Broomsticks and Bathroom Breaks

Disclaimer: I am not the fabulous JK ROWLING; therefore the Harry Potter books do not belong to me. Only my characters and plot are born of my own imagination.

My feet had always let me down. Balance wasn't my best attribute by a long shot, and it seemed that my legs always found it fun to either trip over themselves or over nothing. My clumsiness had never missed a beat to embarrass me or to ruin my day, and has been the cause of many broken vases in my house.

Still, it seemed that whenever my feet were not involved, I was elegant and agile, which meant that, to my upmost surprise, I was fairly good on a broom.

Being a muggle born, the first time that I ever touched a broomstick (of the magic kind that is, my household wholeheartedly believed in 'community chores') was in first year. At first I had been absolutely terrified, but after a while I began to love flying. Al offered to teach me further how to play Quidditch, which soon became a frequent activity for us during our free time.

Despite usually being totally hopeless with a ball, the position of chaser soon became my favourite, while Al favored the position of seeker. Occasionally Al's cousins and siblings would join in and play too (even James sometimes played, of course without acknowledging me at all though), but most of the time it was just Al and myself playing one on one.

In fourth year, Al tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team (most of his family were on the teams across the different houses) and when Al became the official seeker it meant that family competition had now spread to every house. James and Al were often seen trash talking each other before matches, although no harm was ever actually intended.

Al had begged me to try out too, but I was terrified of flying in front of the whole school, convinced that my clumsiness would catch up with me and that I would let down the team. Also, I wasn't entirely sure I was even good enough, despite Als insistence that I was actually a pretty good flyer.

In fifth year, however, when I went to watch Al's second tryout for the team (even though we all – including the captain – knew that he would make it onto the team again) I somehow managed to tryout for the team, much to my confusion.

"Hey, Haus! You trying out?" Amelia Garter, Slytherin captain, had shouted out at me after I gave Al a good luck thumbs up and sat down on one of the benches.

"Erm, no. I'm really not very good at Quidditch." I replied, weary of the number of eyes that had turned on me.

"Really? Cause I've seen you playing some friendlies down by the lake before, and you looked pretty good to me." Emily was a seventh year with dark hair and olive skin, and while she was known for her occasional unprovoked hex on unsuspecting second years (she said hexing first years was just too mean, so at least she had some morals) she was brilliant at Quidditch and was deservedly captain.

Before I had had the chance to make up an excuse, Al jumped in. "Yeah, she's great at Quidditch!" I gave Al the dirtiest look I could muster. He shrugged and made a face that looked like he was trying to say "What? You are!"

"Then try out, Haus!" Amelia shrugged.

"No, Al's joking, I'm really not that great." I was desperately trying to convince Amelia that I couldn't be on the team and regretting coming down to cheer on Al, but Amelia seemed adamant to get me to try out.

"Look, I've seen you by the black lake before, and with enough practice we could really use you on the team. We need two more chasers anyway, and if you're not as good as I thought you were then it doesn't matter. It's just try outs."

"No, really, I can't. Besides, I haven't got my broom with me." My broom was a fairly new model of the Nimbus. It was fast and agile, but nothing compared to Als broom, which was fit for a seeker.

"You can borrow mine when I'm not using it." Al offered, and I glared at him once again.

"Go get changed into some spare kit, and then come back and join in." Amelia said, and I could tell, that for whatever reason, she was not going to let this drop.

Reluctantly, I decided that I might as well, sure that I wouldn't get on the team anyway. Much to my dismay, however, when I came back and it was my turn to try for chaser, I did the best out of the three others trying to get the position. One was a first year, so he was definitely not getting the position, but the other two were fourth year boys who were, actually, very good.

At first I was a bit shaky and nervous (I hadn't been on a broom all summer), but soon I was enjoying myself as much as I normally did. Quidditch came easily to me, and without even realizing it I had scored 9 out of 10 goals while Damian Kerowsky scored 6 out of 10, and Joseph Philips scored 8 out of 10.

This unfortunately led me to be part of the team. I didn't really mind though. Secretly I was glad Al had partially forced me to try out (though I would never tell him that) and I was really quite chuffed that I had beaten the other three possible chasers.

Playing in matches wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and I actually really enjoyed it. I think it helped me with my confidence a bit too, and, surprisingly, I managed to ignore the pressure and scored on average five goals per match. Go me!

