"Girl Got Game"
By: Liebling
Updated On: 30 September 2006
Chapter Seven
"Big Mouths and Big Hearts"

:-:

I honestly felt like that woman from Rosemary's Baby. You know, that muggle movie where this woman is carrying the spawn of Satan in her womb? That's what it felt like: some demon playing jump rope with my intestines or beating them like they were rogue bludgers.

Not fun at all, allow me to just say so.

The trip to the Hospital Wing with James would have probably gone a lot better if I didn't find the need to open my big mouth out of curiosity.

"Did…did you get the letter?" I asked him in a quiet and strained voice.

"What letter?"

"The one from…" I swallowed, "Danielle?"

"Yeah," he answered after a moment's hesitation, "I did,"

Silence.

Still silence.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilence.

Oh, for the love of—wasn't he going to elaborate?

"Sooo…you're okay now, right?" I grunted out. The pain was excruciating and I couldn't help but harbour thoughts of my dying. They weren't very encouraging thoughts, but they helped keep my head fairly level, "Because quite frankly I don't really want to deal with your PMS-ing attitude right now considering I'm the one who's probably going to die sooner."

Sort of.

I couldn't see if James had regarded me with a sneer or smile because my nose was still buried in the stretcher

"It's none of your business, Evans,"

Well, fine, see if I care, I wanted to say. But the sad thing was that I did care. And I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know what that bleeding letter said! Meaning that I was going to have to take things into my own hands if people weren't going to be straight with me.

Nothing else was spoken for the rest of the trip to the hospital wing unless you want to count James snorting in amusement as he dumped me unceremoniously on a bed and watching me squirm. Luckily, almost immediately Madam Pomfrey bustled over and gave me a potion to mollify my pain temporarily while she ran some tests.

"Tell it to me straight, Doc," I said dramatically once she re-entered the room, "I'm dying aren't I?"

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes, not amused, "Well, Mr. Evans," she said, returning to my bedside and pulling a rather vile looking potion out of her pocket as she did so, "It appears that you have appendicitis,"

Oh just kill me now, I groaned.

(A/N: Har har, and you lot thought it was just cramps!)

The potion knocked me out for at least six hours; definitely well past curfew and I wondered if anyone noticed I was gone.

As it turned out, I didn't need to get surgery like the muggles do, but it was just a rather complex charm with a certain series of potions jammed down my unconscious throat that was needed and before I knew it, I was staring at my little troublemaker of an organ in a small jar.

How appealing, right?

Madam Pomfrey said I could even keep it if I wanted to. I considered sending it to my uncle, actually…

The team came by the next day once they realised that I never returned to the dorms. They had given me mostly chocolate—not that it was as good as French chocolate, mind you—and even a get well soon card that they all signed even though I would be released the next day.

"Hey, Li, what the hell is this?" Sirius held up the jar on my nightstand and I couldn't help but laugh, "It looks like something that snuck out of Slughorn's office,"

"Or some kind of warped lima bean," said Joseph Daniels, the other beater besides Sirius, as he took the jar from Sirius for a closer inspection.

"That's my appendix," I told them, snorting, and taking the jar away from the less-than-nimble hands of Joseph, "So let's not toss it around like a quaffle. Especially considering all the grief this little bugger gave me,"

"So you weren't faking it, then?" asked Sirius suspiciously, probably thinking that I had just feigning it all along so I could get out of practice.

I deadpanned, "If you sincerely mean that I think I'm going to make you eat it,"

"My dad had appendicitis," said Maud Brooks, the Gryffindor keeper, "Do you have a scar or something?"

"No, I think they pulled it out through my nose or something," I said because I really don't know how they removed the organ. I had checked my lower hips several times looking for a mark of any form but found none whatsoever.

"REALLY?" said Jordan McClain, our seeker. He was a third year I think and obviously rather gullible. Brilliant flyer, despite it all though.

"Oh, yes," I nodded dramatically, "Most definitely."

