Impossible Love
Chapter Nine – Ravenclaw vs Slytherin
"Have you finished with that book, Lara?"
Hestia reached across the table to take the worn edition of Confronting the Faceless. Lara continued writing; her words looping cursively across the parchment.
The Library was quieter than usual as most students were enjoying the lie-in that the weekend brought. A handful of dedicated seventh years rooted themselves in the study areas surrounded by towering mountains of texts. There was an air of relaxed concentration that filled the space, and a low chatter which Madam Pince, in her old age, permitted on weekends.
Adding a full stop with a flourish of her quill, Lara looked at Hestia apologetically.
"Sorry, I was just in the middle of a sentence then. Done now though."
Chuckling, Hestia responded, "I'm surprised you've still got any work left to do. I've not seen you this week except for classes."
Lara grimaced and started packing away her work.
"My mum's last letter said the same. I reckon if she knew how to send a Howler, she would have done."
"I might join her," laughed Hestia, flicking a balled-up piece of parchment at her friend.
Lara stopped it before it reached her face and transformed it into a paper bird which flew into the waste bin in the corner.
"You've got me all day, I promise," said Lara. "Anyway, I hear you've officially replaced me with Akari?"
Blushing, Hestia said sharply, "What are you on about? She's only my duelling partner. Plus, the things I'd like to do with her would be nothing like what we get up to."
Lara wasn't expecting her comment to elicit such a response from Hestia, who was determinedly avoiding looking across the table and twiddling her blonde hair in her fingers. Maybe Hestia had a bit more to reveal on this front. Mentally filing away the reaction to bring up later, Lara changed the subject.
"I can only imagine. Just ignore me. Incidentally, that's what Burke's been doing since I yelled at him for trying to carry me upstairs."
Scratching her head, Lara pulled a confused face at Hestia who laughed involuntarily.
"What I don't get … is why he didn't just levitate you upstairs?" pondered Hestia. "I mean, surely that would have made more sense for a wizard?"
Lara had considered this herself following the 'bedtime episode'. In fact, lying in bed, Lara had tried to erase the sensation of Jamie's arms gently holding her by coming up with a justifiable reason for his actions.
"Knowing Jamie, it was probably some macho show of strength, a continuation of Quidditch training … that sort of thing."
Hestia scoffed in response; a precise summation of Lara's view towards her woolly explanation for his behaviour.
"Speaking of Quidditch," began Hestia, "We best get going if we're going to get down to the pitch in time."
Placing her work into her satchel, Lara said sheepishly, "Errrm, I didn't think I was going to go today."
Hestia narrowed her eyes at her best friend. They'd attended most of the Quidditch games since first year together. The only ones they missed were when the weather was truly atrocious, and they spent the afternoon in the Hufflepuff common room melting marshmallows onto chocolate digestives.
"Get your coat, love. You're going," replied Hestia in a tone that invited no arguments.
Lara and Hestia joined the flock of students making their way through the grounds to the Quidditch pitch. The conversation was abuzz with who would win, how the two new Ravenclaw Chasers would perform and which Seeker would catch the snitch first.
Brushing her hair out of her face, Lara partly wished she was lying in bed with her latest tome on Ancient Runes, but she knew that Hestia wouldn't have been impressed with that excuse. Especially considering she'd barely seen her friend this week due to homework, meetings and Head Girl duties. Now that she was amongst other students, she accepted that this was where she belonged on this blustery Saturday afternoon. In fact, despite Hufflepuff not being involved in today's game, Lara felt the usual anticipation edging inside.
Unintentionally, Lara's outfit subtly represented the house colours of Slytherin. She'd layered a black denim pinafore dress with silver fastenings over a faded bottle-green woollen jumper. A grey long cardigan, black ankle boots and a black beret added to the effect. Lara had pinned her Head Girl badge to one of the pinafore straps, and its yellow Hufflepuff colours were particularly noticeable against the background of black and green.
"I've asked Emily to save us some seats," said Hestia, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the exuberant crowd as they climbed the stairs of the stand.
Squeezing past their classmates on the front row of one of the stands, Lara and Hestia enthusiastically greeted Emily Macmillan, a good friend to both for many years.
