Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Chapter Four: A Dream Altered

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Dear Ms. Wood,

Thank you for attending tryouts for our reserve team. You performed exceptionally well and we appreciate the hard work and dedication that you have given to this endeavor. We carefully select our team members based on many factors. The committee was most impressed with your high skill level, but we ultimately feel that in playing style and team dynamic you would be best served by another team within the league and therefore unfortunately cannot offer you a contract with Puddlemere United at this time.

Sincerely,

The Puddlemere Selection Committee

There was nothing but pure and unadulterated shock written all over James's face. I knew that same shock was mirrored on my own.

"Eva, I…" he began, but then stopped, not knowing what to say.

After all, what was there to say?

Puddlemere – my team of choice, the team for which I had given my best tryout – hadn't offered me a place on their team. I wasn't going to wear the navy Quidditch robes with the crossed bulrushes on the chest. I wasn't going to live in Dorset in a flat with a reading nook. I wasn't going to spend my days training in the Puddlemere stadium.

I wasn't going to live my dream.

But James was. He was going to do everything that I had dreamed of for as long as I could remember.

"G-go away," I choked out, tears spilling from my eyes. I didn't even try to brush them away. "I want to be alone."

But instead of doing as I had asked, James pulled me against his body and wrapped his arms tightly around me. It was as though we were back in the Gryffindor locker rooms, sitting on the floor of the shower, as James held me as I cried about our loss to Slytherin.

I hadn't really wanted to be alone then, and I didn't truly want to be alone now. Tucking my head under his chin, I put my arms around James. In return, he held me tighter.

"They're mad not to want you - you were easily the best Chaser at tryouts. They'll regret their decision. You can join another team and be the best and show them what they're missing."

He sounded so earnest and sincere.

"Puddlemere was my best tryout!" I cried, suddenly feeling slightly hysterical. "If they don't want me on their team, who will?"

" – Eva!" Dad's voice suddenly rang out from the sitting room, where the fireplace was connected to the Floo network.

Footsteps echoed heavily down the hallway and then suddenly he was standing in the kitchen doorway. Dad stopped short as he saw that James was already with me.

"Eva, I asked them to let me bring your letter home myself so we could talk about it," Dad told me quietly, in a tone of defeat. "It was a mistake that it was sent out."

I reluctantly pulled away from James and faced my dad with what I was certain was a thunderous expression.

"So what?" I shouted, anger coursing hotly through my veins. "So what if you'd brought home the letter? Puddlemere would still be rejecting me! I finished second in the running trials, I did the best I've ever done on the passing and formation trials, I did Laranda Day's stupid pushups! I SCORED AGAINST IEUAN RHYS AND NO ONE ELSE AT THAT TRYOUT CAN SAY THAT!"

I brandished the letter in his face. "It says here, 'we ultimately feel that in playing style and team dynamic you would be best served by another team within the league' – what the bleeding hell does that mean?"

Dad paused, and suddenly I knew what his answer would be. I had worried about this after some of the things that had been said during the interview, but I had told myself that I would be considered by skill alone, not family history.

"This is about Tristan, isn't it?" My voice broke on the last words.

"Eva, what you have to understand is that Tristan caused a lot of problems at Puddlemere and people haven't forgotten that. They took him on despite the fact that he's my son and there was talk of nepotism. After what happened and that situation, they're just not willing to take that chance again. I'm sorry."

"But I told them I'm happy to be a reserve, that learning is important to me! I'm not Tristan!"

"Certain members of the committee didn't feel that –" Dad began, but I didn't let him finish.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," I said harshly. "I don't want to be in this house right now. I'm going over to the Potters for a while."

"Eva, please listen –"

"I'm of age and I'm going with James," I informed Dad.

I took James's hand and together we made our way out into the garden. Dad didn't try to stop me.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Let's do side-along," James suggested. "I don't know if you should be Apparating on your own just now."

I nodded and grasped onto his arm. James turned quickly on his heel and I felt the familiar sensation of being compressed and forced through a thin tube. Then all at once my feet hit the ground and I gasped in a lungful of air. We were standing in the Potter's back garden, near a large oak tree.

