Written for the 'A Variety of Prompts' Challenge
Prompts: Word Prompt (HP Related) #6 - Quidditch; Relationship Prompt #8 - Love/Hate
Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the master of the Potterverse, I'm merely one of its many devoted slaves...
"I'm playing Keeper!"
"No fair! You always play Keeper!"
"That's because I'm the best Keeper. It's in my blood! Now quit whining and let's play. My mum says I have to be home before dark because we've got guests coming for dinner tonight."
Eleven year old Vaughn Wood mounted the polished wooden stick of his father's old Cleansweep 7, the late summer breeze causing his father's former Gryffindor Quidditch robes to billow about his narrow body, dark blue eyes trained on the three boys that made up the opposing team. Gregory Rowe was playing opposing Keeper and the only thing in the forefront of Vaughn's mind was to outdo him by any means necessary. Gregory's father hadn't been the captain of his house Quidditch team back in Hogwarts nor did Gregory's father play the position in the Professional leagues. Being the son of Oliver Wood, Vaughn was very proud of the fact and fully intended to be the best.
Ten minutes into the game, his team - which consisted of his best mates Aaron Sharpe and Philip Hyde- was leading by ten points. As there were no Seekers or Beaters in the impromptu game, the rules proclaimed that the first team to score sixty points won the game. Aaron's kid brother Thomas was keeping score as he was too young to play and wouldn't know the tail end of a broomstick even it was smacking him in the backside.
"That's ten more points to Vaughn's team!" Thomas shouted as Philip managed to throw the old battered leather Quaffle through one of the sets of three goalposts Vaughn's father had put up for his son to practice with, "Just ten more points, then."
"This isn't fair!" one of the opposing Chasers, Elliot O'Neil cried throwing his broom down in frustration, "We can't score on these things. Your brooms are faster!" He pointed an accusing finger at Vaughn and Aaron, "You're just a bunch of dirty cheats!"
Vaughn scowled, swinging his own broom over his shoulder and stepping away from his post. "Who are you calling a dirty cheat, O'Neil? You're just jealous your parents couldn't afford to get you a decent broom. Everyone knows Shooting Stars are slower than slugs. Or maybe its not the broom. Maybe you just can't play!"
O'Neil suddenly very much resembled a toad then, as his little fists trembled at his sides and his face went two shades of read. The game had been forgotten as the other boys' wide eyes flicked back and forth between the pair, waiting to see where the fight would go.
"See if I ever play with you again Daddy's Boy!" O'Neil sneered, aiming a square kick at the Quaffle and storming off, dragging his old broom behind him.
"Sore loser," Vaughn muttered, brushing his hair out of his eyes with a flick of his hand before turning to Gregory and the other boy, Randall Byrd. "What are you two going to do, then? Forfeit?"
"I guess so," Randall said with a sigh, "We can't play with one Chaser and one Keeper. Unless Thomas plays."
The five glanced over at the boy in question. Thomas pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I can't! I - I don't have broom."
"Well fine, guess that's that th-"
"Can I play?"
They all turned to see someone they didn't recognize approaching them. Dressed in mismatched Muggle attire - faded denim trousers, a bright red cotton t-shirt, and battered trainers - the stranger walked steadily towards them carrying a broomstick over his shoulder, bold hazel eyes peeking out from beneath the brim of an old Chudley Cannon's cap. Vaughn's brows furrowed. He knew all the families in the area who had children his age and certainly he couldn't remember seeing this boy before.
"Can you play?" he asked skeptically, eying the boy up and down. He really was rather shifty looking and dreadfully skinny. The broom was a good model though. An old Nimbus 2001. Definitely a hand-me-down from one of his parents.
"Of course I can play," the boy snapped exasperatedly, mounting his Nimbus and reaching up to pull his cap off. A mass of thick curly auburn hair spilled out around narrow shoulders and the six boys gave a collective gasp.
"She's a girl!" Aaron cried in dismay, and Vaughn gave a groan of disappointment. Great, it was just what they needed. Someone else who was going to cry about how unfair the rules were."Girls don't even like Quidditch! They're more into dollies and dresses and not breaking their nails."
"Ever heard of the Holyhead Harpies, dragon breath?" she snapped, thrusting her hands on her hips, "Girls play Quidditch all the time. My mum played for her house team and so did my aunt! Now are you gonna just stand there looking at me like I've got three eyes in my head or are we gonna play?"
Vaughn's lips quirked into a smirk at the little tirade. "All right then, princess. You're on Gregory and Randall's team. All you've got to do is catch that ball there, and try to get it through the goal."
"I know how to play Chaser, dummy, it's in my blood. I'd make a fair Beater too but you got no bats. Now what's the score?"
The surety in her words and the reiteration of the line he had spoken to Aaron not so long before gave Vaughn pause. Just who was she, then? Shaking his head, he turned back to his team before responding to her question, "First to sixty. We're at fifty and you're at thirty."
"Fine."
They mounted their brooms and kicked off. Vaughn eyed the girl curiously as she gripped the handle of the Nimbus. She looked like she knew what she was doing. Perhaps he hadn't been fair to assume that she did not. Hovering just in front of the goalposts, he watched her kick off of the ground, pulling the broom effortlessly to prevent being sent into orbit.
"Whenever you're ready then, dragon breath," she called, the summer sun glinting off of her copper colored face.
Thomas released the Quaffle before scurrying back to the safety of his seat and the girl caught it at once, tucking it safely beneath her arm. Leaning forward on her broom to propel it faster, her hazel eyes narrowed on Vaughn. She swerved right and then left, trying to throw him off.
"Not gonna work princess," he chided with an amused smirk, "You're not breaking my concentration."
