway,” he said, “if you kicked me off the team then you’d miss your best beater.” She scoffed. 

“I don’t know, Knott was a pretty good beater.” She pretended to think about it. 

“But my replacement wouldn’t have been that good.” 

“You doubt my coaching abilities, there was only one reason you were such a good beater.”

“What?” He asked, a smirk already forming on his lips. “Because of you?”

“Yes, because of your amazing captain.” He shook his head. 

Had it always been this easy to have a conversation with her? Upon reflection, Regulus didn’t think he had ever tried to have a conversation with her bar the small talk they’d been making since she started. And it brought up a funny feeling when he considered that he never would have tried to have a conversation with her if it wasn’t for this bet. 

“Amazing is a strong word,” he trailed off and she scoffed. 

“Sorry, how many years did we win the Quidditch cup while we were at school?”

“Three,” he said sheepishly, knowing where this was going. 

“And who was captain during those three years?”

“Irrelevant,” he said, “you just had a good team.” She opened her mouth at him in mock surprise, the ache that was once clouding her thoughts, now starting to disappear. 

“If I hadn’t just suffered a head injury, I’d argue with you but we both know I’m right so it’s pointless.” 

Regulus laughed again. He didn’t think he’d ever laughed this much with her. Ever. 

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the people around them groan in pain and chat with their loved ones. 

She had her arms folded across her chest and Regulus hated it but he was once more reminded about the clothes she was wearing and for a moment, he couldn’t look away. 

For some reason, he was starting to feel guilt, and not just because he had hit her in the face with a quaffle. 

“Do you think they’re still playing Quidditch?” She asked, turning to face him. 

“Yeah, winning a friendly game of Quidditch is much more important than your wellbeing,” he said in a serious tone before giving her a pointed look that made it clear he was being sarcastic. 

She rolled her eyes at him. 

“You can’t be mean to me, you just hit me in the face with a quaffle.”

“Does it still hurt?” 

“No, the potion the nurse gave me was much stronger than the one the referee did. I still have a bit of a headache, but I can feel my face now.”

“That’s good,” he said. 

He was suddenly back to bouncing his knee and biting his lip. He started thrumming his fingers on his thigh. She was still looking at him but he had to look away. 

He wasn’t sure why, but his heart was beating fast and he was hoping that even if hitting her in the face with a quaffle set him back, this conversation they were having was making up for it. 

Regulus thought they’d be waiting here much longer, but after about an hour of them going back and forth like that, a healer finally called for her and for some reason, Regulus stood up with her. 

She gave him a funny look, but didn’t say anything. 

Her parents had spoiled her for her entire life and she hadn’t done anything like this by herself and that was the only reason she wanted him there with her. 

“So,” the healer said as they all sat down, “what happened?” The healer was an older woman with a kind smile, and it made her feel better and not as scared. 

She explained how she got hit in the head with a quaffle and that the referee had done a spell on her lip and made her drink a potion that did absolutely nothing, and then how she came here and drank another potion that had seemed to make the pain go away, but still left a pounding headache. 

The healer put on some gloves and told her she was going to take a look at her lip. 

“It seemed she got the swelling down, but it seems some of your capillaries have broken so there will be some bruising.” The gloves were cold on her lip as she pulled her bottom lip down with her thumb and then squished them together before stepping away and taking off her gloves. 

Regulus felt like he had to turn away. It didn’t feel right to watch. 

“And you still have a headache?” The healer asked, writing something down on the same piece of parchment the nurse had originally filled out. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, swaying her legs ever so slightly over the chair. 

“The nurse said you didn’t have a concussion, and I don’t think you do either, but I’ll do a spell to make sure there is no lasting damage. We are currently trialling a potion at the moment to target general symptoms of various diseases and illnesses,” her head twitched towards Regulus, “you are by no means required to, but that is an option we can test. If you’d like some more information, I have this.” The healer handed her a pamphlet and she turned to Regulus who was already looking at her, a small smile on his lips. 

“Sure,” she said, a little too enthusiastically. The healer nodded and handed her the potion. 