Now as I headed down to the stadium with Al for tryouts, my new broom (which I had begged and begged my parents to let me buy) in my hand, I wasn't so sure that I was going to make the team this year. The new captain, a seventh year sour looking boy, was known for believing that Slytherin house was not a place for muggleborns. Still, I appreciated that he didn't call me mudblood like other people who shared his view, so I thought I might as well try out anyway.

Michael Knott, our new captain (after having Amelia as captain for three years most of the team was curious whether or not many changes were to be made) was ready and waiting down at the pitch already. Most people had already arrived, but we all waited a couple more minutes while a couple of other people came down from the castle.

"All right, listen up. While our current team is already very good and we only need to fill the position of beater and keeper, every position will be tried out for to make sure that any new faces have an opportunity to show us if they have what it takes to be on the team." While Michael was totally right in doing this, I was convinced that he would replace me on the team.

When tryouts finished I had played my best and, once again, scored 9 out of 10 goals. Jo and Scott – the other two chasers on the team last year - both scored 8 goals each and the two newbies both got 7, and Al assured me that I would get on the team. Al was easily on the team, shooting around the stadium so fast that at some points he was just a blur. His eyesight was sharp as always, and I even thought he had gotten better over the summer.

When tryouts were over I readied myself for the cuts. To be honest, if I got kicked of the team just for being a muggleborn in Slytherin I think I would of hexed Michael when he wasn't looking.

"Everyone flew really well today guys, but as you know we can only have so many on the team." Michael said as everyone gathered around. "So, for this year the team will consist of the following names. For keeper we have Florence Holland," Holland was a third year who I had never spoken to before, but watching her keeping today showed everyone watching that she deserved to get on the team. "Beating with myself will be Bethany Spencer." Spencer was a seventh year surly girl with an aggressive attitude and high opinions of herself. Unfortunately, she played exceptionally well and I had to admit that I was relieved that she would be on Slytherin's team and not its opponent.

"Seeker will be Albus Potter" he continued, nodding at Al who nodded back, "and Chasers will be Jo, Scott and Bridgette." I smiled in relief and Al elbowed me playfully to congratulate me. "Congratulations to the guys who made it, good effort to those who didn't quite make the cut. It was a hard decision to make. I'll let the people who made the team know when practice will be, but for now you may go."

I turned to Al and smiled, while he muttered "I told you so." As we turned to leave, I heard Michael call my name from behind me. I turned to see him waving me over.

I looked over at Al, who shrugged in confusion, and I walked back to Michael trying not to let my cautiousness show in my step.

"I know that I've expressed my dislike for muggleborns like you to be in Slytherin before," he began, and I had absolutely no idea where this was going, "and I know that you may not like me for it. But I wanted to let you know that I will try and be civil towards you during practices and games. You are an exceptional player and it would be a waste to not have you on the team."

"Er, thanks?'" I normally would have been flattered at being told I was an 'exceptional flyer', but seeming as he had basically said I'm only going to be civil to you because you are a good flyer and I want my team to win I wasn't really sure what to say. I mean, what do you say after that?

"Well done today, Haus, see you at practice." And then he shooed me away with his hand. I awkwardly stood there for a second, taken back by his deadpan personality, but soon walked back to Al.

"What was that about?" Al asked as we walked back up to the castle.

"I think I just became the team dupe." When Al looked at me in confusion I carried on. "He basically just told me that he's gonna be nice to me and look past my muggleborn status because I fly well."

"Well, you know, it's better than nothing I suppose."

"Yeah. And hey, he said that I was an exceptional flyer. I didn't catch him saying that to you, so ha."

"I think you'll fine that's because I am a perfect flyer, so…"

I playfully punched his arm. "Shut up, Potter."

...

The Great Hall was, as usual, full of chatter and laughter. Al and I, however, were not sitting at the Slytherin table and instead were sitting on the end of the Ravenclaw table with Alec, Sophie, Rose and Scorpius. Rose and Scorpius were deep in conversation about the importance of taking History of Magic, a class which Scorpius hated with a loathing but Rose thought should be compulsive to all NEWT students.