Emily's distinctive curly hair was tamed into plaited pigtails with a handmade knitted bobble hat, black and yellow of course, squashed on top. She looked like the epitome of Hufflepuff House.
"Best seats in the stand for you, Lara," said Emily with a wink.
"Ha thanks for the effort, 10 points to Hufflepuff," joked Lara.
The crowd's cheers roared out as the two teams made their way onto the pitch below. A line of green and silver and a line of blue and bronze stood facing each other in the centre of the pitch. The wind whipped their Quidditch robes around their limbs. Lara observed the eddying of Jamie's dark auburn hair as he rhythmically tapped his beater's bat on the side of his thigh.
With a sharp whistle, the game began, and the fourteen players rocketed into the air. The Slytherin Chasers took early possession of the Quaffle and immediately positioned themselves in an attacking formation. Darting up the pitch, the fiercely competitive Eloise Flint shot for goal – her attempt saved by the Ravenclaw Keeper who quickly passed the Quaffle to Fitz Stretton. A third year making his debut for Ravenclaw, Stretton flew at a blistering pace, swerving the defensive blocks and scoring in an impressive solo manoeuvre.
"10 POINTS to Ravenclaw!"
The blue portion of the crowd whooped and cheered as Fitz fist-pumped the air.
Lara's eyes found Jamie, intrigued to see his reaction to the third year's goal. Flying skywards, she wondered what he was doing. Jamie intercepted a Bludger aimed at the Slytherin Seeker and sent it hurtling towards the back of Stretton's celebrating head. It missed him by inches, and the crowd gasped audibly. Lara wasn't surprised to see that Jamie was chuckling as he flew off.
In a rapid spate of play, the score shifted to Ravenclaw 30 points – Slytherin 20 points. The Seekers had both come close to capturing the snitch, but careered into each other, neither one managing to get a hand on the ball of gold.
With the anticipation somewhat faded, Lara's focus drifted from the game. Slouching back, her eyes turned upwards to the thick grey clouds above. Lara's thoughts turned to her mum back in Manchester, and not for the first time she wondered how she'd managed to get so lucky. Magic was everything she'd ever dreamed of. If she was still a Muggle, she'd most likely be at college with the same friends she'd known since primary school, studying for her A-Levels, choosing a university, drinking to forget despite being underage and making slightly questionable decisions as a result. Compared to life at Hogwarts, the excitement of Quidditch and the feeling practically bubbling under her skin when she cast a spell, she knew which the better life was.
In her peripheral vision, Lara spotted a jet-black Bludger zooming in the direction of her stand. Along with the rest of the crowd, Lara ducked and the Bludger smashed through a wooden hand-rail at the back of the stand. With an arrogant salute in their direction, Jamie left no doubt in the crowd's mind which Beater was responsible for the wake-up call.
"What a pleasant Head Boy we have," remarked Hestia.
"Better than the Gryffindor alternative," said Emily who'd had a deeply rooted hatred for the prefect Christian Jordan ever since he'd called her a 'frizzy-haired Pygmy puff' in second year.
Feeling as if she was being watched, Lara scanned the crowd in the adjacent stand. Sat on the end of his row, and looking directly at her, was Neville. He wore a dark duffle coat and a Gryffindor scarf with a hint of tiredness in his eyes.
Neville mouthed 'hi' and smiled shyly.
"Slytherin equalise!" announced the commentator to the crowd.
Cheers (and a fair few boos) erupted at the goal. The Slytherins were chanting 'EL-O-ISE, EL-O-ISE, EL-O-ISE' in celebration of her successful shot at goal.
Lara's eyes, however, were fixed on Neville's. Mouthing back 'hi', Lara felt a blush rising on her cheeks, and a smile creeping on her face. Her anger at how their last meeting ended had faded. It was a combination of discovering what had happened to Neville's parents and realising how much he'd started to confide in her that softened her. She appreciated that whatever was going on between them (if anything was 'going on') wasn't straightforward and just wanted to find out more about him.
Of course, find out more about him encompasses a wide range of different activities, she mused.