“We’ll have to send you away with some paperwork so we can understand just how effective this potion is and we ask that you don’t take any general relief potions unless absolutely necessary so we can understand the full impact of this new potion.” She nodded and let the doctor perform the spell that made it feel like there was a warm liquid trickling down her head. 

She shivered, the potion her and Regulus had created two weeks ago warm in her palm as they said goodbye to the healer and left her office. 

“I honestly thought I’d given you a concussion, I’m glad it wasn’t,” Regulus said as they walked back into the general area. 

“Honestly, me too,” she said, a small smile on her lips contrasting the topic of their conversation. “But I get to trial our potion.” Regulus had never seen her so excited and he couldn’t help but smile with her. 

“Hope we did a good job.” She almost corrected him and said that it was really all of his doing, but she really couldn’t be bothered to argue about it with him, so she let it go. 

“Thanks for staying with me,” she said and Regulus wasn’t sure he had ever seen her look so sheepish. In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen her be anything but her confident self. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Well I was the one who caused it.” He said as they stopped walking and turned to the other. She gave him a small smile and a brief nod. 

It was close to lunch time, but she didn’t think her boss would mind if she went home. Besides, the game was only meant to go half a day, and then they’d have lunch and be free to go. 

But just to be safe, she’d send her an owl as soon as she got him. 

“Well, enjoy your weekend.” She said and Regulus furrowed his eyebrows together ever so slightly. 

“I’m not letting you apparate home.” 

“Why not?”

“You just got hit in the face with a quaffle.”

“The healer said I was fine.”

Regulus wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure why he was so set on apparating her home, but he knew he had to. It was the right thing to do. 

“Just let me do it, it will make me feel better.”

“Well,” she said sarcastically, “if it makes you feel better.” He gave her a cheeky grin. 

“Yeah,” he said, “it would.” She rolled her eyes at him, the parchment and trial in her hands. “Tell me a place near your house so I can apparate there.” She told him a popular landmark and took a step closer to him. He put out his hand and she held onto his arm. 

She hadn’t noticed when they got there because all she could focus on was the pain, but this time, she realised that she hated apparating with someone else. It was so awkward. 

The launching feeling always made her body tense, but now with Regulus next to her it seemed it was her body's natural instinct to cling onto him and she hated how she practically jumped off of him once they got there. 

She huffed, moving on the spot to try to get rid of the nausea she was currently feeling. She wasn’t going to tell him, but she was glad Regulus had offered to apparate her home. 

“How far away is your house?” He asked. 

“About a five minute walk.” He nodded and started walking. 

“Are you coming?” He asked, stopping and turning around when he didn’t feel her presence behind him. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to walk her home, but they had already made it this far together, so they might as well get to the end. 

Regulus was also glad that he had apparated her home. He wasn’t really focused on it when they apparated to St Mungos because he was sure he was going to faint from the guilt, but this time, she grabbed onto him and Regulus could feel her body pressed against his and he could smell her shampoo and he was glad to feel the cool air on his skin when they finally got there. 

She walked quickly to catch up with him and there was only a brief flash of guilt that entered Regulus’ mind when he happily watched the way her body moved as she quickly came next to him. 

“I’m really sorry, again,” he said, mainly just to have something to say. And he was actually sorry. 

“It’s okay,” she said and he realised that this was the first time she had accepted his apology. “But I’ll probably never let you live it down.” She shrugged her shoulders casually and he smiled.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

If he was being honest, he expected more. This was the ice queen after all. The one who had put Evan in detention for a week because he kept coming to Quidditch practice to cheer everyone on.

“He’s a distraction!” She had argued, and Professor Slughorn was not going to be the first professor to not let her get her way. 

But maybe he had reached his goal. Maybe this is what being friendly with her was like. He assumed it was, at least. 

He hoped it was. That would mean that he had achieved his goal. Much earlier than he had intended. Who knew all he had to do was hit her in the face with a quaffle. 

The thought briefly entered his mind that if he knew that’s all it would take, he would have done it earlier, but then he decided that that was mean and he didn’t necessarily feel like being mean to her anymore. Not to her face and not behind her back. 

Regulus thought this was fine. It would make getting into her pants much easier and much more enjoyable for him. 

