Disclaimer: I own nothing except the heroine.

Chapter Three: The Anti-Picnic Passtime

"So can you help me or not, Moon?"

I received a cold stare in reply.

In case you are feeling an empty space since we last spoke, let me fill you in. I realized upon seeing the quidditch schedule that there was practice before dinner, it became apparent that I would need gear and fast. So I turned to my roommate, Morgan Moon who I had done a few favors for back before the 'epidemic'.

"You want me to lend you a full uniform and pads so you can wheeze and lollygag around the quidditch field?" she didn't even raise an eyebrow at me.

"It wasn't my idea to be placed on the team," I defended.

"Yet you expect me to help you when I know for a fact that you can't play quidditch to save your soul?"

Her hostility was so evident that it made me feel foolish for believing we were friends. I told her so too. "What ever happened to slytherins looking out for their own?" I snapped. "I am not asking you to sacrafice your first born, just for some gear and a little help."

Moon maintained her stone expression. "That trait is still intact. You are the one out of the loop."

That was like acid in both my eyes and I fought hard to not let it show. "Why do you think I came back?"

She nodded, accepting the point. "No one wants you to succeed. Malfoy briefed us and made it quite clear that you weren't to last a day."

"It wasn't my choice to come or to stay on this team."

"I know."

We held a silent look for a few moments before Moon spoke again. "Quidditch isn't some picnic. It isn't just another organization you can control. It is rough, it's tough and will rip you apart."

"I understand that and I intend to survive."

She smirked. "Do you even know what position you are playing?" When I didn't answer her smirk only widened. "Fine, Marlow. I have a uniform you can use. It was my brothers. Everything else you are going to have to get for yourself."

I thanked her and exited with a bundle of green and silver cloth. When I knew she was out of earshot, I kicked the wall viciously. I was missing the most crucial thing in this ruddy sport. Without pads I would surely be rendered unconscious before I had a chance to even get near any of the balls.

I glanced at the clock as I exited the common room. Practice was in two hours. I swallowed my pride and went to find the one person I knew would help me.

In the library, the fourth place I had looked, I saw Wonderboy sitting with his two best friends: Ronaldo and Granger. I stared at him for a while, hoping he would look up and eventually he did. I gestured for him to come out into the corridor and he did. I asked him if he could lend me some gear and he said he would. He told me to follow him to the Gryffindor lockerroom and did; smiling to myself for having successfully created another system of predictable responses.

"Here is what I have," Harry said as he pulled a hunormous duffle from a locker. He unzipped the bag and began pulling out things equivalent to armor. His face fell when he saw the look on my face. "You do know how to use this, right?"

I remained silent.

"When's slytherin practice?"

"One and half hours away."

"Alright let me teach you how to get this stuff on."

We spent about ten minutes pussyfooting around before it became extremely clear that there was just no way to put this stuff on while I still was in my clothes. It infuriated me that he hadn't just come out and said it earlier.

"Harry?" I asked. "Is this how you put your pads on? While you are wearing your school robes?"

He looked at me and blushed slightly. "Well, no but –"

"Then why on earth do you think that it will work for me?"

"Well, I—"

"I came to your for help, Harry. Your shyness is completely undermining my goal to not die during this practice. It would mean a great deal if you would stop being timid."

"Me being timid?" he sounded shocked. "I just don't want you to be embarrassed! It's a ltitle awkward to ask you to strip so that we can get this stuff on!"

"Are you a pervert?" I asked pointedly.

"Me? No!"

"Then there shouldn't be a problem," I said as I shed my outer robes. "Besides, we've had sex together. Neither of us are blushing virgins." Guess who blushed?

"But that was in the dark," he said quietly.

"I am aware that I have extremely pale skin but don't go mumbling about it."

"No, it wasn't that –" I turned back around after removing my collared button-down blouse to find his mouth still open. I looked down at myself. I must be more goblin-like than I thought.

"Um, well," Harry said, quickly averting his eyes and searching through the bag. He pulled out a piece that looked like it belonged to gladiators. "This is for your um, chest." I nodded. "It's probably going to be uncomfrotable."

"No shit."

"Perhaps you can get one from that slytherin girl on the team? Moon?"

"I am currently a slytherin outcast, Harry," I said matter-of-factly. "That's why I came to you. Let's just put it on."

"Oh. . ." he said, diverting his eyes while he put the chest guard over my head and tightened it around me. I grunted unintentionally as he tightened it around my torso. "Good thing you don't have big boobs," he thought out-loud.

I met his eyes and the boy wonder looked absolutely mortified. It was quite funny actually. We both laughed while looking away from one another.

Next I had to take my pants off in order to get on these hideous thigh protectors. I say hideous in a how-am-I-going-to-wear-these-and-not-fall-out-of-the-sky way. At this point I looked like a completely different person. Very man-ish actually.

"Now these," Harry said, pulling out something that resembled a thick face towel. "Are shinguards."

"Fabulous."

"You attach them to these"—he indicated the thighpads—"and they'll protect your knees and shins." He began to put on on. I bent down to try and attach the other one just as Harry was finishing and our heads collided.

