Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit

Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the beta work.

14. Kids

Her plan seemed to take far too long to implement. And that was a problem because every time she failed, she decided to try to tweak it. And the tweaks never seemed to make it any better. But somehow, in the ensuing weeks, he became incredibly adept at avoiding her.

Finally, she caught him one morning. He was looking for something in his locker when she came in for her morning workout. He looked rather exhausted but otherwise normal.

"Hey Q," she said when she entered the locker room.

"Hey V," he responded.

"We should go out tonight," she said, not giving him a choice.

"Uh, okay," he said. "But I'm not sure when the team stuff will end and Boyle wanted to run some things by me after."

"Eight," Sylvie said. "I'll come get you."

"Do I get any choice in this?" he asked.

"No," Sylvie said.

"Will you at least wear that black dress again?" Quintus teased.

"Wear the same outfit twice? Gross," Sylvie said as she left to start her workout. She spent a few hours at the team facility before returning home. She bribed her way into a fancy London restaurant and then move to her kitchen.

She frowned as she realized what she was planning on doing, and what that meant. Nerves came forward quickly and she wondered if she was making a horrible mistake. But, she figured, mistakes happen. At least it would be fun for a time. She pulled out a cauldron and started to slowly heat some water while she popped over to the Alley to make sure she had all the supplies.

Kreacher was peering into the simmering cauldron when she returned to her home. He glared at her as if he couldn't understand why she was starting something without him and then tried to be helpful as she filled and stirred the cauldron.

When she turned off the heat and gave it a final stir the elf hopped onto the counter to glare at it even more. She let it cool for a few minutes before taking a glass out of the cabinet and filling it with the frothy pink liquid. Kreacher told her she shouldn't drink it but she scoffed at him and downed the potion in one go and put the rest of it into the fridge.

After that, she pampered herself for the rest of the afternoon before changing into the little black dress she'd worn on their first trip out.

She went to his house a couple of minutes later than she said she'd arrive and knocked on the door. There was no answer. So, she knocked again, letting her annoyance flood through her as her knuckles impacted onto the wooden door.

She tried the knob before she knocked a third time. The door was unlocked so she let herself in. She paced through the first floor of his house and found him in the living room, face down on the couch. She summoned the pillow out from under his face. He woke with a start as his head dropped to hit the armrest.

"Seriously Q?" she asked. He sat up and immediately blushed.

"Oh fuck. I'm so sorry, I…well….I they…had us practice all day and then Boyle wouldn't shut up after and I thought if I could just doze off for a half hour I'd be fine and…" he stuttered as she stared at him. Any anger in her evaporated almost immediately. He had large bags under his eyes and looked like he'd spent far too long on a broom in the last seven days. She held up her hand and he stopped talking.

"You stink," she said. "Go take a shower."

"I can get ready in fifteen minutes," he said. "We won't end up that late for whatever you planned."

"No," she said.

"Sylvie, I am really sorry I," he started.

"Shut up Q," she said. "It's fine."

"What? No it isn't. We made plans and I," Quintus started.

"You look exhausted. It's fine. Go wash up. We can order takeaway or something," Sylvie said.

"Are you sure?" he said, looking rather baffled.

"Positive," she said. He nodded and after only a moderate amount of additional reassurance did manage to find his way upstairs to what Sylvie could only hope was his master bathroom.

She paced around the ground floor of his house. It wasn't nearly as spotless as hers, but he didn't have an annoyed recluse of an elf following him around and glaring at him whenever he kicked off a sock in the living room.

She found herself in the front sitting room and, since she had nothing better to do, she sat at the piano stool. She slouched and looked at the sheet music, labeled Piano Sonata #14. In her mind her mother barked at her about her posture so she sat up straight and smoothed her dress down over her legs before putting her hands on the keys.

It had been nearly a decade since she'd refused to continue piano lessons and the shouting match that had entailed with her mother. It would have been worse, she thought, if not for Leo. But her mother had caved quickly.

She took a deep breath and then started playing. Her fingering, she giggled, was horrible. She stumbled over some of the keys and it took far too long for the sheet music to make sense in her head. She could hear her mother scolding her as the mistakes mounted. The piano itself was pretty, but out of tune. She wondered why he even had it.

After fifteen minutes or so her efforts began to resemble music. She fumbled more as the piece grew more hectic and after losing her place started again. And then again when it happened once more.

"That sounds very sad," Quintus said as she stumbled over some of the notes and started anew. She peered away from the sheet music long enough to see him leaning in the doorway.

