Thirty-six

"The winner takes it all
the loser has to fall
it's simple and it's plain
why should I complain."

ABBA, "The Winner Takes it All"

Whoa, today's the day. As in "Our first final since twenty years, and we're gonna win it!"-day. The best thing about that: It takes my mind off anything else, and it's about the one thing I don't completely suck at. The worst thing? We are minus our Beater, and that's a big blow. But we can do this. For some reason I can't fathom, I managed to whip the team in shape together with Coach, and even Chiverston behaved herself. Yeah, well, as far as Chiverston can behave herself, that is. Anyway, maybe I should think up some pep-talk, while I change…

"I'm surprised that you're here, Lavinia." Huh? Who… Surprised I turn around, only to find myself face to face with Witch Weekly's top hyena, Lucinda Carrow. This isn't happening, right?

"Yeah… so?" Wow, comeback of the year, McNeil.

"Well, after what happened a few days ago." Oh, aren't we mighty informative today. That could cover just about everything, from the dredged trial to the minor disturbances in the floo network two days ago. I know I should be nice and polite now and I should probably try and make her talk, because she's Lucinda Carrow which means she wouldn't be here if she hadn't some agenda that somehow incorporates me, most of all considering that there haven't been any articles about me in the past few weeks. But I have an important game in about an hour, and I just sodding don't have to deal with any of this.

"You know what? Get lost. Find some wannabe Oliver Wood, drag him behind a broom shed and keep your nose out of other people's business." Mh, you're definitely getting better at snapping at people.

However, Carrow just grins. What was so funny about that, huh? "Good idea, but actually I already have a date. With Yaxley." Wham. For a moment, I draw a blank, on about any response. About a million things are going through my head right now, and none of them pleasant. In fact… I feel something suspiciously close to nausea coming up at the thought of Orion and that… harlot together. How… could he? After what Bryony did to him… after what Carrow did to him?

No, wait. That's not supposed to give me any headaches. I'm not supposed to waste any thoughts on that. We don't have anything to do with each other anymore, this is a free country, he can do as he pleases. Even if it's totally out of character and simply doesn't make any sense. It's not my business.

Doesn't mean, though, that I want to have a chat with Carrow about this. "Ah, sounds great. Have fun. And don't bother to talk to me again." A little too abruptly, I turn around and walk away, taking care not to walk too brisk, but I have the distinct feeling that it looks more like storming away than being unperturbed. And yeah, behind me I can hear the faint echo of Carrow's amused laugh.

It seems to follow me all the way to the locker room. Hopefully Chiverston isn't there already… dammit, I don't get spared anything today, right? Okay, McNeil, smile, greet, change. Put on your game face, don't let her see how that encounter just rattled you up. Which it didn't, remember?

"So… feeling up to the challenge today?" Chiverston's honey-sweet voice drifts over to me, and again I have the feeling that someone's got an agenda here. Dammit, that's all Orion's fault. I never used to be so suspicious of anyone until he got me started on this paranoia thing.

"Yeah, sure. Some reason why I shouldn't?" My, are you a merry little sunshine, today. What happened to staying cool and not letting anything on?

"Oh well… we really would do better with Larson, you know." Yeah… so? What's with everyone's knack for stating the obvious today?

I can barely suppress an unnerved sigh. "We've had bigger problems than lacking a Beater. This'll be a cake walk." Whoa, yeah, way to go. Remember that for the pep-talk, should you be required to give one.

"Lavinia, Lavinia… you surprise me. I honestly thought you liked poor Eric. But you really don't sound all that worried about him at all." Oh, now it's "poor Eric"? I seem to remember a time when it was "that stupid Larson-guy". Now I do sigh.

"Look, what is this about? I do like Eric, and I'm really very sorry that this happened to him, but it's not like he didn't know what he signed up for. He always knew what could happen, and he'll be okay in a few weeks' time. These things happen. It was just an unfortunate accident." I shrug, because it's true. I've been at St. Mungo's and had a little chat with Eric about all of this. Poor guy was more upset about not being able to play today than about the pain he still had to endure.

Something in what I just said must have been piqued her interest, because she says, "Unfortunate maybe, but… not quite… accidentally."

Huh? "What do you mean, not quite accidentally?" She grins, distinctively looking like a hyena. Something Orion once said comes to my mind just now. "Just because you wouldn't do this, doesn't mean others won't." What… the hell did I just stumble into?

