NOTES:
More Quidditch ensues! Because we love Quidditch. Oh yes, and more bastardly Quidditch players. Who are ::cough:: dealt with in highly appropriate manners.
DEDICATION:
To my SOBettes! You ROCK!! And a huge w00t for sexy irresistible Quidditch players!
DISCLAIMER:
Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not sue Thalia, unless thou desireth to be curst to the lowest pits of the infernal regions.
*~*~*~*
All right. So they danced. So they even had... dare she say it? Fun when they danced and talked about Quidditch. So much so that she didn't even feel the necessity to hex Carl Warrington into an unrecognizable mass of twitching Slytherin Chaser when it was over, for getting her into that situation.
So W—Oliver wasn't that bad. He hadn't even patronized her in a very long time.
Damn him!
Things were so much easier when he had just been another hateful male Quidditch player!
Damn it all to hell, why the devil had she allowed that to change in her mind?
Why couldn't she just keep things simple and wallow in her bitter man-hating bitchiness?
Honestly...
Damn him. Damn this. Damn... damn... damn...!!
Had she not had a Very Important Quidditch Game coming up in two days, Cass would have been quite tempted to go to the Leaky Cauldron again and drink herself into merciful, happy oblivion.
But she did have a Quidditch game coming up. And with her luck... if she did decide to sod it all and go drinking, he'd show up again. And she'd make a bloody fool of herself. Again.
Oliver Wood was miserable-ifying her life. Damn him. DAMN him.
Perhaps she should go and hex Warrington into an unrecognizable mass. Maybe it would make her feel better.
But knowing Warrington, smarmy smart-arsed bastard... Warrington had been Head Boy in his day. He'd deflect her hexes and laugh at her as she was hit by her own Jelly-Legs Jinx or some such...
And moreover... she was sure that there was something going on between him and Zabini, what with the two flirting back and forth and staying after practices to talk. And it would be nice to keep her only female confidante on this ruddy team in good humor. A Beater no less.
Damn W—Ol—WOOD. Damn Warrington. Damn Zabini. Damn...
Sod it... who was she kidding?
* * *
Thankfully, the advent of the game against the American team gave her other things to think about. Although, looking back on it afterwards, perhaps it only increased her more and more unnatural, disorganized thoughts.
The American team was a strong, albeit rather upstart and audacious one. The captain, one Kyle Robertson, was a Beater. He had several years of playing Professional Quidditch under his belt, and perhaps his experiences had been very good. In any case, they had given him a certain outlook on Quidditch and life that was… somewhat complacent.
In any case, the day of the game, Cass and the rest of the team silently took to the air as Oliver Wood and Kyle Robertson shook hands in the middle of the pitch. The Quidditch Commentator was an American man from Alabama, and frankly, his abominable drawling accent made Cass's skin crawl in revulsion, but she forced herself to ignore it and watch the referee release the balls into the air. Snitch and bludgers… Skyler and Harry were both already staring at the self-motile balls… and then…
As was almost always the case in a Quidditch game, Cass was the first one to shoot forth when the Quaffle was released. Managing to snatch the red ball from right under the nose of American Chaser Vivan Bailey, she tore off towards the goals, well aware that Warrington was on one side of her, waiting for a pass if necessary, and Whitby was on the other, fending off Chaser Brian Spencer with Beater club raised.
Andrew Gaines, American Beater, hit a bludger towards her head, and she swerved out of the way, handing the Quaffle to Warrington for a moment, then flying to Warrington's other side to be passed the ball once again. The two Slytherins, passing the Quaffle back and forth like they'd used to do when they were in school, made their speedy way towards the goal hoops, and Cass, at the last moment, bypassed American Keeper Shane Brockman, scoring the first goal of the game.
Warrington, perhaps by dint of superior size and strength, stole the Quaffle from Vivian Bailey, and before American Beater and captain Kyle Robertson could hit him with a bludger, scored again. He and Cass exchanged smug smirks; Slytherins worked very well together, after all.
American Chaser Mackenzie Jones caught the Quaffle on the rebound, and made off towards the opposite end of the field, with Kevin Whitby and Steven Cornfoot both in hot pursuit. Jones ducked Whitby's bludger, passed the Quaffle to Spencer, and Spencer managed to put a shot past Wood, making the score 20:10.
