Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. End of story. There! Done!

AN: (This is going to be long!) Thank you to reviewers MadCatta, Anna, and NinjaByBirth123 for your constant support and, of course, your reviews. They seriously make my day. (To answer the question: "When will Patricia and Scorpius start dating?"—You will find out in good time, my friend. As flawed as the relationship was, Rose Weasley is not easy to get rid of, even if you've been in love with someone else much longer. Hint hint.) Also, I'm incredibly sorry for not having updated since last Wednesday. I didn't really have the opportunity to get on the computer and write anything, and I got back a day later than I expected; this is late. And I'm sorry.

Chapter Fourteen

"One Quaffle, Two Bludgers, and a Snitch"

Or

"Desire's Dislike"

It was strangely warm for the first of October, but the good weather was no deterrent for the spectators of the anxiously-awaited Slytherin-Gryffindor match. As usual, this began the school Quidditch season, and – as usual – the crowd was divided: Slytherin and Gryffindor obviously showing bias for their particular houses; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff almost equally distributed. Though they usually would have leaned towards Gryffindor, the fact that the Slytherin team was quite attractive threw more than a few witches into ambivalence.

Madam Hooch, who could have been forty or four-hundred, made her way out to the middle of the pitch. Behind her limped Mr. Filch, the caretaker, carrying the trunk in which the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch were held.

Lysander Scamander was commentating, and while many would have thought this a ridiculous decision, the Professors did not. He and Lorcan had been alternating with Melissa Jordan since first year.

'Great day for a Quidditch match, don't you think? Yes—I can tell there'll be lots of indigenous dell-bats about later!'

He was reprimanded by Professor Longbottom, who said: 'Quidditch,' at which Lysander's attention returned to the pitch. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were entering now; Captains in front, behind them the three Chasers—or two in the case of Gryffindor, for James was up ahead—and behind them the Beaters, and behind them the Keeper and the Seeker—or, due to Scorpius being Seeker, his Keeper was alone.

'There's the two teams! Yes, now they're shaking hands—what a firm grip Potter's got! Okay, they're mounting their brooms now!'

The fourteen players shot into the air as Filch hurried off the pitch. Madam Hooch released the Snitch, which fluttered around the teams and then shot off in a blur. Barbara and Scorpius stared each other down: neither flinched. Then the Bludgers were released, and hastily, the Quaffle.

'It's Slytherin Higgs with the Quaffle—she speeds off to the Gryffindor—oh! Bludger to the shoulder by Fred Weasley; that has got to hurt! Higgs has dropped the Quaffle and it's Potter—oh, there are three of them—James—zooming towards the Slytherin goalposts. He dodges both Bludgers and passes to Lily...'

The redheaded fourth-year changed direction at the last minute: as Gordon Rourke lunged to protect the right goalpost, Lily flung the Quaffle through the left. She sped off again as another Slytherin Chaser by the name of McCormick rushed to retrieve it, and Lysander cried, 'ten-nil to Gryffindor!'

Down in the stands, with her eyes flickering from the game to her boyfriend to the Arrows scouts sitting in the stands opposite, Cordelia Gilbert muttered, 'come on, James; do something that'll make them recognize you.'

And, after McCormick received a Bludger to the back of the head from Roxanne, James did just that. He stole the Quaffle and headed back to the Slytherin goalposts. There was really no contest: was it Scorpius he was up against, things probably would have been more difficult. Instead, it was Rourke.

'I don't think he wants to be fooled again! Perhaps it's those Wrackspurts—no, Professor Longbottom, I tell you! I see them!'

Lysander almost forgot to call it as Gryffindor gained another ten points, as well as the scouts' attention. Two goals in less than five minutes—and it wasn't as though Slytherin weren't apt players!

'I think Malfoy's seen the Snitch!'

Barbara sped down to meet him and the Snitch buzzed away. Where exactly it went, neither the Head Girl nor the Slytherin knew. Albus circled around his brother and slammed into Higgs as she tried to get in to steal the Quaffle. She spun off-course.

