Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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Chapter Ten: Quidditch Strategy

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Richard was ace at Quidditch strategy, so two days before the next Quidditch practice, I kidnapped him and made him sit down and work on plays with me. Christine had started out sitting with us, but had eventually moved locations to work in the library with Kieran and his mates. Apparently she couldn't concentrate with us talking Quidditch. But before she left she had reminded me about the essay for McGonagall.

"What about modifying the Hawkshead Attacking Formation?" Richard suggested.

We fell silent as Veronica Reid walked by. She was probably looking for more information about the Gryffindor team to pass along to her Slytherin boyfriend. Seriously, where is that girl's House pride?

"How do you mean?" I asked, once Veronica and her upturned nose were on the other side of the common room. But I made certain to keep my voice low, just in case.

"Normally, the Chasers start the formation on the other end of the pitch from the other team's goal post. But that can give the other team time to potentially break up the formation."

"So start the formation later, once the Chasers are already on the opposing side of the pitch," I finished for him.

"It might be initially more difficult to get into formation, but once the Chasers are in formation, they'd be nearly unstoppable. You could make the formation quickly and be in front of the hoops before anyone could stop you."

"Excellent."

I love the ways in which his mind works.

"Also, what about rotating the formation?" Richard asked, the wheels of his mind turning quickly. He pulled a piece of parchment towards him and started charting a play diagram. "Like this," he shoved the parchment towards me. "See? The lead Chaser carries the Quaffle in the center position, but rotating who the lead Chaser is would confuse the other team."

"You're brilliant!" I cried, reaching across the table and ruffling his brown hair.

"Mind if I join the strategy party?"

Richard and I had been so wrapped up in our Quidditch plays that we hadn't even noticed James Potter approaching our table.

"'Course, mate," Richard agreed at once, pushing out the chair next to me with his foot and motioning for Potter to take a seat.

"Thanks, Richard," Potter said as he sat down next to me. "So, what do you have so far?"

Now, wait just a minute. Since when are Richard and Potter suddenly mates?

"We've just been working on plays for the Chasers," I told him with a sideways glance.

"Figures," he said with an undignified snort.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a Chaser, so you're favoring your own position."

"You didn't let me finish," I protested. Well, Potter's here now, so I might as well make the most of it. "We haven't worked on the other positions yet. But I would like your opinion on what you could be doing differently as Seeker."

"Hold that thought," Potter said, holding up a finger and rising out of his chair.

"Are you positive that you're not his girlfriend?" Richard asked after Potter had disappeared up the boy's staircase.

"What?" I drew my eyes away from that stupid poster about Potter's abdominal muscles that was (of course) still stuck to the stairwell wall. "No. I'm actually going to Hogsmeade with a Hufflepuff named Jonathan."

"What?" Richard all but cried. It was very strange to see him so riled up about something that didn't relate to Quidditch. Usually he's quite unflappable. "When did this happen? Does Tristan know? And really – a Hufflepuff?"

"He asked me the day after the match," I replied evenly. "And it's not your business anyway. I haven't told Tristan yet because it's just one date. Did you know that he's apparently seeing some girl named Elena?"

Richard waved off this news concerning Tristan's love life. Mine was obviously more important. I felt so special.

"We're your brothers – we need to know these things so we can protect you."

"Protect me?" I spluttered, feeling rather indignant. "From what?"

Richard leaned closer to me, and said in a low voice. "Men and their…intentions."

I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. "I can't believe that Tristan brainwashed you into believing that I can't take care of myself. Might I remind you that I was the only one who kept my head in a certain incident last summer?"

"I thought we agreed to never speak about that again," Richard replied, eyes darting around the room to make certain that no one had heard.

"I never agreed to anything," I argued. "The three of you screamed your bleeding lungs out while I was left to deal with the situation. I think that entitles me to tell whomever I want."

I will stand by that statement too.

"Found it!" Potter came bounding down the stairs just in time. "Sorry for the delay, Fred was being a plank."

"No worries, I was just reminding Richard of some fond family memories," I smirked in my brother's direction while he glowered unhappily.