"It is," she said as her fingers hit the increasing familiar keys.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The sheet music you had," she said as she kept playing. "Why do you even have a piano?"

"Came with the house," Quintus said. "Thought it made me appear refined."

"It's out of tune," she said.

"Well I don't think anyone's touched it in four years," Quintus said.

"My mother would kill you if she knew," Sylvie said.

"She'd be too happy to see you play, I suspect," Quintus said.

"She'd be critiquing me and scolding me for butchering Beethoven," she replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Quintus said. He stifled a yawn and he still looked exhausted. Sylvie stared at him as she fumbled through the middle section. "I'm ready to go out."

"I'm positive you'd fall asleep as soon as you sat down at a restaurant," Sylvie said.

"Not if there's enough racket," Quintus said in his best old man impression.

"I know," Sylvie said. "Hence why I am playing the piano."

"I am hungry though," Quintus said.

"I'm assuming you don't cook?" Sylvie asked.

"I mean I know enough to not starve," Quintus defended himself.

"You have a favorite local takeaway place then," Sylvie said.

"Of course," Quintus said. "There's a curry joint over on Church Lane."

"I know it. It's good," Sylvie said. "Order a few things for us."

"Okay," Quintus said.

"Do you have wine?" she asked.

"No," Quintus said. "I don't drink it at home. I can grab some, though."

"Please do," Sylvie said.

"You know, they say beer pairs better with Indian food anyway," Quintus said.

"Well, they are idiots," Sylvie said as she fumbled with the music once more. She cursed herself under her breath and skipped back a few measures and resumed. Quintus took it as his cue to order the food.

She kept playing when he came back. But when he left to go pick it up, she stood from the piano and moved into his kitchen. It took her a few minutes to find plates and silverware and set his table.

He returned with the food not too long after and she helped him unpack and serve it. He had found a bottle of wine. He fumbled with it for a few moments before Sylvie opened it and poured out two glasses while he finished organizing the food.

They were quiet while they ate. Some food perked Quintus up, but he still looked rather exhausted. She felt bad for him. She knew he should have waited a day to ask him out. But she hadn't wanted to. She cleaned up when he finished. It took her a while and she was pretty sure nothing she touched would have been clean enough for Kreacher's standards but she suspected Quintus had lower standards than Kreacher.

"I feel like that dress isn't appropriate for doing dishes," Quintus said.

"Good thing magic makes it pretty straightforward," Sylvie commented.

"Still, you should let me," Quintus said.

"It's fine," Sylvie said. And, to his credit, he didn't argue. He waited until she was done before he spoke again.

"Would you play some more?" he asked.

"I don't really want to keep playing that one song," Sylvie said.

"There's booklets of music on the shelf," Quintus said. "Be nice to hear some of them."

"I don't know," Sylvie said, she looked at him at the table. He frowned at her. He looked sad that she wouldn't. If she was honest, she'd rather just curse the piano than continue to play it. But he looked so enraptured with her and her music that she couldn't resist.

He showed her where the other sheet music was and they paged through it together. She'd heard of some of the composers, or at least they sounded vaguely familiar. She picked out a few of them that looked the least difficult and resumed playing, pausing only for another sip or two of wine.

"You're good," Quintus said as he watched her play.

"Leo's the musician," Sylvie said. "I just did it to not get yelled at. Half the time they wouldn't give me my broom until I played for an hour."

"What's he play?" Quintus asked.

"Last I checked he could play the piano, flute, oboe, and saxophone. And I think they just got him a drum set," Sylvie said.

"Wow," Quintus responded, looking suitably impressed.

"He's the prodigy," Sylvie admitted.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know," Quintus said.

"At flying, sure," Sylvie said. "Although I'm probably just lucky Leo wasn't interested in that either."

"Oh?" Quintus asked.

"He's good at everything," Sylvie shrugged. "He'll be the famous one."

"You're pretty famous," Quintus said.

"And you're making me miss the keys," Sylvie said. Quintus chuckled to himself.

At first, he stood behind her, a hand resting rather annoyingly on her shoulder while they spoke. But he moved to a couch in the next room where he had a great view of the piano as she continued to play.

Eventually, though, she grew sick of being the entertainment. Well, at least the musical entertainment. She stood from the piano, finished her wine, and moved next to him on the couch. He stiffened when she sat but only moved to turn on the wireless. Soft music filled the house. She leaned across him to fiddle with the volume until it was little more than faint background noise.