Five minutes later, with the Snitch still out of sight, the score was fifty-ten to Gryffindor. Things were going almost too easily, and karma soon caught up. Just as he was about to dive to block the Quaffle, Wood's stomach collided with a Bludger. It was Thomas Prikk's doing. Wood shot backwards off his broom and through the goalpost he had been guarding. Roxanne cried out—louder than anyone else—and sped over, dodging Bludgers this way and that, to make sure his fall was cushioned.

Madam Hooch had her wand out: minus a broken rib or two, Wood would be fine. Roxanne flung a Bludger at Prikk just when Fred did—both Bludgers hit at the same time and the Slytherin collapsed, plummeting back down to the bottom of the pitch with his broom under him.

'Okay!' James shouted, Lily and Albus close enough to hear him. 'Wood's gone; that means it's just as much up to us to defend as it is to score—if Slytherin can't get the Quaffle up there, they can't...'

He broke off as his point was made, and Slytherin was awarded twenty points. Ten for the goal in question, and ten for the one when Wood fell. Lily and Al both nodded before speeding off in different directions.

'It's fifty-thirty to Gryffindor!' announced Lysander. 'I do hope Wood's okay—Professor Longbottom, that was Quidditch-related!'

Al threw the Quaffle to James. It was almost stolen by Higgs, but James was faster and Higgs was wounded and it may not have worked out anyway. He darted to the Slytherin goalposts and found himself facing Rourke once more.

'Heard about your girlfriend, Potter!'

James zigzagged around the three goal hoops. 'Is this really the time, Rourke?'

'As good as any, I reckon,' Rourke spat. 'You know, I don't see you two lasting too long.'

Zooming around the middle post and moving on as the Slytherin followed, James asked, 'why is that?'

'She's not exactly your type, is she? Probably got a whole set of ideas about—'

'—It's sixty-thirty to Gryffindor!' cried Lysander, the cheers getting progressively louder as the game went on.

James smirked at the Slytherin Keeper. 'It appears that you're not my type either, Rourke,' he said quickly, 'seeing as neither you nor Cordelia play any actual Keeper positions.'

Albus dodged a Bludger from the sole remaining Slytherin Beater and surveyed the game. James and Lily were blocking Higgs and McCormick—Roxanne had injured their third companion after she found him laughing at Wood—as they made their way up the pitch.

Technically, Al wasn't allowed to assume the position of Keeper, but he was only hovering about twenty feet from the goalposts, so he couldn't really be penalized.

'It looks like the Potters have taken up defence for the moment—no sight of the Snitch as of yet! Ruddy disappointing—it's okay, Malfoy, Tennant; it's just the Wrackspu—I'm sorry, Professor Longbottom!'

There were six Gryffindor players on the pitch, five Slytherins. Two of the eleven were pursuing another ball, sailing away from the action of the game. Scorpius and Barbara wove in and out of the stands, following neither the Snitch nor each other, but staying together until one of them sped off after the little golden ball seemed like a reasonable idea.

The two Seekers sped past a blur of navy blue and bronze: Ravenclaws looked up for a split second, had they blinked they would have missed it—at that moment, perhaps one hundred feet away, Barbara caught sight of the Snitch.

It was definitely the Snitch. Definitely.

Scorpius hadn't seen it yet. If he had, he certainly hadn't gone after it. Biding her time with a swish of her broom, Barbara devised a plan. Given: she wasn't the most cunning or best at schemes—no, that was more the domain of the Slytherins—but this would get her the Snitch.

Suddenly, Barbara sped off towards James. As she had thought, Scorpius followed. At the last moment, Barbara pulled left; her pursuer did not, instead flying right through the defending Potters and across the pitch before he could stop himself. But this was Scorpius Malfoy: like lightning, he was on her trail again.

The Snitch was thirteen feet away.

Scorpius was catching up.

But the Snitch was four feet away!

But Scorpius was catching up!

But the Snitch—

Agony.

A hard hit to the back of her neck, and the bottom half of her scalp: everything was gone now. The pitch, the spectators, Lysander shouting, Fred shouting louder, and Barbara falling down to the earth.

Whether the Snitch was in her hand or not, it did not matter. There was someone trying to help her, their hand closed over hers on the Snitch, yet it didn't feel like theft. Either by grabbing Barbara or by seizing the small golden ball in her palm, whoever it was had probably saved her a broken nose.