“Well, enjoy meeting up with your friends,” he said when they got to her house. 

“Thanks, and thanks for staying with me again. Have a good weekend.” She gave him one more smile before he apparated home.

For a minute, he thought this was too easy, all he had to do to get in her pants was be nice to her. Regulus had done a lot harder things in order to get in a girl's pants before. This was going to be easy. 

[ashesandhackles]

Tension

Written for @harrypocter Winter Sun fest Week 4 prompt: Cho Chang Summary: Cho meets Ginny Weasley, two years after the Battle of Hogwarts at an unusual place.

The Leaky Cauldron was unrecognisable, decked with Holyhead Harpies banners. The plain wooden tables were draped in velvet green tablecloths fringed with golden tassels.  The players were still in their Quidditch uniforms, thronged by supporters and admirers. 

Cho steeled herself to battle through the throng to get her drinks. Her work at St. Mungos had been dissatisfying of late, and she wanted to drink the edge off her anxiety. She took a deep breath and approached the crowd, when she felt an arm fall around her shoulders.

“Cho!” Gwenog Jones boomed. “So glad you could make it!”

“Free drinks?” Cho grinned up at her. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Uh oh, bad time at work?” Gwenog asked.

“Well, you lot haven’t been visiting,” Cho pouted. 

“We’re injury-free at the moment,” Gwenog nodded. “All thanks to you. Maybe you should just be a Quidditch player instead.”

“If the Tutshill Tornadoes have a spot, I will consider it.”

“Traitor,” Gwenog accused. “Ginny was loyal to the Cannons too, but she saw sense.”

“She was loyal to the Cannons?” Cho raised her eyebrows.

“I can feel your judgement, Chang,” Ginny’s dry voice came from behind her. 

Cho turned around to find herself face to face with Ginny Weasley. It had been two years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the last time she saw the girl was at the castle - running past her, throwing jinxes, grieving among the rubble. She was then immortalised on the tabloids as her ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend and later on, as the new Chaser for Holyhead Harpies. 

Cho smiled. “Well, you can’t blame me - it’s the Chudley Cannons.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I only supported them because I wanted my brother to think I was cool.”

“Did it work?” Gwenog raised an eyebrow.

 “I don’t know. He kept ditching me, so I betrayed his team,” Ginny shrugged, and then winced. 

“Is there a problem?” Cho asked, concerned.

“Oh it’s her throwing arm,” Gwenog told her before Ginny could answer. “She has been having trouble with it lately. Nothing a good rest after the seaso-”

“Gwen!” Ginny hissed, her face reddening. “I’m fine!”

“It’s just Cho,” Gwenog said, completely unbothered. “It’s what she does. Maybe she can have a look at your arm.”

Both the girls gaped at Gwenog, who took a swig from her drink.  She wiped her mouth and continued, “I personally think it’s just the toll of the season, and her throwing arm is overused. I’ve told her to train her left for Chasing- but she's a stubborn one.”

Ginny’s face was so red that it matched her hair. Cho was under the impression that Ginny would have fought if it wasn’t a captain of the team she just became a part of. 

“Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Cho asked gently. 

Ginny looked thrown. “I’m fine!” she insisted. 

“Let Cho take a look or you start training your left arm for the rest of the season,” Gwenog said. 

Ginny growled. “This is supposed to be a party!”

“I’ll get us drinks,” Cho said, as a peace offering. Cho sidled away, letting the tension roll between Ginny and her captain. 

When she handed Ginny a bottle of Butterbeer after ten minutes of struggle at the counter, she noticed Ginny looked sheepish.  Gwenog had long been swallowed by a crowd of admirers and was signing autographs at a table.

They clinked their bottles together, and Ginny sighed after a sip, “Would you mind taking a look at my arm?”

“Of course.” Cho placed the bottle on the table beside them, and wrapped her fingers around Ginny’s elbow.  Her fingers ran up Ginny’s forearm, to her fingers, and then she shook Ginny’s arm. Ginny drew a sharp breath. 