Lara glanced to her side to check Hestia and Emily hadn't noticed her attention was elsewhere. The pair were deep is conversation about Ravenclaw's strategies with the Quaffle – oblivious to the borderline-improper conversation taking place next to them. Not everyone was ignorant of it though.
Lara thought Neville mouthed 'Talk'; a fact that was confirmed by a small gesture to indicate to the bottom of the stands. Nodding an affirmative, Lara watched as Neville rose to his feet and made his way to the stairs at the back of the stands. His dark hair disappeared from view as a flash of green and silver soared overhead.
Thinking on her feet, Lara nudged Hestia to get her attention.
"Need the loo," she said apologetically, getting to her feet.
"Ok," said Hestia quickly before bringing her eyes back to the game.
Lara picked her way through the Hufflepuff crowd and began to descend the wooden stairs to the ground. Half-way down, Lara paused and conjured a small mirror in the air. Checking her reflection, Lara smoothed her hair to try to tame the fly-away waves and wiped the corners of her eyes. The wind had caused her eyes to water, and there was a faint trace of mascara underneath her lower-lashes. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her lips still held the swipe of raspberry lipstick she'd applied earlier.
Attempting to channel her inner vixen (rather than school-girl), Lara stepped down to the grass in between the two stands. She scanned the area around the two stands, looked up at the game and was momentarily puzzled by the absence of Neville.
A strong hand grasped hers and pulled her backwards. She stepped through a gap in the house banners which covered the frames of the Quidditch stands and felt her back hit a tall, solid, manly frame. Turning 180˚, she raised her hazel eyes to meet the gaze of the man before her. His stubble was slightly longer than the last time she saw him, and his navy duffle coat hung open, revealing a grey and black flannel shirt and dark jeans.
"H-Hi," Neville said in a low voice.
His eyes met hers and held eye contact. The space seemed to contract around them, and Lara was aware of the cedar earthiness that clung to Neville.
"Hi yourself," whispered Lara.
"Enjoying the game?" he questioned, gaining in confidence.
Lara nodded in reply and glanced at Neville's lips unconsciously. In the confined space under the stands, there seemed to be merely inches between them.
If I leaned forwards, we'd be chest to chest, thought Lara.
The temptation to close the gap between them was strong. Neville's eyes seemed to be waging the same battle with himself as Lara was experiencing.
Neville shut his eyes as he started speaking.
"I think I need to apologise for the moment at the end of our last meeting," said Neville finally opening his eyes to look down at Lara.
With an intake of breath, Lara took a step backwards, coming flush against a wooden pillar.
I don't want that apology. I want more.
"The – the issue is," he continued quietly again. "I don't think I w-want to apologise."
Neville looked deeply conflicted as if his confession almost pained him.
"My thoughts make little sense when I'm near you."
Lara waited in case Neville was going to continue with his speech. The gap between them seemed to have narrowed once more, but Lara couldn't say which of them had closed the distance. Neville raised his hand and caressed Lara's hair which rested above the curve of her breasts.
"Neville," Lara breathed out.
From the Quidditch stands, sharp screams shattered the moment.
"What was that?" they said jointly.
"That's GOTTA HURT," boomed the commentator's voice through the stadium. "The ref's motioning for a time-out whilst Burke receives treatment."
Swiftly stepping past Neville, Lara slid through the banners once more and was horrified by the sight on the pitch.
Jamie Burke was sprawled face-down on the grass – his bat discarded metres away from his motionless body. Madam Pomfrey hurried to the scene, along with a few students and teachers. Her wand moved in elaborate motions before levitating Jamie and walking briskly in the direction of the castle, with a handful of Slytherin students trailing behind her.
Stepping beside her, Neville questioned, "You ok?"
"He's never come off his broom. What happe-"
Lara abruptly stopped as a group of Ravenclaws walked past chatting loudly.
"Wonder what he was staring at down here?"
"Don't know. Not like him to talk his eye off a Bludger though."
"Still, once the game restarts, we've got to win this if they're a player down?"
With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach replacing the excitable butterflies from moments earlier, Lara watched the diminishing figure of Madam Pomfrey and the suspended Jamie Burke enter the castle grounds and turn in the direction of the Hospital Wing.