"Oof!" Harry fell back on his arse and I fell onto my knees.

"Are you alright?" he asked through a wince.

"Dandy," I replied while I rubbed my forehead.

He pushed himself to his feet and offered me his hand. I took it but due to all the weight now attached to me, I fell backwards, pulling Harry will me. Poor bloke, he half-fell on me and I think his groin his my quidditch armor. His head collapsed against my should and he shook softly.

"Are you gonna be okay?" I asked after a few moments.

"Fine," he whispered in a pitched voice. I awkwardly stroked his hair until he was able to sit up.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he repeated with more conviction. He smiled at me before he said, "Let's get you in the rest of your gear."

As he finished putting different pads on me he spoke rapidly about all sorts of things I should do to improve my game but frankly, I had no idea what he was talking about. "Do you want to use my broom?" he asked out of no where.

"I can barely opperate a standard broom."

"But you'll move better on it. You'll get hit by a bludger easily on a standard issue broom. Besides," he added with a cheaky grin. "You can always by me a new one if you break it."

"Oh haha," I said sarcastically then my face fell. "Truth is I could."

Harry explained the basic functions of the firebolt to me while I dressed in the slytherin quidditch robes. I really didn't understand anything except how to change direction and go faster though even that was theoretical. When he had finished, he handed me the broom and smiled. "You look like a real quidditch player."

"I look like a bloody fruit," I grumbled.

"Merlin," Harry said as he checked the time. "You better get going. You've got five minutes."

"Bloody hell," I cursed taking the broom and hustling out of the locker room. I went a bit too fast however and tripped over the oversized robes. I fell into the grass and I heard Harry stiffling a laugh.

I got to my feet and glared at him. "I was going to thank you but if you are going to be like that . . ."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, a hint of snicker still in his voice. "It's just that. . ."

"Just what?"

"Nothing," he said shaking his head. "Hury up before Malfoy starts practice."

When I arrived to where Draco had the team in a huddle, everyone shot me a look of pure death. "Alright," he said coldly, eyeing my broom (or Harry's broom). "I want twenty laps and then we will start position drills." Laps I understood but what the fuck was my position.

That thought caused me to be a lap being everyone else just starting out.

"Let's move it, Marlow!" Draco shouted as Moon and Zabini lapped me—again. I leaned on the broomhead like Harry said and to my horror I started going faster—a lot faster. Next thing I know it was left, right, left right as I went buzzing around the corners. I thought for sure I was going to die.

"Marlow!" I heard Draco roar. "Get into your sodding chaser position!"

It took bloody forever to slow down, not to mention stop. I had to remember what chasers did. I found myself lined up next to Morgan Moon, Blaise Zabini and Graham Pritchard. Frabulous. Not to mention Avery and Cappar (the first string beaters) were looking exceptionally vicious.

"Alright," Draco began. "We are going to a game, minus the snitch. To see if you Marlow her has any balls." I wanted to sneer and tell him off but I held my tongue. "Avery, Cappar! I will tell you went to start hittting the bludgers. Ready. Go!"

The quaffle shot up into the air while I still had oh so many questions. It came right up next to me but Moon snatched it and started zooming off towards the goal with Pritchard right on her tail. "Move your bloody arse, Marlow!" Malfoy bellowed. At this rate I will forget my own name.

I flew off towards the goal (trying not to fall) when MacDougal through back the quaffle. It was coming right towards me and just before I grabbed it (with one hand so I wouldn't fall)–Blaise snatched it. "Bugger!" I shouted.

"Don't just sit there," Draco shouted. "Go get the sodding quaffle!"

I saw Blaise Zabini flying away, with my quaffle. I wanted nothing more than to rip it out of his arms with my nails. I caught myself, realizing that I am a CEO I have to stay controled. Then I realized this was quidditch–slytherin quiddtich and there are no rules except the ones you make.

It was like something inside of me let go. As though all my muscles were realized and I was zooming off towards Zabini, not caring if I could fall off. He was holding the quaffle and preparing to throw when I side tackled him. I mean the broom and I just completely smashed into him. We plummeted and it was actually a hard fall. When I opened my eyes though, I found myself covered in mud and holding the quaffle.

Two boot covered shoes stepped in front of my face. I looked up at Draco stone could but vaguely amused face. "Try to stay in the air, Marlow. That's the general goal of quidditch." I pushed myself up and mounted my broom again, handing Draco the muddy quaffle. I glanced at Blaise who seemed generally surprised by my aggressiveness. I felt like I was on the right track.

The quaffle went up again and Pritchard snatched it. Moon and I went zooming after him. She was ahead of me because I was concerned will falling off again. "Faster!" I could hear Draco yelling. "Move faster and take the bloody ball!"

In my mind I was thinking accelerate but the moment I realized I was taking orders from Draco Malfoy, I lost my balance and fell off my broom into the mud.

"Marlow!"

I was up again, in the air. Moon had the quaffle. All I could think about was quaffle. The next thing I know, I am sitting up high near Avery with a quaffle in my hand and Moon glaring at me.

