Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit

Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the beta work.

2. Chase

"Come on, Potter, keep up!" Alex Nott yelled as the Slytherin Quidditch team ran around the lake. The newest member of the team, the third-year chaser, lagged behind the rest of them. It didn't matter how much she tried, she wasn't able to move much faster than she was.

Thankfully, the keeper and only other girl on the team, Anna Chase, slowed her pace to run in step with her.

"Thanks," Sylvie gasped as she kept running.

"Alex is a prick," Anna said. "It'll get easier in time. He normally doesn't yell this much. Especially not at newbies."

"I get the feeling he doesn't want me on the team," Sylvie admitted, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"He would have preferred Goyle or Johns, I'm sure," Anna said. "But you flew better than them in the trials. Still, chaser wasn't expected."

"I want to seek," Sylvie admitted. "But he's the seeker and I figured I should at least try out."

"And you showed them," Anna said. "It thoroughly annoyed me how many you got by me."

"It wasn't that many," Sylvie said.

"More than I'd like," Anna said.

"They all just blamed the broom anyway," Sylvie said.

"Well, not everyone has a couple year old league broom," Anna said.

"Quintus Button does," Sylvie countered.

"Not the best person to compare yourself to," Anna asked. "If Alex hears you mentioning Gryffindor's golden child he's liable to try to kill you."

"This isn't trying to kill me?" Sylvie asked.

"One more lap!" Alex yelled.

"Not yet," Anna laughed but the rest of the team groaned and most of them stopped running. Sylvie fell to the ground, laying on her back and staring up at the early morning sun. She heard a murmuring of complaints from the rest of the team. It was odd to think of them as her teammates. It was the first practice since the tryout. She hadn't even written to her parents yet.

She wondered if her dad would be disappointed in her. She hadn't mentioned possibly trying out as a Chaser. If she was honest, she hadn't planned on doing it at all. But Emma and Florence were being particularly boring on that morning and she hadn't felt like sitting in the dungeons and talking about their transfiguration homework any longer, so she'd gone to the tryout.

And she'd obviously been a better flyer than most of them. She'd been on a broom since she was four. Flying around them hadn't been hard. But she'd bobbled the Quaffle a lot, and her first shots were fairly weak. She'd never had much interest in chasing. Sure, she'd watched Victoire a lot while growing up, and maybe she picked up a few things there, but chasing never seemed that entertaining to her. And she hadn't paid that close of attention to her competition during the tryout.

It had surprised her that she'd gotten it. She became the youngest player on the team. Anna was the next closest in her fifth year. The rest, excluding one beater, were all seventh years. Her surname and her house hadn't always led to the best outcomes. Thankfully it had never seemed to be more than petty taunts, and ones that lessened as she spent less time with Clara or Quintus.

It would work as a stepping stone, she thought. With Nott set to graduate at the end of the year she figured she'd have an easier time becoming the Seeker next year if she chased for a year. And, she thought, perhaps she'd be able to convince next year's captain, which was likely to be Anna, that she should have the inside track.

"Are you coming, Princess Potter?" Alex yelled again. She sat up and looked around and saw that most of the team was already moving toward the pitch. Red-robed players were still there, but their remaining time on the pitch must have been dwindling.

"Don't call me that," Sylvie growled as she pulled herself up and followed the rest of the team to the pitch. But she had the strangest feeling that Nott didn't hear her. She caught up as the team entered the pitch.

Quintus Button flew down to grass and landed next to Alex Nott. He was the same height as the older man, and looked a lot stronger. The Gryffindor Captain badge shining on his crimson robes. It was odd seeing him. He'd grown quite a bit during the summer. But somehow, he still looked like the same little boy that used to play Hide-and-Seek with her in the bowels of the Ballycastle Bats stadium.

"We have the pitch until nine, Nott," he said.

"And I wasn't going to ask you to leave for another five minutes, Button," Nott countered.

"Don't want you watching our practice," Button said.

"Because you're not going to spy on ours," Nott rolled his eyes. Button raised his brows and glanced over the Slytherin team.

