Over the next week, we're being trained too hard for me to be distracted by Finnegan on the field, but off the field is a different story. Keeping my eyes glued to my locker when he's shirtless is quite the feat, but I'm convinced it would be slightly pervy for me to be checking him out when I'm disguised as Robbie.

He sends me an owl on Wednesday, just letting me know he's been thinking of me and to ask how my week has been. I reply back on Thursday, wishing him good luck at the game against the Kestrels, telling him I will be wearing my Falcon's jersey at the game. He just doesn't know how literal I'm being.

To be honest, I'm a little worried about playing Robbie's team. He's been acting funny all week, almost avoiding me since the night I got back from my date with Finnegan. Saturday night, one of us will be a winner, and one of us will be a loser, and one step closer to the end of the regular season.

The morning of the Kestrels vs Falcons game dawns bright and cheerful, but Robbie and I are tense over our Lucky Charms. Our good luck ritual seems stilted, and his good luck kiss only brushes the air above my cheekbone.

Coming off the loss to the Pride, this game is going to be important for the Falcons, proving if we can bounce back after a loss. The tension in the locker room feels like the first game of the season all over again, and knowing that I'll be playing against my twin makes it my own private hell.

The game starts off well enough when I win the toss, shooting off toward the Kestrel goalposts. I've watched enough Kestrel games to know exactly what I need to do to score. Within the first hour of play, I've not only scored ten goals, my career high, but I've also managed a career high twelve steals, seven of which I've managed from my brother. We're ahead, 170 to 50, and the home Kenmare crowd isn't happy at all. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself though. All the scouting has paid off. I've stolen the ball yet again, and am turning toward the goal when Robbie slams into me from the right, causing me to swerve midair.

"Buzz off!" I say, trying to get away as he crowds me even more.

"Sorry, Liv," he says over the sound of the howling wind. Suddenly, the Kestrel's left wing chaser Will Waters slams into me from the other side, causing me to become trapped between the two players. Waters and Robbie are both using their elbows efficiently, and so I do the only thing I can, which is drop the quaffle, hoping one of my teammates can get to it first, but neither of the opposing chasers goes after the quaffle, instead, slowing their brooms even more and pinching me in tighter. Leaning, I try to shoot out from between them, but they are both using all of their weight to keep me in place.

"Robert!" I warn, deciding that a foul is about to occur. I have no qualms punching my brother in the nose. And I'm honestly surprised the ref hasn't blown his whistle due to this trapping maneuver yet. Surely this is worth a penalty shot on my part. The ref does indeed blow the whistle, and I smile in self satisfaction as both Robbie and Waters fall off of my sides, freeing me.

My smile only lasts the second it takes for the first bludger to slam into my left arm with a crunch. Gasping in shock, I look down at my throwing arm and feel nauseated at the distorted angle of my elbow. The pain hasn't really hit me yet when the second bludger crashes into my left shoulder from behind. The force of it is enough to knock me face forward into my broom handle, but I manage to hold onto the handle that is now slippery with blood from my broken nose.

The refs are blowing their whistles wildly as I touch down on the pitch, barely able to stand the pain in my entire left arm.

Coach has flown down from the coaches box and looks furious, already screaming at the ref about the blatant targeting fouls. Robbie targeted me, I realize in shock. My own brother! That bloody traitor.

"Suck it up Wood," Montague is saying to me through my haze of pain. Bork is holding out a hankie but I'm too busy holding my left arm up with my right to take it. If I let go, I think I'll pass out from the pain and morph. I think I've dislocated my elbow as well as my shoulder, and something is probably broken and or torn. "You've got two penalty shots," Montague is saying, but I can't really concentrate.

"Merlin, I haven't seen such blatant targeting from the Kestrels in years!" Finnegan snaps as he finally lands. "You alright Wood?"

"Montague," I grit out between my clenched teeth. I'm honestly worried I'm going to cry. "You're gonna have to take the shots. My arm is done for the game."

"What?!" exclaims coach, coming in on our conversation.

"I'm pretty sure it's dislocated in two places," I grind out, gasping as I take my first step toward the locker room. "Get the healer," I say trying to blink back the tears in my eyes.

"Help him to the bench, Finnegan," coach growls, heading toward the Kestrels coach with a look that could kill.