"This," Potter said, setting a black notebook binder down on the table with great reverence, "is my playbook."

I raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to ooh and ahh?"

"Shut up," Potter told me, but his tone was teasing rather than harsh. "I've had this for ages. My mum and dad gave it to me when I made the team back in third year."

"My mum and dad gave me this playbook when I joined the team," I said with a fond recollection as I patted the open notebook in front of me.

"How are they not dating," Richard muttered softly to himself. I ignored him. That boy knew nothing.

"So, here are my thoughts on Seeker strategy," Potter said gingerly opening the book.

I looked down at his open book and felt my mouth drop open without my consent.

"Holy Hippogriffs, Potter!" I breathed as my eyes took in the pages. I reached out and flipped through the pages of the notebook. There were a few empty pages at the very end, but every other page was absolutely crammed full of information.

"Feel free to ooh and ahh all you like," he smirked slightly, brown eyes practically sparkling. "So what's in yours?" Potter asked, his hand extending to grab my playbook.

"No!" I cried, grabbing his hand and stopping him.

Potter frowned slightly in confusion. "Why not?"

"I-I" I stammered, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

"What? You write love notes in here?" he smirked again. Why must he smirk all of the time?

He tried to move my hands out of the way.

"Potter, I'm the captain and my playbook is secret!" I snapped finally.

He pulled his hands quickly away from the book as though I had burned him.

"I showed you my playbook," he said, his tone low. If I didn't know better, I would say that his tone was almost hurt.

"Yeah, well, I'm the captain. And I don't want to show you mine."

"Some captain you're being," Potter scoffed. "I showed you my book so that maybe we could all come up with ideas on how to beat Hufflepuff in the next match. Sorry for bothering you."

He roughly pushed back his chair and stood up, snatching his playbook off of the table. I thought of how kind he had been after the match against Slytherin and what he had said about just wanting to help the team.

As he made to brush past me, I grabbed his forearm. He had really warm skin, just like my brothers. Must be a bloke thing.

He looked down at my hand on his arm and then looked up at my face.

"I'm sorry," I told him, biting my lip as I metaphorically swallowed my pride.

He regarded me with an unreadable expression. I merely looked back at him, hoping that my expression was steady and honest.

Across the table, Richard cleared his throat. "I've got to go finish my Defense homework," he said, pushing away from the table. "Bye."

"I was being stupid," I said to Potter, picking up my playbook in my free hand and holding it up in front of him. "Here. Look at it all you want."

"I need to go," he replied quietly, looking away from me. "See you at practice."

I didn't try to stop him. I watched him walk away over to his friends, my mind a bit fuzzy. The days since the Quidditch match had been so strange. I didn't know quite what to make of the way Potter was acting. I knew things would be different after I wept on his shoulder, but this was just downright weird.

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I was sitting on my bed finishing the next day's schoolwork when Christine returned from studying in the library with Kieran. Roxanne was sitting on her own bed scribbling rather loudly on a piece of parchment.

"Did you finish that Transfiguration essay?" was the first thing Christine asked when she walked in the door to the dormitory.

I lowered Advanced Charms and fixed her with a mock glare. "Yes, mum. You'd think I was a poor student or something by the way you're carrying on."

"I just don't want you to forget about your schoolwork while you're worrying about Quidditch."

"Strategy meeting ended early," I admitted. "Potter came over and wanted to help, but then I sort of went off the deep end after he showed me his playbook."

"He showed you his playbook?" Roxanne suddenly asked, incredulous. "His playbook, playbook?"

"Well, yeah," I shrugged. "So?"

"So," Roxanne stressed, "he's never shown it to anyone before. I mean, anyone. Not his friends, not even anyone from the family. And we all know just about everything about each other." She thought for a moment, then said, "I have to go talk to Fred, see you later."

And with that, she was out the door, the sound of her footsteps echoing off of the stairs as she practically ran.

I felt myself biting my lip as I processed Roxanne's words. Potter had never shown anyone his playbook, but he had shown it to me. I might have been his captain, but that didn't mean he had to share his ideas with me.

