Taylor reached the edge of the field and nearly dove behind the stands in her hurry to get out of sight. Unfortunately, someone else was coming around the corner at the same time and the two of them collided and fell in a flurry of robes and surprised noises. In the melee, a bony elbow managed to tweak Taylor's already ill-treated nose and she shrieked involuntarily.
"Blimey, Taylor, sorry!" Ann was scrambling to her feet as Taylor screwed her eyes shut against the sting. "Sorry, I was just coming to get you."
"S'all right," said Taylor, taking the offered hand and pulling herself up. She touched her nose gently and winced again. "Ooh, that's tender."
"Come on, I'll show you to the locker room," Ann said. "And we'll see what we can do about that nose of yours."
The route Ann showed Taylor was full of twists and turns, and by the time they reached the door marked "WOMEN'S LOCKERS" Taylor was thoroughly lost. Ann pushed the door open for her and she stepped inside, shaking her head in disbelief.
"I'll never remember the way," she sighed, "I'll have to follow someone each time."
"Don't worry," said Donna, who'd noticed them come in. She was pulling her practice robes off over her head, getting tangled halfway in a necklace she was wearing. Her voice now came through the thick cloth, sounding muffled. "Supposedly it's designed so that no one who doesn't know where it is can't find it, you know?"
Taylor just looked blankly at Ann, who laughed.
"I can't explain it," said Ann, "but now you've been here, any time you go looking for the locker room you'll find it, no matter what route you take. The only-accessible-by-those-who-already-know-where-it-is thing on the locker rooms is just a precaution against people from the opposing team trying to get in."
"Against people from the opposite sex, more like," said Mel, almost bitterly, wrapping herself in a towel as she stepped out of the shower. All three of the other women turned to look at her in surprise, and she stopped. "What?" she said, defensively. "So I've gone looking for the men's locker room before, give me a break. Quidditch guys are hot."
The room erupted in laughter and everyone went back to what they were doing. Ann stayed nearby as Taylor sat heavily on a bench, exhausted from the practice. She crinkled her nose experimentally and winced once more, looking up at Ann hopefully. "You said something about fixing my nose?"
Ann grimaced and folded her long arms across her chest. "I don't think any of us should try anything after all," she decided finally. Taylor scowled, and then regretted it ("Ow!").
Mel had finished dressing and walked over to them, wringing out her long blond hair. She stepped in front of Taylor and bent down to eye-level, propping her hands on her knees and regarding Taylor's nose with much scrutiny.
"Yes," agreed Mel, "it does look a bit off." She leaned to the left, eyes still fixed reflectively on Taylor's nose. Then she leaned back to the right and recoiled with a sound like "eeyurgh!"
"What?" asked Taylor, sitting up hurriedly.
"Nothing!" exclaimed Mel, standing and backing away. "Your nose isn't crooked! I don't know what you're talking about!"
"No one said anything about being crooked!" said Taylor, alarmed, glancing back at Ann. "Is it crooked?"
"I think you should probably go talk to one of the school medi-wizards," sighed the older Chaser, worriedly.
"Oh, pish, I'll just go get Charles," said Mel, "he's the team medic, isn't he?" Before anyone could say anything, she grabbed her wand and dissapparated with a loud crack!
"Well where'd she think she's going?" Taylor asked, both she and Ann turning to Donna, who was just pulling on her clothes after getting out of the shower. Taylor was trying to figure out what Mel had planned, and didn't hear or notice another crack! "I thought Charles would be in—"
"—the buff," Donna finished, with a lopsided grin, nodding behind them. They both spun to see a very self-satisfied Mel next to a very disgruntled Charles, who was clad only in a towel wrapped hurriedly around his waist. It seemed Mel had pulled him directly out of the shower; it looked like his shaggy hair still had shampoo in it.
"What about the only-accessible-by-those-who-already-know-where-it-is thing?" asked Taylor, dumbfounded.
"I said I went looking," Mel grinned. "I never said I didn't find it."
"Excuse me," interjected Charles, irritably, his dripping hair beginning to make a sudsy puddle on the floor. "I was told it was an emergency?"
"Yes," Mel agreed, sobering. "It's Taylor's nose."
"Oh for god's sake," muttered Taylor, embarrassed that she was causing such a commotion.
"She got hit with a Bludger, I think," offered Donna, ignoring Taylor's exclamation.
"I know that, I was there," snapped Charles, "I thought she said it was fine."
"It is—" Taylor began, but Mel was pulling the medi-wizard-in-training over to examine the nose in question and she interrupted.
"Look here," said Mel, and Charles leaned down inches from Taylor's face just as the woman beside him had done a few minutes earlier. "Lean to your left," instructed Mel (Charles obeyed), "and now—"
"Eeyurgh!" said Charles, springing back.
"Would you all please stop doing that? It's very off-putting!" Taylor was indignant, crossing her arms and scowling (as much as her nose would let her).
"I think you've broken it," said Charles, seriously, studying her again from a few inches distance. "It's incredibly lucky Oliver cut practice short," he continued, gently touching her nose to inspect the injury as he spoke. "You could have really hurt yourself out there. One in a million chance, really, very lucky," he muttered.
"What do you—ow!—mean by that?" asked Taylor, cringing away from his prodding fingers.
"Sorry," Charles said, automatically, still fiddling with her nose. "Oliver's obsessed with Quidditch," he explained. "I mean, the man's never missed even a practice in four years, I can't imagine something important enough for him to cancel anything, even just the last half-hour of training."
"That's true," commented Ann sagely, still hovering nearby.
"Well, actually," Donna said, contemplatively, "wasn't there one time he left in the middle of a game last year?"
"Near finals, I think" Charles agreed, remembering now. "He just flew off the field without a backwards glance. Dom was really angry."
"Dom?" asked Taylor, still patiently sitting while Charles was now pulling his wand out and tapping it tenderly against her nose.
"Old captain, graduated last year, a real jerk," Mel supplied.
"You said something about not getting along with him before," prompted Taylor.
"We dated at the beginning of my first year, then I dumped him and he never let it go, wouldn't even have me on the pitch much less try out for the team," said Mel. "Real ass about it," she added.
"She neglects to mention she dumped him for one of his own Beaters," Charles informed Taylor. Mel just looked surprised, and then smiled, recognition dawning.
"Oh yeah," she said, "I forgot about that."
Charles just rolled his eyes.
"Dom was one to hold grudges, though, that's for sure," he continued. "Never forgave Oliver for just leaving that day, even though it was an easy match against Merlin Academy. Couldn't believe he agreed to make Oliver captain after that, even though he's obviously the best for the job.
"It was so odd," recalled Charles. "I remember seeing Oliver look anxious and start fiddling with his sleeve just before hurtling off the field. Thought maybe he suddenly got sick, but I didn't see him for the next two days, and then he came back to the dorms really looking ill. He had that don't-ask-me face on, so I never did. This is going to hurt a little."