Finnegan helps me as best he can, but I won't let him touch my entire left side. We hobble slowly to the bench where the trainer is already preparing a pain potion for me to drink. Sinking down, I try to hide my feelings as I can hear the snapping of cameras by the media. This will be the front page of the sports section tomorrow unless the Arrows get upset by the Cannons.

"Hurry back in," says Finnegan before returning to midfield to see what will happen now. Coach is being held back by Montague, and I'm guessing he's close to throwing punches with the Kestrel's coach.

The pain potion tastes awful, but it takes the edge off the pain, and I can think somewhat straight as the healer gets to work, he's an older man I recognize from my many years around professional quidditch games. His sharp wand movement suddenly causes me to scream as both dislocations pop back into place simultaneously.

"Now for that nose!" he says pointing the wand at my face.

"No!" I exclaim. "I'll have my mum do it later," I lie. I'll morph it fixed later tonight when I'm in less pain. It's not my first round with a broken nose, and morphing them healed is much less painful than having someone else do it.

"Have it your way," says the healer, running his wand back along my arm and over my shoulder. Two more wand jabs, and my arm is shaking with tremors following his resetting of the two broken bones of my scapula and my arm near the elbow joint. "Won't be playing for at least a couple days," he says with a shake of his head. "You're lucky the shoulder wasn't shattered. I've seen a shattered shoulder end a career." I'm sick at the thought. Robbie nearly ended my career… heck, his career.

I'm forced to watch with my arm in a sling as the rest of the game goes to shit with Norton, my reserve, in for me. I can barely handle my anger as Robbie manages to steal from the idiot Norton almost constantly. With hardly any time to regroup between shots, Finnegan's defense, which was holding strong, starts to deteriorate almost as much as our chasers. Norton has no concept of passing the ball, and knows less than half of our plays. By the time that Fiona Weatherby catches the snitch, outracing Jasper by inches, the score is already 210 to 190, our lead totally demolished. The final score of 360 to 190 is mortifying, and I'm seething beneath the pain. How Robbie could do this…

In the locker room, it's easy to tell Coach is furious. He kicks Norton out before he can even finish his post game discussion because he can't even stand to look at him. His final words are to me, that I better be healed up by next week, or we're just going to forfeit the game because he can't stomach Norton in for another game.

I can't even get my pads off without magic, and luckily my right arm is my wand arm. I hurry out as soon as the talk is over, hoping to get home before Robbie. Arriving home, I put up the strongest wards I can think of, and clean up, the hot water of my shower turning my arm black with bruises from halfway up my forearm all the way to my back where the impact of the second bludger cracked my scapula.

After my shower, I toss on a loose tank top and a pair of pajama pants, in too much pain to try and even put on regular clothes. I've fixed my nose, and that hurts quite a bit, so I down the second dose of my pain potion before curling up on my bed and falling asleep.


It's two AM when the pounding on the front door, combined with the pain from my arm manages to wake me from my pain potion induced sleep. Grabbing my wand, I approach the door cautiously. Surely Robbie knows better than to try and come home tonight. Surely he realized that I changed the wards.

Looking out the peep hole, it's Robbie alright. He's trashed, and Char is hanging off his arm, looking more than a little tipsy.

"Jeeze, Livvie, just open the bloody door!" he slurs. "I know you're in there!"

"Why don't you go stay at your buddy Water's house?!" I call through the door, knowing the quidditch reference will go right over Char's head.

"Look, nothing personal! It was just business!" he whines through the door.

"It was underhanded, and you made it personal. You're my twin. You know better than to play like that. You could have shattered my shoulder!" I snap through the door. Char's practically asleep on her feet, but this argument could wake her.

"Your bones and their ability to morph means that a bone shattering injury couldn't put you out of commission. In fact, you'll heal in twice the time any of your teammates could have. Would you have rather we went after Montague?" he protests.

"You know you went after me because you couldn't stand that it was your little sister kicking your ass out there and you know it!" I scream back through the door, not caring if this argument wakes half the building.

"If you are so great, how did we manage to target you so successfully then? If today proved anything, it's that I'm the better quidditch player. My stats were far better than yours. I only scored on your little boyfriend eleven times!"

"You only proved you were better at CHEATING!" I shriek back. "And he's not my boyfriend! AND HE'S A LOT BIGGER THAN YOU!" I'm positively fuming. Robbie and I have never had a row like this. Never. Prior to this, I think our biggest row was the one prior to my accepting the position impersonating him on the Falcons.