Sophie and Alec were arguing once again about Alec supposedly setting of a dung bomb in the sixth year Gryffindor girl's dorm, which he was denying but Al and I knew he did. He had told us his scheme the other day.

Al and I were doing some of our own cooking. It started of when I threw a grape in Als face, and when it bounced of his face and into his pumpkin juice we had – for some reason – thought it would be a great idea to make our own drink.

We had taken his pumpkin juice and then added smushed bread, crushed grapes, cut up bits of ham, gravy, grated carrots, crushed tomatoes and broccoli leaves. We called it lecker which was german for tasty, something that we were both sure our creation was not.

I cast a spell which shook the drink all up, and we both peered down into the glass. It looked like vomit, especially with the soggy bread and carrot pieces.

"Who's gonna drink it then?" I asked, looking up at him.

"There is no way that I am drinking that." He said, scrunching his nose to portray his disgust in the drink.

"Well I sure as hell aint drinking it either!" I replied, equal disgust in my voice.

"Well one of us is gonna have to." His eyes lit up. "What about rock paper scissors? Loser has to drink it." Rock Paper Scissors was Al's favourite way to decide which one of us got to/had to do something. I had taught him the muggle game in third year, and he came back after the holidays telling me that his whole family loved it and that it had been the family craze over Christmas.

I didn't really want to risk having to drink it, but the possibility of watching Al gulp it down was to good to pass up the challenge.

"Fine." As well as clumsy I was very competitive. My dad brought me up playing various different sports and games and his childish attitude had made it very fun to trash talk him and have him trash talk me back.

"Rock Paper Scissors!" We both said, banging our fists against the palm of our hands. I had played scissors. He had played rock.

Shit.

"Best of three?" I asked hopefully, but he smiled mischievously back at me.

"Nope" he said, popping the p at the end, "you loose, you drink."

I moaned as I slowly picked up the drink – if you could even call it a drink – and raised it to my mouth. My nose was wrinkled and I closed my eyes as I tipped back the glass as the contents poured into my mouth.

It was foul.

I gagged as I tried to swallow, but I could taste everything. The soggy bread made the texture slimy, but the broccoli and carrots meant that there were also lots of lumps in the drink. The crushed grapes and tomatoes made the drink watery and sweet, which totally went against the ham and gravy.

Al was laughing his head off as he watched me clamp my hand over my mouth and leant forward.

"I gant drink dish, it'sh dishgushting!" I tried to say with a mouth full of lecker which just led to Al laughing harder as some of the now milky brown substance dribbled down my chin.

"I'm going to shpit dish out." I said, rising to my feet and running out of the hall and leaving a hysterical Al to explain to Soph where I was going. I saw her look down at the drink and then at me running away and begin laughing too.

Thanks Soph.

When I got to the girls bathroom I ran to a stall and spat out the lecker. I spat a couple more times into the toilet and knelt there gagging for a bit. Sometimes I really hated my 'honor complex' as my father and I called it. My honor complex was that I couldn't back down from a dare or an agreement. I was too stubborn to back down and believed that if you agreed to do something you should follow through.

I flushed the toilet and wiped my mouth before moving over to the sinks. I turned on the tap and splashed cool water on my face and then scooping some into my mouth, swilling and spitting it out again to get rid of the taste of the lecker.

I looked at my pale face in the mirror for a bit, hating myself for drinking the disgusting concoction, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

I turned to find three seventh year Slytherin girls staring at me, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently on the floor. I recognized them as Felicia, Elizabeth and Becky, not knowing their last names but knowing their reputation for being bullies and pompous pureblood gits with similar views to Michael, but who weren't afraid to act on their opinions.

"Hey guys, what's cracka-lacking?" I laughed nervously before internally scolding myself. Cracka-lacking? Seriously? I got so weird sometimes.

"I'll tell you what's cracka-lacking" Becky said cracka-lacking with uncertainty. I suppose wizards didn't really use muggle terms like that, but being a fairly smart girl Becky seemed to realise I was asking her what's up? "You filthy little mudblood." She continued.

"Whoa, no need for name-calling. I'm as much of a witch as you guys." I said defensively. I really hated it when people used that word.

"Oh no, we're totally fine with the school doing some charity work and letting muggles in." Felicia said, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. "It's that they put you in our house, bitch."

"Excuse you?" I said, my face probably contorting into something of amused disbelief.