"Good thing we didn't land in the tree," I joked weakly.

"Give me some credit," James remarked with a slight smirk. "I've never landed in the tree. Just in the pond. Twice."

Trust James to be able to make me smile even when it felt as though my world was falling out from underneath me.

"Do you want to go inside?" James asked. "No one's home. After I told them the news about…they all went over to the Burrow to tell Nana and Grandpa Weasley…" he trailed off, looking a bit miserable.

"Don't you want to join them?" I didn't want to take James away from a family celebration. Not when he had such exciting news.

"Not when you need me," he replied in that simple yet wonderful way of his. "Besides, I don't feel much like celebrating anymore. I'll just let them know where I am."

He was so incredibly thoughtful, much more than some people assumed or he liked to admit.

We entered through the back kitchen door. James approached the fireplace and took a pinch of Floo Powder out of a pot resting on the mantle.

"You can go up to my room if you want," he suggested as he knelt down on the ground in front of the fireplace.

I shrugged, my brain too full of my rejection by Puddlemere to really have an opinion. As I walked out of the kitchen, I saw James throw the Floo Power into the fireplace and then stick his head into the bright green flames that had shot up.

I felt as though I was in a fog as I made my way up the staircase and towards James's bedroom. Pushing open the door with the Harpies poster tacked to the front, I looked around his room for what was only the second time. It appeared much like it had the first time I'd been here, but slightly less tidy. There was a pile of cloths lying in a heap on the floor in front of a laundry basket and few odd socks lying randomly about. His desk was cluttered and his bed was unmade; the sheets were shoved down to the end and tangled.

Clearly he only tidied up when he was expecting company. The thought made me smile slightly.

I heard his footsteps in the hallway and then James entered the room. We stared at each other a bit awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say.

"If you want to cry, my shoulder is available," he offered, pointing to his shoulder.

"I don't know what I want," I sighed heavily, and slowly sank down on the edge of his bed.

James hesitantly sat down beside me, then reached over and took one of my hands in both of his.

"Please don't hate me."

I looked up at him sharply. "What are you on about? I'd hardly be sitting here in your bedroom with you if I hated you."

James seemed almost tortured as he spoke. "Because I'm going to be playing for Puddlemere. I wanted to play for them because you did and because your dad's such a renowned captain and who wouldn't want to play for him? After tryouts, I was so sure you'd be offered a place. I thought maybe we could keep a little piece of what we had at Hogwarts, on the Gryffindor team. I didn't mean to hurt you."

I could hardly be cross over reasons like that. James had only wanted us to be able to play Quidditch together and to be coached by one of the all-time greats. Those reasons were as valid as any for choosing a team. After all, he hadn't been committed to any specific team like I had.

"You haven't hurt me," I told him.

"Truly?" he asked tentatively, one of his thumbs now stroking the back of my hand.

"It's not your fault," I replied, tears now stinging in the corners of my eyes again. "I'm not going to be angry with you, I'm not. It's not your fault that you'll get to live my dream and I'll have to watch from the sidelines."

And then I was sobbing into his shoulder all over again. It was still damp from my previous crying session and the thought made me cringe. When had I turned into such a waterworks? But then, I supposed if ever there was a reason to cry, this was it.

James let me have a good, long cry, all the while alternately rubbing my back gently or stroking my hair. Every now and then he placed a soft kiss on my temple. After draining myself of all of my tears (and what felt like the majority of the water in my body) I took several deep, calming breaths.

"Thanks," I mumbled, my eyes still watery and my voice croaky.

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't offer you a shoulder to cry on once in a while when you need it," James offered me a small smile as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"You're kind of wonderful," I told him.

"I try," he smirked, knowing full well what those words meant. The he placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes. "Now, you are not going to be watching from the sidelines. A team will sign you. And you don't have to stay on the team you're signed to forever. Once your contract is up you'll be free to be signed to another team. Your dream isn't gone, it's just changed, that's all. It's going to take a bit longer, but you can still get there, Eva. You can still play for Puddlemere United."