Brilliant, now I felt like an awful person.

It was just… after seeing Potter's playbook, I suddenly felt as though my own was inadequate. In reality, mine had some pretty ace ideas in it and there was nothing wrong with it at all. I wouldn't have been chosen as captain if I had rubbish ideas for team strategy. It was a moment of doubt brought on by Potter. With anyone else, I wouldn't have reacted the way I did with him.

"Do you think Potter has been acting…odd lately?" I asked slowly, unsure that I was phrasing my question properly.

"I don't think so. As far as I can see, he's acting the same as he ever did," Christine said carefully after considering the question for a moment. "Still stubborn, determined, bit snarky. What exactly do you mean when you say odd?"

"Er…well…after the Quidditch match…" I trailed off, hesitant to say what had happened. Good grief, I was making it sound as though we had snogged or something.

"Did he kiss you?" Christine asked eagerly.

"No!" I answered adamantly. "I'm going to Hogsmeade with Jonathan, remember? Anyway, I was in the showers and – "

"What?" Christine gasped. Whoa, I didn't know she could hold her eyes open that wide.

"Still in my Quidditch robes," I finished with what I'm certain was a rather exasperated look. "He came to make sure that I wasn't trying to drown myself or something. I ended up…er… throwing my arms around him and…um, sobbing into his shoulder. He essentially told me he was sorry for being so rotten about the whole captain thing. And then he helped me and Richard with Quidditch strategy this evening, and he was rather normal until I freaked out on him."

Christine wore an expression that was a strange mix of knowing and curiosity. It was very odd. And disconcerting. But mostly odd.

"It sounds to me," Christine began thoughtfully, "as though James is still upset that he wasn't named captain."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Christine held up her hand to silence me.

"He's still upset, but he's trying not to be. I think that's why he's coming across…the way he is. Perhaps he doesn't want to be cross with you, but you're an easy target because you have the captain's badge."

I considered how I would have felt if I had been the one in Potter's position. Attending practices that he felt he should have been in charge of, having to answer to me concerning his performance during the match, told to butt out of strategy meetings. I would have been consumed with feelings of inadequacy and jealousy and it would have tormented me.

Just like it was tormenting Potter now.

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I pushed the team hard at the next practice three days later. We needed to improve all of our plays and to increase our endurance. Bree, Lily, and I had come a long way towards improving our Hawkshead Attacking Formation, and soon I felt that we would be ready to implement the modifications that Richard had suggested.

It was raining, a light freezing drizzle, and I was nearly shivering underneath all of my layers, but I was pleased that we were getting in some practice in inclement weather. We had to be prepared for any kind of conditions for the next match.

"Potter, a word please," I called as everyone was getting ready to leave the locker rooms at the end of practice.

Both James and Lily turned to look at me. They looked at each other, then back to me, eyebrows questioningly raised in exactly the same manner. Wow, there is no doubt that these two are related.

"James, I mean," I clarified.

Zara let out a wolf whistle and I threw one of my arm guards at her. She tried to dodge it as she ran out the door, but I pegged her in the back.

"Ha!" I crowed triumphantly after her. "That's what you get!"

Everyone else laughed as they filed out and then it was just Potter and me left standing alone in the slightly smelly common area of the locker room.

"Potter, I never had the chance to apologize properly about the whole thing with the playbooks," I said, my voice sounding somewhat small in the empty room. "I…I…"

I tugged at my ponytail that lay over my shoulder as I tried to think of how to put what I wanted to say into words.

"What I'm trying to say is…the way I acted was…unnecessary."

"I understand," Potter said, smirking. "My playbook was really awesome and you felt that yours didn't match up. It's okay. It's understandable."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment. He was completely correct, but I could never tell him that. He'd be insufferable, more so than he tended to be now.

Besides, I had looked over my own playbook yesterday and after reviewing its pages, I realized that any of my plays were equal to that of Potter's. And some were better, if I did say so myself.

And what happened to Potter being angry? Why is he all of the sudden back to his normal self?

