NOTES:
And finally, the poor dear souls are released from the hospital.
DEDICATION:
To Kate, my awesome plot bunny tossing partner and fellow SOBette. ::glomp::
DISCLAIMER:
If you actually spend your time reading these things rather than the fic itself… that's really rather pathetic.
*~*~*~*
"What the devil were you thinking, Cass?"
It was hours since she'd told Oliver Wood the story of her, Marcus, Warrington, and the modified rules regarding Slytherin Quidditch.
And all these hours, she'd spent berating herself for telling him these things.
As if he had any right to know. She barely knew him. What the hell had possessed her to be so indiscreet?
God… he'd probably pity her now.
She glanced over surreptitiously at him. It was still quite early in the morning, and he was fast asleep, mouth open, softly crooning Quidditch statistics.
"And Glynnis Griffiths, after seven days of Seeking, finally catches the snitch, bringing the Holyhead Harpies to victory against the Heidelberg Harriers… " Oliver muttered in his sleep, then grunted and rolled over. Cass shook her head and smiled a bitter, wry sort of smile.
Yes… a Quidditch fanatic, if there ever was one.
Did he understand?
What in the world had made her tell him? He certainly wouldn't have had more than a mere passing interest in it. After all, he barely knew her, thought she was a bint, and more, he was a Gryffindor. It wasn't like he knew anything of what her life was like.
And… with her luck, he'd probably be all presumptuous and pitying now. The poor ickle Flint girl, unable to play Quidditch because her brother was a domineering prat.
And if there was a single thing that she detested even more than being thought little of… it was being pitied.
She would show him that she was not to be pitied. She would have to.
* * *
Oliver Wood had no bloody idea what had happened. The night before, they were actually getting along. Well, by their standards, anyway. They were having an entirely civil conversation… and finally, it seemed as though the girl had something human inside the irascible shell. She had shown him, more or less, that there was a method behind her apparent madness and antisocial man-hating tendencies.
But then, in the morning, she was back to her cantankerous self. Except it was even worse than before.
He had no idea what the devil was the matter with her. He had barely greeted her good morning when she had scowled at him and told him to sod off and leave her alone.
Crazy woman, that one.
He had tried to talk to her. After all, he was bored, and neither of them would be released quite yet.
"Oi, Flint, how's that book?" he has asked, glancing at her as she read The History of the Hawkshead Attacking Formation by Jarvis Barton.
"Sod off, I don't want to talk to you," she had snapped at him, her face buried behind the book.
"Blimey, what's the matter with you today?"
"I SAID... I don't want to talk to you! I'm not in the mood for socializing!"
Oliver had rolled his eyes, "Since when are you ever in the mood for socializing?"
"What part of 'SOD OFF' do you not understand?" she had shrieked at him, throwing the nearest object, which happened to be a roll of gauze, over her shoulder at him. He ducked, and it landed on the floor a few feet away from his bed.
"Barking mad..." he'd muttered, and the rest of the day had passed in sulky silence on both their parts.
* * *
The next morning, the same thick-skinned nurse had bustled in, and informed then that both of them were free to go. She had pulled a curtain across in between their beds, and the two of them had changed out of their hospital wear.
Cass, dressed in blue Muggle jeans and a black leather jacket, had shrunk her books and things and crammed them into her purse. And then, as Oliver, who was still packing, watched, she had stalked out of the room, head high, shoulders back, without a second glance.
He'd rolled his eyes as he transfigured the ridiculous pink teddy bear into a somewhat respectable-looking duffel bag, and then, he, too, had walked out of the hospital room to Apparate home. And he'd decided that he had washed his hands of Cassandra Flint.
Good riddance. Right.
* * *
"Cass, you're back!" Alice Brocklehurst stepped out onto the pitch, seeing her friend up in the air, doing laps on her broomstick. Cass paused, and flew down towards the ground, where the blonde Beater stood, smiling.
"Hullo, Alice."
"How're you feeling?" Alice asked her genially, "It's been rather unusual, practicing without you these past few days. I daresay that even though you've only been with us a season, we've quite gotten used to your presence."
"I'm fine," Cass landed in front of Alice and dismounted, "Nice to know that I've been missed."
"Oh, you have no idea how much you've been missed," Alice said wryly, "These few days, we've had a constant visitor to the pitch. Despite the fact that he's not supposed to be here at all during practices and such. Keeps on asking about you."
"Oh God... please tell me it's not Marcus," Cass groaned. Alice chuckled and shook her head.
"No... no," the Beater said gently, "I daresay his interest in you is... not familial at all in nature."