Much like when they were standing at the door of her apartment, she found herself too nervous to do anything. Which bothered her, given that she'd already done everything with Quintus. Although both times she'd been drunk, and it hadn't been serious.

And here he was, sitting next to her, doing absolutely nothing with her as well. She had a lingering doubt that he even liked her. She knew she was being silly. He had to like her. But he didn't do anything! He hadn't kissed her. And now he wouldn't even touch her. The most intimate they'd gotten was when they were faking it.

It was stupid, she knew. She should just say something. But if she said something it wouldn't feel right. She knew that. She didn't want to just say it. Something felt wrong about saying it. But she wanted more. She was sick of being lonely. She was sick of feeling so empty. And she knew she felt the best around him. Even if she didn't want to admit it to herself for a very long time.

Her mother's words rang through her head. A blushing offhanded comment. But it stuck with her. She looked over at Quintus. He was doing his best to look at anything other than her. Somehow, though, he managed to still look relaxed and comfortable. She suspected it was that he was tired. She stood and made an excuse that she was going to get more wine.

The bottle was long since empty, but Quintus didn't seem to know that. Part of her wished for a little more liquid courage but she knew she didn't need it. She was Sylvie Potter after all, the brat, the Princess, the center of attention. She had enough confidence for half of the planet.

But, if that was true, then why was she shaking as she closed the bathroom door behind her? She took a few moments to steady herself, splashed some water on her face, and let her hair down. After just a few more alterations she transfigured a hand towel into a thin blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

His eyes were closed when she stepped out of the bathroom. She walked over toward the couch and stood in front of him. She let the blanket drop and whispered.

"Quintus?" He didn't respond. She reached out and poked him. Nothing happened. She frowned and poked him again. Nothing happened. She leaned over and put her hand on his shoulder and shook him. He started and opened his eyes slowly. They blinked blearily at her and he spoke.

"Sorry Sylvie I didn't…" but his voice trailed off as his eyes focused on her. They grew wider after a moment and slid downward. She smirked at him and let him stare. She'd changed out of her dress and into a sheer pale blue baby doll and matching thong. She stepped back from him as he muttered something incoherent. She spun around, giving him a coquettish smile over her shoulder before she feigned tripping over her own feet and fell directly into his lap. He caught her on instinct.

"Oops," she said. She shifted so she was straddling him on the couch. She let her face fall forward and her forehead pressed against his.

"Am I really awake?" he whispered. His hands slid to her hips as she rested against him.

"Uh-huh," she responded. His hands snaked around to her bottom, which he squeezed. A soft groan escaped his lips as he did. She pressed herself to him, her weight settling into his lap as she pressed her chest against his. He tilted his chin up and her lips found his.

They kissed slowly. Sylvie pressed herself against him, rubbing her body against his as her own flushed with need. They kissed for a very long time. At some point, Sylvie got his shirt off. She let her lips slip from his and trail around his neck, over his chest. She lifted her arms up as he started to tug off her top. Once it was off she leaned back to let him look at her. He wrapped his arms around her back and traced his own lips over her skin.

At some point he flipped them over so she was laying on the couch and then he was on her. And then he was inside her. Their lips were only apart for moments. She clawed at his back until he resumed kissing her. She marveled at how wonderfully full she felt, how complete she felt and how utterly intoxicated she felt by his weight on her, around her.

His movements started slow but quickly became frantic, as if he couldn't believe where he was and what was happening. The only time his lips left hers was when he wanted to stare into her eyes.

After, she let him collapse on her. She traced her nails gently up and down his back. He tried whispering something too her but she couldn't understand him. She lifted her head up to kiss him softly.

"Shh," she whispered, continuing to trace her hands over him, not wanting to stop touching him. She enjoyed his warmth on her as he fought against sleep. She knew it would win. And she didn't mind as long as he didn't move.

She dozed off shortly after he did. Pain in her neck woke what felt like a few hours later, Quintus still sprawled over her. His face was buried in the crook of her neck. She shifted against the armrest, trying to get more comfortable, but that just led it to digging further into her shoulder. Eventually, she realized she was never going to find a comfortable position and whispered to him.

"Quintus," she said. It took a few minutes and a few more attempts before he opened his eyes and stared blearily at her.

"Mmm?" he asked.

"I don't want to sleep on the couch," she whispered. He nodded. He closed his eyes, but after she raked her nails down his back he shifted off of her. He pulled her up to him and held her as they walked to his bedroom.

Moments later she was resting mostly on him, cuddled under his blankets, and waiting for sleep to take her again when he spoke up.