"You heard her. Why should our noble house be brought down with mudbloods like you?"

"Maybe the sorting hat felt bad about Slytherin house getting stuck with you three, so he wanted to make up for it?" I said as innocently as I could. I always tried to be nice to people, but when someone calls me a mudblood and questions my right to be in my house I just got so angry. And besides that was actually a half decent comeback; I mentally high fived myself.

I immediately regretted saying it though when I saw them all laugh lightly and take a step closer to me, blocking off all my exits. Looking around the bathroom I realised it was just us in here. Oops.

"You'll pay for that, worm." Becky said, reaching for her wand. The other two went to go do the same, Elizabeth more hesitantly, and I cursed internally. If this was a muggle fight I'm sure I would be able to get away. My competitive streak meant that I had gotten into one or two fights in the school playground when I was a child and I soon took up martial arts, which I continued through the holidays.

But this wasn't a muggle fight. And I had heard rumors that using unforgivable curses was not beneath them. Before I had even had a chance to reach for my wand – which was tucked into the back of my skirt – Becky muttered crucio and I was pushed into the mirror as excruciating pain rocketed through my body.

I had managed to avoid being cursed with this particular spell so far during my time at Hogwarts, and the pain was far greater than I had ever imagined it could be. I felt the mirror shatter at the impact of my head hitting it and I fell down onto the floor.

My whole body felt like it was on fire. My knuckles clenched together and the head felt like it was going to explode. I refused to scream, or I couldn't, I'm not sure which it was, but either way the only sound that came from my mouth was a sharp gasp.

Honestly, the only way I can describe the pain unless you've had the misfortune to fall victim to this particular curse is that my body felt heavy and my organs felt like they were being turned inside out.

The pain stopped suddenly, but I groaned as a painful ache dulled around my body. "Pin her down." One of the girls said, I think it was still Becky.

Pressure was put onto my feet and arms, but I think even if I wanted to move I wouldn't have been able to. My vision was blurry, but I could see the outline of a Becky's blonde hair as she knelt over me.

"I'm going to teach you your place, mudblood." She said, and as my vision came back I saw her pick up a shard of broken mirror, carful not to cut her hand.

She rolled up my jumper sleeve exposing my forearm. I realised a second too late what she was going to do. This time I did scream. I thrashed about as she dug the glass into my skin. I had fallen over and cut myself before (thank you clumsiness) but this pain went on for what felt like ages. My forearm became warm and sticky as blood trickled out of the wounds that Becky was creating.

Finally, she stopped, inspected her work, smiled, and then got up. "Come on girls. Hopefully Bridgette has learned her place." The pressure on my arms and legs disappeared, and I looked up at them from my position on the floor. Felicia and Becky both had ugly sneers on their faces, but Elizabeth looked close to tears. Not that I felt sorry for her, she just helped torture me.

They then turned and left the bathroom, leaving me gasping on the floor. I turned my head to look at my arm to find the word mudblood carved into my flesh. There was a substantial amount of blood, and I could tell that there would be scarring. I didn't want to go to the hospital wing, however, as that would mean I would have to tell the professors what had happened and I really didn't feel like that right now. I could clean it up myself. I wanted to be a healer when I left Hogwarts and, because of my frequent falling over, had some bandages in my trunk.

I slowly got up, the ache in my limbs worsening, and I looked at myself in the remaining mirrors. I was deathly pale and my hair was a total mess. Thankfully though, I hadn't cried or else my eyes would be blotchy red. At least now when I walked to the common room and I saw someone I could just pat down my hair and roll down my sleeve and hope they just think I need a bit more sun.

I reached for my wand, my injured arm pulsing and itching with pain; I muttered reparo and the mirror flew back into one piece. After that I quickly left the bathroom. Passing the Great Hall I looked in to find Al laughing with Alec. This was good. It meant that he wouldn't run into me in the common room and that I wouldn't have to explain what happened.

I swiftly walked past and turned the corner, blood sticking to my rolled down sleeve, and made for the dungeon. While some may find it more comfortable in one of the tower common rooms or the Hufflepuff common room by the kitchens, I loved being in the dungeons. While our common room was gloomy and cold and gothic, it made me feel like a proper stereotypical witch, like the ones I grew up reading about.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't realise I was walking right into someone until it was too late. SMACK.