"Your potion, Mr. Evans," said Madam Pomfrey, suddenly appearing at my bedside. As she handed me the vile concoction, I could see the team cringe and bite back their "Eww"'s, but that didn't stop Sirius from saying:

"Sweet Merlin, it looks like something out of my little cousins Easy-Bake oven!"

I was fairly surprised that Sirius knew what an Easy-Bake oven actually was.

"Nymphadora's?" Remus asked, with the corner of his mouth curling at the thought of whatever had been produced from her Easy-Bake.

Sirius nodded solemnly.

"Well I'm the one that has to actually ingest it," I said almost abrasively, cringing at the thought of doing so, "Cheers, all," I pursed my lips and held my nose as I downed it all in one gulp, trying to ignore the team saying things like "gross", "ew", "uuuughh,"…the whole nine yards.

Actually, it didn't really taste the bad. Kind of like a strange fruit salad mixed in ranch dressing. With crunchy peanut butter.

"How much work did I miss?" I asked eventually.

"Not much," Remus admitted, "At least, nothing important which is a relief. Especially since James hasn't been able to focus in his classes lately,"

Sirius laughed, "James doesn't need to study considering he's practically a genius already and could put McGonagall to shame one day,"

I couldn't help but give him a flat 'yeah, right' look.

"No, seriously!" he said and then paused for a moment before suddenly yelling, "PUN!" the team groaned but Sirius continued on, unabashed, "James couldn't been moved up a grade when we were twelve but he decided not to because he wanted to stick with his favourite maties,"

"Really?" This surprised me. Surely someone as thick as James couldn't be that smart. Even the team seemed genuinely shocked to learn this about their lead chaser. I guess we still had a lot to learn about James Potter and all the secrets that came with him.

I really wish I had known what I was getting into.

Meanwhile, once I returned to class, I had too many of my own problems to worry about to be too bent up over James' and their names were Agnes and Snape. Both of whom I avoided like the bloody plague. I was usually able to find a corner desk in the back of the classes, protected by Joanna, Remus and/or Nigel. I was rather worried when I didn't see Snape at some meals and even more worried when Agnes sensed that I had walked into the same room as her…

I had watched carefully for several days the actions of the professors to see if they treated me any differently. I had figured that Snape would have gone to someone, but I guess I was just the laughing stock of Slytherin.

I could live with that as long as they didn't tell the teachers.

During one boring day in potions class, I was tempted to write to my uncle but then I thought—let him squirm. He can wonder and worry all he wants. I did, however, write to Charlotte.

Cher Charlie,

How're the girls? Anatolia chew you out yet for stealing those heels over the summer? Is Cheryl doing better in Charms? You know I worry about my girls.

I'm afraid that I don't have a lot of time for small talk, because I need to get right down to the point. Not that I don't love writing to you guys and hearing how you're doing, but this letter serves as another super-secret ulterior motive:

I need to know if there is a girl named Danielle in our—sorry, I guess now it's just your class. I don't know what she looks like, just that she's around our age—and please, please, please do not ask why—it's very important that you find out everything there is to know about her.

Again: please?

You know you've always been my favourite roomie ever and I'll give you an awesome Christmas gift if you do!

Love,

Lily

I could only wait for Charlotte to write back to me with some titbit of information to give me a new lead. All of my luck rested on my best friend's shoulders.

Well, crap.

Our first match we were scheduled to play in was against Hufflepuff exactly one week before Halloween in eight days. Sirius had said that even though Hufflepuff wasn't a spectacular team last year, they had gotten a new keeper and he wanted the chasers—me, James, and Victor Bishop—to work slightly harder than the rest of the team.

Greeeat.

The three of us had arrived at the pitch half an hour sooner before the rest of the team with Sirius to practice our position rotating strategy. Since, as it were, I was left-handed and the only opening on the team had been right wing, Sirius had come up with a weaving-like pattern to be flown down the pitch so that the three of us would be switching spots constantly. Sirius hoped that it would confuse the opposing team more, even if it required a lot of more craftier manoeuvring, speed, and endurance.

Victor and I were doing just swell but, sweet Merlin, James could not have been worse. First of all, he showed up late to every single practice, causing Sirius to gripe about it every given chance. Next, once James finally decided to grace us with his lovely charming presence, Sirius would lecture him about dedication. Then, they would bicker and squabble for about ten minutes while the team just played broom tag or something of the sorts.