"Don't disappear," he whispered.

"What?" she asked, stifling a yawn as she spoke.

"Every time we've shared a bed you were gone when I woke up," he said. "Promise me you won't disappear."

"I promise," she said sleepily as she cuddled closer to him. She'd never thought about it before, but as she reflected on it she realized he was right. Although she wasn't sure if the theme park counted. Still, she had to admit, the thought of waking up with him wrapped around her, holding her, protecting her, was not altogether unappealing. She planted a soft kiss on his neck, imagining that he knew what it was for, before sleep overtook her once more.

Quintus woke slowly. He rolled over, wishing he could go back to sleep and return to dream he'd been having. But he knew that wouldn't happen. Just like his dream would never become a reality.

But she'd been so perfect in it. She'd made sure there was no doubt at all to what she'd wanted. And she'd coaxed him on perfectly. So perfectly there was no chance it had really happened.

He rolled over in his bed, inhaling deeply and gathering up the blankets around him. An all too familiar flowery scent filled his nose as he pulled the blankets closer to his face. It was unmistakable. The same flowery scent often wafted over from her locker whenever she sat down next to him before practices or a match. Hell, she had a bottle of it in her locker just in case there were any post-match interviews in the locker room.

He had to be imagining it. He'd imagined it before, as much as he didn't like to admit it. But he pulled the blanket closer to his face, expecting more familiar scents to waft into his nostrils. But it didn't. The same flowery perfume filled his senses. He reached out around him, the bed was still warm, but there was no one else in it.

He let his gaze linger on the pillow next to him. One long strand of black hair rested on the middle of it. He stared at it for a few minutes, annoyance rising inside of him. It was so like her, he thought. So selfish, so proud, so unwilling to even keep a simple promise.

But it was only moments before that familiar doubt flooded through his psyche. Was she gone purely because he wasn't good enough to keep her attention? Was it a complete failure on his part? Was he nothing more than a toy she could use and throw away as she pleased? Why did he want her so much? Was it just to prove he wasn't disposable?

The uncertainty faded back into anger. Why couldn't she just do one simple thing for him? Why? It made absolutely no sense to him. He couldn't fathom doing the same thing to her.

He sat up in bed, getting ready to get out and to, well, he didn't know. Find her? Talk to her? Yell at her? Anything. He needed something. What that was he wasn't sure. But he knew he wouldn't find it in bed.

Except then his door opened and there she was. She was humming to herself. He rested back onto the pillow, his feelings not quite melting away as he stared at her. She was still naked, her hair thrown over one shoulder. She was holding two frosty bottles of water in her hands.

Staring at her made him remember every inch of her. His mind was flooded with the memory of what each part of her felt like under his hands, under his lips, under him. She turned her attention to the bed and frowned.

"You're supposed to be asleep still," she said, with an irresistible pout that made any anger dissipate from his lips.

"You disappeared," he said anyway.

"Nuh-uh," she said, placing the bottles down on his bedside table. "Close your eyes."

"Sylvie," he frowned.

"Close your eyes," she ordered. He obeyed. He felt her crawl into bed. He felt her cuddle close to him. He felt her arm slide around him as his face instinctually turned into her hair. After about five minutes of wiggling against him she whispered.

"Okay, you can wake up now," she said. He rolled her over and pinned her to the bed. She giggled and didn't offer any resistance as they resumed where they'd left off the night before.

They spent the remainder, of, well, the entire off season doing their best impressions of rabbits. Sylvie thought it was probably a bit cliché to say it was amazing. But she enjoyed herself thoroughly in that time. And she found herself happier than she could remember being in quite some time.

They kept their relationship a secret from most of the team. Well, she told Abigail and Quintus told Boyle, but other than that they didn't act any different around the team. At least they didn't think they did. And it wasn't like they fooled around at the stadium or anything. Well, except for that one time. But the less said about that the better.

Neither of them told their parents. When they talked about it, they'd agreed that it was better if it was quiet. Sylvie didn't really care who knew. But Quintus didn't want it to become a big deal. So, they kept it quiet.

Sylvie thought it would be hard to keep it from their parents. But it really hadn't been. She saw them less and less as the season started to ramp up. And even when she did it was mostly just a dinner or an afternoon here or there. And, honestly, she spent more time talking with or about Chloe or Leo.

Her mother in particular started to pester her. She teased her that she was glowing and asked who the boy was. Sylvie rolled her eyes and said she was excited for the Quidditch season. And looking forward to playing in the European Cup when those games came, too.