"Oh, so you finally begged Potter for help?" Button said as his eyes rested on her. Sylvie frowned at that. She tried to recall if he'd ever referred to her by her surname before.

"Don't drag me into this," Sylvie muttered.

"Better flyer than the rest of your team," Nott commented in the first remotely positive thing she could remember him saying about her. She had to fight to not smile as Quintus glared at her. Quintus ignored the barb and flew back up and gathered the rest of his team and gathered up the communal balls.

He left the case on the center of the pitch as he landed with a flourish, nearly flipping off his broom as he landed on his feet.

"You're going to hurt yourself Quinn!" Clara McMillan shrieked as she ran onto the pitch from the stands. Quintus waved her off with practiced smirk and he and the rest of the Gryffindor team left the pitch. Sylvie watched her first two Hogwarts friends leave with an odd pang in her chest, wondering why Clara hadn't even bothered to say hello.

But then the Quaffle hit her in the stomach. Not hard. She still managed to catch it as it ricocheted off of her.

"Get into the air Princess," Nott yelled and she had the sudden, revolting realization that she wasn't getting away from that nickname anytime soon. So, she figured as she streaked into the air, if everyone else already thought she was a spoiled brat, which she supposed she was, she may as well embrace it.

They came up short that year. Sylvie had never felt elation turn to misery so quickly. She'd taken an inbound pass from Anna before looping behind the hoops. One Gryffindor chaser tried to dive bomb her for the steal but she slipped under him without much of a problem. She even managed to throw an elbow and knock him out of the play for a few seconds without being noticed.

She relayed the Quaffle to Morris, getting it between one of the Gryffindor chasers and one of the beaters before diving toward the right side of the pitch as the remaining Gryffindor chaser collapsed to the oncoming rush.

A feeling on the base of her neck caused her to dive again just moment before a Bludger flew over her head. Quintus, she thought, must have seen the play develop. But she rose quickly after it and, as expected, the Quaffle landed practically in her arms. She reached back to throw but then a large body impacted against her, a shoulder or an elbow flying into her head.

A thousand things seemed to happen at once and in slow motion. Her legs flew off of her broom as she reached back with the Quaffle. She could make out the red blur of a Gryffindor flying through her but in that moment it didn't matter. She threw the Quaffle as hard as she could moments before she heard the official's whistle. She managed to grab her broom in her free hand as she started to fall.

Getting back on it wasn't much of an issue but her entire body started to ache when realization of the penalty occurred to her. But another shrill whistle blew, this one for longer, and she turned to see the Gryffindor seeker holding the snitch. Her eyes flashed to the scoreboard, but she already knew the result.

Hufflepuff, on virtue of points, won the house Quidditch cup. Sylvie felt the disappointment fester in her. They'd been so close. Just a few more points or a snitch catch and they would have won it all. But that hadn't happened. She tried to do the math in her head to see if they were second or third but the numbers got fuzzy and she almost fell off of her broom.

"Are you okay?" Anna Chase said as she flew up to her.

"I'm a what?" Sylvie blinked. Words seemed fuzzy. "Did we win?" Wait she already knew the answer to that.

"No," Anna frowned. She pressed the back of her hand to Sylvie's forehead. Why? Sylvie had no idea. Maybe she had a fever. That could explain why she wanted to vomit. "I thought Button was trying to kill you."

"Oh," Sylvie said, she was listing to her right without realizing it. Anna reached out and steadied her broom as the rest of the team started to congregate around her. She noticed the Gryffindors weren't celebrating as much as she would have thought.

"It's tied," Jeffrey Morris said. "And we have a penalty coming."

"Take it, Morris," Nott said, looking disgusted. He had no one to blame but himself, as the Chasers kept it close enough that him catching the snitch would have won the house cup for Slytherin.

"I wanna," Sylvie said. She felt odd when she said it. The words slurred a bit and she realized Anna was practically holding her on her broom.

"Uhm," Jeffrey said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Anna said.

"You really don't look good," James Nelson, one of their beaters, said.

"Prick. I'm gorgeous," Sylvie spat.