"Don't just bloody sit there!" captain Malfoy shouted. "Through it through the sodding hoop!"

I flew towards MacDougal, quite slowly apparently and threw the ball as fast as I could. MacDougal caught it right at his chest.

"Oh for Merlin!" Draco cursed. "That was the worse throw I have ever seen! You are supposed to throw it through the hoop not at the bloody keeper and could you go any slower?" Draco continued his badgaring while MacDougal half-heartedly through out the quaffle. I grabbed it with surprising ease. He flew towards me still yelling, still badgaring as though he was better than me. That just because he knew how to play a ruddy sport, he could treat me like-like . . . This was a heirarchy but I would never, ever be below him.

So I chucked the ball at him and it hit, dead on. It couldn't have been that hard but it was something because Draco jerked.

The pitch fell silent.

"Well," he began. "I suppose now we can began our dodging exercises. I want fifty laps form everyone. Avery! Cappar! Release the bludgers."

He sounded like some war general. But I didn't really have time to argue, a bludger whizzing past my head got me out of that frame of mind.

You know, I had forgotten how good Cappar was as a beater. He nearly killed me oh, about every other shot. Why he wasn't actually hitting me, I attributed to Harry's broom. Draco was heckling the beaters and I was suddenly consumed by the necessity to go faster and faster around the pitch. Oddest feeling actually. As though I was sinking into a bath tub and the rest of the world was melting away. I went around and around without feeling the least bit repetitive.

Suddenly, I saw a bludger coming at me from the side. I jerked away from it, sending myself flying straight towards the mud. I shrieked and surprisingly didn't collide straight on, I swerved out of some reflex previously undiscovered and ended up colliding with the base of the stands. How graceful.

When I pulled myself together, the team was in a circle on the ground. Draco was up in the air, screaming at Cappar and Tarquin so loudly that his voice echoed. Apparently, they fucked up utterly.

I walked over to the group and asked what was going on, peering to the center. Pritchard was curled up in the fetal position and his face was to the ground. It looked like blood was coming out of his eyes and gums, among other places.

"What happened?" I asked. I didn't feel bad but curious.

The other members of the team present ignored my question and went about cushioning Pritchard and listening to Draco chew out the beaters. "Tarquin and Cappar clobbered Graham," someone whispered in my ear. I turned a few seconds later and saw Blaise looking away discretely.

"He can't be replaced! The only other bloody chasers available can't play to save their sodding souls! You both will pay for this one, extra practices! Every day because of you two bloody idiots!"

Turns out Pritchard was hit by two bludgers at the same time. His injuries took up a list and Madame Promphery had told Draco the only way he would ever play before March would be a polyjuice potion. There are a few people who can replace him: Avery jr (Avery's skunk-like third yearlittle brother), Crabbe, Goyle and of course, me. Undoubtably, the old coot would push for me to have that spot so you can see why Draco got purple in the face.

I took a quick shower after practice was finished, and was oh so thrilled by the fact that there was another one the next day. Why would someone do this sport for fun? I don't understand that! It makes absolutely no sense!

If you had seen me in the shower you might have either laughed or puked. My pale goblin body was deformed and discolored. Much like Harry's broom in fact. I am wondering whether quidditch boys go to sleep looking like I do and then become gods when they wake up. Honestly I see no other way someone can recover from this type of physical abuse. Oh merlin . . . what if I look like this forever?

I was walking back across the pitch in the dark to the castle when I heard a feminine giggle accompanied by a masculine chuckle. After glancing around for a few seconds my eyes fell on the silhouette of a couple holding hands.

Vaguely fascinated, I stopped to watch them stroll. It felt good to just stand still and run my hands through my wet hair. I was half-heartedly focused on the couple when suddenly I recognized one of them. "Ginny Weasley," I hissed. I suddenly expected Draco but then I realized the boy would probably have a heart attack if he ever did something so emotionally involving as holding hands. When I recognized the second person, I accidentally shouted, "Harry!"

Oops. They heard me.

"I mean Potter . . ." I trailed as they turned.

"Xandra!" Harry said, obvious caught off guard but walking over all the same. "How was practice?"

"A bloody nightmare," I said eyeing Weasley. "Thank you for the broom." I handed it too him.

"Pleasure–what did you do to it?" he exclaimed.

"I didn't die."

He smiled at me. "When's your next practice?"

"Tomorrow night. Pritchard was nearly killed."

"Do you have time to meet?"

"That would be great," I said, lacking the enthusiasm my wordchoice implied. I noticed Weasley shifting uncomfortably under my discrete stare. I smirked at her before leaving the pair. I heard her whispering something to him as I left.

When I was descending the stairs to the dungeons, I stopped abruptly, fully realized what I had witnessed. "Is this a love triangle?" I thought outloud. "Or is Weasley two-timing the famous Harry Potter . . .again?"

Author's Note: Another chapter in the bank. As always I hope it was enjoyable. Will our heroine ever fit back in to the slytherin circle or will he find another social niche? Why is Draco a prick? Is Harry secretly daft? How does he feel to Xan? Questions, questions, questions to answer. Love to hear from all you darling readers! Cheers.