"Please," I tried to brush away my obvious looks of earlier surprise with a small smirk of my own. "Potter, my playbook is going to win us the Cup."

"You know," he said, surprising me all over again, "seeing as you've cried all over my shoulder, you should probably call me James."

I stared at him for a moment. Call Potter…James…? I blinked slowly.

"You call me Wood," I pointed out.

Even as I said the words, I realized that they weren't strictly true. From the back of my mind suddenly burst the memory of him calling me Eva as I cried in his arms in the locker room after the Slytherin match.

Potter (James?) shrugged easily. "I have no problem with calling you Eva. It's a pretty name. Eva."

I felt my face grow warm at his words. Holy Hippogriffs, was I blushing at something James Potter had said to me? What was going on? This was madness! I was going mental…for real!

I fully expected him to make a snarky or at least playful comment on my red stained cheeks, but he didn't. That boy is just full of surprises today.

Instead he said, "Also, there are two Potters on the team now – it might get a bit confusing if you're just yelling 'Potter'. Lily might think you're yelling at her instead of at me."

I crossed my arms, my face thankfully back to its normal temperature. "You act as though I pick at you all of the time or something."

"You do!" he protested adamantly, as we exited the locker room and started making our way back up to the castle. "I didn't see you telling anyone else out there today to fix their grip."

"Well, you should know better than to have a sloppy hold because besides me, you've been on the team the longest," I pointed out logically.

I wasn't picking on him, but he was being sloppy today and that's simply not acceptable if we're going to make a comeback and win the Cup.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have your elbows tucked in properly and you're hurting my esteem as a Seeker," he pretended to sniff.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come off it. You know full well that you're a brilliant Seeker."

He cocked his head to the side slightly, all arrogance suddenly vanished. "You really think that?"

I felt my face redden. Again. Whoops, hadn't meant to let that slip. That was firmly in the category of things Potter – I mean, James - was never supposed to find out, along with the fact that I thought he had a nice abdominal section.

"Er…well, yeah," I stammered. "You wouldn't be on the team if you weren't."

He seemed pleased by that answer because he grinned widely. "I knew you thought I was the best player on the team."

"Hey, now," I responded, poking him hard in the shoulder. "I said you were brilliant, not that you were the best."

"Same thing," he flippantly waved off my explanation.

"Is not!"

"All right, then who is the best?" he asked, brown eyes challenging me. I could tell that he was holding back a smirk.

"Not you," I replied with a grin.

"Oh, you definitely think it's me." He sounded very self assured. Prat.

"Fine, I think it's…" I struggled to think of a good lie. "Nico!"

Potter – oops, James - merely snorted at this answer. "If you have to think about it, you're lying."

"Nico's a good player," I defended. And he was too.

"Oh, he is," Potter agreed easily. "But not as good as me or you."

Pott – James complimenting me? What next?

Even so, there was no way in hell that I was going to admit that I had always thought of us as pretty much equals on the pitch. It was difficult to compare us exactly because we played different positions, but we were both excellent fliers and players. It was in our blood.

"Although I do have a slight advantage over you," James smirked, glancing sideways at me. His brown eyes were sparkling with laughter and he was wearing the smirk he wore when he was winding me up.

"Sorry?" I questioned. "But I do believe that I'm the captain, which gives me a slight edge over you. And speaking of which, I want to say something while we're not rowing. Even though this might cause a row. I think it's rather hypocritical of you to suggest that I'm captain because my dad is Oliver Wood. If you had been named captain, I could have said it was because your mum played professionally and now writes about Quidditch for The Daily Prophet and that your dad is Harry Potter."

"Yeah, people probably would have said that," he shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "It would have stung, to hear that…that's why I said it to you."

At my questioning look he elaborated. "I was angry. I'm not…well, you know from past experience… Al says I'm not a very gracious loser."

There was a silence in which I thought about what he had said, but then James said with a small smirk, "I still say you were snogging O'Mara."

He had accused me of that before, but now the words lacked the venom that they had previously held. In fact, it sounded as though he was joking.