I had walked straight into someone. "Merlin, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there! I –" I began to aplologise franticly but stopped when I looked up to see who it was. James Potter was looking down on me with an annoyed expression. His dark hair cast a menacing shadow over his face from the dim lighting of the dungeons, and his usual scowl was covering his face.

"Watch where you're going, Haul." He said in an infuriating tone.

"Oh, its just you. What - what are you doing here anyway?" I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

"Detention with Slughorn." Professor Slughorn was an incredibly old wizard who taught Potions. He took a liking to the Potter and Weasley children but even James' teachers - who thought he was perfect - still had no choice but to give him detentions when he purposely sabotaged other people's potions to blow up in their faces. "It's not like I would optionally choose to be in your Slytherin dungeons."

His voice, however, trailed off when he looked more closely at my face. "Are you… are you alright?" He asked me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I had never heard James use that tone of voice with me before. He was usually ice-cold around me, but it seemed that as soon as he realised something was wrong his voice softened.

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling great, I was just –" but I was cut off when James grabbed my injured arm – I flinched as his hand clamped down on my cuts – and lifted it up. I suppose he must of seen the dark red stains on my jumper because he pulled my sleeve up, revealing the message the other girls had left me.

His brow furrowed as he read the word mudblood and involuntary tears started to well up in my eyes. I didn't like to cry, especially in front of people, but the severity of the situation I had just been in seemed to finally dawn on me.

Finally James spoke. "Who did this to you?" He looked into my eyes at the end of the sentence. He had nice eyes. They were a greeny colour and were softer than I thought they would be. I looked at the floor, afraid that he would see the tears I was desperately trying not to let fall.

And then I laughed. I actually laughed. I don't know why, I didn't plan on it, but a horrible twisted laugh bounced of my lips. "Like you care, Potter."

He seemed taken back by this and even looked slightly hurt. I didn't care, I continued. 'I'm just some Slytherin, aren't I? Some lying death eater scum who probably deserved it.'

"Look, you may be a Slytherin but you're still Al's mate."

"Right, so if I didn't know you're brother I would deserve it?" I said maliciously, and he seemed to regret saying it. "Look, I don't need your help or your opinions. I can fight my own battles and I'm not so weak and fragile that I will take help from someone who has treated me like hippogriff shit for six years."

"I –" He began, but I kept talking. "Look, I appreciate your concern for your little brothers friend. But I can deal with this on my own. I've dealt with it for six years and I can deal with it for another two, so back of." With that I ripped my arm from his grasp and stormed past him, and I didn't look back to see if he had walked off.

Once I was in the common room, which was thankfully empty, I ran up to my dorm. While I cleaned up the cuts and took some painkillers (an item which wasn't really allowed but I was glad I had packed some anyway) I started to regret the things I had said.

James was just trying to be nice and I had shot him down. He had actually shown some kindness towards me and I hadn't even thanked him (well, technically I had but it probably didn't sound very sincere). If he didn't think I was a rude, cold hearted Slytherin then he probably did now.

I pushed the thoughts aside and went to sleep, even though it as only around seven. I was exhausted and it didn't take long for me to fall into a deep sleep filled with nightmares.

So I realise that the whole mudblood arm thing is just a liiiitle similar to what happened with Hermione at Malfoy Manor, but my mind was set on the plot development so there you have it.

Apologies for any inconsistent spelling. I am English and so spell words like realise and apologise with an s instead of a z, but my computer is American and so likes to autocorrect it sometimes.

Thank you to the guest reviewer who pointed out that I was using ' to highlight my dialogue instead of ". It is a habit of mine and I will try and sort it out in the rest of my chapters! I wouldn't of noticed unless you'd pointed it out so thank you!

I didn't plan on this chapter being so long and I only meant for two key things to happen – the tryouts and the whole torture thing – but one thing led to another and here we are with a 4500-word chapter!

Also, I felt like I really needed to cement the friendship between Bridgette and Albus, and so I hope that the lecker thing kind of gave you an idea of what sort of friends/people they are.

This chapter had a small amount of swear words in which I usually try and avoid using in my writing but I couldn't think of anything else to use instead.

I hope this chapter gave you guys an idea of what sort of direction this fic is going in. Hope you liked it! M-F-U xx