"That is not what I meant," Nelson blushed furiously and looked away from her.

"I think we should get her to the hospital just to get checked out," Anna said.

"But I wanna take the shot!" she whined as the official flew over. She reached for the Quaffle. Missing it by about a foot.

"Sylvie, honey, I think we should land," Anna said,

"No!" Sylvie whined and broke away from the girl. She wobbled on her broom for a bit but managed to steady herself after a moment.

"I don't care who takes it," Nott said, his disgust at losing his final Quidditch cup at Hogwarts overriding his sense of judgement. He took the Quaffle and rifled it at Sylvie before turning away.

She caught it and flew to line up, ignoring the concerned expression of most of her teammates and Anna's continued protests. The official corrected her positioning with a confused look before raising the whistle to his lips. The last thing Sylvie Potter remembered before the shrill shriek of it was wondering why she never noticed the fourth hoop before.

But it was instinct after the whistle blew and she shot off toward the Gryffindor keeper. She deked left, then right, before diving at the far-left hoop. The keeper fell for it and shot off in that direction. She quickly pulled back to the far right and it was wide open as she slowed down.

There was some jeering from the Gryffindor crowd as they realized what had already happened. And, in that instant, an idea came to her. She stopped inches from the hoop, the keeper recovering in the corner of her eye. She peered in it as if it was a mirror, the Gryffindor crowd behind it booing rather loudly as she took a moment to adjust her hair and fake applying blush.

The keeper shot toward her, but she tossed the Quaffle high into the air and dodged around him. She spun her broom around and knocked it through the hoop with the bristles as it fell down to her level. It earned her more boos from the Gryffindors but quite a bit of laughing and cheering from the rest of the crowd.

Her teammates swarmed her a moment later, clasping her, laughing with her, cheering for her. She smiled and giggled with them, wondering why there were ten people on a Quidditch team and when most of her teammates got twins.

It was Anna that finally got her down to the pitch. She wobbled when her feet hit the ground and fell toward the keeper. Anna caught her, holding her as her face rested in the crook of her neck. It would be a pleasant place to fall asleep, Sylvie thought.

"Is she okay?" a concerned voice asked as they landed. It sounded familiar, and super annoying, so Sylvie nestled closer to Anna, hoping it would go away.

"Fuck off Button," Anna said.

"Come on Chase, is she okay?" Quintus asked again.

"Go away Q, I don't wanna get up," Sylvie said.

"Language, Miss Chase," the Potions mistress and head of Slytherin house, Professor Farley said. "Let me see Miss Potter."

Sylvie felt herself being lifted up and turned around. She smiled as cutely as she could, doing her best to look exactly how she looked whenever she wanted something and her father didn't cave immediately. But she couldn't remember what she wanted. So instead she kept smiling until some words finally came.

"Hi Professor," she said.

"Let's get her to Madame Pomfrey," Professor Farley said as she stared into Sylvie's eyes. "I think she has a concussion."

"I can take her," Quintus Button volunteered.

"As if," Anna Chase spat as the rest of the team circled around her, putting as much distance between the Gryffindor beater and their chaser as possible.

"You're lucky I don't give you detention for that collision, Mister Button," Professor Farley spat. "Can you walk, Miss Potter?"

"I'm fine," Sylvie said she turned to take a step but came down oddly to the left. Thankfully, Anna hadn't let go of her hand yet.

"I got her," the keeper said as she started to lead her to the hospital wing.

Sylvie vaguely remembered being led to the hospital wing. She was pretty sure she tried to walk past it and to the dungeons but that Anna pulled her back in the right direction. She remembered Madame Pomfrey groaning when she entered, saying something about it only being a matter of time before a Potter wound up in the hospital.

She remembered being ushered behind a screen and her silver and green uniform turned into a thin hospital shift. She remembered her hair being pulled out of the ponytail she wore it in while playing, and she remembered being sat on a bed. She remembered lights in her eyes, compresses on her head, magic around her. She remembered potions. She was pretty sure she puked, and she was pretty sure she didn't want any of her teammates to see that. Although she was also pretty sure one of them held her hair back. It was hard enough being the baby when she didn't act like it.

