Tiny Pink Knickers
By Quinne Hartte
Chapter One – Big Huge Ones!
Quinne Hartte stood in the center of the Quidditch Pitch, her slight frame quaking in the cold. She and her other Gryffindor Quidditch teammates stood in a small clump trying to stay warm as they waited to meet their new coach. It was almost the second week of school, and they'd not yet met him. There were rumors that McGonagall would coach this season, or even that Harry Potter would be assigned Student Coach- but everyone knew Harry wouldn't take on such a responsibility in his sixth year. Quinne was a sixth year Gryffindor as well, and she was good friends with Harry, but this was her first year of playing Quidditch for the school team. Harry had asked her to throw some bludgers for him to dodge, and when Harry needed a break he'd playfully thrown them to her. She dodged them with the agility and ease of a mouse, and Harry had suggested she go out for the team. She had small arms, so when Ron Weasley (the captain) saw her beat the bludger nearly across the pitch as good as any burly boy might do, he was impressed and agreed to let her play for the team.
Quinne tugged down on her maroon trainer shorts- short for increased athletic movement, supposedly, but she thought them more of a nuisance than anything, because she'd be constantly thinking about if the boys could see her pink knickers from below. The Quidditch teams had new practice uniforms that varied in color according to house: short trainer shorts with spaghetti strap tank tops for the girls, and knee length shorts and tank tops for the boys. The uniforms were complete with white runners with house colored laces. When she furiously tugged the waistband of her shorts to her hips, her tank-top was not long enough to close the gap, so her navel was left in the open. Flustered, cold, and a wee bit cranky, Quinne gave up.
There was a completely new team this year except Harry, who was the seeker, of course. Ronald Weasley was the captain and keeper, a rough looking boy named Bullit Theeson was the Chaser, and Alex Dodge and Quinne were the beaters. Quinne was not only of the least experience, she was the youngest on the team, so she felt unwanted in the group's huddle. She took a few steps backwards away from the group, sat down on the pitch, and began to sing to herself and braid her long, wavy brown hair. It was nearly to her waist, so she wasn't anywhere near through braiding when a tall shadow was cast over her. Startled, Quinne jumped with a gasp and dropped the lock of hair she'd been braiding. She was too timid to turn and face the prowling creature behind her, so she remained still, facing the ground in front of where she sat.
"Hey. Stand up. No first years on the pitch without supervision," boomed the voice of the shadow as it hovered over her. Quinne was secretly furious with the assumption that she was a first year. It was a common mistake, as she was only 5'2" and closer to 100 pounds than 110, but she never spoke her mind to anyone about how it made her feel. She was small, but she was strong, and soon enough whoever had mistaken her for a child would see that much was true. The shadowed shifted impatiently behind her. "Hey, really... let's move. I have a team to coach."
Realizing that the dark shadow was, in fact, that of her future coach, Quinne jumped to her feet and turned to face him. A familiar face with a stern mouth but kind, curious brown eyes looked down at her. She was an entire foot shorter than he. He seemed uncomfortable now that he'd looked her in the eye. Most people were when they first met Quinne- her bright (nearly white) blue eyes caught people off guard and left them speechless for moments at a time. She decided the poor guy had suffered enough for calling her a first year and she sparked the conversation. "I'm on your team, coach. Beater. Year six," said Quinne, her face lighting up with a bright smile and a shy blush. She shifted her feet around nervously and tugged and her tank top.
"Oh, sorry about that. I'm Mr. Wood, your new Quidditch coach," he said, the sternness of his mouth turning slowly into a blinding smile. Quinne's smile was contagious, apparently. "How old are you exactly?"
"Sixteen, sir. Wait- Mr. Wood? Oliver Wood?" asked Quinne, the suspense building in her voice. Mr. Wood looked surprised, and cautious at the same time.
"Yes, why..?" he asked as he studied Quinne's face. All in an instant his eyes lit up and he thrust his arms out at the small girl. "Quinnie? Bloody Hell, is that you?" Quinne nodded, happy to be called Quinnie again. She'd looked up to Oliver when she was a second year and he was a seventh year. How long ago, it seemed, that he had comforted her when she was afraid of the Chamber of Secrets. She remembered being too afraid to walk to the girls lavatory, and dancing around in the Gryffindor house common area where Oliver had fallen asleep. He'd taken her by the hand and walked her to the lavatory, waited for her and walked her back in the same fashion. She was always shy, and it meant a lot to her to have the Quidditch team captain walk her to the toilets. She'd had a bit of a crush on him then, and he humored her- walking her to classes and carrying her books and taking care of her- but Quinne knew she was just a silly little girl to him the entire time. "I should have known by those eyes!" said Oliver as he pulled her into a hug.