I nodded, knowing in my head that James was right. My dream of playing for Puddlemere didn't have to end here. I could sign to another team and improve my skills there, all the while working towards being signed to Puddlemere someday. This was just a new strategy, I tried to convince myself.

"Logically, I know you're right," I acknowledged, but then I felt anger well up inside of me all over again. "But it still feels bloody rotten that Puddlemere didn't want me. And partly because of that plank, Tristan! I thought it was bad when he broke his contract and left Puddlemere, but I never thought it would come back to haunt me like this. He ruined my chances at playing for Puddlemere right out of Hogwarts. That…that…urgh! I hope he takes a Bludger to the head in his next match."

Okay, I didn't really want that to happen to my brother, but at the moment, with the anger coursing through my body, it sounded like a good idea.

"We could probably pay someone to arrange that," James said with a teasing smirk. "How much do you have in savings?"

I shot him a look and his smirk faded. "What do you want me to say, Eva? If it was me, and Al or Lily had done something that caused problems with my Quidditch career, I'd… I'd be so furious. I'm livid on your behalf."

"I don't want to see his stupid mug for a good long while," I seethed. "And I don't want to see Dad, either. He's the coach! He had a say in this and he didn't stand up for me!"

"You don't know what happened," James reminded me.

That was fair, although it was hard to think impartially right now.

"I was the best choice for Chaser, and that committee knew it, only they didn't choose me because Tristan made such a mess of things that they don't trust another Wood. Dad was the most upset out of all of us, and he knew how hard I took Tristan abandoning Puddlemere. He could have told them that. Merlin, why did they even offer me a tryout if they weren't going to take me seriously?"

"You mentioned something about your interview earlier… " James said slowly. "What happened then?"

I cast around in my brain for something that would help explain everything that had happened.

"They came down really hard on me about Tristan, and about you. Trainer Day was especially difficult. It was like she ignored everything I said and just kept trying to make me feel stupid. And then the other day when we were playing Quidditch, Tristan mentioned that she had hated him because she thought he was only there because of Dad. And he said they clashed… I'll bet anything that Trainer Day fought tooth and nail against signing me."

"Well, then she's a complete cow," James assured me. "Which I had already gathered from the tryout. But this confirms it."

"Too right it does," I muttered angrily.

"My back's hurting," James said, twisting his spine to one side and then the other in a stretch. "Can we sit back against the headboard?"

"Sure," I said, working my way backward, so that my back rested against the wooden headboard.

"Here, have a pillow," James offered. He placed a pillow behind his own back. "Much better."

"Thanks."

"So Fred and I have been looking at flats in London suburbs," James said after a moment's pause. "At first we were looking in Dorset and we found this well-kept up affordable one in some village called Piddlehinton, but we're not sure we'd blend in as wizards very well there."

The same village in which Christine had found the flat with a nook. Maybe it was even the same flat.

"Christine was looking at flats in Dorset," I said, unable to keep the sadness from my voice. "But she's looked at other places around the country too. I feel as though we should be closer to London for her job, but she seems to really want to live near wherever I'm playing."

"Well, considering we can Apparate and use Floo Powder, it's not as though it will be difficult to see each other," James said, apparently reading my mind. "Besides, we're young – this is the time to live wherever we want."

I hadn't thought of it that way before.

We were silent for several moments, then James asked tentatively, "Can I tell you something?"

The thought crossed my mind that James was going to tell me he loved me. After all, now that he knew I was falling in love with him and wouldn't react adversely…

"Okay."

"I'm glad you wanted to be with me."

"I…don't exactly follow," I said slowly, trying to determine what he meant. Be with him? Be with him, how?

"When you got your letter and you were upset," he clarified. "You could have gone and talked to Christine, or your mum, or Richard and Gareth. But you wanted to be with me even though I'm going to be playing for Puddlemere and you're...going to be on another team."

I honestly hadn't even thought about my decision like that until James had voiced it. Without even realizing it, I had chosen James over anyone else as my source of comfort and security.

"I didn't even think about it," I admitted, realizing that he was right. "I just knew that I wanted to be with you."

