It was an elated Nym that walked into Potions class one Monday morning. Gryffindor had won their quidditch match against Hufflepuff the day before, in an epic and exceedingly close game. With Bruce out with a broken arm and severe concussion, and one of the Gryffindor Beaters on penalty for hitting an opposing player over the head with her bat, Gryffindor had been trailing by fifty points when Nym caught the snitch. Of course, now they'd never let her play Chaser, but she was too happy with the win to care. And she'd sent the last package of homework off to Zurich on Saturday, so she had enjoyed two glorious and homework-free days. She was in such a good mood, in fact, that she could almost have excused Snivellus for having been born. He was a miser, it was true, but what was the world without its puss-filled pimples? Don't answer that, a part of her brain added quickly. Keep the happy thoughts going.

"What's that grin for, Tonks?" Snivellus demanded. "What have you done now?"

Beautiful, Nym thought, now he's going to take points off for being happy. "I'm having a good day, sir."

"And why is that, hmm? Put maggots in my desk, have you? Jinxed my chair, maybe?"

"Nossir. I could if you like though, sir," Nym answered, her happiness making her the slightest bit foolhardy.

"Showing off now, are you?"

"Nossir. Just trying to be helpful."

"You still haven't answered my question, Tonks. Why are you having a good day?"

Good grief, she thought. I was having a good day, thank you, but that's done with now. Across the room, Mandy shot her a look of deep sympathy. "I didn't have any homework over the weekend, Professor."

Snape looked like Christmas had arrived two weeks early. It was the last Monday before Christmas holidays, and perhaps his last time to share his misery with his students. "I distinctly recall assigning an essay, Tonks. I take it you did not complete it. Five points…"

"I did it, sir, begging your pardon." Nym gave him her sweetest smile. "I finished it on Friday. It's in the pile on your desk." And indeed it was. Snape looked ready to do murder, but he couldn't very well take points off for having her homework done. And if he does, Nym thought savagely, I'll write Uncle Lucius. Snivellus may be nothing but a bully, but Lucius is a bigger one. Take that, you slimeball. She worked not to let these thoughts show on her face, however. There was no telling what Snivellus would think she was up to.

"Very well, Tonks. Since you seem to have such a strong grasp of the topic, you can write me an essay on the theory behind the Levitation creams, and have it for me by the end of the period." And he smiled that nasty smile of his, knowing that no second year should be able to do that. Why, Nym thought, half the fourth years couldn't manage it if you gave them the whole day! Second years were only supposed to be able to make one and explain what it did, not how and why it worked.

Grumbling quietly, she reached into her bag and pulled out her notebooks. Bloody unfair, that's what he was. Sirius was only too right to beat him up. The more often, the better, in her opinion. Uncle Lucius might be a right bastard, and Regulus a hell-child, but no one could match Snivellus for sheer gittiness. She should have done worse to him, that time she had him unconscious. Leaving him lying around looking like he was drunk just didn't compare to the horror he could make her life now that he was a teacher. True, he had had detention for a month, but he could make her suffer that a dozen times over before she graduated. Oh, how she detested him.

Mandy caught up to her after class, puffing a little as she worked to match Nym's determined stride. Nym was little, and her book bag overflowed with heavy books, but she was the stronger for it, and for her intense quidditch work over the summer and throughout the fall. Mandy's idea of exercise was walking between classes. Still, she was determined to keep up to her friend, and that gave her the strength to match the smaller girl's grueling pace, if only for a little while.

"Are you alright, Nym?"

Nym looked at her friend, surprised. "Yeah." Why wouldn't she be?

"Snape is always so beastly to you. How can you stand it?"

Nym shrugged. "I just kind of ignore him, I guess."

Mandy didn't seem ready to believe that. "I don't see how you can. He's such a monster. How could Dumbledore ever think to hire him on?"

"I guess he's good at potions." He was, too, as much as Nym hated to admit that Snivellus could be good at anything. Totally useless with a wand, though, she thought, not without satisfaction. Slimy git, couldn't do a first year spell with a wand.

Mandy didn't seem to have heard her. "I bet it wasn't Dumbledore at all. I bet it was the Board of Directors. I've heard that they're simply beastly. But of money-grubbing, pure-blooded old farts, with wand so far up their…"

Fenbrus Burlax was a huge boy, tall, broad-shouldered, and comfortable with it. He was also, according to Mandy, drop-dead gorgeous, but Nym just couldn't see that. She thought he looked a bit homely, although she supposed he was somewhat good looking when his face was crinkled up in that all-encompassing smile he had. Nym's opinion, however, wasn't of the slightest interest to most of the girls in the school, who tended to agree with Mandy. They had an annoying habit of filling the stands when the Gryffindor team tried to practice, and after six months of it, Nym had reached her breaking point.