"Why do you keep assuming that?" I asked throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. "I. Never. Snogged. Sean. Not even once. Okay, I pecked him on the cheek once after we won the Cup in fifth year, but that was not a snog!"

"He fancied you," Potter – James – said with a slight jerk of his head. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and kicked at a stone in the path.

Hold on…what?

"That can't be right," I responded, picking through my brain, thinking back to last term. "I mean, I know I'm terribly unobservant when it comes to relationships and people, but surely…" I trailed off, thinking hard. "I suppose it did take me a month to notice that Christine fancied Kieran. I couldn't figure out why she wanted to sit near him and his mates when we were studying in the library. She stared at him all the bleeding time and he was staring right back and I didn't have a clue."

Pott – James looked as though he'd been hit over the head with a Beater's bat. "Finding excuses to talk to you, trying to impress you, flirting with you, arguing with other blokes that like you as well, winding you up to see you angry because it makes your eyes blaze and - I mean…you wouldn't take that to mean anything out of the ordinary?"

"Sean didn't do any of that," I argued, thoroughly confused. I totally would have noticed if Sean had acted like that towards me. Wouldn't I? We chatted sometimes off of the pitch, but we didn't spend much time together outside of Quidditch.

James laughed ruefully and shook his head. "Eva Wood, you are not like other girls."

I was wondering if I should be offended by that statement when he added, "You should take that as a compliment. Because it definitely is."

Um…I kind of feel as if my worldview has changed in the last twenty minutes.

"I told Christine and Kieran that I would meet them in the library," I informed James as we reached the Entrance Hall. "Christine said she'd bring my rucksack so I don't need to go back to the Tower."

"Oh," he said, seeming a bit disappointed. "Well, see you… Eva."

"Bye… James," I mimicked, smiling. He smiled back just before he rounded the corner.

Inside the library, I passed Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy sitting at a table tucked in a nook between some shelves, quietly arguing over a thick book with a moldy looking cover as I searched for my friends. A group of third years at another table had what appeared to be an entire shelf of books laid out in front of them as they searched frantically through for some elusive information.

"Over here!" Kieran waved at me from a table next to the Charms section. How practical and Ravenclaw of him.

"Can I join you?" I teased. I hadn't given them a hard time about being a third wheel in ages, so I felt it was overdue.

"Sit," Kieran instructed with his usual friendly smile. He motioned to the vacant chairs across from him and Christine.

"It's studying," Christine said in an exasperated tone. "We've been over this. You can't be a third wheel if we're just writing essays. And stop thinking of it as being a third wheel. We're all friends."

"I seem to remember a rather sickening flirting session between the two of you last year while we were all trying to study for a Charms exam around Valentine's Day," I argued, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I don't know what else to call that but third wheel."

Kieran had the decently to look contrite and his cheeks even grew a bit pink. "But it was the day before Valentine's Day," he protested. "And it was around our fourth month anniversary."

"See, you know what exactly I'm talking about!" I smirked in triumph. Holy Hippogriffs, I'm smirking. Potter – James, I mean – is rubbing off on me. Oh, Merlin, this can't be good.

"Fine, fine, we're guilty. But don't judge us too harshly. You have a date of your own this weekend, you know," Christine reminded me. "Speaking of which, what are you going to wear?"

Hm…I hadn't thought of that. At all. Whoops. I supposed I had a nice new Puddlemere jumper that I hadn't had the chance to wear yet. The early November weather had been chilly. I wanted to look nice, but I didn't want to spend my day being unnecessarily cold either.

"And no Puddlemere jumpers, sweaters, or jackets," Christine informed me sternly, apparently reading my mind.

Oh, bugger.

Thanks so much to all of my wonderful reviewers and also to everyone who has favorited or put this story on alert! You guys are awesome! :)

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

Next chapter: Eva goes to Hogsmeade with Jonathan – sorry to those of you who didn't want that to happen but this plot development was always supposed to be a part of the story. It's what's best for Eva in the long run, I promise! Also, Fred gets lots of page time next chapter!