"It's the first time you've come to me rather than someone else when something was wrong."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "You shouldn't sound too surprised. After all, you're kind of wonderful."

"And because you're falling in love with me," he smirked slightly.

Leave it to James to bring that up.

"That too," I said, looking into his eyes. There was a moment of silence, then, "James?" I asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?"

"Is playing for Puddlemere what you really want?" I asked. "I don't want you to play for them just because you wanted us to be on the same team. I'm sure you'll get other offers. There's always the Canons. Your Uncle Ron would love that."

"Puddlemere's a good, solid team. I'd be lucky to play for them. Not to mention there's not a Quidditch player alive who wouldn't want to be coached by Oliver Wood."

"I know…I just don't want you to give up on your own dreams."

"Eva, all I've ever wanted to do is play Quidditch," James said, his thumb drawing small circles on the back on my hand. "I want to play for a League team and then someday play for England. I mean, if I'm being honest, one of the reasons I wanted to sign with Puddlemere was because I thought we'd be able to keep playing together. But it wasn't the only reason."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he replied firmly.

"I should probably go home at some point," I said slowly. I didn't particularly want to go home yet, but I couldn't avoid it forever.

"You can stay here as long as you want," James offered.

I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder. "Thanks."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I closed the back door quietly, and moved on tiptoe in order to avoid detection. If I managed it right, I could make it up to my bedroom without my parents noticing.

That hope lasted all of twenty seconds. Without warning, the kitchen overhead lights turned on, temporarily blinding me.

"Holy hippogriffs!" I cried. "Warn a person before you do that!"

As my eyes adjusted, I saw Richard and Gareth sitting at the table.

"About time you came back," Richard said, an eyebrow arched as he regarded me.

"Sorry," I replied, realizing that my brothers might have wanted to discuss the Puddlemere rejection with me - that they might have been worried about me.

Gareth waved off my apology. "Dad told us you were with James, so we weren't worried. He meant that we've been here sitting for over an hour and half waiting for you to sneak in the back door."

"Oh. How did you know I'd come in the back door?"

Gareth rolled his eyes. "Give us some credit, why don't you?"

"You would hardly stroll in through the front door after the way you left."

All right, that was fair enough.

"Yeah, I think people might have heard you yelling in the village. And maybe the next village over."

"Really?" I winced. It hadn't occurred to me until just now that Gareth and Richard would have heard me yelling at Dad about my letter from Puddlemere United. Today had really, really not been my day.

"It's okay, though," Richard assured me. "I don't blame you. You have every right to be upset about this, Eva."

I felt tears threatening to fall (yet again), and I nodded, unable to answer. I was sure my wobbly voice would give me away.

"It's all right to cry, you know," Gareth said in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

I blinked rapidly and shook my head. I'd cried quite enough for one bleeding day, thank you very much.

The twins glanced at each other, and something passed between them. Standing up, they moved towards me and both of them wrapped their arms around me.

I put an arm around each of them in return. "You're - the, the best - bro-thers…ever," I managed to choke out through the tears that had started falling. How I had any tears left at this point was a mystery. I was thoroughly tired of being so weepy. It was downright horrid.

After I'd spent all my tears (for now), Gareth poured me a glass of water.

"Thanks," I told him as I lowered myself into my usual seat at the kitchen table. For the first time, I noticed that there was a large, cream colored envelope sitting in my place, waiting for me.

"What's this?" I asked, using a cloth napkin to wipe at my eyes.

"It arrived after you left with James," Richard filled me in. He paused, then said. "The seal on the back says Caerphilly Catapults."

It felt as though my heart had flown into my throat. I sucked in a deep breath as I stared at the envelope, unable to look away.

"What if they're rejecting me too?" I whispered. "I don't know if I can handle another rejection letter today."

"You'll never know if you don't open it," Gareth pointed out with a shrug.

I nodded and gingerly picked up the envelope, weighing it in my hand. Heavy parchment, possibly containing more than one piece of paper.

Richard wordlessly handed me a butter knife to slit open the envelope.