They were in the changing room, the one place the team was safe from the eyes of all those girls, a few of whom, no doubt, used the opportunity to do a bit of spying for their own teams. Most of the other players were outside warming up, but Fenbrus had wanted to go over a special play with Nym, a special one he'd designed for a strong Beater - himself - and a fast Chaser - her.

"I can't do this, Bruce," Nym said, when he put his hand on the door to leave.

Bruce smiled reassuringly. "Come on, Nym. You're the best Chaser we have. I know it'll be hard to do without any practice, but I know you'll manage it."

Nym sighed. "It's not the play, Bruce. Yeah, maybe I could manage it. It's the other part."

"Which?" Fenbrus's honest face crinkled as he tried to see what she was driving at. Of course, she thought bitterly, he'd never think of telling those girls to go away so we can practice. He's much too nice.

"The not practicing part."

"But we've done lots of other plays without practicing them."

"But we shouldn't have to!" Nym cried. "We should be able to practice our plays before we have to use them in games, or without sneaking out at night to use the pitch. We have the pitch booked for practice, but we can't use it because of those stupid chits!"

"Come on, Nym. They just want to watch some quidditch. They like the game just as much as you do."

"Then why don't they watch their own teams practice, instead of coming to see us fly in circles?"

"How do you know they don't?" he demanded.

Nym nearly groaned in exasperation. Just like Bruce, to stick up for them. "I went to one of the Ravenclaw practices, alright? And Eloise Grigglesworth, you know her, she's been to every single one of our practices¸ threatened to report me to Dumbledore for spying."

"But you were spying, weren't you?"

"Of course not. I just went to watch their practice."

She could see Bruce trying to make sense of it. The poor boy didn't have a dishonest bone in his body. "Did you tell her that she'd made a mistake?"

"Of course. But come on, Bruce, do you really think she'd believe that? She didn't care what I was doing there."

Bruce sighed. Nym hoped it was starting to make sense to him. "What do you want me to do about it, Nym?"

"Send them away. If there's even one of them left by the time I get out there, I can't make any guarantees about what I might do."

"Please Nym…"

"I can't take this any more, Bruce. I need to practice while it's light out."

Bruce nodded slowly. He might not understand why Nym hated to have all the other girls around - and the spies that moved among them - but he did understand that she wouldn't practice while they were there, and that his team really ought to practice while it was still light out. They were out of the running for the Cup after that disastrous game against Ravenclaw, but they might still take second place, if they put on a good showing against Slytherin in two weeks. "I'll try."

But of course, as Nym had expected, they hadn't left by the time she made it out to the field five minutes later. Instead, as soon as Bruce had made it clear he wanted to talk to them, more had seemed to ooze out of the wood of the stadium, until they clustered around him in a big group, flirting so outrageously with him that he could hardly get a word in to tell them to shove off.

Mitch, a fourth year Beater, was watching them and his captain with a critical eye from his post in the middle of the pitch. "Should we even bother getting changed from now on, do you think?" he asked Nym. "There'll be twice as many when we come to practice tomorrow."

"I need a Bludger, Mitch," Nym said by way of answer.

He grinned. "But see, it's my job to keep Bludgers away from you, right?"

Nym rolled her eyes and grabbed his bat out of his hand. "Get me the damn Bludger."

Mitch got her the heavy ball wordlessly, making sure she held the struggling weapon tightly before he let her off the ground with it. No one in their right mind tried to carry a Bludger while flying, he'd pointed out when Nym told him what she intended. "At this point, I don't think I'm in my right mind anymore," was all she said in reply.

Now she was high above the pitch, circling. The Bludger was fighting valiantly to get away, but Nym held on grimly. There would be no more girls at practices from now on. She let go the Bludger and swung the bat at the place where he arm had been a second before, hitting the Bludger before it had a chance to go anywhere. It flew, fast and dangerous, straight into the group of girls, knocking two aside before it smashed into Eloise Grigglesworth before rebounding back up to Nym, who smashed it again towards the knot of panicked girls.

She was going to pay for this, she knew; she knew it with the same crystal clarity that she knew her own name. She couldn't care, though, any price was worth it. She wasn't quite so sure of that when, the next day, a smiling Dumbledore sentenced her to a month's worth of detentions under Snape's critical eye. At any rate, it had had the desired effect. No more girls came to practice, and Mitch was very careful to keep his equipment well out of her reach.