Steven Cornfoot, capturing the Quaffle on the rebound, wove in and out of white-robed American players and joined Cass and Warrington in Hawkshead Attacking Formation. The three Chasers, working seamlessly together after the innumerable rounds of practices, passed the Quaffle back and forth between them as they shot towards the Keeper Brockman; three menacing blue arrows. Finally, Steven Cornfoot entered the scoring area, and threw the Quaffle through the left hoop; earning the English team another ten points.
Within the next hour, it looked like the American team would be playing not quite the cleanest of games. Twice the English were awarded with penalty shots, as Spencer and Robertson, respectively, sought dishonorable ways to play the game. Warrington, Skyler and Cass exchanged glances with each other as Steven took the second penalty shot.
Slytherin Quidditch… it was time to put some force and cunning into play.
"An' Robertson gets smacked on the shoaulder with a bludger from British Beater Zabini as the British Chaser Flint scoares once agin…" the American commentator drawled in his twangy voice two hours later, "Ah do believe that the British taem is tryin' to show that they ain't gonna be that aesy to beat! An' would ya look at that! British Chaser Warrington scoares once agin', makin' the scoare 100:50, Britain in the lead…"
By the time the teams took a break, at the six-hour point, the British team was in the lead, 160:70. The Snitch had still not made an appearance, and both Seekers were getting rather antsy.
"Well, Harry, I think that it's possible for the Snitch to have not shown up yet… after all, you've a sharp eye for that kind of thing, and the other Seeker has not spotted it either. And we have a sizable lead on them right now…" Oliver reassured his Seeker, even though he himself looked rather wary. But the wary look on his face was replaced with one of alarm when sounds of argument came from the by the women's locker room.
"What's going on over there?" Warrington, taking a swig from a bottle of water, asked. Oliver shook his head, and the Chaser, Keeper and Seeker all walked briskly over towards the sounds of shouting.
Cass Flint and Skyler Zabini were standing together, and both were wearing expressions of superior Slytherin boredom. Except they were both scowling as well. NOT a good sign, by any means.
Kyle Robertson was leering at the former, and wearing what was supposed to be a suave, debonair smirk.
The fact that all Slytherins of both genders were grand masters of The Smirk made the attempt futile and farcical.
"Blast, even bloody GOYLE could pull off a better smirk than that," Skyler whispered to Cass, rolling her eyes, before turning back to Kyle Robertson with a patented haughty expression.
"If you please, sir, my teammate and I wish to be left alone."
"But I am very interested in your teammate here," Robertson persisted, "She's a damn good Chaser… and…" he whistled, and Cass gave him a Basilisk-like death glare.
"What bloody part of 'WE WISH TO BE LEFT ALONE' do you not understand?" Cass hissed. Skyler rolled her eyes again.
"The 'alone' part, obviously." The Beater gave the American Captain a lethal smile all the more menacing for its sweetness, "I do believe that we have made it quite clear… you are not welcome here."
"Oi, Skyler…" Warrington had, somehow, perhaps unconsciously, started calling the female Beater by her first name, rather than 'Zabini', "This bloke bothering you two?"
"Oh, he's trying to," Skyler answered airily, "That is… he's trying to get Cass to shag him, I believe… and as for bothering us… well, he's been doing that. It's all right though… I'm sure that if he keeps it up, one of us will lose our temper, and hex him beyond recognition. Then his team will suffer, and we can sue him for sexual harassment, and all will be solved. We win the game, the pillock gets what he deserves…"
But before Skyler could proceed any further with her impeccable logic, Oliver Wood had sprang up upon Robertson, eyes blazing in righteous Gryffindor fury. "WHAT THE DEVIL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?! BOTHERING MY TEAM LIKE THAT! LEAVE AT ONCE!!"
Wood's hands were wrapped around the American's throat, and for all intensive purposes, it seemed like he was very eager to pound or hex the American captain into a bloody pulp, Magical Games and Sports regulations be damned.