Well, when she didn't intentionally act like it.

Everything was hazy for a while, and then it wasn't. She felt like she woke up, but she couldn't say for certain that she'd been asleep. She groaned as a searing pain rifled through her head and she wondered why the room had to be so bright. She instantly wanted to go back to the dungeons as the dark green tint of everything would have been comforting.

"Are you back?" Anna asked as Sylvie sat up in the bed. Part of the shift had slipped down her shoulder and she took a moment to adjust it. Moving seemed to take a little more effort than it should have. She could feel a numbness in them that she associated with pain reducing potions. Although they did not seem to be having much of an effect on her throbbing head.

"Maybe," Sylvie groaned. Only Anna, James, and Jeffrey were still in the hospital wing. The sun had already set and both boys were dozing off. Anna already had bags under her eyes and looked like she'd been crying.

"Pomfrey made most of your friends leave already. Emma and Florence stayed the latest, as did that McMillan girl," Anna said.

"Clara?" Sylvie asked.

"I don't know the plump blonde one," Anna shrugged. She shifted her chair closer to the hospital bed and reached for a damp cloth. She started to dab Sylvie's head with it. It felt incredible.

"She hasn't talked to me all year," Sylvie frowned. That wasn't strictly true. But they'd only exchanged about fifteen words since she'd made the Quidditch team. Sylvie hadn't expected the house rivalry to change much with their friendship. But Clara was close to Quintus and Quintus lived and breathed Quidditch. And seemed to have a sort of fear of a Potter on a broom.

"Pomfrey let you stay?" Sylvie asked.

"We insisted someone should be here when you woke up," Anna said.

"Why do you look like you thought I was dead?" Sylvie said.

"Pomfrey thought you might have bleeding in your brain. For a moment she almost wanted to send you to St. Mungo's. But then you started to respond better to whatever she was doing. I think she was trying to get your parents to come," Anna said.

"Oh great," Sylvie said. "Is there water?"

"Yes, here," Anna said, picking up a goblet from the bedside table and helping her drink.

"I could get used to being pampered," Sylvie joked after she finished drinking.

"Like you aren't already, Princess?" Anna responded. It should have annoyed her, but there was a sort of affection in her tone at the nickname rather than the usual teasing, and somehow, it felt rather reassuring.

"Oh quiet," Sylvie blushed. Anna smiled at her.

"I told the nurse I'd get her if you woke up," Anna frowned.

"Okay," Sylvie said. Anna hesitated for a moment but did stand and moved toward the nurse's office. She and Pomfrey emerged a few moments later. Anna was ordered to rouse the boys and send them on their way. Sylvie thought the order applied to the keeper as well, but she stayed behind as the nurse had the elves bring some food while she was subjected to another round of potions.

Sylvie ate while Pomfrey explained her condition and what had happened to her and droned on about warning signs and risks and things she should be aware of. Sylvie nodded when appropriate but paid about as much attention as when her father tried to lecture her.

After she finished Pomfrey ordered her to get some sleep and she found Anna tucking her in to the hospital bed. She raised her brows at the keeper; even the nurse seemed to find it a little odd. But rather than argue she just looked at the keeper and sighed.

"I'm going to finish my report and write you a pass. Five minutes, Miss Chase," the nurse said.

"Thanks," Anna said as Sylvie rested back onto the pillow.

"You're being very helpful," Sylvie said as pointedly as she could.

"Someone has to make sure our best player is okay while the captain is AWOL," Anna said.

"I'm not…" Sylvie started. Anna rolled her eyes and ruffled her hair.

"Sure you're not. And you wouldn't have gotten that snitch today either," Anna said, sarcastically. "We'll be far better without Nott next year. The only question is did you enjoy chasing enough to keep doing it or will I need to replace the entire chaser line?"

"I wanna seek," Sylvie yawned.

"Deal," Anna said as Pomfrey stepped out of her office. The keeper looked up at the nurse and nodded before looking back down at the seeker. "Well, sleep tight, Sylvie. Feel better in the morning."