I had no doubt in my mind that it was because of that blasted letter from Danielle that I hadn't been able to read.

We were about an hour into the practice and I watched as James lagged behind. Usually, he liked to play the lead chaser, but he had hardly been rotating through the pattern. Just to make sure that it wasn't some James Impostor Robot sent in by the Slytherin team or something, I threw James the quaffle and watched, groaning, as he fumbled with the red ball before dropping it completely. The team stopped all of their activities to sit still and watch the quaffle rapidly fall to the ground with a muffled dnnck. Everyone stared at James, who hadn't bothered to chase after it but stared at the ball with a look of snide distaste.

The team didn't move or even say anything at all. Therefore I decided that I should.

"What in the name of Merlin's cracker box is wrong with you, Potter?" I shouted out as we all began to land, "You've been like a sack of potatoes on that broomstick for the past month!"

He glared. Quite frankly, I was afraid his face would freeze like that eventually. "Maybe I just don't feel like playing right now," he snapped.

I glowered, "Well that's too damn bad because we," I motioned to the team, "do!"

James swung a leg over his broom once he landed and held it deftly in his right hand, "Quidditch can go to hell for all I care," he snarled viciously.

The team gasped, and Sirius came tumbling off his broom, but that was the last straw for me. When my feet touched the ground, I tossed my broom aside and marched up to the little prick and gave him a real what-for.

"This team has worked too ridiculously hard for the past six weeks to get ready for this season, you…you—you asshole! We have all sacrificed too much like our study halls or homework hour after dinner—" and my femininity for god's sake! "—to have it all screwed over by someone who just doesn't feel like playing! That's not fair to the rest of us!"

The team was murmuring in agreement.

"And I will not sit by, watching idly as you f—" I almost never curse…really "—up everything for the team!"

James' face grew red with fury and for a moment I thought he would attack me or at least start yelling, but instead he walked off the pitch without a word, broom slung over his shoulder. The team watched him retreat back to the castle, no one moving and no one saying a word as he left.

However, I could take a gander as to what everyone was thinking:

We were so screwed.

I couldn't help but laugh in amusement when I learned that Sirius had actually broken his arm when he fell off the broom. The thing is, Sirius didn't even notice it until it had started to swell and someone suggested that he go to the hospital wing. Where, oddly enough, Sirius thought it deemed a good spot to hold a quick get together with the team.

The rest of the players and Remus agreed to have an "official" meeting about James' behaviour on the upcoming weekend in Hogsmead, discussing the possibility of having to pull in the reserve chaser. James hadn't spoken to anybody in or out of the dorm room and, I mean this in all sincerity, I was worried.

For the team, I mean.

James could go to hell for all I care.

If my uncle got word of me losing my first Quidditch match, I'd never hear the end of it.

We had squeezed ourselves around one tiny table in the Three Broomsticks, sharing two gallons of butterbeer between us. Everyone was suggesting their ideas on what to do about the upcoming match that we were nowhere near ready for.

"We could ask McGonagall if we could change the schedule,"

"Maybe it's possible to train the reserve chaser in time for Saturday?"

"Or we could beat Potter's arse with our brooms until he decides to be a half decent person,"

For some reason, they didn't like my idea as much. Odd, I thought it was rather brilliant…

We spent the better part of an hour trying to find a half decent scheme that would win us the match or at least buy us some time. In the end, they had settled on trying to convince him to play. How boring. I stuck rather adamantly to my idea about beating some sense into him.

Still spitting out ideas as we left the quaint café, we barely made it out the door before we ran into a rather angry familiar face.

"So…" said James Potter heatedly, watching us grimace at being caught, "the entire team except me was having a meeting?" he shouted. The team and I exchanged nervous looks with each other. It didn't take more than two brain cells for him to realise that the entire team had been together and he had been excluded from the little outing.

Remus decided to speak first, "James, it's just that we're not sure if you'll be ready for the first match in one week,"

"You really have been blowing off a lot of practices," Joe Daniels added.

