The light piercing through the blinds was far too bright for this early in the morning.
Instinctively my head burrowed further into the pillow it was resting upon, only to be overwhelmed by the thick scent of a foreign perfume.
Recoiling away from the foul stench, I allowed my eyes to settle on the room around me for the first time since I had awakened only to realise, not for the first time that week, I had absolutely no idea where I was.
Various items of clothing were scattered around the room, all of which implying that I had stumbled upon a females apartment (a theory aided by the flower patterned curtains, and faintly pink covers that were currently layering my body.) and, unless said female had taken to spraying her pillows with a healthy dose of perfume, she had been sleeping (or at the very least lying) next to me not too long ago.
Grinning to myself, I lolled backwards onto the pillow, my arms flung out to my sides in relaxation as I contemplated how long I would have until she returned.
Ultimately I decided I'd better get moving before she does return, aside from the usual clinginess and cries of 'I thought we meant something to each other' that I'd rather avoid, there's also the fact that I had training to go to and Snippet (my manager) would kill me if I was late yet again.
Willing myself away from the bed, I eventually stumbled apart from the covers, faltering only slightly as my foot collided with a stump of the bed.
Swearing to myself, I hobbled precariously on one foot as I inspected the injury, throwing cursory looks at the door to the bedroom all the while just in case my bed-mate of the night before decided to sneak up on me.
Pulling on articles of clothing as I neared the door to the bedroom, it struck me that there was no way I could leave the room without grabbing the girl's attention; I was unfamiliar with the layout of the house, and as such would probably end up surveying every inch of the apartment in search of the exit.
My eyes flickered briefly to the window that stood ajar at the other end of the room, but I quickly cast this idea aside; I didn't need anymore injuries before training later on today.
I pushed the door ajar, only allowing my head to enter the room beyond as I took a quick glance around the apartment. The walls were unusually bare, they were painted a creamy white and only the occasional portraits created any contrasts in colour.
Still, there was no sign of any other life in the apartment and so I figured it was worth the risk to take a step into what I assumed to be the living room.
Almost immediately a voice drawled from behind me "Leaving so soon."
Startled, I span immediately my back connecting with a wall as my eyes darted around the room in search of the source of the noise.
It didn't take me long to spot the perpetrator, who was lounging on an armchair that had previously been out of view, her legs resting over the side of one of the arms while he head was curled to rest on the back of the leather chair.
As I drank in her features, I slowly began to recognise her from the night before. I had met her in a club (I think?) and she'd made some comment about Quidditch players being pathetic, or something to that effect, and apparently the fight that ensured led me to spend the night in her apartment.
The girl yawned obtusely to grab my attention once more, but when I turned to face her, her eyes were focused on the ends of her hair that she was toying with between her fingers.
I stood awkwardly for a few more moments, unsure of whether she had something more to say until she dismissed me with a flick of her wrist.
"The doors in that direction." she nudged her thumb in the direction to my left and, nodding at her huddled form, I took off in the direction she indicated.
The door was already unlocked when I approached it, and it opened with little opposition as I nudged It with the toe of my shoe.
The sunlight from outside flooded my vision, and it took me a few moments to blink back the spots that impaired my vision, at which point the sound of camera's flashing filled my ears.
Grimacing at the sudden onslaught (which quickly transformed into a pleasant smile when I realised that the camera's where pointing in my direction) I realised I would have no choice but to apparate away from the scene.
I scowled at the thought, the sensation as I recalled it was repulsive and my system was certainly not ready for it at this time in the morning, still it sounded better then battling through a sea of reporters and so (making sure that I was securely covered by the crowd of reporters, and away from the prying eyes of muggle's) I screwed up my face in concentration, and hoped beyond hope that I would end up at the destination I had intended.
When I risked opening my eyes once more, I noted with relief that I had emerged inside a room I recognised as belonging to me.
The warm red's and gold's that decorated the room were familiar and comforting, if not a shade too similar to the Gryffindor common room, and I certainly preferred this euphoria of mess to the all-too pristine apartment I had just returned from
I had only bought this apartment recently; an escape from the other flat that lay in the heart of London that had become overrun by Rita Skeeta types who prided themselves on delving into the lives of those who were in the public eye.
I smiled at the pure serene silence that engulfed my senses as I walked leisurely to my bedroom with the intention of uncovering my Puddlemere training kit that I had abandoned last night and left unwashed to stew on my bedroom floor.
No sooner had I recovered the offending items did a second bang fill my ears.
Wincing at the sound, I ran a mental list through the numbers of people who knew how to bypass the security charms that I had set up around my flat.
I had long since cut off my team mates, who had taken to raiding my flat in the dead of night and scavenging what supplies I had, and my manager would hardly bother coming to my flat for all the effort it took, which only really left…
"Oi, Wood." Brilliant.
Rolling my eyes, I retraced my steps back into the living I had just left in time to see Sarah splay herself regally across one of the couches I had grown particularly fond of.