"You too," Sylvie muttered as the full effect of the potions and food started to hit her, making her eyelids feel like they were made of cement. She drifted off almost instantly.

A commotion woke her. She didn't think it gave her the headache she woke up with, but she was ready to blame it for it regardless. She had to blink her eyes into focus but when she did she saw her mother lean toward her and her father in the doorway of the infirmary, dealing with the commotion.

"Hi," she yawned.

"Oh Sylvie! How are you feeling?" Gabrielle Potter asked, in French. It took her a moment, longer than she thought it should, for the language to click in her head and for the words to come to her. For a moment she panicked that the language was gone. But, as soon as the first word came, the rest flooded back instantly.

"I'm fine. A bit sore and a bit fuzzy up here," she responded, gesturing to her head. "But otherwise fine."

"What happened?" she asked. "They only told us a collision. The Prophet is saying it was malicious and intentional. And that it was Quintus."

"It was just Quidditch, mum. What's dad doing?" she asked as her father turned away from the door to the infirmary. He didn't close it, but none of the gaggle of adults standing outside it followed him in. None of the cameras they were holding flashed either. Harry Potter smirked as he walked toward his daughter.

"Dealing with some malcontents," Harry said, his French hadn't improved. "Reminding them how annoying I find it when they speculate about my family and friends in the paper. How are you feeling kiddo?"

"I'm okay," she said, blushing and looking away from the entrance to the infirmary as her father settled into a chair next to her mother.

"Want us to get the nurse?" Harry asked.

"No, I'm fine. Well, I could use some water," she said.

"Here," Gabrielle said, lifting the goblet from the bedside table to her daughter's lips.

"I take it I made the paper?" Sylvie sighed.

"Front page," Harry smiled jovially.

"You have to be kidding me," Sylvie said.

"Below the fold," Harry responded, attempting to be reassuring.

"Oh, Good," Sylvie said, rolling her eyes. "What are they saying?"

"Just that Quintus hurt you with an egregious foul as play ended," Gabrielle said. "There was speculation that your father and Titus are not speaking to each other because of it."

"Sorry," Sylvie said.

"It's not your fault, love," Harry said. "So, what really happened?"

"He flew into me to try to prevent a shot. No big deal. It's just Quidditch," Sylvie said.

"Please, he has seventy pounds on you," Harry said.

"He clipped my head," she shrugged. "It was an accident."

"If you insist," Harry said. "Just tell me if I need to hex him next time I see him."

"I mean, he is a Button," Sylvie said.

"Point," Harry responded.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Gabrielle asked.

"I think so," Sylvie admitted. "I'm sure the nurse will tell you more."

"I'm worried she'll check me into her care as soon as she sees me," Harry said, with genuine worry in his voice. Sylvie raised her brows as Gabrielle shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"I think I'm going to need to hear some of those old stories again," Sylvie said.

"I'll tell you whichever you like," Harry said as the nurse entered the room. She greeted Harry and Gabrielle happily and Sylvie zoned out while the adults talked, visions of her younger father winning the Quidditch cup against her house, or winning the Triwizard Tournament filled her head.

Pomfrey told them that she was going to keep Sylvie there until that evening, but that it didn't appear that she had anything serious wrong with her. She'd give the younger girl a list of symptoms to watch for, and tell her to come back if any of them came up, but that could wait until she was discharged.

Headmistress McGonagall showed up a few minutes later to both shoo away the reporters milling outside the infirmary and to exchange pleasantries with her father. Her parents stayed through lunch. The hugged and kissed her and told her to Floo immediately if she needed anything. They didn't seem to think Sylvie would have difficulty finding a Floo to use in the school, despite it being restricted for students.

It was only a few minutes after they left that she had another visitor. She felt her eyes narrow as Quintus Button stepped into the infirmary. He wore his Quidditch robes and Sylvie had to suppress a snort. Of course, he'd have the team out practicing after the final match of the season. Why wouldn't he?