"And you won't talk to the team," Jordan piped.

"Or anyone for that matter,"

"And you won't do your homework,"

"And you cursed out that poor little second year—"

"Would you just shut up?" he shouted, clearly angry as his fists clenched the roots of his hair, mussing it up only more, "I'll be at the match on Friday, okay?"

"It's not a matter if you'll be there, James," said Sirius coolly, "It's a matter of if you'll be playing,"

"I SAID I'D BE THERE!"

Half the team looked doubtful or like they were about to question him, but we had been so caught up in our argument that we never noticed the group of people approaching us.

"Aaah, regardent ça, mes garçons. C'est James Potter," The sound of the language caused a shiver down my spine. I love French…it's just how it was being said that unnerved me. "Long time no see, mon ami,"

The team whirled around wildly to see had addressed James in such a way. There were seven tall, lean, and very athletic looking young men, each looking just as intimidating as the next.

The leader of the pack—or at least the one that proudly stood in front of the other six mindless minions—had to have at least three inches on James. His smirk was feral and his eyes were unnatural prominent. Kind of like an insect's. Buzzing around in somebody else's business and attacking the wound of an injured animal…I got bad vibes all over from this guy.

"Dupont," spat James with extreme amounts of disdain. I mean, James didn't even take that tone with me when he was angry. I wondered if this character intimidated James at all.

His mouth quirked in an upwards almost lazy smile and he looked down at James like he wasn't worth the time, "Please, James, we've known each other for years. I would think that after all of our history that we would be on a first-name basis,"

Bad history, I could only guess by the look of rancour written across his face. At the same time, I almost immediately realised that he was French.

"Fine, Christian," his teeth were gritted and his fists were clenched. I wasn't quite sure if the name could be considered ironic or not. "What the hell are you doing in Hogsmead?"

"Can't an old friend come say hello every once in a while?" he asked all-too innocently.

"Nous ne sommons pas des amis," We're not friends, James told him firmly.

That didn't break Dupont's smile in the slightest, "But I had thought that I should congratulate you on your captain position,"

"I'm not captain," he gritted tightly, "But I suppose that it's safe to assume that you are,"

He nodded, the smile widening to reveal two rows of dead-straight teeth.

"It was a unanimous vote, of course,"

"Congratulations," James spat, not meaning what he said in the slightest.

Dupont hummed slightly, "I can see why you did not win the favour of your team with that dreadful attitudeof yours, James,"

His wand was drawn before I could even blink, but Dupont was ahead of him with a verbal attack, "And I thought Danielle had told you on numerous occasions that it was unkind to hex people?"

I heard the team, and myself, suck in a huge gust of air and hold our breaths.

This didn't look good at all. I didn't know who to feel more sorry for; James because of his failed relationship with Danny, or Dupont who was about to get the snot kicked out of him.

"You don't know half of what you think you do," James snarled dangerously, his grip on the wand tightening.

"Ah, but I believe that I do, James," Dupont smiled acidly but his tone staying calm and cool, "Who else would Danielle turn to when you abandoned her for the love of Quidditch?"

Was it just me or did it seem like the team had taken five steps backwards?

"Vous ne savez rien," You know nothing. James' tone was hissed out icily, barely audible. I thought for a moment that he was going to curse him—he really should have, too—but James had always been a surprising sort of fellow and walked off tensely, putting his wand into the pocket of his robes.

"Hey, mate, c'mon," said Sirius, facing Dupont, "That wasn't necessary," Besides Quidditch, when had Sirius ever sounded so…serious? The humorous glint had disappeared from his eyes and his shoulder slouched slightly making him looked older and more tired. It unnerved me to see that the joker of the deck had to resort to a more staid temperament.

"I have said nothing offensive," Dupont said in his smooth voice, not raising it a treble, "Just the truth of the past,"

Sirius didn't have that type of control and grabbed the front of his robes, "You damn well know what you said, you little conard!"

"Sirius—!" Remus a move to stop him while I stood there, slack jawed upon learning that Sirius could curse someone out in French.