Hissing in unvoiced complaint as she propped her feet up at one end, I settled down on a nearby couch waiting to hear whatever it was she wanted to say.
"How you been Ollie?" She asked, in feigned interest as she examined the fraying material of my couch.
"What do you want?" I replied, wanting her to cut to the chase so I could get her out of my apartment sooner.
"can't a publicist drop by to see their favourite client every now and again?"
"you can't." was the biting reply I left her with, feeling oddly proud of myself as I settled further into my chair.
"Tch, you think so little of me." there was mock offence in her tone as she smiled to herself "as it was however, there is something I want to talk about with you." she paused as if waiting for me to interject a comment.
I indicated for her to go on once the silence had stretched on an unreasonable amount.
"I take it you've seen these?" I shook my head as she retrieved a few wads of paper from the handbag I hadn't even realised she had with her.
Unfolding the papers, I recognised the headings almost immediately. One was entitled 'witch weekly' and was a cacophony of sickly pinks and obnoxious love hearts that zoomed around the front cover, another had the words 'Daily prophet' splayed across it's heading. In all cases the papers all had something in common; Pictures of me in various incriminating states. Granted Witch Weekly had set aside an entire spread based around it, whereas the Prophet vaguely mentioned it as it skimmed over the declining reputation of Quidditch players.
"It would rather seem you're reputation proceeds you," Sarah commented dully, indicating one particular image that had me with my lips attached to a scantily clad female, while another was attacking my neck with kisses and bites.
"and?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I set the paper down on the coffee table beside me.
"As your publicist, I advise you to stop with all of this." she gestured in the general direction of the article once more "at the moment, this may be all well and good, but people are going to forget about your actual Quidditch abilities, and you'll begin to lose favour with your fans and as a result managers and team-mates are probably going to mistrust you, and with any slight whim of hate amongst the media boom. Career over." by the end of the rant her cheeks had grown a little flushed through lack of taking in air.
"And as my friend? What would you advise then?"
Sarah let out a snort of laughter "don't flatter yourself Wood, I'll try to do some damage control over this, see If I can get a couple of these stories out of print over legality reasons, invasion of privacy and what not, but until I can; don't do anything stupid. I'm counting on you man, both of our jobs depend on it."
"Wood," Snippet growled, thrusting the daily prophet beneath my nose.
Wincing as I recognised the issue, I dared not meet the eyes of my manager who looks fit to burst as he glares down at me.
"What about it?" The snarl that ripped through Snippet's throat was feral and inhuman; so much so that I launched myself away from the desk in surprise, desperate to create as much distance between me and the possibly mental manager.
"Do you realise how badly this reflects on the Quidditch world as a whole? Do you realise how much this tarnishes our reputation?" He punctuated each point with a finger that was jabbing the air between us "We are treading on thin ice as it is, what with the ministry of magic breathing down our necks. It would be advisable to tread lightly." his last words were drawn out for effect, but by this point I was no longer paying attention as my eyes were still focused on the image before me.
I recognised the face of the girl I had left the apartment of earlier on; these photographs must have been taken last night. It was scary how quickly things got around within the media.
I felt a sudden pang of guilt as I realised how hard this is going to be for Sarah to reign in, but the feeling only laster a fleeting second before it was gone again.
Instead of commenting further, lest I provoked the more violent side of Snippets nature, I slid further back into the chair with trepidation, my breathing steadying as I realised Snippet had calmed down somewhat , and so (my hands poised to protect my face is necessary) I hazarded a question:
"What do you want me to do about it?"
Snippet sighed as he collapsed into the desk chair opposite the one I was sat in; his hands steepled as he thought, his eyes closed and his lips pursed into a tight line.
"I've been thinking about this, and I can only think of one solution."
I prompted him to go on, slightly wary of whatever conclusion he had reached.
"We want to promote a side of you that promises a much more stable nature; a side that gains you favour with the public once more. To do this, I think we are going to have to put forward this idea that something has changed you...something that had encouraged you to slow down and take a more responsible view on life."
"How do you propose we go about doing that?" I asked skeptically, one eyebrow rising.
"You are going to have to do something that takes a lot of concentration and effort, not to mention secracy, even to those around you. I wouldn't ask it of you, if I hadn't thought it necessary."
Having efficiently grabbed my interest, I lent across the desk, intrigued.
"You are going to have to pretend you are in a committed relationship." I was momentarily surprised, but allowed the man to finish. "we couldn't afford getting someone from a different team involved, that could be disastrous, and we want someone we could keep an eye on...someone who would stand to lose just as much if you were to fall and take Puddlemere down with you. It will have to be someone from our team."
I contemplated his words for a few moments, my forefinger scratching across my chin as I thought "That sounds...strangely reasonable in a bizarre way...but..." My voice trailed off as a thought struck me "there are no females on our team."
Snippets features morphed into a sad smile that looked suspiciously fake.
"I know."