Of course, Kreacher more than made up for any chiding she could have expected from her mother. The elf constantly reminded her of all sorts of things. Like the fact that the last four Black matriarchs all had at least two children by the time they were twenty-three. And continued to chide her for taking the contraceptive potion. It was, he said, killing her eggs. And would make all of her children squibs. And she was rapidly getting past prime child-bearing age. And she should eat more to widen her hips to make birthing easier. She teased him back just as relentlessly, but there was an odd earnestness in his voice when he told her he would love to help raise her children and that she might have to hurry up.

That made her cry. Which, to her infinite surprise, made him cry. There was a great deal of hugging and apologizing and Sylvie ordered him to keep himself healthy until she was ready. The elf nodded, wiping tears on his pillow case and let the topic drop for a week, which seemed to be an improvement.

Weirdly, and she was sure there was no way this was true, she was pretty sure having sex with Quintus was making her better at Quidditch. She knew it was absurd. But something about flying with him, practicing with him, being around him, it all made her feel more connected to Quidditch.

She'd made the mistake of voicing this to Abigail one night when she was a little too tipsy. Jacobs, who'd been having a bit of a rough training camp due to a lingering shoulder issue, asked if she could borrow him for a week or two if that was the case.

Of course, to four-drink Sylvie that didn't seem to be that bad of an idea. Especially if she could wind up in the middle somewhere. Jacobs took it all in stride, though. And they joked for the rest of the evening.

She spent most of the final few weeks before the season began away from Quintus at another series of practices for the French National team. She felt like Durand drilled her harder than anyone else on the team. She had to have been imagining it. Because her job as the reservist Seeker was mostly to make sure everyone on the team showed up on time for team meetings and had coffee during it.

Still, she made sure she flew as hard as she could during every practice, every drill, every warmup. Whenever she was on the broom she pushed herself as hard as she could. A few of her teammates commented that she seemed like she was trying to off herself with how hard she was working, but she shrugged it off and kept pushing.

The more she pushed, too, the more she thought Delisle stumbled. He still performed very well in every drill. But she thought she saw chinks in the armor, as it were, as she pushed through every task set before her.

Quintus's words rang through her head as she beat him to a third snitch catch in a row through an obstacle course. The older man cursed and flew off to cool down. He didn't look at her, but Sylvie could recognize the expression of a Seeker angry with themselves easily enough. Still, she didn't think she was being any different than normal. The competitive part of her wanted to win.

Durand ended their final practice with her favorite Seeker drill. But this time she had them compete directly against each other. They lined up about thirty feet from each other. They were each surrounded by rotating obstacles that darted around them and then on Durand's whistle, black golf balls started flying at them in quick succession.

It was an absurd drill, the black balls were barely visible in the dark sky. And they had to catch them, in the order they appeared, until they missed one. All the while dodging around the obstacles that grew faster and faster as they flew. Sylvie hated the drill. She never thought she'd last more than fifteen seconds. She did, sure, but still, she hated it. But this time, everything seemed to slow as the first black ball shot out from behind a spinning pylon. She grabbed it and tossed it down toward the pitch as the second appeared, and the third, fourth, fifth. And then, she wound up so focused that the count vanished from her mind.

Delisle lasted seven and a half minutes. Which, really, was an incredible time. But Sylvie was more focused than she could ever remember being. And no matter what, not a single one of the damn balls was going to get away from her.

She lasted twelve minutes and eighteen seconds before one did. She cursed as she spun around on her broom to dive after it. But after a moment she remembered that missing meant the drill was over and so she turned to see how Delisle was doing, only to see the entire team laughing and cheering for her. Well, except Delisle.

She heard some arguing from Durand's office as she changed back into her street clothing. Part of her wanted to investigate, part of her didn't. Instead one of the Chasers gave her a copy of their tentative upcoming schedule.

It was pretty light, which was to be expected with the League play resuming. There were a few minor matches here and there. But nothing of major importance until the qualifiers in the Spring. Still, one date stuck out the most. On Christmas Eve they had a friendly against the English.

She wondered if Quintus even knew yet. It was, she figured, as good of an excuse as any to Floo him. Except before she could she was dragged out with the rest of the French team to a small gathering at the home of one of the Beaters. It wasn't until around two in the morning that she was finally on her way home.