"Hey V," he said. She sat up on the bed, feeling oddly self-conscious about her thin shift and the fact that she hadn't washed her hair yet. Oh well, maybe that would make people stop trying to ruffle it.

"What do you want Q," she said.

"Uhm. Clara sent me," he said. "Your friends made her uncomfortable yesterday. She wanted to see if you were alone to visit."

"Really?" Sylvie said, raising her brows. Her chest tightened as she looked at him. An anger started to bubble up. One that she hadn't quite realized was festering as much as it was.

"What?" he asked.

"So, all it took to talk to me again was her boyfriend trying to decapitate me?" Sylvie asked.

"We're not…" Quintus said.

"Oh? Have you told her that? I'm not sure she'd agree," Sylvie said.

"And it was just a Quidditch play," Quintus said.

"Quidditch plays don't typically end up with someone hospitalized," Sylvie countered.

"Well Princess," Quintus started.

"Don't call me that," Sylvie interrupted.

"Well, Sylvie," Quintus sighed. "If you can't take a hit…"

"Are you kidding me?" Sylvie interrupted again.

"Even your father thought it was clean. I spoke to him a few minutes ago," Quintus said.

"You're going to go there?" Sylvie shook her head, struggling to suppress her laugh. She knew her father well enough to know that he likely just agreed with Quintus to avoid chastising him in public. Because he knew she would have found that annoying. And that the Prophet would have run with it. Somehow, she doubted their conversation had lasted more than a sentence or two.

"Just saying. If that hit knocked you out, maybe you should," Quintus started.

"Fuck off Q," Sylvie said.

"Language, Miss Potter," Anna said, in an impeccable impression of their head of house as she leaned against the door to the infirmary. "Just why are you tormenting my seeker, Button?"

"She's a chaser," Quintus said.

"For now," Anna responded.

"Wait," Quintus said, turning and looking back at Sylvie, something akin to fear on his face.

"And you should ask your father about what angry Potters do on the Quidditch pitch," Sylvie said. "I am never going to lose to you again. So, enjoy looking up at Slytherin."

"This is stupid," Quintus said. "What should I tell Clara?"

"That she ignored me for a year too. But if she wants to chat then she can come by," Sylvie said.

"Okay then," Quintus said. He stepped toward the exit of the infirmary. He took three steps before he turned and added. "I do hope you feel better, V."

"Just go," Sylvie said. Quintus opened his mouth, but in a rare moment of intelligence for one of his surname, he decided not to comment.

"You okay?" Anna asked as Quintus left.

"I'm fine," Sylvie said. "When can we start practicing again?"

"Well, I'm not the captain yet," Anna said. "And Professor Farley might decide James is a better option because he'll be a seventh year."

"He's going to be Head Boy," Sylvie said. "Both might be too much responsibility."

"I hope so," Anna said. "But until someone else is captain only Alex can book the pitch officially. I'll fly with you whenever you want though."

"I'll have to just convince Alex to book it for a few days a week until term ends," Sylvie nodded as if that would be an easy task.

"I don't know how feasible that is," Anna said. "I doubt he'll want a part of it. He's annoyed at the loss and will take it as an insult or something stupid."

"But I wanna play Quidditch," Sylvie whined with a practiced pout, she let her eyes well up, knowing full well that they could seem so very wide and vulnerable when she wanted them too. Anna bit her lip and reached for her, as if she wanted to hug her. And then paused and raised her brows.

"Does anyone ever tell you no?" she asked.

"My mother, sometimes," Sylvie said, the pout vanishing in an instant. "And Chloe."

"Isn't she like four?" Anna asked.

"And impossible to deal with," Sylvie affirmed as the nurse emerged from her office with some small vials of potion and a piece of parchment.

"Looks like you're going to get out of here," Anna said.

"Think she'd be upset if I got back on my broom tonight?" Sylvie asked.

"Probably best to wait until tomorrow, Princess," Anna said. Sylvie frowned, but knew her future captain was right. But that annoyed her. Because deep down she knew she'd need to practice far more if she was going to prevent Gryffindor from ever beating Slytherin while she was at school.