But before Oliver could do any serious damage to the other man, Warrington and Harry pulled him off forcefully by the arms. Kyle Robertson stumbled back, coughing, eyes wide. But before he could say anything more, or Oliver could rail at his teammates for preventing him from beating Robertson into unconsciousness, Warrington spoke, and his voice was lethally soft.
"You've been told to leave several times. Evidently, as speech does not seem to work… well, I believe that I shall let Cass perform the honors." He gave Cass a look that the seething Oliver and confused Harry did not understand (most likely a Slytherin thing), but Cass and Skyler smirked maliciously, and the former raised her wand.
A banishing charm later, the locker rooms of the British team were free from interlopers, and Skyler, as well as Harry Potter, walked off. Oliver Wood, however, was still pacing around the area where the American Quidditch player had been a few moments ago, and fuming visibly, muttering profanities of a most gruesome nature under his breath.
Cass Flint and Carl Warrington watched curiously as their captain, in an unprecedented and completely unexpected manner, forewent his usual practice of watching the reserves play for an hour, and instead, spent the entire time fuming about the outrageous, rude and presumptuous behavior of the American captain. In time, Skyler and the rest of the team returned, and the female Beater rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
"Relax, Wood. There are better and more effective ways of... dealing with the likes of him... than muttering about him in Gaelic swear words. Leave it to me, and we'd better get going."
And then, it was time for them to get back on the field. The reserves had done well; and the score, when they went back on, was 200:80, in favor of England.
The regular team took to the air again, and this time around, Robertson found that he could barely concentrate on playing his part, much less directing his team. The dark-haired Beater chick seemed to have a grudge against him, for he found himself pelted with bludgers at the most inopportune times and in the most inconvenient of places.
And then, just as Steven Cornfoot made another shot, putting the score at 240:100, Harry Potter, with American Seeker Jessica Knapp at his heels, dove in pursuit of the finally visible Snitch. And a split second before Harry caught the Snitch and the stadium erupted in cheers from the British supporters, the merrily humming Skyler Zabini blithely caught Robertson with a bludger in the solar plexus, knocking him off his broom.
And so it was, that as the British all-star team won a glorious victory against the American team, the American captain was being levitated down onto a stretcher before he could hit the ground. And then, as the drawling Commentator announced the final score of 390:100, Kyle Robertson was ignominously carted off the field.
The British team, most of them, departed from the game in high good spirits. Most of them congratulated Skyler on her excellent bludger tactics, and Warrington mockingly rebuked her, saying that she could have ruptured the fellow's spleen, how could she have been so careless?
"Hmm? Careless?"
"You could have ruptured his spleen! And you didn't!" Warrington chortled, "If that's not carelessness on your part, I don't know what is."
Skyler shook her head and grinned, "I'd be sued for killing him, then. And that would be bad... this season isn't over yet. But I also could have hit him somewhere else... and permanently prevented him from reproducing," she said sweetly.
"You, Skyler Zabini, are evil," Warrington sniggered, "I bow humbly at your feet." The Chaser bowed low in front of the young woman, and Skyler laughed.
"Well, it has been established long ago that you were my personal slave..."
"This sounds too kinky for my innocent Gryffindor ears," Harry muttered to himself, and shook his head. Kevin Whitby laughed.
"I'm sure, Potter. You're the one who is on the same team as that fellow year-round."
"I try not to remember it," Harry said dryly, "And besides, there aren't any girls on our team; he's not quite as kinky around blokes. Thank Merlin."
Alas, once again, the peace was broken. Oliver Wood, after congratulating his team, sat down within the earshot of Cass Flint, and made the grave mistake of grumbling something about what he wanted to do to gits like Robertson who had the audacity to bother female Quidditch players.
And Cass, over-sensitive female Quidditch player, snapped at him and told him to shut up; she didn't need him to bloody take care of her from stupid prats like Robertson, how dare he presume to do such a thing?
And the rest of them sighed collectively.
"Had I known that this would happen again, I would have bludgered THEM TWO," Skyler Zabini muttered to Carl Warrington, "Please, for the love of God, do us all a favor and annoy him steadily until he bloody confesses or something. Hopefully before I am forced to kill one or both of them."
*~*~*~*
Gah... those two... they are just so dense! ::thwacks them:: Oh well, review anyway!