"Just let me in Olivia. Don't make me blast this door down!" he demands, pulling his wand out.

"You destroy EVERYTHING!" I shout, throwing open the door and storming out. Pushing past him, I head for the stairs, unable to share an apartment with him right now.

The street is foggy, and there's a light drizzle making the mid-October weather feel colder than it is. I'm still only wearing my tank top and a pair of pajama pants with a puddlemere pattern on them. My feet are bare. If I go home, it will set off mum's wards, and she'll freak out about what's going on. I refuse to return to our flat on principle. Char is at my flat with the traitor. And I honestly don't have anywhere to go. I consider summoning the knight bus, but the middle-aged assistant driver Stan gives me the willies. Summoning up my patronus, I send it off to the only other person I can think of at the moment.

I'm sitting on the stoop of my building, huddled under the awning when I hear a pop from the alley.

"Livie, you there?!" comes Finnegan's concerned voice, his Irish brogue heavier than usual.

"Over here," I say miserably, standing up and waving my good arm. "I don't have any shoes."

"Merlin woman," he scolds, hurrying over with a frown that I can make out in the dim lighting. "Give me a heart attack and then you don't even have the good sense to wait for me inside."

"I needed the air," I lie. "Do you have a spare room I can stay for the night. I'm too furious with Robbie to stay in our flat tonight. He's brought my best friend back again," I say, hoping that this will be plausible enough for my reason to be angry with Robbie.

"You must be freezing!" He says. "Come on!" He picks me up, bridal style, carrying me to the alley so we can apparate. Luckily, he's picked me up with my right shoulder pressed to him, or I might have passed out. At least now, my bare feet don't have to walk through the dirty street.

We land with a soft thud in a dark room. My feet recognize cushy carpet as Finnegan sets me down, and the temperature is much more comfortable. Finnegan waves his wand, and a nearby fireplace roars to life, casting flickering light over the room to reveal a cozy sitting room. There's a wireless on the mantle and a bookcase packed with thick texts along the opposite wall. I'm not sure what I expected, but when I pictured Finnegan's house I hadn't quite thought of this. It reminds me a bit of Professor Prewitt's office at Hogwarts. There's an afghan slung over the side of the sofa, and I wrap myself in it before turning to face Finnegan.

"What the hell is going on?" he demands, his features a far cry from the calm teammate I'm familiar with.

"Robbie and I are in the biggest fight of our lives. I'm going to need a place to stay tonight. Tomorrow I'll find a flat, and that will be that."

"In a day? Can you even afford… Nevermind that… What was so awful you had to wake me at two fifteen in the morning and couldn't stay a minute longer at your flat?" he demands. He actually sounds angry. I figured he would take this in stride like everything else.

"I would rather not talk about it," I snap back. I've already unleashed my temper once tonight. I can do it again. However, I can't help the tears that are bubbling up in my eyes. Today was bloody miserable, and now Finnegan is going to hate me.

"Look, I'm sorry," he says softly, putting his arms around me comfortingly. However, this manages to make me hiss in pain and two fat tears to leak out of my eyes. Pulling back, I can feel my vision field darkening with the pain. Slumping to the couch, I manage to escape his embrace.

"Did he do this to you?" Finnegan demands, pulling the blanket off my shoulders, the dim light still adequate enough to see my bruises that cover my arm.

"That's a quidditch injury, but also a big factor in my fight with Robbie," I say honestly.

"Bloody hell, isn't your mum a healer?!" he demands, waving his wand to summon something.

"She freaks out about this kind of things. I took a pain potion before I went to sleep earlier," I admit.

"Well, I have some bruise paste, but you might need another potion before I put it on," he says with a whistle as he examines the bruised and swollen area that my tank top does little to cover.

"I can stomach it if you have one," I say, hoping he has one. If not, applying the bruise paste is going to be brutal.

"Here," he says. "I'll make some tea while it kicks in." He hands me a pain potion, and I can feel it taking some of the edge off, almost immediately. It's a little stronger than the ones I'm used to, because within minutes, my head feels a little more fuzzy than usual. Laying my head down, I spread myself out on the large sofa, careful to keep my weight on my right side as I lie down. It's quite comfy. In fact, I think I could sleep quite well right now.