“There is no injury - not yet,” Cho looked at her, her eyes searching Ginny’s face. “But a lot of tension is being held here - it’s your throwing arm, so that’s to be expected, but you need to take care of it a lot more. Do you stretch after each match?”

“I do,” Ginny said. 

“Alright,” Cho tilted her head. “Maybe it’s stress then. Or something else you are holding onto.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked quietly.

“It means that something is bothering you - and because you are bottling up whatever it is, it is showing up in your body,” Cho said softly. She picked up her bottle, and looked ahead, away from Ginny. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cho ventured into the long silence that followed. 

“Not really,” Ginny sighed. “The person I really want to talk to is working himself to death.”

Cho smiled sympathetically. “Off saving the world? Tailing another Death Eater?”

Ginny gave a sad laugh. “Something like that.”

They drank in silence. As they placed their empty bottles on the bar counter, Ginny asked, “Is there anything else I can do about this?”

“I can give you a breathing pattern that can help with the muscular tension,” Cho offered.

“You are not going to ask me to talk about it?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, her voice effusive with feeling.

“But you should talk about it,” Cho said firmly.  “To your friends. To him, if you can.”

“When I get to see him,” Ginny smiled ruefully.

“You can always get by with a good cry until then,” Cho grinned. 

“Cheers to that.” Ginny handed her another Butterbeer. AO3 here.

My final drabble for the fest, and I have had so much fun coming up with stories for each character <3

[lifeofkaze]

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 23: THE SEED OF DOUBT

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Tagging: @flareshogwarts

A/N: Katriona Cassiopeia (in mention) belongs to @kc-and-co

HOLIDAY HEROES OR CHRISTMAS CLOWNS?

Rita Skeeter’s take on the first season half, how the Quidditch stars spent their Christmas break and who rang in 1994 with who. 

The first half of the season is done and dusted, and our Quidditch teams have exchanged their broomsticks for candy canes. For the  Montrose Magpies, the festive period has been particularly merry - they finished the year on top of the League, the Kenmare Kestrels and Wigtown Wanderers hot on their broomstick bristles. For the Chudley Cannons, it’s new year, same old story as they are cosying up with the Ballycastle Bats at the bottom of the table. Both teams will need to put their holiday hangovers aside quickly to prevent dropping down a division once the final round begins.

Someone else who should use her season break well is Wigtown’s problem Chaser Elizabeth Jameson. For the match against Montrose, coach Parkin gave preference to Jameson’s substitute Morgaine Yarwood, and Jameson hasn’t been seen attending practice since. Has the Bludger to her wrist renewed her former injury, or is there more to her continued absence?

Matthew put away the Daily Prophet and helped himself to another cup of coffee. There was a satisfied smile playing around his lips, but it vanished as he looked at the vacant seat across from him. Lizzie had been supposed to meet him for breakfast ten minutes ago, but - as per usual - there was still no sign of her. 

From the first day of her Christmas break, which Lizzie spent at McRae Manor, the atmosphere between her and Matthew had been strained. She had initially planned on accompanying her parents on their trip to Boston, but Matthew had had different ideas.

“A lot has happened, and we could really use some time with just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be nice? It’d be easier for me to focus on your representation if I knew we were alright again.”

Lizzie had eventually agreed to stay, but she didn’t hide the fact that the manor wasn’t really where she wanted to be. She was concise to the point of being rude and spent as much time by herself as Matthew was willing to give her. He was disappointed in her behaviour but convinced that she would calm down sooner or later. 

When the door to the breakfast room opened and Lizzie entered, Matthew smiled and indicated for her to join him at the table. The smile she returned looked forced, but surprisingly, she did as he had asked her to. Suppressing a sigh, Matthew’s eyes dropped to her wrist; the bandages Lizzie was supposed to wear were nowhere to be seen. Scowling, he snapped his fingers, and Dede, the McRae’s house-elf, appeared.

“Master Matthew?”

“My fiancée seems to have misplaced her bandages. Go and see that she is taken care of.”

The house-elf bowed, her long, floppy ears brushing over the carpet. She padded towards Lizzie and reached for her hand, but Lizzie withdrew it from her.

“You don’t need to do this. I’m fine.”