He almost too easily was able to throw off Sirius, and apparently Dupont had hidden his wand up his sleeve and pulled it out on the Gryffindor beater.

Sirius wasn't armed in anyway except for the daggers he was glaring at him and I felt my blood boil and the hairs on my back stand up on end like a cat's. It was a redhead thing.

"Hey!" I snapped, hammering my way to the front of the team where Sirius and Dupont stood. Once I was in front of Sirius, I suddenly realised I had absolutely no idea what I was doing or what I was going to say. "Um…" I really needed to work on this sort of thing, "Back off!" I said at last, though it was rather belated and lame.

Their team regarded me with a mix of cool, annoyed, and almost amused looks.

"Oh, look, the team even has a mascot," said one of the more blurry players in French. "Rather short little fellow, don't you think?" The team snickered.

I bristled. The Gryffindors looked at each other nervously, wondering what they had said, sans Remus because he actually spoke French and could see that they were just being assholes.

Icily, I answered, "You are sadly mistaken if you think everyone here is ignorant,"

The team stopped laughing and their eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Comment vous appellez-vous?"

"Li Evans," I answered stonily, not breaking eye contact as they sized me up a second time.

"So it would seem that not everyone here is incompetent. It must be just James, then," His mask of cool indifference had finally begun to fade into the cold and calculating bastard he really was.

"James is not incompetent and neither is anyone on the team!" Most of the time, I mentally added. I wasn't quite sure why I was so adamant about defending James either.

They barked out in laughter, "Your 'team'is nothing more than seven little children riding on their l'argent de leurs parents," Parent's money.

"C'est pas vrai!" That's not true! I snapped. I wondered just where all of this mysterious confidence was coming from. The team had completely backed off and decided to see how well I would handle this. "We are a brilliant team, thank you, not a group of spoiled brats!" Again, this applied to most of us considering James—depending on what side of the bed he woke up on—would drift from either side of the spectrum.

"Really now?" His lips suddenly curl into a steeling smile and he asked, "Do you think you and your little friends can prove yourselves against a better team in a real man's match?" he voice was demanding a challenge and I, apparently, was more than unwittingly willing to give it to him…

"Yes!" I snapped, "Just say when and where!"

"EVANS!"

Oh, so after my mouth ran off on its own again the team wants to have an opinion? Great, thanks.

"Friday, next week, five o'clock," Dupont decided. Truthfully, I was a little startled that he had already thought of a time and place. Not to mention a tad worried because our match against Hufflepuff was the next day and we couldn't afford any injuries on the team. "There's an abandoned Quidditch pitch about two miles past Hogsmead's east end,"

"We'll be there!" I shouted after the team as they turned to walk away.

"EVANS!"

"WHAT?" I suddenly noticed the tone I was taking with me teammates and quickly adopted a politer tone, "I mean…er, what?"

"Evans…" Sirius said dangerously.

"Um, yes?"

"Who is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" he said slowly.

"You are…?" Wow, I sounded confident.

"And who should be the one who determines when the team is ready to play a match?"

"You?" I guessed.

"So why did it suddenly strike your fancy to challenge a foreign team whom none of us have heard of, not knowing the players or their tactics?" His voice was unusually cool.

However, the only thing that humoured my mind was that Sirius actually used the word "whom".

"Umm…"

"EVANS!" a new voice called.

With a look of relief, I hoped that it had been someone like Nigel or Joanna or, hell, even Agnes calling me and could save me from this little…disagreement…

I turned to look at the origins of the voice, but my face fell when I saw that it was none other than James Potter himself with a look of furry on his face that practically assured me that I was not going to be making it back to the castle with all limbs intact.

Jeebes, couldn't they give a girl a break? I just had my appendix ripped out!

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Bah.

:-:

-:TBC:-

A/N:

Har har har…James, you're such a charmer. I'm so sorry that this chapter is rather short, but I really wanted to get it posted.

Chapter Eight Preview: Due Sometime Next Week!

The relationship between Christian Dupont and Danny

Confrontations with Snape

Lily's owl

Charlie's response

The Match (note the capitol letters)

& Danielle