"Yes, and I should have known you by that 'look-at-me-I'm-in-charge' face you give when you think you're important!" laughed Quinne. They embraced for a moment, but Quinne jumped away from him in a start when she realized the rest of the team was watching. Harry Potter was staring daggers at the two of them, and Quinne felt badly for wasting the team's time with old memories. "Well, Mr. Wood," continued Quinne, "I guess we should get things started."
Oliver accompanied Quinne on the walk back to the rest of the team, who lined up instinctively before him. "Alright, then" he said, "I'm Mr. Wood. But you guys can just call me Oliver. I'm only twenty for crying out loud!" The team seemed to relax, but Harry continued to glare at him. Quinne resolved to have a chat with Harry later and turned back to Oliver. "This year, we're going to win just as many matches as every other year. You guys don't need a pep talk, you know you're going to win. You're Gryffindor!!" The team cheered, and Oliver signaled for them to gear up for practice.
Quinne was bent over lacing up her shin pads, when once again a shadow hovered above her. She smiled and ignored it as she had before- if Oliver wanted her attention he'd have to ask for it nicely. "I can see you like pink knickers," came Harry Potter's voice from behind her. Quinne's face burned bright pink and she jumped up and turned to face Harry. "Pink's not exactly the color I'd choose," said Harry with a grin.
"Harry Potter!" cried Quinne with a little laugh, "How dare you be inspecting the color of my knickers! I'll bludger you one for that!!"
"Oh come on, no need for violence. How could I not look? I'm a seventeen year old boy and you're running around in tiny little pants with tiny little pink knickers on underneath," replied Harry with a smirk on his face that made Quinne's heart beat a little faster.
"They're... they're not that tiny," blushed Quinne, and she turned away to finish getting her gear on. She didn't know whether to be appalled or flattered but she decided ignoring Harry would do. "I should have worn white knickers! Big huge ones!" Quinne scolded herself after Harry the Knicker-Peeker had gone.
When the team was all suited up, Oliver called for them to come over and stand in line once again so he could explain the exercise they were going to do. They were waiting for Oliver to go over the rules when Quinne noticed she'd never finished lacing up her shin pad. She bent down and resumed lacing up, and stood once more, happy that Harry Potter had had to resist peeking and stay in line. When Oliver had finished explaining the rules of the game, he shouted "Break!" which made Quinne jump and the team laugh at her. She wasn't one for such loud noises. As she was running off to fetch her broom and get started in the game, Oliver grabbed her by the hip from behind, leaned into her ear, and whispered, "Tiny pink knickers aren't exactly Quidditch appropriate, Miss Hartte," and walked off to coach the team leaving Quinne alone to think about what had just happened.
Quinne Hartte stood in the center of the Quidditch Pitch, her slight frame quaking in the cold. She and her other Gryffindor Quidditch teammates stood in a small clump trying to stay warm as they waited to meet their new coach. It was almost the second week of school, and they'd not yet met him. There were rumors that McGonagall would coach this season, or even that Harry Potter would be assigned Student Coach- but everyone knew Harry wouldn't take on such a responsibility in his sixth year. Quinne was a sixth year Gryffindor as well, and she was good friends with Harry, but this was her first year of playing Quidditch for the school team. Harry had asked her to throw some bludgers for him to dodge, and when Harry needed a break he'd playfully thrown them to her. She dodged them with the agility and ease of a mouse, and Harry had suggested she go out for the team. She had small arms, so when Ron Weasley (the captain) saw her beat the bludger nearly across the pitch as good as any burly boy might do, he was impressed and agreed to let her play for the team.
Quinne tugged down on her maroon trainer shorts- short for increased athletic movement, supposedly, but she thought them more of a nuisance than anything, because she'd be constantly thinking about if the boys could see her pink knickers from below. The Quidditch teams had new practice uniforms that varied in color according to house: short trainer shorts with spaghetti strap tank tops for the girls, and knee length shorts and tank tops for the boys. The uniforms were complete with white runners with house colored laces. When she furiously tugged the waistband of her shorts to her hips, her tank-top was not long enough to close the gap, so her navel was left in the open. Flustered, cold, and a wee bit cranky, Quinne gave up.
There was a completely new team this year except Harry, who was the seeker, of course. Ronald Weasley was the captain and keeper, a rough looking boy named Bullit Theeson was the Chaser, and Alex Dodge and Quinne were the beaters. Quinne was not only of the least experience, she was the youngest on the team, so she felt unwanted in the group's huddle. She took a few steps backwards away from the group, sat down on the pitch, and began to sing to herself and braid her long, wavy brown hair. It was nearly to her waist, so she wasn't anywhere near through braiding when a tall shadow was cast over her. Startled, Quinne jumped with a gasp and dropped the lock of hair she'd been braiding. She was too timid to turn and face the prowling creature behind her, so she remained still, facing the ground in front of where she sat.
