The pumpkin juice in my mug was sloshing precariously close to the edge. I'd stood up quickly, falling not exactly gracefully over the bench. Just my luck, right when I thought the liquid was safe, I felt my cup collide with something – or rather, someone.

Right on the belt buckle too! A sharp metallic snap rang out from the collision of ceramic and metal.

And then the pumpkin juice over flowed the edges of the mug. Straight down this random, innocent passer-by's trousers. Damn.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, looking up nervously. "I really didn't—"

Okay. A not-so-innocent passer-by after all. My eyes shot away from the area right below his belt where I'd been transfixed with watching the liquid seep through his trousers, finally realizing how awkward and inappriopriate that was. Damn my slow reactions. My eyes roved up, above the belt, to the snugly fit cashmere red and gold argyle sweater vest, to the unbuttoned white dress shirt, to the creamy column of my victim's neck, to grey eyes—

Great. Just my luck. Of all the possible people in Hogwarts, of course it just had to be Sirius Black.

A horrified expression adorned his face. Damn, he did not look at all pleased. I mentally berated myself. I mean, of course he didn't look pleased – I wouldn't either, if he were me.

A chuckle came from behind him. "Oi, Padfoot, did you just wet yourself?"

Sirius whirled around, "Piss," he said to James, almost snarling really.

A fuller laugh reached my ears; Remus Lupin had now joined the growing audience. Great, just what I needed, more of a crowd.

"Is that a double entendre?" Remus asked wittily.

"Er—" I tried to cut in meekly. "I'm really sorry, honestly – didn't mean to – spill juice on you."

Sighing deeply as though it cost him a great effort, Sirius glanced down at himself and his now soaked pants in a rather unfortunate region, and turned to look back at me. "It's alright, I suppose..." he trailed off.

Of course. He couldn't even remember my name. Under better circumstances, I might've helped him out. But, but. That one sigh had rather irked me, so I decided to let him suffer a bit.

"Webb. Norah Webb," Remus whispered out of the corner of his mouth. I glared at him slightly. Yeah boy, I saw that. At least he had the decency to look half abashed.

"Webb. Norah Webb," Sirius repeated lamely. Sheesh, what an idiot. Realizing his error, he froze. "I mean, Norah." I smirked slightly, unable to help it. I mean, how else was I expected to react? His face turned stony. "You might want to watch where you're going, next time," he said icily.

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously. "I mean, I was just here, getting up as per normal. You," and here I jabbed a finger at the centre of his sweater vest, "walked into my mug." He looked about to retort, but I trundled on. "In fact, I think you owe me an apology."

He stared at me in disbelief. "Are you for real?"

Now we were beginning to attract a crowd of attention in earnest. Half the Gryffindor table was now turned in our direction, peering at us with widely peeled ears. Even better. Several girls were batting their eyes at Sirius. They probably thought it was sexy or something.

I thought it made them look like constipated cows.

"I mean, clearly, you've just spilt pumpkin juice down my pants," clarified Sirius, as though that cleared everything up.

I swear, a collective sigh went rippling down the table at the phrase "down my pants". Shameful.

"Well, I would suggest you go change your pants," I said snottily. "I mean, from where I'm standing, it sure as hell looks like you just peed your pants."

Now a chuckle riffled down the table, followed by a bit of nervous twittering. Good; I liked making them squirm – besides, it was none of their business to be paying attention to a private conversation anyhow.

Sirius's face now turned stoically devoid of emotion, and I was momentarily stunned by a flicker of fear. I forced it away. And then I realized I was pretty much half standing, half sitting, straddling the bench still. Wonderful pose, really.

Stiffly, he asked bitingly, "And who are you again?"

That completely did it. I swung my other leg over the bench and stood up straight. Okay, so maybe it wasn't that impressive, considering that I was nearly a head shorter than him. Anyway – I lifted my mug and dumped the rest of its contents on his front. Then I set the mug back down on the table with a loud clang.

A stunned silence ensued. Awkward! So I turned, smiled stiffly at James, "Potter, I'll see later," and marched grandly out of the hall, revelling in Sirius's confused expression. Okay, okay, so along the way I nearly tripped over my own shoelace. It drew a collective laugh from the people in the Great Hall, and then of course they went straightaway to gossiping about this rather unexpected turn of events.

But I was pissed – downright furious. Okay, so maybe I wasn't nearly as possible as he was, but that comment – it was way out of line. I will admit, I can be kind of a nerd sometimes. But I was too much of a slacker to be put into Ravenclaw, and thus, ended up in Gryffindor. And I'm usually pretty quiet – I'm shy, okay? But honestly, how dare he? And okay, so we're already into Sixth Year, and I've still never had a relationship. Or a first kiss, for that matter. But still – stupid git. Who am I? Who am I?

I'll show him who I am!

I stomped up to the dormitories with a lot more force than necessary. At least everybody else was still at breakfast. I glanced at my watch. Quidditch tryouts were due to start in a quarter hour. I smirked slightly, wondering if Sirius would be late because he had to change.

He probably thinks I'm one of those nerdy girls with no athletic ability whatsoever. Well. I'll show him. Not only will I try out, I will make the team. Yeah. Who am I then? Psh.

