A/N: What can I say, I'm easily bribed. Since I'm writing this partially from Polaris's POV, Fishy-ness owes me lots and lots of pictures. *smirks* That's 'cuz she's in love with Polaris. I'm so good. Anyway, I hope this chapter is full of much enjoyment for all, because the boys finally get a say. Sort of.
The Quidditch field laid ahead, a stretch of endless green. Pushing back a mass of thick, black hair, Polaris sighed. It just wasn't the same without competition. Specifically, competition from the Ravenclaw team. Maybe it was just his opinion, but every time Gryffindor played them, he could sense the sexual tension building miles high.
Honestly, there was Wakefield with his inane crush on Wingate. Gelliston, with her quickly fading flame for Noah, which Polaris found rather amusing. He knew for a fact that Noah didn't exactly like women that way. God was it disturbing the way he found out, too, although one thing could be said for his friend; his tongue was incredibly skillful. Blushing, Polaris glanced at Noah, who was sweet talking Apollo into letting him out of practice. Apollo also had a clandestine thing going on with the other team's captain, Vedder. He'd let it slip to Noah once, when the fire whiskey was getting too much for him, and Noah was basically the band blabbermouth.
Then there was the Hargrove midget making eyes at Robins, and her returning the favor, Stone trying to make Gelliston swoon, a noble and futile endeavor, Carter trying to break Gelliston's neck with a single glare, and Glass trying to charm Vedder, equally futile as it was. Finally, there was him, totally infatuated with one Serendipity Watson, goddess of the Quidditch field in his eyes. Only Rowan Yetings seemed to be free of the love bug, but that was only because her one and only dwelled in the halls of Hufflepuff. Who knew she was into nerds?
Slyly, Noah fell into his clumsy arms, winding a hand into his hair, "What are you grinning about?"
"Nothing. Must you cling to me like that?" He replied coolly, trying to suppress an even wider grin. Unfortunately, Noah Weslen was one of the only two people on Earth who knew his big secret. That he wasn't as inconsiderate a bastard as everyone surmised.
"You big horn ball, I bet you were thinking about that Watson girl," he chuckled, releasing his hold on Polaris's waist.
"Only a little," Polaris admitted, watching Noah coax his short brown hair into standing on end, "Did you get Hasbring to give?"
"And I quote. Frank's the captain. Ask him. End quote," Noah wrinkled his nose, "The guy's seriously got a stick up his ass."
"I'm sure you'd like to replace it with something else," he smiled placatingly, ignoring Noah's indignant protests.
A confession quickly followed, "Maybe just once."
"Oh, yuck," Polaris frowned, "You're just one giant over-sexed ape."
"Correction. I'd like to be over-sexed. Want to help? Alas, I forgot, you only have eyes for the fair Serendipity," feigning dismay, Noah stepped into the histrionic role of a damsel throwing herself from a tower. Except instead of a tower, he threw himself in midair, only to end up catching himself on his broom.
"You're a pig," informed the taller boy.
"I know," Noah replied smugly.
Hot breath on Polaris's shoulder alerted him to the presence of a new, hostile body, "And you should both be out there, working your anorexic butts off! Our rematch is in two weeks. Two weeks!"
"Aw, Frank, you're only mad because you haven't been included in the action," consoled Noah, "Why don't you ask next time?"
"Yeah Frank, don't be such a homophobe," Dana Wingate teased, sashaying around him with a cheeky smile.
"Are you all against me?" Demanded the blonde, smacking his head repeatedly with his broomstick.
"I'm not," Helen Carter raised a hand, her gruff voice echoing slightly.
"Er, thanks, Helen," Frank looked unsure of whether to hug the Valkyrie or run far, far away.
"I am," cheered Dana, "But that's only because you insist on these early morning practices."
Shrugging at the object of his affection, Frank replied, "If you want to be the best, you've got to play hard."
"I like playing hard," Noah offered, "For long, long nights."
"That's…good," Frank looked slightly disgusted and sorely sorry for asking.
Polaris cracked the closest thing anyone other than Noah and Orpheus would ever see to a smile from him, "Isn't it though?"
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"Prue, I'm s-s-s-so- Bloody hell! Why do I have to apologize?" Casey threw his arms into the air in frustration, "I'm not the one behaving like a bloody spoilt brat, going kissy-face with other people's siblings."