Except Home changed to Quintus's house instead. She stepped as quietly as she could out of the Floo and tip-toed into his bedroom. He was face down on his pillow, one arm thrown awkwardly around it, the other thrown upwards toward his headboard. It looked amazingly uncomfortable. She stripped to her panties, stole one of his t-shirts, and crawled as carefully into his bed as she could, taking great care not to wake him. She didn't and sleep took her quickly.

And then her third season with the Appleby Arrows began. The Arrows had the dubious honor of losing their first home game to a neutral site match. Sylvie thought she was an idiot for not realizing why sooner.

They were set to play the Ballycastle Bats at Dartmoor, the site of the '94 World Cup Final in the annual league opening match. Which always coincided with the inductions of new members into the British Quidditch Hall of Fame.

And so, she found herself standing in the center of the pitch, dolled up with more makeup and a more intricate hairstyle than she would normally play with, as she stood next to Quidditch Hall of Famer Harry Potter. Quintus and Titus stood next to Harry as what felt like an infinite number of flashbulbs ringed the stadium every few seconds.

She wasn't sure she'd ever heard a crowd as loud as when they cheered for her father. She had the honor of presenting him with his Hall of Fame plaque, detailing his Quidditch career. Quintus did the same for his father. And there were more photos taken. And then finally, after what felt like an extra hour of pregame festivities, she hugged and kissed her father before she took to her broom and to the sky.

Sylvie almost felt bad for the Ballycastle Bats. She and Quintus were both so high on emotion that the thought of losing in front of their families was an absurdity. And the rest of the Arrows latched onto that contagious spirit.

The match took sixty-eight minutes. But it was over well before that. The Arrows were a finely tuned machine. They dominated every aspect of the match. And, by the end of it, the Ballycastle faithful were left wishing they'd managed to sign the second generation of Potter and Button as their team lost by six hundred points.

She flew into Quintus as soon the match ended. Spinning around him in the same manner that his father had hers after every big win. She almost kissed him before she caught herself as the rest of the team joined them. She slipped away from him and flew over toward her parents. She threw the snitch at her father. He caught it with a smile and congratulated her as she went to rejoin her team for the victory celebration.

She and Quintus left together, although they avoided any sort of suspicion by saying they had to meet their parents for a big family dinner. Which was at least the truth. But he still kissed her as soon as they were away from prying eyes, and pressed her hard against the wall of the stadium as he did.

But then they heard voices from down the hall and he stepped away from her and, after only one or two teasing comments from her, they were on their way to dinner. The spent the rest of the evening with their families, talking about the match and everything it entailed.

She left the party with Quintus, with the excuse that they were Flooing back to the same city anyway. No one seemed to question it. And it wasn't like any of them had a clue that Quintus didn't go back to his house that evening.

Her mother did surprise her a couple of weeks later by popping over for lunch. Gabrielle was bored with Leo and Chloe both back at school. So, she'd decided to bother her eldest daughter instead.

Whether or not she noticed the men's clothing in the bedroom when she followed Sylvie in mid conversation, she didn't say. But Sylvie figured her mother was more observant than that. And she was right. It wasn't until they were sipping tea after the lunch meal that Gabrielle asked when they could expect to meet her new beau.

Sylvie rolled her eyes and insisted it was nothing. Her mother peered at her for a few minutes and shook her head, a small smirk rising on her lips. Sylvie didn't dignify it with any further response.

Although part of her wondered why she cared about keeping it from her parents. It seemed silly. They liked Quintus, even though he was a Button, and they'd even intuited that they'd slept together at Hogwarts. She half expected their response to be along the lines of 'about time' rather than anything else.

Of course, that made her more annoyed than anything. She could already picture their smug smiles as she admitted to it. And that was enough to not admit to it.

The Arrows continued to dominate league play. The consensus was that they weren't quite good enough to top the league, but they kept playing on. And then, after listening to the local talk radio in the locker room before the match with Montrose, Sylvie got sick of it.

She didn't care how good the Magpies were. How much of a dynasty they were building. She was sick of it. She stormed off to the pitch early and most of the team left her alone.

Two and a half hours later no one in the sports media would speak poorly of the Arrows. Six hundred and seventy to ninety made it sound even closer than it was. Jacobs scored thirty goals alone, a new Arrows record. Sylvie added six herself while also catching the snitch. She flew up to where one of the local sports talking heads was seated and dropped the Snitch on his lap before flying back to join the team.

After, in the locker room, Quintus kissed her in front of the team. Sylvie giggled and blushed and looked around. Grey was the only one not smirking at her. There was a fair amount of teasing after, but all good natured. Hodge glared at them a bit, but didn't say anything.