"Oh yeah?" she snorted, and before Vaughn could blink, the girl did a spectacular aerial flip that stunned him into silence and distracted him long enough for her to sink the ball through the left goalpost.
"Ten points to Gregory's team!"
"That's cheating!" Vaughn cried as the girl threw the ball to Randall.
"Why's that?" she asked cheekily, "Because you don't know how to do it?"
Scowling fiercely, Vaugn gripped his Cleansweap so tightly, his bones creaked in protest. Just who did this skinny little freckled face girl think she was? She wasn't going to beat him! So she could just wipe that stupid little smirk off of her face before he did it for her!
Unfortunately, he didn't get the chance.
"The sun was in my eyes!" Vaughn muttered as they all touch down to the ground. The nameless girl had managed to sink her third goal in row, winning the game for Randall's team. He still could not believe that he had lost to her. And he wasn't going to congratulate her for a game well played either. She had gotten lucky was all. There was nothing to it.
"Oh yeah sure," the girl spat, thrusting her hands on her hips, "I could beat you any day, rain or shine! What do you say to a rematch? Or are you nothing but a Flobberworm coward?"
Vaughn could only stand there and gape. Once her words had sunk in and he took a quick glance around at his stunned and amused friends, he strode fiercely toward the girl until they were nose and nose.
"I wouldn't waste my time. You just got lucky!" And because he was still stinging from the loss, he shoved her away from him. He smirked when she stumbled and tripped over a rock laying in the grass. The victory was short lived however when she hit the ground with a gasp, her tooth biting into her lower lip. The sharp edge cut into the tender flesh and crimson blood pooled in her mouth, dribbling down her chin.
She didn't cry though as he'd expected. He watched her, his heart thudding so hard in his chest he felt light headed, as she picked herself up and dusted off the seat and knees of her denims. Her lower lip was already starting to swell, the bleeding making the injury look far worse than it should have been.
"Who's the sore loser now?" she muttered with an indignant huff, stuffing her hair back into the old Chudley Cannons cap and throwing her Nimbus over her shoulder.
Vaughn couldn't take his eyes off of her as she made her way back up the hill. Sweet Merlin, what had he done?
() () ()
"C'mon Mum! Dad! I'm going to miss the train if you're both going to moving like slugs!" Vaughn hollered, nearly tripping over his feet as he pushed his trolley toward King Cross station's barrier between platforms 9 and 10. He couldn't believe that he was finally going to Hogwarts. It seemed like a dream that he hadn't yet woken from and just the prospect of finally being allowed to try out for his House team, Merlin, it made him want to pinch himself. After Harry Potter, who had been a friend of his dad's back when they were in Hogwarts had made the Gryffindor team in his first year, the rules at the school had been tweaked to give first years the opportunity to try out. Of course, they usually didn't make it especially when going for positions like Beater and Keeper but Vaughn was determined to show him that the son of Oliver Wood had the drive and the tenacity to annihilate whoever was to be his competition.
Sucking in a huge breath, Vaughn narrowed his eyes at the seemingly solid brick wall. He knew it wasn't but his heart began to pound just the same. He broke into a run, the wheels on the trolley squeaking in protest, coming closer and closer to the barrier until finally the sight of a huge gleaming scarlet train replaced the dull red brick, white steam billowing out of the large smokestack. The platform was already filled with parents and students, some already dressed in their Hogwarts school robes. He had done it!
His parents turned up a few moments later and Vaughn grimaced as his mother, who was already looking as if she was going to start sobbing any minute, began fussing with his hair. Surprisingly, he just shut up and let her. Besides, he could see other mothers doing the same to their children and no one was really looking.
"Oliver! Mary!"
Vaughn's head whipped around at the sound of his parent's name and he saw three people approaching them. The wizard and the witch were familiar, they had both been former players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with his father and had had dinner with them a few weeks ago. His mind flashed back to that night. They had both been nice and had apologized for the absence of their daughter who had been his age. She had gotten hurt playing and had wanted to go home.
Glancing at the girl standing in between her fair, red haired father and her mahogany skinned mother, the young witch's copper colored, freckled face fixed in a scowl as she eyed him, Vaughn nearly went running back to the barrier that would have taken him to the Muggle side.
"Hello Dragon Breath," she murmured with a saccharine smirk, "Excited to be going to Hogwarts?"
His parents and her parents were engaged in conversation and were paying no mind to their children at the moment and Vaughn made sure that he wasn't standing too close to the platform's edge just in case the girl had half a mind to shove him back. He could see a pale pink scar that marred her lip and he wondered how it could still be there. When he got bumps and bruises from playing in the garden his mum always patched him up so that his injuries never scarred.
"D'you plan on trying out for the Quidditch team this term?" she continued on as if he wasn't aggravated by her presence, "I hear there are a few spots available. My brother Fred plays for Gryffindor. He's a fifth year and a Beater with arms the size of your whole body. I told him all about our little game this summer and he's just dying to meet you."
Vaughn gulped, his palms going sweaty. He didn't know the girl had had a brother and more so, a fifth year brother who played Quidditch. Had she told him about the part where he had pushed her? Or about the part when he'd told her that girl's couldn't play Quidditch? Oh Merlin was he going to get beat up on his first day of Hogwarts for something that had happened nearly a month ago.
"Kneazle got your tongue?" the girl chirped delightedly, looking very pleased with herself.
Scowling, Vaughn balled his little hands into tight fists. "I don't care about you or your brother. I know I'm going to make the Gryffindor team. Just you watch!"
"Roxanne! Come on sweetheart, I see Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny just over there!"
"See you at school, then," she said, sticking out her tongue, "I can't wait to fly circles around you again."
And with that, Roxanne Weasley traipsed off behind her parents, her auburn hair bouncing as she moved.