"Oh, Lavinia, you poor thing. You didn't really think Larson's accident was an accident, did you?" What the…? What is she implying? "Really, it was so obvious. And you know… you should be thankful After all, you profited from that as well. He was our hottest rival for the Captain's badge." Our hottest rival? Maybe her hottest rival. I never thought that the Captaincy was the Holy Grail or something. I don't even know if I would want to be Captain if they would decide about that now instead of three weeks later.

"Look, Chiverston… I have no idea what you're talking about. And I don't want anything to do with it." She laughs the bright laugh that makes her one of society's darlings.

"Oh, but you already have. Because Larson's incapacitated now, your own standing increased considerably. I might have to do something about that as well." Chiverston smiles brightly and even has the gall to wink at me. I think I'm going to be sick.

"Do what you will, but leave me out of it. If I'm gonna be Captain, I'm gonna be because I'm the best player, not a conniving bitch." She wants to answer something, but I simply grab my broom and brush past her. I really don't have to listen to this.

But just as I'm about to leave for the Pitch, she calls after me, "The only reason you are pretending to be repulsed by me is because you know as good as I that in another world our roles could have been reversed. I'm just the dark side you refuse to acknowledge."

That's enough now. If I ever wanted to become Captain, I surely don't want to now. If I need to be a back-stabbing murderous bitch to get even near that badge, Chiverston can have it. I just want her to see that what she did was wrong. I… I would love to teach her a lesson, actually.

But... maybe later. Now it's game time. And it's gonna be a hard one, because Larson was our best beater. I take a deep breath an walk onto the Pitch, with Chiverston right behind me. I just hope she doesn't forget the actual playing after all her scheming, because if we win this game, the Magpies will be English champion the first time after twenty years, even before the Season is over.

The referee releases the Snitch, and immediately Chiverston and Albright, the Harpies' Searcher, kicks off. Then the Quaffel and the Bludgers are released. Finally some release from all the power games and other complicated stuff and some good old Quidditch exhilaration.

Orion:

"Can I come in?" Lucinda Carrow is standing outside the door of my London apartment, holding a bottle of Firewhisky, looking hopeful. I frown.

"Why? We haven't got an appointment. What do you want?" It had been hard enough impressing on her that she really shouldn't mess with our agreement – and now she starts stopping by on her own account? I'm not too thrilled with the perspective. I had counted on working on the Roshenkov-Argentina connection some more today. That's why I left work already around eight in the evening – to enjoy the quiet of the apartment. And now, there's Carrow.

"I have some news," she's stating, shaking the bottle. "Several news, actually. Just let me in."

I'm not enthusiastic about it; but she got me curious, so I stand aside to let her in. She has a sickeningly pleased smile on her face that almost makes me repent. "So, what's the news?" I ask her, as she puts the bottle on the table in the hallway and takes off her coat. She turns back to me.

"Bryony came to see me. As you can imagine, she's furious," she tells me, obviously not too concerned about it. She's grinning at me as if she were very pleased with the result.

"And, that's your news?" I ask back in a sarcastic voice. I don't think that's what she came here for. She has lifted up the bottle again and disappears into the kitchen like she owned the place. I follow her. "What do you think you're doing here, in my apartment, anyway?" Lucinda opens the cupboard, takes out two glasses and pours Firewhisky into them.

"Here," she hands me one of the glasses, "your wife wants to know why I've suddenly switched sides. You see, I was supposed to be on her side."

I sniff at the whisky in my hand and lift the glass to toast to her. She immediately drowns half of it. I only sip at the glass. I haven't got the best experience with too much to drink. "I still don't see the news. Bryony has asked me the same question, you see. She's convinced that you've only talked her into this campaign against me so you could have a go at me." I observe her reaction as I say it. She's neither surprised nor concerned by it. "She told you the same story, didn't she?"

Carrow nods and grins at me over the rim of her glass. "I can live with that," she answers.

"But I can't, Carrow. Think something up. I don't want to be linked to you in any possible way in public." I stare at her.

"If you say so," there's a lot of irony in her voice. I don't know if I should trust her in that, but let it be for the moment.

"So, what's the real news?" I ask, as I'm leading her back into the living room. I have to do something about her; she's much too comfortable around here.

"Burke is not taking the hint", she says matter-of-factly, sitting down on the sofa and carelessly crossing her legs. "Rumour is, he still wants to sanction your behaviour; says divorce can't be accepted for your lot." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, guess why," I wash down rest of the whisky. "He's been sleeping with her." I don't know if that's true. Bryony only told me that she had gone after my friends – she never specified who it had been. I'm suspecting that Burke has been among them, he has always had a thing for women of all sorts. It's this kind of hypocrisy that makes me mad.