I'm not sure how long it is before Finnegan returns with the tea. My eyelids feel heavy, so I hear rather than see him sit down next to me.

"I think that worked a little too well," he confesses, and I want to nod, but my head feels heavy and disconnected from my neck so I just make a noise in my throat that I hope signals agreement.

"Sorry about that, Vic brewed it for me a few months ago, and it's probably just sat in the cabinet too long. I'll go ahead and apply that bruise paste while it's still working though," he says sounding apologetic. The application of the herbal scented paste is anything but painless. In fact, if my voicebox was working properly, I might have screamed. Unfortunately, the only way Finnegan can tell that his hands, despite how gentle I know he's being, are causing pain are the tears I can't help streaming down my face. I can't manage to blink them away because my eyelids won't cooperate, so instead the tears stream from my hot eyelids.

After what seems like an eternity, he's finally rubbed the paste into my entire arm, which is throbbing with pain. I hear him disappear, and I'm left with the ebbing pain and the smell of the bruise paste for a few minutes before he returns. When he does, he simply runs his hands through my hair until I fall asleep. It's rather nice and comforting.


The next morning, I'm more than a little disoriented when I wake in Finnegan's sitting room, covered in his warm afghan. Sitting up, I gingerly test my arm, finding it still incredibly painful, but less so than the day before.

"Good morning sleepy head," says Finnegan arriving with a cup of tea and some toast covered in what appears to be raspberry jam.

"What time is it?" I ask, wondering if I will have time to make the Puddlemere game.

"Early yet, half past seven," he says sitting down beside me. "Feeling better this morning?"

"Much," I say around the toast. I'm famished, and I know if I want to take anything more for the pain I had better have some food in me. "Thanks again for letting me stay last night. Sorry I was so out of it."

"I floo'd Vic. Apparently that pain potion wasn't meant to be passed along to lightweights like you. Apparently it's only for oversized people like me," he says seemingly embarrassed.

"I know a few people who would consider me more than a little oversized," I say with a laugh.

"Hey there, I think you're just the right size. Perfect height for kissing," he says, leaning over and pressing his lips to mine in a good morning greeting. When he says something that sweet, it's hard to resent the fact that I'm obnoxiously tall for a witch.

Returning to my toast, I am soon licking my fingers clean of the raspberry jam. "So you planning on telling me how you got that?" he finally says with a gesture to my arm as I reach for the tea.

"I told you already," I say blowing on the still warm tea before taking a sip. "Quidditch injury. I should know better when I'm playing against one of my brothers." This is unfortunately true, although usually the injuries I sustain on the pitch when playing with my brothers are accidental rather than intentionally inflicted. "I won't underestimate him again," I say with a hollow laugh.

"Alright, I'm satisfied," he says taking my tea from my hands.

"Hey!" I protest. "I wasn't done!"

"I'll get you a cup that isn't laced with vertiserum," he tells me, causing me to sputter. He has no idea what he could have done with that cup of tea.

Returning, he puts another cup of tea in front of me, along with two more pieces of toast. "Sorry, but teammate or not, I have an obligation to report suspected abuse if Wood had done that to you," he says looking apologetic. I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I really wouldn't want Robbie in trouble for something he did on the pitch. I mean, sisterly abuse? Not really. Am I still mad about it? Yes.

"Do you want to join me in the family box for the Puddlemere game against the Wasps?" I ask suddenly.

"Does this mean I get to meet your family?" he asks with a smirk.

"It means you have to meet my family. There's a difference. 'Get' sounds like you want to," I respond.

"I don't see what the big deal is? I like Rob well enough," he says leaning back into the sofa.

"You haven't met the monsters," I tell him with a one armed shrug.

"Monsters?" he asks.

"My four younger brothers, Kenneth, Quinn, Graeme, and Walter," I say getting up and looking around. "Mind if I freshen up in your bathroom before I head back to my flat to get something to wear to the game?"

"Through the kitchen, and down the hall toward the sunroom," Finnegan directs me to the loo. His place is an actual house, not just a flat, and it's quite nice. There's a study, a dining room, a large kitchen, and a cozy sunroom on this floor in addition to the sitting room. Heading into the bathroom, I gasp at my reflection. I've never woken up with my hair in such a disarray. What did Finnegan do to it!?

Hope you liked the chapter! Thanks for reading and please review! Love to hear from you!