It wouldn't have been realistic if the first eyes Barbara saw when she awoke were Fred's. It would be too romantic, she decided. It was much better to have found Cordelia's gaze on her instead.

The girl's hair, which curled slightly, was cascading down—almost as if to meet Barbara—because of how Cordelia was leaned over her friend. She looked concerned, but obviously thrilled to see her all right.

'How do you feel?'

Barbara's mouth was dry when she spoke. 'Confused.'

Cordelia smiled, but she still looked worried. 'You don't remember what happened, do you?'

'Not much after getting hit by a Bludger.' She tried to reach up and rub the back of her head, to see how bad things were, but instead she felt the soft cloth of a bandage. 'Where are the others? I thought there'd be more people anxiously awaiting my recovery.'

Cordelia smiled again. 'There were; earlier. But James insisted that you needed rest—Fred was very unhappy about it. He said he wouldn't make a racket, he just wanted to make sure you were all right.'

The Ravenclaw looked over to check Barbara's expression—thankfully, she wasn't blushing; she had remained blissfully neutral; it had taken her lots of practice to learn how to do so—before she continued. 'Anyway, I said I'd stay and tell Fred as soon as something happened.'

'I don't see you sending for him,' noted Barbara.

'No,' said Cordelia, 'but I wanted to talk to you first. Do you want to know what happened or not?'

Barbara was about to reply that, yes, that was all she wanted to do at the moment, but then there was a collection of footsteps and James and Fred hurried in, accompanied by Wood, who had a bandaged arm but was otherwise fine.

Fred's eyes lit up at the sight of her, and his grin was the brightest of the three that emerged on the boys' faces. 'Barbs! You're okay!'

'Don't get too close,' Cordelia reprimanded, not unkindly. 'She's just got up.'

'Thank Merlin,' Wood muttered. 'If she'd been awake for an hour and no one told Fred, he'd be going even more ballistic—oomph.'

Fred's arm seemed to have found the Keeper's stomach, and made contact. James was standing behind Cordelia, who was now in the seat behind Barbara's bed—one of her hands was up, as if she was going to twirl a strand of hair, but instead of hair, her hand held James's. It was a sweet gesture that made the Head Girl feel something she couldn't quite describe. Instead of pondering this, she turned her eyes to Fred.

'Did Cordelia tell you what happened?'

'No,' Barbara told him. 'She didn't get the chance.'

Fred looked towards Wood, who said: 'Don't ask me anything; I was out.'

James muttered something about Roxanne freaking out but no one else seemed to take any notice. Fred told him to be quiet and let him tell her what had happened.

'You were really close to getting the Snitch—about a foot away, perhaps less—then there was a Bludger that came and hit you; I'm pretty sure you remember that part. You had the Snitch, and then—you know—Bludger, injury—'

'I'm pretty sure you're missing something out,' muttered James, but he didn't sound so eager to explain either. He and Fred shared a look that made Cordelia sigh exasperatedly.

'Did you feel someone try to pull you up?' she asked quietly.

Fred muttered, 'And just about steal the Snitch.'

'Ignore Fred,' Cordelia admonished. She asked for confirmation.

Barbara nodded. 'Yeah, I did.'

Cordelia took a deep breath. 'You might not expect this,' she said, 'but...'

'But what?' Barbara asked when the Ravenclaw faltered. Cordelia swallowed.

'It was Scorpius.'

'You're looking awfully down in the dumps.'

Shelley sighed with such exasperation someone across the school could have sensed it. 'Thank you, Tabitha, for your wonderful input.'

Tabitha, who was usually quiet but was now agitated, picked up her books and stuffed them into her bag. Professor Trelawney had dismissed them, and now they had finished Monday's lessons. Any other time, it would have been a point for celebration, but Shelley Corner was in a stale mood, and therefore no one was safe.

'I understand what's going on, you know. I think you've started fancying him. And now he's dating Cordelia, and you're upset.'

Shelley looked displeased but didn't try to walk ahead of her classmate. Tabitha was afraid that she had been overly perceptive, but Shelley did not seem to mind. Did Shelley have anyone to talk to properly about things like this? Tabitha reasoned that she probably didn't need to, but that didn't mean that someone shouldn't be willing to listen.