Feeling considerably better, I fetch my broom quickly, fingering the beautiful ash handle of my Moontrimmer for a moment before skipping back out the portrait hole. And promptly nearly collided with someone.

This time, this someone was blond and looked horribly dishevelled.

Her mascara was all messed up and tear tracts trailed down her cheeks. "Norah," she said, her voice cracking.

Internally, I sighed. Of course I just had to run into Greta Catchlove right now. This past summer, much to my chagrin, we became stepsisters. Our parents urged us to try and get along, look out for each other at Hogwarts, yada yada.

As. If. I mean, we're so different and everything...

"Greta," I said, trying to keep the exasperation from creeping in. "Now is really not a good time."

Greta is such a girly girl. I mean, even her name is prissy. She's always so dolled up and everything. I don't think she's even touched a broomstick since First Year when we had to learn.

"Norah," she whimpered, "I really need to talk to you."

I push my glasses back up on the bridge of my nose. "Okay, but make it quick. What's up?"

"I – I – he – Sirius..."

"What? Spit it out already, Greta, I'm really in a hurry!"

"Sirius. He... cheated on me! Talk about public humiliation. And –" she trailed off into a wailing sob.

"That bastard," I snarled, even more furious with that dark haired, grey eyed, proclaimed Hogwarts hunk. What a load of codswallop.

Greta sniffed loudly. I wanted to tell her to stop – really, she looked very unattractive right now. Kind of hideous, honesty, what with the messed up make up and blotchy skin and...

Suddenly her claw like hand clasped my arm – hard. The tears and sobs stopped as suddenly as they'd started. "Don't," she said, annoyance obvious in her tone, "don't call him a bastard."

Say what? I couldn't believe she was defending that loser!

She looked down at the broomstick clutched tightly in my hand. "Where are you going? Why do you have a broom?"

I frowned at her. "Quidditch tryouts. Like, now. I have to go."

"Quidditch?" she repeated slowly.

"Yeah – I need to go, it starts in like, five minutes."

"For the Gryffindor team?"

"No, Slytherin. Yes Gryffindor, it's not exactly like I can try out for any other team, Greta."

"With Sirius?"

I hesitated. "Um... well, I suppose that idiot is on the team as well. How unfortunate," I added as an afterthought.

"But—"

I wrenched my arm away. "Greta, I've really got to go, alright?" And then I took off at a mad dash for the Quidditch pitch.

When I got there, the group of hopeful candidates was already amassed at one end of the pitch, mounted on their brooms. I hobbled up to James. "Am I late?"

"Webb, Webb, punctuality is very key." He grinned. "I thought you were going to be a no-show. Just hop on your broom; we're getting everyone to fly a couple laps of the pitch first, try to root out some of the weaker fliers."

I nod, and quickly mount my broom. As I take off, I hear Sirius demand angrily to his best friend, "What the hell is she doing here?"

Soon the exhilaration of being in the air overtakes me though, as I loop comfortably around the goal hoops, being very lax in my flying. James was right – clearly half the people here were having trouble simply maintaining a steady flight path. Half down, the other half to go.

Sirius had a very sour look on his face throughout the course of the tryouts. Not that I paid attention, or anything. Stupid git.

Next they put those of us remaining into groups and had us toss a Quaffle around and try to score on the Keeper. Don't think I didn't notice that I got stuck with the worst bunch there – probably Sirius's doing.

Nevertheless, I would say I performed passably well, even scoring twice. Okay, I admit, I let out a small cheer of jubilation when I scored. But then again, who wouldn't?

By this point, there were only about six of us left. We were sent back into the air, and they let the Beaters loose on us. I had a couple close calls with Bludgers barely whizzing by me, but I managed to avoid getting hit outright, for the most part. One guy was not so lucky – he got one straight in the nose and had to be taken to the hospital wing. Poor bloke. And then there were five.

By the time the drill was over, there were only four of us left. Pretty good odds, if I say so myself, because I felt that I'd done rather well, all things considered. We gathered around James and his clipboard. Sirius glared at me.

"Great job, everything. We have a tough decision ahead of us."

"Do we?" muttered Sirius snidely. Oh, I could tell who he'd already crossed of the list of options.

James continued on, his voice overlapping Sirius's. "The team is going to debate the remaining four of you – unfortunately, as you know, we only have one Chaser position available. And while all four of you are obviously qualified, we can only take the best. Because we're Gryffindors."

Sirius pretended to cough. It sounded an awfully lot like "coward." He lifted a Quaffle. "Think fast," he said, and slammed it at me.

With barely an oof, I managed to react and catch it just in time. I sent him a smug look. He scowled.

"Brilliant example, Sirius," James said, trying to dispel the tension. "As I'm sure you all aware, we've taken into account your flying abilities and Bludger avoiding skills, but being a Chaser requires fast reflexes, being able to catch, and more importantly, score."

"Like she could," scoffed Sirius softly. I heard him anyway. And caught the innuendo behind it. And I was pissed.

"So, we'll talk this over and – "

I hefted the Quaffle, and without warning, shoved it as hard as I could at Sirius. It slammed into his stomach, and he double over, groaning.

"Bastard," I said. Then I turned and walked away, feeling no remorse whatsoever.

I was going to get back at Sirius Black if it was the last thing I did. Get ready for Webb's wicked wiles.