Rolling his eyes, Bobby put a finger to his lips, "Well, you know. Girls."
As if that were any explanation, Quant nodded. Smiling dreamily, Sylvester added, "Girls are wonderful."
"Dude," Casey shook his head, "Wonderful for what? They have no use in life. Honestly, what's that old rhyme? Sugar and spice and everything nice- absolutely useless things unless you're planning on opening a restaurant."
A loud ruckus outside the common room, near Sir Hannigan, caused all four boys and the two first years that had been staring at them in awe to jump about three feet off the ground. Quant, the most curious of the bunch, opened the wall, to reveal Frank, involved in a heated argument with Sir Hannigan.
"I don't know the password, then, I told you! Just let me in. You know I don't live here, but you see me practically every night and complain constantly about the hours I keep," he pounded a fist in his hand threateningly.
"Is that a threat, you little terrorist," croaked the rusty old knight, "This is why I keep telling McGonagall to bring old Filch back. That man knew how to deal with your type's shenanigans."
"Shenanigans?" Demanded Frank, looking as though the knight had insulted his mother.
"Ahem," Quant called, "The password, in case you're wondering, is Primordia Filette."
"What the fuck is that?" Frank asked incredulously.
"Well, I suppose its Antoinetta and Seprie's favorite soap opera, or something of the like," replied Quant nonchalantly.
"Oh," as if that settled everything, Frank clambered through the opening to the common room, waving to Bobby, Sylvester, and Casey, "You would not believe what I had to put up with at Quidditch practice."
"I imagine it was very hard," soothed Bobby, "Having to put up with all those Quidditch hopefuls who will never amount to anything after we beat them, again."
"Stuff it, Stone."
Noting the horrified gasps that emitted from the two first years, Frank questioned, "Who're they?"
"I don't know," Casey mumbled, "You, runts, what are your names?"
"Um, Ephraim, sir. Ephraim Moore. And this is Maureen Dansey," the boy piped up, trembling as he spoke.
"Maureen," leered Casey, "Is she your girlfriend, Ephraim?"
"N-no-" Ephraim jumped as the other kid, a little blonde girl who had her hair in pigtails, nudged him in the ribs, "Ow, yes!"
Casey narrowed his eyes, "Drop her. Girls aren't anything but trouble, kid."
Whistling lowly, Bobby muttered, "Words of wisdom from one who's seen it all."
Frightened, Ephraim and his little friend scurried up the steps to their respective dorms, presumably. Amused, Frank said, "Way to go Hargrove. You've been reduced to scaring ten year olds."
"They need to know the facts of life, y'know?" Casey asked darkly.
"Look, stop being such a drama queen, make up with Prue, and then work on convincing her that your big bro' ain't going to make her happy," Frank set to work stripping, shrugging out of his Quidditch robes.
"Ugh, can't you do that in the locker rooms, like a normal guy?" Inquired Sylvester meekly.
Wrinkling his nose, Frank replied, "No. Do you know who's in the locker rooms? Bloody Noah Weslen, the pouf. Do you think he actually changes in there? No, he sits and watches the rest of us change."
"So you make the rest of us watch you? So that we can become homos?" Quant asked, looking only mildly interested in his reply.
"D'you think you could become a fairy just by watching me change?"
"Enough about queers," Casey waved a hand in the air dismissively, cutting through the thin tension forming between Quant and Frank. The two rarely fought, but their arguments were known to be long and drawn out.
Unfortunately for him, Quant was already rejoining with, "Probably. You are pretty femme."
Clutching his head, Casey looked at Bobby and Sylvester, "Maybe I will go find Prue."
"Good luck man," Bobby grinned, crossing his fingers behind his back. Nodding an affirmative, Casey ducked out the door, waving to them both.
Sylvester, an incredulous look written across his features, said, "You're just hoping he falls into a pot hole or something, aren't you?"
"Yup," agreed Bobby, shamelessly.
Not surprised, Sylvester shifted lower into the couch he and Bobby shared. He knew from experience that Casey would probably stick his foot in his mouth, leading Gelliston into beating him an inch from his life, which would be incredibly entertaining. He also knew that Gelliston's posse, Serendipity and Elanore, would be somewhere within a meter of the girl, watching the entire thing, and if he chose to look on as well, they would gang up on him. Better not to piss off the Saints and lose points with Elanore, in his mind. Come on Ridley, he told himself, why even bother getting up when there's a fine fight, right in front of you?