"Hey. Stand up. No first years on the pitch without supervision," boomed the voice of the shadow as it hovered over her. Quinne was secretly furious with the assumption that she was a first year. It was a common mistake, as she was only 5'2" and closer to 100 pounds than 110, but she never spoke her mind to anyone about how it made her feel. She was small, but she was strong, and soon enough whoever had mistaken her for a child would see that much was true. The shadowed shifted impatiently behind her. "Hey, really... let's move. I have a team to coach."
Realizing that the dark shadow was, in fact, that of her future coach, Quinne jumped to her feet and turned to face him. A familiar face with a stern mouth but kind, curious brown eyes looked down at her. She was an entire foot shorter than he. He seemed uncomfortable now that he'd looked her in the eye. Most people were when they first met Quinne- her bright (nearly white) blue eyes caught people off guard and left them speechless for moments at a time. She decided the poor guy had suffered enough for calling her a first year and she sparked the conversation. "I'm on your team, coach. Beater. Year six," said Quinne, her face lighting up with a bright smile and a shy blush. She shifted her feet around nervously and tugged and her tank top.
"Oh, sorry about that. I'm Mr. Wood, your new Quidditch coach," he said, the sternness of his mouth turning slowly into a blinding smile. Quinne's smile was contagious, apparently. "How old are you exactly?"
"Sixteen, sir. Wait- Mr. Wood? Oliver Wood?" asked Quinne, the suspense building in her voice. Mr. Wood looked surprised, and cautious at the same time.
"Yes, why..?" he asked as he studied Quinne's face. All in an instant his eyes lit up and he thrust his arms out at the small girl. "Quinnie? Bloody Hell, is that you?" Quinne nodded, happy to be called Quinnie again. She'd looked up to Oliver when she was a second year and he was a seventh year. How long ago, it seemed, that he had comforted her when she was afraid of the Chamber of Secrets. She remembered being too afraid to walk to the girls lavatory, and dancing around in the Gryffindor house common area where Oliver had fallen asleep. He'd taken her by the hand and walked her to the lavatory, waited for her and walked her back in the same fashion. She was always shy, and it meant a lot to her to have the Quidditch team captain walk her to the toilets. She'd had a bit of a crush on him then, and he humored her- walking her to classes and carrying her books and taking care of her- but Quinne knew she was just a silly little girl to him the entire time. "I should have known by those eyes!" said Oliver as he pulled her into a hug.
"Yes, and I should have known you by that 'look-at-me-I'm-in-charge' face you give when you think you're important!" laughed Quinne. They embraced for a moment, but Quinne jumped away from him in a start when she realized the rest of the team was watching. Harry Potter was staring daggers at the two of them, and Quinne felt badly for wasting the team's time with old memories. "Well, Mr. Wood," continued Quinne, "I guess we should get things started."
Oliver accompanied Quinne on the walk back to the rest of the team, who lined up instinctively before him. "Alright, then" he said, "I'm Mr. Wood. But you guys can just call me Oliver. I'm only twenty for crying out loud!" The team seemed to relax, but Harry continued to glare at him. Quinne resolved to have a chat with Harry later and turned back to Oliver. "This year, we're going to win just as many matches as every other year. You guys don't need a pep talk, you know you're going to win. You're Gryffindor!!" The team cheered, and Oliver signaled for them to gear up for practice.
Quinne was bent over lacing up her shin pads, when once again a shadow hovered above her. She smiled and ignored it as she had before- if Oliver wanted her attention he'd have to ask for it nicely. "I can see you like pink knickers," came Harry Potter's voice from behind her. Quinne's face burned bright pink and she jumped up and turned to face Harry. "Pink's not exactly the color I'd choose," said Harry with a grin.
"Harry Potter!" cried Quinne with a little laugh, "How dare you be inspecting the color of my knickers! I'll bludger you one for that!!"
"Oh come on, no need for violence. How could I not look? I'm a seventeen year old boy and you're running around in tiny little pants with tiny little pink knickers on underneath," replied Harry with a smirk on his face that made Quinne's heart beat a little faster.
"They're... they're not that tiny," blushed Quinne, and she turned away to finish getting her gear on. She didn't know whether to be appalled or flattered but she decided ignoring Harry would do. "I should have worn white knickers! Big huge ones!" Quinne scolded herself after Harry the Knicker-Peeker had gone.
When the team was all suited up, Oliver called for them to come over and stand in line once again so he could explain the exercise they were going to do. They were waiting for Oliver to go over the rules when Quinne noticed she'd never finished lacing up her shin pad. She bent down and resumed lacing up, and stood once more, happy that Harry Potter had had to resist peeking and stay in line. When Oliver had finished explaining the rules of the game, he shouted "Break!" which made Quinne jump and the team laugh at her. She wasn't one for such loud noises. As she was running off to fetch her broom and get started in the game, Oliver grabbed her by the hip from behind, leaned into her ear, and whispered, "Tiny pink knickers aren't exactly Quidditch appropriate, Miss Hartte," and walked off to coach the team leaving Quinne alone to think about what had just happened.