And, she had to admit, that seeing the Arrows alone in first place in the paper the next morning was almost as nice as Quintus massaging her shoulders while she poked at his attempt at eggs.

In November, Boyle proposed to Cassie. She accepted and Sylvie wondered just when he'd tell her what he was. Although she couldn't help but wonder if there was a gender discrepancy in response. Who was more upset? Were men more surprised when they discovered they'd married a witch than when women found out they married a wizard? Certainly, there was a far more negative connotation to the word witch than the word wizard. When she asked Quintus about it, he shrugged. When she asked Boyle about it. He shrugged. When she asked Kreacher about it he said she should get married and pregnant. So, she gave up.

It was a bit of a surprise when Cassie asked her, on one of their increasingly frequent double dates, to be one of the Bridesmaids. She hoped she didn't look too surprised at being asked. She didn't think that she was close enough with the Muggle woman to be asked. But she figured it was purely because Quintus was to be the best man so they felt the need to include her.

When they asked about the venue and the date, Cassie shrugged and said they had nothing planned yet. Cassie had family in America and they wanted to do something that could include everyone. And, she said with a blush, since Jonathan seemed to have a great deal of disposable income, they hoped to make an event out of it. Sylvie raised her brows at Boyle as Quintus snickered, but they left it at that.

December rolled around and the Arrows continued to win. The month opened with a brief international break. Sylvie again found herself training in Paris and missing Quintus more than she thought was possible. But they talked via the Floo most nights. She resisted the urge to pop back to England, knowing they should both focus on the national teams.

Delisle continued to be a prick to her. But she didn't think that too unusual. She asked her father about it, wondering what his experience with reservist Seekers was. He told her he never tried to be intentionally hostile to them, but there were times when he'd rather focus on his duties than worry about his backup. And, given that the French hadn't performed very well in international competition for the last decade, Sylvie figured it wasn't unheard of for him to want to keep to himself. Still, she found it odd that Durand spent more time with her, and seemed harsher to Delisle.

But that did make sense, given that Delisle certainly had more pressure on his shoulders than the girl that was backing him up. She worked as hard as she could. And then, finally, it was Christmas Eve.

It was odd sitting in the visitors' locker room. She'd returned to it a couple of times since Parker, but it still brought that memory to the front of her mind as she pulled on her uniform and peered at her broom, doing a routine check even though she didn't expect to start.

"This is bullshit," Delisle said as he stormed out of the manager's office.

"Stop being a bitch," Durand spat back. "It's her home stadium anyway!" But Delisle was gone. Durand threw her hands on her hips and looked over toward Sylvie as she hung up the lineup card.

Sylvie got up and moved to look at it and sure enough, '14' was penciled into the starting seeker spot. She frowned and looked at Durand.

"I mean I'm flattered but," she said, looking at the door Delisle stormed out through.

"You've outperformed him in both camps and it is your home stadium for a friendly match. He's an idiot for thinking he was ever going to start this match," Durand said.

"Well, uhm, thanks," Sylvie said.

"You earned it, Potter," Durand said. "Just remember tonight is the first night you're playing for something greater than the logo on your chest and the name on your back. You are playing for your country." Sylvie nodded as that sank in. It was a Quidditch match, sure, but she was representing France competitively for the first time. Pride swirled inside her as she took a deep breath and returned to the same locker she sat at when visiting with Wigtown.

They were announced first. She was the last player announced and she flew out to a great deal of applause. Most of the crowd were Arrows fans first, and, while they were also mostly English, she still had the right last name for a standing ovation. She circled around the pitch, stopping briefly to chat with her parents and ruffle Chloe's hair, much to her annoyance. She flew off, intercepting a Quaffle tossed to one of her chasers and took a run on their Keeper, scoring and floating high up above their hoops as the chasers warmed up.

After her one shot, she spent the rest of the time relaying Quaffles to the chasers as they announced the English National Team. They went through the reservists first. Quintus was the third starter announced. He flew out and looped around, twirling his bat as he flew. He spun around the pitch and looked over at the French team.

The official blew his whistle and the teams flew over to line up. Quintus's eyes widened as he saw Sylvie didn't land but instead flew toward the draw with the French beaters and then raised up above them. She thought she saw him shake his head as they lined up. The smile on his face was unmistakable.

The official tossed the Quaffle into the air as he blew his whistle and the match began. She shot straight for Quintus, almost knocking him off of his broom as they started to play.