Dede made an unhappy sound. “Please, Miss Lizzie. If Dede doesn’t do as Master Matthew has instructed, she will have to drop a pot on her foot. Dede won’t like that at all.”

Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up, but she let the house-elf wrap her hand in some crisp white dressings without another word. Once Dede had left, she frowned at Matthew.

“Was that really necessary?”

“The Healers told you to keep it still. Why won’t you listen to what’s best for you?” 

Lizzie didn’t reply, instead staring unhappily at her wrapped-up hand. Matthew let the flare of frustration rising in him go. The Bludger that had hit her during her last match had put her in pain; she hadn’t said so, but Matthew knew her well enough to have known anyway. To spare her from her own stubbornness, he had convinced Ethan that it would be better to let someone else play for the remaining games until the Christmas break. Lizzie hadn’t been amused to be removed from the roster, but if she wasn’t sensible about her health, someone else would have to be.

That her enforced break from Quidditch was taking her away from her teammates suited Matthew just fine. He had always known that Skye Parkin and her likes were trouble, but that they would go as far as goading her into trying to end their relationship, even Matthew hadn’t foreseen. The thought filled him with anger. If it wasn’t for Skye and her meddling, everything would still be on track. 

What had happened between Lizzie and her ex-boyfriend was unfortunate, but Matthew was confident that she had learned her lesson. She would soon see that Matthew only had her best interest at heart. He loved her, after all.

Lizzie had finally stopped fretting about her new bandages and was helping herself to some breakfast. Matthew raised his eyebrows at her full plate, so she put it down with an irritated noise. 

“What?”

“Do you really want to eat all this?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s your fault you were late. We have people to meet.”

Lizzie pulled a face. “More wedding stuff?” 

“No, not more wedding stuff,” came Matthew’s cool reply. “There’s still a lot to do before New Year’s Eve. You’re going to need a new dress, too.”

“I have plenty of dresses.”

“I don’t want to fight you on this.”

“You started it.”

Matthew sighed deeply. “Just go and get ready, please.”

Lizzie’s look was acidic. “Can I have my coffee, at least?”

“Suit yourself,” Matthew said with a defeated gesture of his hand.

The angry clanking of Lizzie’s teaspoon against the sugar bowl was interrupted when Dede reappeared, carrying a silver tray with a stack of letters, which she handed to Matthew with a bow. 

“The post has arrived, Master Matthew.” 

Matthew flicked through the letters after Dede had left, sorting them into business matters, private things, and those addressed to Lizzie. He paused briefly when his eyes fell onto an envelope with unfamiliar handwriting. It had Lizzie’s name on it, and when he was sure that she wasn’t looking, Matthew quickly put it between two letters from the Ministry and onto his business stack. 

Lately, more and more offers from other clubs had begun rolling in, and Matthew took care that they landed on his desk instead of Lizzie’s. He had never told her about the offer from Montrose, and considering the fuss she’d made the last time he had accidentally opened her post, it would remain that way. He didn’t need her interfering with his work; she had done enough damage to her career for a while. 

Putting the letters from her parents and grandmother onto the newest copy of Which Broomstick?, he handed everything to her. 

“Here you go, dear. You may want to go through them when we’re back, though.”

“Whatever,” Lizzie said, leaving with her coffee and her post to finally get changed. Once she had gone, Matthew pulled out the unknown letter and opened it. It was from one Katriona Cassiopeia, a former Beater of the Caerphilly Catapults and friend of Lizzie’s, if he recalled correctly. 

Upon reading what Katriona had written, Matthew’s scowl turned into a satisfied smirk. Orion Amari was spending his Christmas with Katriona and her husband and seemed to be incredibly disheartened about Lizzie’s return to her rightful place by Matthew’s side. 

The fact that Lizzie had broken ties with Orion contented Matthew, but Katriona Cassiopeia was a variant he hadn’t foreseen. He didn’t quite know what to make of her; she seemed to be a woman with strong ideas and ever stronger tendencies to voice them, something that could prove problematic in the long run. 