Carrow isn't commenting on that. Instead, she's refilling both our glasses and looks up at me: "You're taking it surprisingly well."

"What? That she cheated?" I snap back, but Lucinda shakes her head.

"The accident." She's talking in riddles. What accident?

"Sorry, you lost me here." Confused, I take up my whisky again.

She's smiling to herself, as if she had expected me not to know. "Honestly, do you really not follow Quidditch at all?" Quidditch... Lavinia! The glass slips out of my hand and shatters on the floor. Lavinia has had an accident and nobody's telling me? I glare at Carrow who's obviously only come here to gloat. I could strangle her.

"Relax," she's telling me. "She isn't hurt. It's Helena Chiverston you should be worried about."

I'm not bothering with taking out my wand to clean up the floor. "Just tell me." I consider throwing her out of my apartment right away and find out on my own.

"Your girl-" she starts, but I interrupt.

"She's not my girl."

Lucinda continues unimpressed, "she's been in an accident in her last game on Sunday. I suppose Helena Chiverston-Althorpe won't be playing Quidditch again after that. But McNeil is refusing to play even though she's not hurt, allegedly because she feels guilty for the accident. But if you ask me-"

I interrupt again. "I'm not asking you, Carrow." I have to find out how Lavinia is feeling. Maybe it's all the commotion of these last months that finally got to her. But I mustn't jump to conclusions. Not like Carrow here. "Would you please leave now," I tell her, getting up from my seat to show her I mean it.

"Is this how you thank me for letting you know?" she's accusing me as she gets up, too.

"Oh, you haven't come here to let me know. Now, get going. I'll contact you for the next interview as usual," I almost push her to the door. She's not even really protesting.

"Fine, have a nice little evening here on your own, Yaxley. I hadn't planned on hanging around here anyway," with that, she's leaving. I sigh after closing the door behind her. Can't things be a little quieter some time?

When I get back to the living room, Bongo has cleaned up the floor. I smile. It's good to have house elves. But, Merlin, I have to see Lavinia now. I have to know how she's feeling after that. Even though she didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore last time we met. These are special circumstances, right?

Two days later, I've still not succeeded in contacting Lavinia. I tried everything – writing, floo-powder, calling at her door, waiting for her to come out – but she's hiding out in her apartment.

I'm now sitting on the steps in front of her apartment, but there's no sign of her getting out any time soon. I should really get back to work - all I want is to make sure she's alright. Just when I'm about to declare defeat and leave, I hear someone climbing the stairs. It's Mrs. Wright, the old neighbour living downstairs. She's carrying a laundry basket, but puts it down on the floor when she sees me.

"Mr. Yaxley!" she cries. "What are you doing outside here? Did you have an argument?" I don't get a chance to rectify anything. "Come on, dear, I'll pour you a cup of tea. No use sitting outside here looking miserable. I'm sure you'll work it out. You were such a lovely couple when you visited me last time." With that, she's taking up her basket again and waits until I get up and follow her to her apartment.

She ushers me into her living room and tells me to sit down while she's putting the kettle on. I look around, thinking about how I could get out of this again. Not that I'm annoyed with the old lady personally. I liked her as a neighbour, but she reminds me that we're not neighbours anymore and that I'm not friends with Lavinia anymore, either. I don't have the heart to set Mrs. Wright right and tell her the truth about us.

Here she comes again, with a loaded tray containing not just the tea, but biscuits and little treats, too. "There you go," she's handing me a cup and forces a biscuit on me. "That's better, Mr. Yaxley. You look tired, dear." Funny, everyone except me seems to notice that.

"I've had a lot on my plate these last months, Mrs. Wright," I concede with a sigh. "And I still have, as a matter of fact. I'm sorry, I can't stay much longer." But the old lady is shaking her head.

"No, dear. I'm sure you have more time than you think. It's no good rushing so much, you'll regret it later," she tells me, patting my hand.

A/N: Oh well, yes, this story is still alive (unfortunately only because rareb doesn't forget nagging me to continue it, even though I constantly get overrun by SGA bunnies...) and we do intent on finishing it. Honestly. We know where we want to go and how to get there. I just have toactually write my parts. I will take this as a lesson in keeping to my promises then.

We would also like to thank our reviewer Adecge for writing such a nice and elaborate review. Maaaybe we should start looking around for a beta for this one ;) (I do have one, but only for my Stargate stories). Rareb wants to point out that she agrees with you that Orion manages to get everything out of Lucy pretty easily (maybe a tad too easily), which is probably due to the fact that there's a much bigger backstory to Orion and Lucy than we have room to cover here.