"So what happened then?", Flint asked fixing Ayla with a piercing look. She gave him a look that was almost equally as blank.
"Sorry?"
"You said you'd had a rough day. What made it so rough? Is it like, women's stuff?", he pressed.
"Oh no, it's nothing, not important. Why do you ask anyway? It's not like we're…"
"Friends?", he supplied, filling in her blank.
"Well yeah I guess."
"We might not be friends.", he paused. He hadn't said 'yet', but Ayla couldn't help but feel that the word was implied. "But I'd say we're closer than most strangers. I mean you've fainted on me from a great height, and there's a witch in Saint Mungo's who thinks I'm the father of you're baby."
"It wasn't from a great height, don't exaggerate.", she interrupted.
"Fine but I'm just making conversation. It's what civilised people do, or so I've heard."
She winced at his sarcasm. He'd hit the nail right in the head though. To her he was just another devious Slytherin, out for himself, not caring about others. The fact that he was trying to have a conversation with her was an alien concept. She'd snapped at him, being suspicious of his motives.
"Sorry, it's just not-"
"Very Slytherin of me?", he interrupted her this time.
"No.", she started, stopping when he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Well ok yes. But that's not what I was going to say."
"But it's what you were thinking."
"Look do you want to play the poor, misunderstood wizard, or do you want to hear what I have to say?"
"Both.", he said grinning. "Ok tell me why you've had such a rough day."
She sighed. "Fine. I went to see Oliver this morning.", she paused.
"And?"
"And if you stopped interrupting me I'd tell you!"
"Sorry. Merlin you've got a short fuse. I was just trying to be a good listener."
"Well stop trying and just listen. I still don't understand what happened. It was like he already knew. Well not like, he did know. But he didn't believe me. He said he'd heard all about me and knew it was one of my little schemes or something. He thought I was making it up. And he was angry. Really angry. He told me to stay away."
"That bastard!"
"So I decided to go see my mum, 'cos' you know, it's my mum. And I knew she'd understand. She'd probably be upset, but she'd understand. And I decided to walk, so I could clear my head. But I heard my neighbours talking, and they were saying…just horrible things. About my parents being disappointed and embarrassed and I knew I could face them. So I, so I just apparated and ended up here."
She looked at Flint, realising she'd just spoken for five minutes without pause and was now, what was worse, she was crying in front of him.
"Right, well.", he started, completely unsure of what to say. "Right, you just go home and get your head down. Take, uh, take the kneazle. And just go get some sleep."
It wasn't really the reaction she had expected, but she didn't blame him. Like he had said, they weren't friends. And she had poured her heart out to him. That seemed to be the trouble with Quidditch players, you never knew what they were thinking.
"Ok. Well thanks. Bye."
She scooped up Jynx and headed for the fireplace, not waiting for his reply.
"Fifteen Winton Street, London."
She caught a glimpse of him pacing as she spun away. She took his advice when she got home, and went straight to bed. She didn't feel like seeing anyone right now. Not even Kris.
"Good morning Sunshine! Come on, get up!"
Kristina had barged into Ayla's room and wrenched the curtains open. She was now working on pulling the covers from Ayla's head.
"Come on, I've made breakfast. Which is a once in a lifetime thing. And there's a surprise waiting for you downstairs."
"Good surprise or bad surprise?"
"Oh I'd say definitely good."
"What is it?"
"Well if you get up and come downstairs you'll find out."
Ayla sighed and pulled herself from her bed. It had better be a good surprise, right now her warm and snuggly bed was the only comfort she had.
She sat down at the table. Kris had really made an effort, a fully laid table was groaning under an extensive breakfast.
"Is this all for me?"
"Well not really. You're eating for two now. So you have to eat twice as much. Tuck in."
Ayla did as she was told and began eating.
"So where's my surprise? Or was that just a trick to get me out of bed?"
"Nope, no trick. Here.", Kris said, handing over a copy of the Daily Prophet.
"The morning paper is not a surprise. It comes too regularly to be a surprise."
"Just read the front page.", she said, now grinning.
Ayla unfolded the creased pages, getting her first good look at the front page. It was the picture that caught her attention first, it took up half the page. The headline was what made her gasp however, "FALCONS CHASER K.O's PUDDLEMERE CAPTAIN"
"No way!"
"Told you it was good."
"What happened?"
"Read it!"
"It is this reporter's sorry task to note that all is not well in the wizarding world, writes Rita Skeeter. It seems that the brief peace we have been enjoying has come crashing to an end. Was has broken out again. On the Quidditch pitch that is.
Yesterday, at a press conference held by Puddlemere to announce dashing Captain Oliver Wood's acceptance to the Scottish National Team, saw the first punch thrown. Literally. The conference, held to assure fans that Puddlemere intend to keep up their winning streak was to be strictly members of the popular press (and the Quibbler) only. However brutish Chaser Marcus Flint of the Falcons took it upon himself to gatecrash the even in true Falmouth style.
Facing no security charms what so ever, something Puddlemere might want to think over for the future, Flint charged in like the proverbial Hippogriff in a teashop. Yelling obscenities at the charming young Keeper, and brandishing his fists rather than a wand (true to Falmouth form once again Mr. Flint) he was something of a distraction for this reporter. At the time of Mr. Flint's entrance, Oliver (Olly to his friends) was about to give us a rare insight into that elusive beast: his love life. However Chaser Flint soon put paid to that.
Few words were discernable from Flint's tirade, the majority of which being unsuitable to print in a family publication such as the Prophet. However this reporter can exclusively reveal that she heard Mr. Flint utter the words "Go near her or talk to her like that again and I'll kill you.", before landing spectacular punch, as can be seen on the front page, on the delectable Wood.
The above has of course spurred further speculation on the two Quidditch hunk's relationship.
Perhaps Mr. Flint had his eye on the witch that seems to have captured the Keeper's heart? Jealousy is an awful thing.
Rumours are abound as to whom the lucky witch could be. It's certainly not me. Recent sightings have placed the Scottish sex bomb with a number of young women, some of whom are not entirely eligible for such a fling.
Kate Green, a beautiful, young, blonde with an eye for talent, the heiress to the Quality Quidditch Supplies empire is one of many to have been seen with Wood regularly these past few months. Could Flint be a little sore about the speculation that Oliver and Miss Green are indeed an item? Rumours have it that the man who wins the key to Kate's heart will also get the keys to her father's empire. Lucky boy indeed.
Next up on Oliver Wood's love train is a witch who should know better. Sarah Melvin, wife of success story Hubert Melvin, has also been linked to Wood. Bystanders have reported that Wood had to carry Mrs Melvin home after the tied game between Puddlemere and the Falcons last February. Let's hope her husband knows what she's up to.
As with every good love story there is of course a mystery woman in our story. This brunette unknown has very recently been seen in the company of both wizards. Fuelling fire to this already red hot love triangle.
However the Prophet is taking a very different angle. We've spoken to a few old school chums of the tasty twosome. It seems this rivalry we are now suddenly privy to is in fact old hat. The two have apparently been enemies since Hogwarts. Perhaps this is a case of still waters running deep? As the old saying goes: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Could it be that, tiring of his lover's temper, Wood wandered away from Flint's bed? Such an intense reaction from Flint would hint to this.
We at the Prophet are keeping an open mind. Though we do intend to find out exactly who's been in who's bed"
"Dear Merlin.", Ayla whispered. She glanced at the caption beneath the battling picture "Old Rivals or Old Lovers?"
Ok I've tried to post this three times now and it's driving me a little mad. Hope you all appreciate this, more to come I promise x