He was still weighing his options as he put the letter back onto the tray and lit it with fire from his wand. He would need to keep a closer eye on who Lizzie was surrounding herself with. She was quick to trust, but her spilling details about their relationship wouldn’t do. Maybe it was time to show her what could happen if she placed her faith in the wrong people.

He snapped his fingers, and Dede appeared once more.

“Fetch me some parchment and a quill,” he told her. “And get an owl ready. This letter is urgent.” 

***

When Lizzie opened the Daily Prophet the following day, her mouth dropped open. Her eyes flew over the article, disbelief written all over her face as she held the paper out to Matthew.

“What is this?”

Matthew took the newspaper from her and quickly scanned the page. It was the gossip column, a picture of Lizzie and him attending Lewis Parkin’s farewell party last summer dominating the page. The headline above it read:

Fairytale Gone Bad? Rita Skeeter sheds light on British Quidditch’s hottest couple and their darkest secret.

“It appears we made it into the tabloids,” he said with a shrug. He kept his face straight, but there was a feeling of profound satisfaction as Lizzie pulled the newspaper back towards her and began to read out loud:

“It appears that Wigtown’s star Chaser Lizzie Jameson has been chasing more than Quaffles lately. Who is the mysterious man Jameson risks her pre-marital bliss with? Word in Diagon Alley is that the disturber of peace is none other than her teammate and former sweetheart Orion Amari, whose return from his mysterious hiatus has thrown the League and hearts of fans all over the country into turmoil. How does deceived fiancé and agent Matthew McRae cope with this horrific news as the wedding of his dreams approaches?”

Lizzie threw the Prophet on the table when she had finished. “Has this Skeeter woman lost her mind?”

“Just a bit of overly dramatic writing, if you ask me.”

“Do you find this funny?”

“It doesn’t bar a certain irony, don’t you think?” Matthew raised his eyebrows at Lizzie’s scalding look. “If I may remind you, I’m the one who got cheated on. You’re not in the position to berate me on how I want to deal with it.”

Lizzie fell silent, chagrin written on her face. At least she had the decency to feel ashamed about what she had done. It was a step in the right direction. Matthew’s face softened as he reached for her hand, on which her engagement ring was glittering.

“Don’t be upset. I forgave you, didn’t I? I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about it, anyway,” he added after having read the article himself. “People like us get written about all the time. If I had to guess, I’d say that Rita Skeeter made this up to increase her sales. It’s not like she knows the actual truth, doesn’t she?” 

“How would she come up with this, of all things?” Lizzie asked unhappily. Her eyes flicked to Matthew. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“Why would I? I’m not the one to gain something from discrediting you.”

Lizzie frowned. “What do you mean? 

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but think about who would profit from putting you in a bad light. Your friend Skye, for example,” Matthew clarified when Lizzie didn’t catch on. “You’re raking in your well-deserved praise while she’s under constant scrutiny from her father. I’ve heard people questioning if making her captain instead of you was the right choice to begin with.” 

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest, but Matthew wasn’t done yet. 

“She was always jealous of you, even when you were at school. You said it yourself, she can’t accept it when she isn’t the centre of attention. And then, there’s your ex, of course.”

“Orion?” Lizzie whispered, all colour draining from her face.

“I’m afraid so.”

“No,” Lizzie shook her head. “He would never. And neither would Skye.”

“You know them better than me,” Matthew conceded, but the flicker of doubt in her eyes wasn’t lost on him, “but if Rita isn’t secretly a Seer, someone must have tipped her off. Skye is jealous, and Orion feels rejected. And who can blame him? I don’t know what I would do if someone tried to take you from me.”

He leaned across the table and took her hand again; this time, Lizzie let him. 

“I can’t believe this,” she said, looking as miserable as Matthew had ever seen her. He rose to his feet and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t hug him back, but neither did she push him away as Matthew ran his hand up and down her spine and whispered:

“I wish I could have spared you this lesson. Sometimes, the people we trust most aren’t who they appear to be.”

[seriouslysam8]

Ron marrying Chudley Cannons chaser Demelza Robbins😍

Not me deleting MOT and starting an entirely new series. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[acnelli]

Hiding

This is my entry for the Hinny FicFest 2021 hosted by @clarensjoy. Thank you for organising it! There were so many lovely prompts to choose from and originally I wanted to write something really angsty for this one, but then decided to approach this in a much more lighthearted way.