Dear Ms. Wood,

On behalf of the Caerphilly Catapults team selection committee, I'm pleased to offer you a Chaser position on our Reserves Squad. We would like to discuss this opportunity with you at your earliest convenience. If you are interested in our offer, please send a return owl of affirmation. A team representative will then contact you to determine availability.

Warm wishes,

Bertram Folly

Caerphilly Catapults General Manager

My facial expression must have said it all, because Richard and Gareth broke into identical grins.

"Congratulations!"

"Brilliant, Eva!"

"A team wants me," I breathed in extreme relief.

"Of course they do," Richard gave me a look that clearly suggested that he thought I was out of my mind. "Were you really worried that you wouldn't get any offers?"

"Puddlemere was my best tryout," I explained, remembering the hopelessness I had felt after reading that rejection letter. "I thought maybe if they didn't give me a place, no one else would either."

Considering that Puddlemere's decision not to sign me wasn't really a matter of my skills, I shouldn't have been harboring such a fear about other teams not being willing to sign me. Still, this knowledge only came in retrospect. My worry had been very real, no matter how irrational.

"Well, you have at least one option," Gareth smiled. "And you'll have other offers. You'll see."

I smiled back. Maybe my brothers were right. After all, this wouldn't be the first time.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Eva?"

I blinked and opened my eyes slowly. What was going on?

"Eva?"

"Mum?" I finally connected the dots and realized that my mother was sitting on the edge of my bed, gently shaking me awake.

"You slept in; I wanted to see if you were all right," she explained somewhat hesitantly.

"What time is it?' I bolted upright, almost falling out of bed in my attempts to look at the alarm clock resting on my bedside table.

"8:00."

"What?!" I nearly shouted. I never slept this late! "Oh holy hippogriffs! I was supposed to go running with James."

Mum laid a soothing hand to my arm. "It's okay, Eva. You had an emotionally draining day yesterday. You needed the rest. And James is downstairs with Richard and Gareth."

I sank back on my pillow in relief. Now that Mum mentioned it, I did feel emotionally wrung out even after a long night's rest. It took me a moment to realize that Mum was giving me a strange look. It almost seemed like…disappointment?

At my questioning gaze, she smiled wryly and said, "I'm glad that James was there to support you yesterday…but I do wish you felt as though you could come and talk to me."

"You were at work," I said. "And James was there when I got the letter."

"You shouldn't feel as though you're bothering me if you need me while I'm at work, Eva," Mum reached up to smooth my hair away from my face. "I'm your mother."

"I'm sorry," I told her, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I didn't need you. It wasn't like that."

"I know. It's just a mum thing. But I meant what I said. I'm glad James was there for you. He's a good lad."

"He is," I smiled to myself, thinking about how I was lucky enough to be falling in love with such a wonderful bloke.

She paused and then said, "Your dad took the day off work."

My first thought was that I couldn't have heard her properly. Dad almost never took days off. He just didn't. Not unless he was ill with something contagious or if it was my parents' anniversary.

"He took the time off so that he could talk with you," Mum clarified.

"I…" I started, but then realized I didn't know how to finished that thought.

"Why don't you take your usual run with James, and think about it. You can talk to your dad later."

"Thanks, Mum," I leaned forward to give her a hug. She smelled like soap and fresh strawberries from the garden.

"Best get dressed. There's toast and strawberries on the table. I set aside a plate for you."

I took a deep breath and pushed back the covers. It was time to face this day. And on the bright side, it couldn't possibly be worse than yesterday.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

My dad was in his home office sitting in front of his model Quidditch stadium. He was poking at the Beaters with his wand, attempting to configure them in a specific way.

"Hi," I said as I knocked on the open door.

Over the past twenty-four hours I had given a lot of thought as to what I was going to say to Dad. I felt badly about yelling at him yesterday, but I did feel that my anger and disappointment were justified.

"Do you want to sit down?" Dad asked, motioning to the chair in the corner.

"I guess," I said as I dragged the spare chair over in front of Dad's desk. I'd sat here many a time, but never because of something like this.