"Who is it, then?" Cass asked, frowning slightly.
"Edmund Baddock," Alice answered calmly, "Terence knows him, says that he was in the same year as you and him. Tall, medium brown hair, kind of brooding-looking. Terence said that he was something of a loner in school... I wouldn't really know, of course. But there you have it. I think he wants to take you out sometime."
"I see." Cass rolled her eyes, "Yes. I know him. His family is friends with mine. I've known him for quite some time."
"Is he nice?"
"Alice, my dear, you are talking about a Slytherin. Please don't ask something like that," Cass smirked. Alice shrugged, wholly unconcerned.
"Terence is a Slytherin, and he's quite nice. To me, at least."
"You're his girlfriend. He can make exceptions in rare incidences like that," Cass said dismissively. "If a Slytherin is 'nice' to someone, there's either an ulterior motive, or the person is just incredibly special. Well... I suppose that in your case, it could be both, with the ulterior motive being his desire for shagging..."
Alice's pretty face flushed the color of coral, and she swatted her teammate on the arm, "Well... be that as it may, Terence is good to me. But we aren't talking about me. We're talking about your apparent admirer Edmund Baddock. Perhaps you should talk to him sometime?"
"Yes... yes, I will go do that tonight," Cass said, rolling her eyes slightly, "Now, practice with me? Do you know how many days of inactivity I have to make up?"
Alice laughed and grabbed her own broom, "Yes... but don't take it out on me. I will practice with you for an hour, hmm? Then you go home and deal with the Baddock situation."
"All right, mother," Cass said sarcastically, and then, the two women took to the air, and all was forgotten except the game that they both loved.
* * *
After Apparating back to her flat, Cass flopped down on the couch, a grilled chicken sandwich in one hand, a glass of iced pumpkin juice in the other. Blimey, but it was nice to be home again! No more tasteless mushy slop that the hospital had the audacity to call food, no more lying in bed bored out of her mind all day. No more Oliver Wood...... well, okay. So the latter wasn't always that bad. But still! As part of the general ordeal of the hospital stay, he would have to be included as something she was happy to leave behind. That might be slightly unfair... but at the moment, she didn't care. Really.
Her thoughts were interrupted when her fireplace flared to life. Setting her food down, she watched as the green flames parted to reveal the face of Edmund Baddock.
Baddock had been in her house and year, one of the boys, along with Carl Warrington, Edward Montague, and Terence Higgs. But where the latter three had been rather close amongst themselves, sharing a common love of Quidditch, Edmund Baddock had been a loner. Somewhat sullen of disposition, although generally polite, he had always struck her as something of a bore. Certainly, he could be a gentleman when the occasion called for it, and his family was old, wealthy and impeccably well bred and well versed in all Wizarding ways. Like the Flint family, they likely had certain expectations for females.
So what the devil was Edmund Baddock after?
"Evening," she greeted him coolly, one eyebrow raised.
"It's great to see you again, Cassandra, you're looking lovely." Edmund smiled at her. Cass gave him a quizzical look.
"It's Cass, and thank you for the compliment. What can I do for you?"
"I just wanted to make sure that you've recovered from that terrible injury on the Quidditch pitch, Cassandra." Edmund drawled in a honey-smooth voice.
Cass sighed, "It's Cass, and I'm fine. It was just a bludger to the head. They caught me before I hit the ground, and I didn't break any bones. Don't worry about me."
"If you say so," Edmund Baddock looked dubiously at her, quite clearly thinking that bludgers to the head were very serious affairs. To be prevented at all costs. Up to and including never getting involved with anything that might give one the chance of coming near bludgers. "It must be terrible to suffer something like that for a mere job…"
"It's not," Cass said tonelessly, "And I love my job. It's not my job; it's my life. I don't think you quite understand, Edmund."
"Perhaps that is the case," Edmund Baddock shrugged dismissively, "Well… anyway, I was wondering if you would honor me with your presence tomorrow night, I've booked a reservation at a French restaurant in Diagon Alley."
"You… booked a reservation already," Cass said rather flatly. He nodded complacently. She hated when this happened. Hated it. Making a mental note to detach her flat from his residence in the floo network, she sighed.
"Fine. What time?"
"I will pick you up at seven o'clock tomorrow evening. Formal robes, of course," he cast another dubious glance upon her worn jeans, and then, his head disappeared, and the fireplace died down.
Cass almost wished that she were back in the hospital.
*~*~*~*
SORRY the chapter is somewhat short… the next will be longer, I swear! Review anyway!