'You don't get it, do you?' said Shelley. She sounded very annoyed. 'I've tried to be nice, I've tried helping out, but nothing seems to—'

'—I know how you feel,' Tabitha muttered. 'Well, sort of.'

'This is the first time I've ever actually found myself in this dilemma,' Shelley continued as if she hadn't interrupted. Her dark hair floated behind her like it had been magically styled, even though Shelley didn't have the energy for that as of late. 'I feel awful, like I'm responsible for my own sadness. And moping isn't make anything better – not for myself or anyone else.'

They crossed the corridor and saw Bridget talking to Lysander. Tabitha shot her a look that said "don't! Don't come over!" and so the two of them stayed safely away from the unhappy Shelley.

'How long have you fancied him?'

Shelley groaned and turned to Tabitha. 'Too long, Perkins, my love: much too long. He kind of snuck up on me, James, which is impossible to do. At least, it should've been impossible, with that jawline and that hair and the fact that I can physically see him every time we're in a room together for all his bloody height.' She sighed. 'He's just a really decent bloke, isn't he? And she's a really decent girl, and as much as I've tried to hate her, she's never been foul to me so I can't.'

'There, there,' said Tabitha. 'You're wonderful, Shelley.'

Shelley laughed, bitter and volatile. 'I guess this is the one time I can't go off and find some bloke to snog, because that won't help me get over it at all. It'll just make me hate myself more.'

Cordelia met James in the Head's Office. It was almost five o'clock, and he had been spending his free class organizing things with Barbara. She hadn't wanted to pry; they might have been doing something important inside, but just when Cordelia gathered up the courage to open the door and enter, James and Barbara appeared in front of her.

'Hey!' Cordelia said to her boyfriend, before turning to Barbara and asking, 'you feeling better?'

'Yeah—Madam Pomfrey fixed me up.' The Head Girl looked from James to Cordelia and then said, 'but, you know what? We can talk about that later—I'll leave you two to it.'

The two of them watched her leave and then turned to each other. James gestured to the inside of the office.

'You know,' he said, 'it's probably one of two places in the school we can have complete privacy. And, opposed to the Room of Requirement, there are only two keys.'

He ushered her inside the office. Nothing had changed since the last time she had been inside: the night after that first awkward confession. They had sat on opposite sides of the room, him watching over the Marauder's Map and her trying to look anywhere but at him.

Still, with circumstances different, the room seemed so much lighter; the sun's rays streamed in from the windows towards the top of the room: they were nearly violet now, for it was almost sunset and the colours of the sky were diversifying into rouges and oranges and purples.

'How's your day been?' James asked, slipping nonchalantly into one of the chairs by the table stationed towards the right side of the room.

'Fine,' she replied. 'Nothing out of the ordinary.'

Aware that they were alone, Cordelia suddenly felt self-conscious. It wasn't that they hadn't been alone before, but now it was in much more of a private setting. It made her nervous. He made her nervous. When it came to relationships, she was devoid of experience; Cordelia honestly had no idea what to expect.

'Don't take this the wrong way,' said James, 'but you look pretty gorgeous right now.'

Not blushing, Cordelia raised an eyebrow. 'Is that genuine, or just you trying to get off?'

'Genuine,' he answered immediately. 'I wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true.'

'Really?'

'Well, I might've said something like "fit".'

He stood up and came over to meet her, taking her hands in his. His dark eyes found hers; he smiled, almost like he was nervous but completely comfortable at the same time, and he bit his lip slightly. Unable to prolong the gaze, Cordelia's eyes shot down to the floor. Then James lifted her chin and he kissed her.

She had read novels and heard songs and yet none of them had properly described what it was like to be there in that room having that boy kiss her. He was butterbeer and nectarines and he had his arms around her waist. Her hands found his arms then his neck then his hair and she was tiptoeing, which was certainly a first. Her heart was beating faster as the seconds went by, and she felt dizzy – he was making her dizzy.

James pulled away, blinking. After a moment, an incredulous little smile spread across his face.