There were a few moments of silence as we sat across the desk, looking at each other. Finally, Dad spoke up.

"It's highly unusual for a potential candidate that wasn't chosen to receive this much feedback directly from a coach, but the Selection Committee was wiling to bend the rules because you're my daughter."

"So how much of the decision was based on the fact that I'm related to Tristan and all that?"

More than anything else, I needed to know this. I desperately needed to know if there was anything I could have done differently at my tryout or if the odds had been stacked against me from the moment I walked onto the pitch.

"It was one factor," Dad weighed his answer carefully. "But it wasn't the only factor. Like I said yesterday, Tristan burned a lot of bridges at Puddlemere and people haven't forgotten that. They took a chance on him because he was my son and all it got them was a broken contract and having to find a new reserves Keeper on short notice."

"And the other factors?"

"Our trainers had no complaints with your current skill levels, and felt that you performed very well at all of the tasks set."

"But?" I pressed, when he momentarily hesitated.

"But," he continued, "it was also felt that your interview didn't go very well. Laranda Day is the trainer for the Chasers, and in particular felt that your personalities would clash. Her impression of you after the interview wasn't a terribly favorable one, I'm afraid."

"She was against me from the start!" I cried angrily. "You heard all of those questions she asked me about dating James. She automatically assumed that I would allow a boyfriend to be a distraction from Quidditch. That's not fair."

"Laranda is speaking from experience, Eva. We've all seen new recruits struggle balancing their personal and professional lives. I've been through it myself and I know how hard it can be."

"I don't expect that it will always be easy, but I'm fa-, I mean, I care about James a lot, and I'm not going to break up with him because we're on different Quidditch teams."

"No one said you had to."

"Are you telling me that's not what Trainer Day was suggesting?" I challenged him. I had definitely come away with the strong impression that Trainer Day would have liked nothing more.

"Laranda tells some version of that to almost everyone we interview, Eva. She just wants to make sure that prospective players know what to expect. You have to take into account that Puddlemere United management does discourage our players from inter-team dating, and from dating players from other teams."

"I knew that," I protested, "I just thought it meant they didn't recommend it, but if it happened it happened. I didn't think it meant actively encouraging people to break up with their significant others."

"Eva, that's not our policy," Dad told me sternly, and I could tell that I had angered him. "Stop purposefully ignoring what I'm trying to tell you. You're upset and I understand that, but no one is saying that you and James have to break up."

"Good," I countered, raising my chin a notch. "Because I'm not going to."

Dad looked at me for a long moment, then said, "It was this kind of attitude that Laranda didn't appreciate. I've worked with her for several years now, and she doesn't like her authority challenged, especially by candidates or new recruits."

I sighed heavily and ran both hands through my hair in frustration. It wasn't that I meant to be difficult or hard to coach, but Trainer Day had specifically brought up the topic of my dating James and then had as good as belittled me for it. That wasn't right and I wasn't going to pretend like it was.

"I didn't meant to come across that way," I explained wearily. "You know I didn't. But the way she talked to me…I felt like she was disrespectful to me and I was just trying to make her see that I'm serious about Quidditch and I'm serious about James. And now…I guess…after what Trainer Day said to me and now that James will be playing for Puddlemere…"

I felt awkward saying this to my Dad of all people, but he was the Puddlemere coach – who better to address my concerns?

"Eva, listen to me," Dad reached across the desk and patted my hand. "No one is going to make James break up with you because he's playing for Puddlemere. Our inter-team dating policy exists to limit conflict among our players, not to police our players' personal lives. Laranda isn't very tactful, and maybe she didn't phrase things the right way, but I promise you that no one is going to interfere with your relationship with James. That's your own business."

I nodded silently, relieved by his words. More relieved than I could say, really. I hadn't quite realized how much that issue that worried me.

"I know not being signed to Puddlere…that is, this isn't what you wanted. I know you're upset and disappointed and probably heartbroken. My advice Eva, is that as hard as it is to hear, I think it's better that you're not going to start your career at Puddlemere. But it doesn't mean that you'll never play for us. Once you have some experience and build up a resume, the trainers and managers will be more willing to take a serious look at you as a prospective player. I know playing for Puddlemere is what you've always wanted, but this is just another path to get there."