"I only call 'em like I see 'em," protested Quant.
Frank shot back, "That's because it takes one to know one, doesn't it?"
Sunlight bounced off Frank's crew cut as he visibly recoiled from Quant's next statement, "So you're admitting that you are a faggot!"
"Bloody-no! You're one to talk femme-boy!"
"I thought we already agreed that you were the feminine one?"
"And what's so feminine about me?"
"Well, your- er- your hips," Quant scratched the back of his head self-consciously.
"Man, you've been checking out his hips?" Bobby asked mockingly.
Defensively, Frank put in, "I have nice hips."
"See, he is femme," put in Quant, trying to shift the blame away from him.
It didn't work, "Excuse me? You're the one who's been checking out my hips. What comes next, my arse?"
"No," Bobby said thoughtfully, "It's too thin, definitely not feminine."
"Ha," Quant exclaimed, "We found the real queer."
As Bobby struggled to support his manhood, Sylvester settled into the couch. Yes, this would be a good one, indeed.
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Walking through the halls proved to be a very dangerous thing for Casey to do. First, Dirk and his little cronies, Joshua and Gethsemane, tried to jinx him into oblivion. Then he ran into Serendipity, who almost hit him with a curse aimed at Slytherin keeper, Yaeko Niwa. Without batting an eye, Serendipity turned, told him to watch where he was walking, and ran after Yaeko, who had turned tail down the hallway. Then he ran into Elanore, who was having an all out fight fest with Rufus.
It probably hadn't helped that Casey decided to make kissing noises at them. All he knew was that he never wanted to be on the receiving end of one of her spells again. To make matters worse, none of them knew where Prue was. Which made him think she was with his brother. Walking in on Prue and his brother doing whatever they liked to do when they were alone was not his idea of a good Saturday afternoon.
Fortunately for him, he finally found her sitting out by the lake, discussing Quidditch with Dana Wingate, Matilda Robins, and a pretty sixth year Hufflepuff with curly blonde hair named Atlanta Zanzlyope. Eagerly, Dana and Prue argued about the pros and cons of such and such racing broom, while Atlanta and Matilda gazed on in awe.
Girls, Casey shook his head. He would never understand the way they worked.
Mischievously, he snuck around the back of the willow tree they sat beneath, pulling his wand from his shirtsleeve. Pointed his wand at the girls, he whispered, "Mandecabullas!"
Great pink bubbles erupted from the tip of his wand, floating through the air and over their heads. The most observant of the bunch, Atlanta, exclaimed, "Oh, look!"
Prue looked up, smiling. Or at least, she was smiling until the giant pink bubble exploded in her face. It had been way too tempting, and now Casey was going to pay. If she found out, that is. He chose to back away when she shrieked, "It's bubblegum!"
At her words, the other bubbles popped over Atlanta, Matilda, and Dana. Now Casey was running, fast. The fates weren't smiling on him though, Prue spotted him almost immediately. He could hear her voice loud and clear, "Casey Hargrove! I'm going to kill you!"
"Fuck," he chided himself, calling back to her, "Only if you catch me."
Dana, Atlanta, and Matilda had been scrambling to their feet, but when they saw the color red Prue's face turned, they sat right back down and worked on charming the gum off their faces, clothes, and hair. Then they sat back to watch the show, Matilda grinning wickedly, "Nice day isn't it?"
"Oh, yes," Dana agreed.
Meanwhile, Prue was catching up with Casey, who had come to a stand still at the edge of the lake. His options included running to the left, where a group of Slytherins, including Dirk's seventh year equivalent, Jacob Dibson, sat jinxing first years, running to the right, towards a group of Professors, running backwards, towards Prue, or running forwards, into the lake. Crossing himself and blessing his dear mother for getting him swimming lessons, Casey dived right in.
"What the hell?" Prue demanded, reaching the edge of the lake, where Casey had stood only moment before.
He re-surfaced only seconds later, hoping she didn't have her wand with her, "How you doing, Prudence?"
Stomping her foot like a four year old, Prue ordered, "Don't call me that!"
She was so cute when she was being impetuous. Shrugging, he replied, "If you say so. Thought you were going to kill me."