Thank you @accio-broom for beta-reading! You are the best!

Prompt 2: Ginny gets sick and won’t admit it Rating: GA Pairing: Harry/Ginny Summary: Ginny had a bad day, including an unfortunate injury, which she tries to hide from Harry.

Also available on AO3 and FFN.

Ginny walked out of St. Mungo’s with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione’s cat Crookshanks to shame. The world was against her these last couple of days; she just knew it. 

It had started with a horrendous loss against a team the Harpies were positive they would never lose to; the Chudley Cannons. The orange excuse of a professional Quidditch Team had beat them, and it wasn’t even a close match. They lost 590 to 120—an absolute disaster. 

Of course, her insufferable brother had lost his mind, along with all the other Cannon fans in the stands. It had been the first time the Cannons won in what must’ve been years, which resulted in the players not even hearing the referee’s whistle, signalling the end of the game. 

Ginny had given Ron the tickets to this match as a birthday present. As long as the Cannons lost every single time, and she could greet her brother with a smug grin, she was okay with Ron switching his Harpies jersey with her number on it to his orange Cannon one. This time though, Ginny found it nothing short of traitorous, and even her family, including Harry, had the gal to congratulate Ron. Her brother would make sure she would never forget this day, no matter how many times the Harpies would kick their arses in the future. 

The Harpies, quite demoralised from their previous match, had shown up at training the next day, as usual. After a pep talk by their coach, the team had pepped up, flying different manoeuvres and acting out the strategies for their game against Ballycastle the next day. 

Enjoying the wind on her face, as well as the feeling that only flying so high up in the air could provide, Ginny had forgotten all about their loss and solely concentrated on getting the Quaffle inside one of the three loops from every possible angle. She had been so engaged in training that she noticed the dangerous wheezing of the Bludger one second too late. Although she could dive away to avoid getting hit in the face, the ball collided with her left ankle, and the next thing she knew, she was lying on a stretcher as a medi-wizard treated her injury. 

A broken ankle usually could be treated by the team’s healers, but the young man insisted on transferring her to the hospital as he suspected a more complicated fracture. And because it was Ginny’s lucky week, he had been right eventually. 

The healer who treated her advised Ginny not to play against Ballycastle as the Skele-gro would cause a great deal of pain, and painkillers were strictly forbidden at Quidditch matches, especially pain-relief potion which had strong side effects, and therefore, were a danger to herself and others while on a broom. 

Against the healer’s strongest protests, Ginny refused the skele-gro and asked the middle-aged woman to stabilize her ankle and give her some light painkillers that would wear off until tomorrow. 

Ginny needed to play tomorrow. A few days ago, Oliver had tipped her off that the national trainers would be watching the game against Ballycastle, and there was just no way she would pass this chance to show them that she was the right choice to play for England. Even if they only let her join as a reserve Chaser, it would be her ticket to play international Quidditch. 

While the discussion with the healer had been annoying but without any chance for the St. Mungo’s employee to change Ginny’s mind, the real battle would be at home. If Harry got even the slightest hint about his wife’s injury, a fight would break out, fitting these infuriating last two days. 

Harry, usually being blissfully oblivious to most things, immediately noticed when something was up with Ginny. While most times, this little fact warmed her heart, it was rather unfortunate today. And ever since Harry joined the Aurors, he had become even more of a bloodhound when he sensed a secret. 

Ginny was determined to try her best to appear normal when she carefully walked out of the fireplace and into the living room of Grimmauld Place. As she expected, Harry sat on the settee, reading the sports section of the Daily Prophet. 

“Hey, Gin,” Harry greeted her, looking up as she walked over to where he was sitting, “How was training? Did Rodgers let you off earlier today?” 

The painkillers still in effect, Ginny leaned down to kiss her husband, carefully lifting her weight off her injured ankle. Kissing Harry always made her feel good, but after her dreadful day, it simply felt like heaven. 