Cordelia sighed, her arms slacking around James' neck. 'I never asked you how your day was,' she noted breathlessly.

James gave his head a slight shake and smiled down at her. He leaned in closer, whispering his response against her lips. 'Spectacular.'

Barbara was alone when Scorpius approached her. He tapped her on the shoulder and—successful at catching her attention—said, 'I'm sorry about Saturday.'

'Don't be,' the Head Girl replied, 'I'm fine. Oh,' she added, 'and I meant to thank you. For—you know—'

'—trying like any reasonable person would have to stop you from plummeting to the ground?'

Barbara nodded. 'Yeah. And for...'

'...and for losing the game?'

She laughed slightly. 'That, too. Sorry we gave you such a brutal time of it—Roxanne is... insane. Incredibly dangerous.'

'How do you know I wasn't just trying to get the Snitch from you, though?' Scorpius asked. 'You know, when you fell?'

'Because you and I have both played Quidditch long enough to know that I had already caught it—the game was over.'

Scorpius nodded. He hadn't just been trying to get the Snitch. He had seen Barbara being hit and—even though she probably would have been fine anyway—after seeing her crumple, her hand still clasped around the little golden ball; after hearing Weasley cry out, just like the rest of the crowd... it just didn't feel right to let her fall.

He didn't reply—he didn't know what to say. Thankfully, Barbara seemed to understand. She smiled at him. 'Thanks, Scorpius.'

'To say "any time" would be a lie,' he replied. She chuckled and turned away, probably to head to Charms, which was the closest class in the direction she was heading.

Scorpius raised a hand to wave, even though he knew she could not see him, before heading off to find Patricia where he had left her on the way to Transfiguration.

They had never really been friends, but because they were required to group into partnerships and there wasn't really anyone else cool in Muggle Studies, Albus and Patricia found themselves conversing for the first time in too long.

This didn't mean they had been best friends once or anything, but Patricia always liked talking to Albus. He was funny and non-discriminative—which meant he really didn't care if she was in Slytherin and he wasn't.

'When was the last time we talked?' she asked.

'Er... third year,' realized Albus. He set down the model aeroplane they had been labelling and elaborated: 'I think it was because your cousin fancied James.'

Patricia nodded, then busied herself with assessing the angles of the aeroplane's wings. 'Have you talked to Cordelia since they got together?'

Albus breathed out, and Patricia thought she saw something cross his face that looked a little hurt. What hadn't she been told?

'Yeah, of course. We're still mates,' he amended. 'But now every time I look at her I can't help but wonder how many times they've kissed.'

Patricia jotted the angle of the aeroplane's wing down on a piece of parchment and asked, 'what did you think about before? When you looked at her, I mean.'

Albus opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking. He shrugged nonchalantly. 'I don't know; I used to...' When he didn't continue, Patricia pressed the point. She knew it was probably nothing, and that she shouldn't have being trying to find out so badly, but she continued to do so until Albus gave in. 'Fine—okay? Is this what you want to hear?' He sighed. 'When I looked at her before... I used to think about how beautiful she was. How smart.'

Patricia gasped. 'Sorry,' she said quickly. 'I didn't mean to pressure you! I mean, if you didn't want to—do you fancy her?' she whispered.

Albus exhaled. 'I suppose that's it. Everyone can see it—I'm surprised she hasn't done—'

'—What? Slow down; hold on. Who else knows?'

'Andy from Hufflepuff'—Albus gestured to the girl sitting across the classroom with another member of her house—'won't stop teasing me about it.'

He looked surprised when Patricia giggled. She knew Andy; they had somehow become friends a few years back—she wasn't surprised that somehow Andy had been the one to crack it. The Hufflepuff always seemed to befriend blokes well. (Getting close to them and getting close to desserts were two of Andy's top talents.)

'Do you fancy Scorpius, then?' Albus asked, when she explained why she found Andy's snooping so funny. 'Come on, don't look so shocked—you know who I like, it's only fair that I know who you do.'

Patricia rolled her eyes. 'Promise you won't tell anyone?'

'Hey,' Albus reminded, 'you know about Cordelia!'

'Fine,' she muttered. 'Yes. I do.'