"I am," she retorted, glancing disdainfully at the water he was immersed in, "I'm just figuring out how to do it without getting my clothes wet."
"Why, worried about the house elves? They like cleaning things. You could go in your nuddy-pants," Casey smirked.
"Argh, Hargrove, you're so dead!" she cried, diving into the lake. The professors, who didn't condone students diving into the lake, had finally noticed the fight. Marching over, they were about to do something about it when they noticed who exactly was swimming.
Gleefully, Professor Esquiline said, "Maybe the squid will get them."
"Be nice Amethyst," commanded Professor Berkeley, the DADA teacher who stood next to her with a pearly white smile and short black hair.
"Of course, Malcolm," she crooned. The other teachers with them, Professors Claire and Flavian, looked at each other in disgust.
Throwing a weak punch at Casey, Prue demanded, "Do you live to torture me?"
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Prudence," taunted Casey, easily dodging.
"But you seem to," she rejoined evenly, walking towards him. The water was hindering her movements, along with her uniform skirt, but no way was she taking it off.
Only when her feet left the ground did she start to panic, "Aye, it's deep."
Casey looked at her curiously, "You can swim, right?"
"Of course I can," she swam towards him slowly, "And when I get to you, you're dead."
He just laughed, treading water. In her head, Prue was going over all the spells she could have used on him had she not left her wand in her dormitory. Proforma, Incendio, Oblitarious, her mind chanted. Concentrate, she told herself, you haven't been swimming since you were seven. Remember, it's easy.
She was having more trouble than she was letting on, but she could still swim decently. Diving beneath the surface, she charged at Casey, fists ready. Predictably, her foot became tangled in the plantlife lining the lakes sloping floor when she was only inches from placing a hard kick in his stomach.
Breaking the surface of the lake, she fell forward, trying to free her leg. Right into Casey's arms, "Whoa, there."
"Let me go, you giant prat," she smacked him, finally pulling her leg from the seaweed.
"Ha, you're soaking wet," he told her, not complying with her wishes at all, "but the bubblegum is gone."
"Is it?" Prue asked, catching her breath, "Good. Not that it all wasn't your fault in the first place."
"I'm sorry. You just looked so serious," Casey laughed. His arms were around her waist, holding her afloat.
"I didn't know you were talking to me again," she told him, treading water and shaking off his hands.
"Oh," he straightened, "Yeah, about that. I'm sorry."
Surprised, she asked, "You are?"
"Don't sound so shocked. I can be sorry if I want to," he scowled, "Even if I'm not the one who should be apologizing."
"Excuse me? Like I should? You're the one who's been acting all jealous, fighting with Bobby, and then arguing with me about Cerulean. I get why you're jealous of Cer, I'm sure there's some sibling rivalry thing going on that I don't understand, but Bobby? Come on, he's like your best friend."
"Cer, is it?" Casey asked seriously, "I'm surprised we aren't using pet names yet."
"I don't want to get involved in your petty arguments, Casey. Your jealousy of your brother should not be my problem."
"Do you even know why I'm jealous? I bet not," he snorted, "Girls are so stupid."
"And boys are morons," she retorted, splashing water on him, "You're probably just angry he has a girlfriend and you don't."
"Not at all. I'm jealous of who his girlfriend is," he smiled as she turned red, catching her wrist in his hand.
Evading the real words he said, she demanded, "You're jealous of me, then, is it? I didn't know you liked Cerulean that way."
Even as she spoke, he pulled her closer to him. His other hand intertwined with hers, and he brought his face very, very close to Prue's, "Not quite."
"Er- what are you doing, Hargrove?"
"Relax, its not like I'm trying to kiss you or anything," he assured her, even though it felt like that was exactly what he was going to do. Her heart was pounding as his lips came closer and closer to hers.
The second before they brushed hers, one word destroyed the moment, "Aquavius!"
Her world became a watery haze, and Casey was swept away from her. Prue was beneath the surface of the lake yet again, except she was sure she hadn't gone back under. It felt like she was under a waterfall, a pillar of water she was sure had the power to suck her under. Swimming to the side, she broke free of the water, only to hear three rather annoying cackles.
She had been under a pillar of water, formed by a spell in fact. Coughing, she looked towards the source; Atlanta, Dana, and Matilda, laughing on the shore. Casey was already halfway there, spewing death threats at the top of his lungs.
~Fin Chapter 10~