With one swift movement, Harry pulled her down with him on the settee. She cuddled up against his side, inhaling his scent as she trailed kisses down his neck. As their kisses became more heated, Harry rolled on top of her, and just as she was about to sigh because of the sweet friction, a pained whimper escaped her when Harry hit Ginny’s foot with his leg. 

He immediately jumped up, eyes going wide, and Ginny knew that she lost her little hiding game. Carefully sitting up, she waited until Harry crouched down in front of her, looking at her worried. 

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong with your foot?”

“Just a small accident at training today,” Ginny tried to reassure him, “Nothing serious.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Why does it still hurt then? Your medi-staff can heal most injuries in a heartbeat.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ginny said, cursing her bloody Weasley genes as she felt her ears turning red. As graceful as possible, she stood up, heading for the kitchen. Besides the fact that she didn’t want to have this conversation, she was also hungry. 

Of course, the conversation was far from over because Harry followed her into the kitchen, watching her with a raised eyebrow as Ginny made herself a sandwich. When she turned to face Harry, she tried to casually stand on her good foot, pretending her ankle wasn’t throbbing in a more penetrant manner now. Obviously, the painkillers had already started to wear off. 

“Why are you hiding this, Gin?” Harry asked, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, “Why didn’t you just go to a healer?”

“Because they would give me skele-gro and a pain-relief potion, meaning I wouldn’t be able to play tomorrow.”

“So? Ginny, I know you are amazing, but I’m sure the Harpies can manage one match without you.”

“Yes, they sure can,” Ginny huffed in frustration, “But if I don’t play, the scouts for the English national team possibly won’t take me into consideration.” 

Harry stood up and walked over to his wife, leaning down to get on eye-level with her. “To quote your brother: Are you fucking mental?”

“It’s my career, Harry! Playing for England is the dream, and I refuse to let this silly little injury get in the way.” 

Instead of commenting on this, he gently took Ginny’s hand, leading her to sit on a chair. More out of discomfort because of her increasingly throbbing ankle than the willingness to sit down, Ginny complied anyway. 

“This is far too dangerous, Ginny. You can’t possibly hold yourself on a broom for-”

“This is not up for debate,” Ginny interrupted him, her tone clipped and her face now red from anger, “I’ll just grit my teeth long enough to play some of my best manoeuvres, and then I’ll ask for a timeout and Rodgers will put me on the bench.”

“And you think Rodgers will be alright with you playing injured? Or are you planning to hide it like you tried to hide it from me?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Harry sighed in frustration at her trademark Weasley-stubbornness but he took Ginny’s hand anyway. 

“Okay, let’s put this into perspective, alright?” Ginny wanted to interrupt him, but Harry just kept talking. “You want to play in a game, most likely showing only a mediocre performance because of your broken ankle. Ginny, these scouts don’t have to see you play in this particular game. They know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of already. If you’re not playing in this match, they’ll watch you play in the next one. Assuming they want the very best for the national team, they’ll sure enough not write you off because you couldn’t make it to this match.”

Harry could tell that Ginny’s resolve was already crumbling, but he knew better than to stop here. “There are also your brothers, and more importantly, your mother. Molly will kill me if she learns you hurt yourself even more, despite me knowing of your injury.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to this game for so long,” Ginny sighed, frowning at the unfairness of it all. 

“I know,” Harry said, leaning forward a little to softly kiss her pouting lips, “But you can’t play. It’s not just dangerous for you, but also for your teammates and Ballycastle.”

Harry’s words destroyed every resolve Ginny still had standing. The last thing she would want is someone getting hurt because of her stubbornness, and certainly not her beloved Harpies. 

“Since when are you the voice of reason.” she groaned, letting her head fall against Harry’s chest and draping her arms around his neck. 

Harry took this opportunity to swoop her up into his arms before walking towards the fireplace. 

“Let’s get you to St. Mungo’s then.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, sighing at the prospect of the knowing look the healer will give her when she comes back. 

Before Harry could floo over to the hospital, Ginny leaned up and placed a hot kiss against his throat. 

“If I have to stay at home all day tomorrow, you better keep me company, Potter.”