Hours later she was still catching her breath from the snitch chase. Her legs still shaking as they wrapped around her broom. She knew she'd wobble once she landed, but that was just the effect of nearly falling off of her broom and her brain catching up to her actions.

She gave the snitch to a girl wearing a French jersey. The girl thanked her in French, and said it was an honor to watch her fly. Sylvie smirked at her and said it was her honor to fly for them and their country. The girl blushed and stammered before her parents started to lead her away. Sylvie laughed to herself and spun around on her broom.

Quintus was the only player left on the pitch. He was floating around the center of it, staring at her. She stared back at him. They listed in a circle around each other for a few moments until she nudged her broom toward his.

"You couldn't even let me win an exhibition match, could you?" Quintus teased.

"You will never beat me, Q," Sylvie responded with a smile. "I already promised that. I keep my promises."

"I know you do," Quintus said. He edged his broom closer to hers.

"And you'd hate me if I let you win," she teased.

"I wouldn't go that far," Quintus said.

"I would," Sylvie said. Quintus nodded. He looked around the stadium. It was still half full with people retreating. A few seemed to notice the two of them and watched curiously as they did. He saw his parents still sitting next to Harry and Gabrielle Potter. He took a deep breath and spoke once more.

"I want to kiss you, Sylvie," he said.

"Can you handle that?" she teased. Quintus rolled his eyes and flew toward her. He grabbed her in midair and pulled her onto his broom. She made the transfer effortlessly, catching her own in her hand as her arms wrapped around him and her lips melded against his.

"I think I've proven I can handle you, Princess," he whispered, his breath hot on her lips.

"Jury is out," she whispered and kissed him once more. Down in the stands quite a few people gasped up at the sight. There were a couple of wolf whistles and a smattering of cheers as well.

"Oh my," Gabrielle Potter gasped.

"Ew," Chloe Potter intoned.

"Does this mean my friends will finally stop asking me if she's single?" Leo Potter sighed.

"I thought you said you thought she had a boyfriend," Harry said.

"And I am right," Gabrielle said. "I just assumed a different boy."

"Wait. So you think. Oh….Fuck," Harry said.

"What?" Gabrielle asked. "You like Quintus. She could do a lot worse!"

"I am never going to let him live it down," Titus smirked.

"No," Harry said. "You won't" Still, he smiled as he watched Quintus bring them both to the ground outside the tunnel leading to the French locker room. His daughter kissed the boy once more, smirking at him with wide blue eyes as their lips parted for a moment. The French were rather large underdogs coming into the match. Although he doubted that would last. The English, after all, had been massive underdogs as well the first time Harry Potter suited up for them.

Still, his thoughts shifted back to Quintus Button as the young man kissed his daughter again. Gabrielle was right. She could do worse. And she'd been brighter, obviously happier, in the last few months. And if Quintus was the cause of it, well, he was happy for them.

And, he smirked to himself, he wouldn't even have to give the scary father speech. Because he knew well enough that if Quintus did anything to hurt his baby girl, Sophie and Titus would take care of it before he even found out.

"Well," Harry said, looking over at the Buttons. "Join us for dinner?"

"Love to," Titus said and they joined the crowds exiting the stadium.

Down on the pitch Quintus shifted his lips from Sylvie's and pressed them to her forehead.

"Tomorrow's going to be an interesting day," he sighed.

"Yes, but it's Christmas," Sylvie said.

"When does your family usually celebrate?" he asked.

"Early," she said. "I'm supposed to be there by eight. And then we usually go to Auntie Fleur's in the afternoon."

"We usually do the afternoon," Quintus said. "I think my parents just like being alone in the morning."

"Gross," Sylvie said.

"Anyway," Quintus said. "Can I join you tomorrow morning then?"

"Only if you join me tonight," Sylvie responded without missing a beat. Quintus nodded and kissed her again.

"I'd like that. But you're sure they won't mind?" Quintus asked.

"They don't get a choice in the matter," Sylvie said. "But they love you. They'll be thrilled. Should I be worried about yours?"

"No," Quintus laughed. "They'll be thrilled as well."

"Good," Sylvie said. She kissed him again and then broke from him. She stepped backwards, smirking at him as she disappeared into the tunnel. "See you later, Quintus."

"Can't wait," Quintus said as he watched Sylvie Potter disappear into the tunnel. And, in that moment, as snow started to fall in light flurries around the Arrows stadium, he couldn't help but smile. He might never beat her, but she was his and he was hers. And that was more important than any game they played, together or apart.