I was loath to admit it, but I found myself wondering, for the first time in my entire life, if it was a good thing that I wasn't going to be playing for Puddlemere at the start of my career. Dad had said that Trainer Day worked with the Chasers, and if our initial encounters were anything to judge by, she and I were never going to get along well. The other trainers I'd met were tough – you had to be in that job – but they had been respectful and encouraging at the same time. Maybe I was better off at another team until Trainer Day was no longer with the Puddlemere side.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday," I told him.

"I understand why you did," he said with a ghost of a smile. "You are my daughter, after all. I would have done the same thing in your shoes."

That statement brought a small smile to my lips. Talking to my Dad had helped me to think about my rejection letter differently. But more importantly, it had allowed me to face reality and begin seriously thinking about offers from other teams.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Dear Ms. Wood,

The selection committee would like to meet with you to discuss your recent tryout with the Holyhead Harpies. If you're interested, please respond to this owl with a selection of possible dates and times. Our office hours are Monday-Friday, 8:00-4:00pm.

Sincerely,

Joanna A. Pringle

Administrative Assistant

Discuss my recent tryout? What in the bleeding hell was there to discuss? The Harpies tryout had been the worst possible example of my skill as a Quidditch player. If I ever saw any of those people again, I'd be tempted to hide my face or duck into a side street to avoid recognition. Not terribly Gryffindor behavior, I knew.

Still…they would hardly be writing to ask to meet with me only to turn me down. Right? The idea that the Holyhead Harpies could possibly be considering offering me a spot on their Reserves seemed utterly mad, but I couldn't help but feel that that might be what was happening.

Or maybe they just wanted to let me down gently in person? That was always possible.

Now that Puddlemere had officially turned me down, I supposed that I could ask my dad what he thought of the letter. But he was still a team coach, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to discuss this with him….

Then a thought suddenly occurred to me. There was someone else I could ask who might know what this letter was all about.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Hi Eva," Lily greeted me as I stood on the front doorstep of the Potter's home. "James is outside in the back garden."

I shifted slightly from foot to foot, feeling nervous about this particular visit to the Potter's. I had been here several times since the beginning of the summer, but never for something like this.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to your mum. Is she home?"

Instead of looking surprised, as I had expected, she smiled brightly. "You got a letter from the Harpies?"

"Uh, yeah," I answered. "How did you know?"

"Educated guess," Lily replied. "I knew you had a tryout with Holyhead, and well, after what James said about your letter from Puddlemere I thought you might want to talk to Mum about the Harpies."

I found myself smiling, a rarity over these last couple of days. Lily had far better intuition than I had had at age sixteen. Or than I had now, really.

"I think she's in the kitchen," Lily said, as we walked through the foyer and down the hallway to the back of the house.

Mrs. Potter was standing at the kitchen counter, looking out the window over the sink when we walked in. The sunlight was playing off her flaming red hair, creating a kind of glow around her head. For some reason, that only served to make me more nervous about speaking with her.

"You have a visitor, Mum," Lily announced cheerily.

Mrs. Potter turned around, and then smiled widely when she saw me. "Eva, it's good to see you again."

"You too, Mrs. Potter. I, er…that is, I was wondering if I could talk to you a bit about the Holyhead Harpies? I don't mean to push in, only I've had a letter from them and I'm not sure what to think."

I had certainly spoken with Mrs. Potter before, but never without James, Al, or Lily around. This was entering unchartered territory. I hoped that she didn't think I was out of place approaching her with a question like this about the Harpies. From everything I knew about her so far, I didn't think she would react that way, but you never know.

"I'll just see what Al's up to," Lily tactfully decided, and left the room.

"Do you want to go somewhere more private, or is the kitchen table fine?" Mrs. Potter asked.

"Here is fine," I said. What I had come to talk to her about wasn't a secret, I just wanted to talk things over with someone who knew about the Harpies.

"Have a seat, then. Why don't I put the kettle on?"

"Thanks, that would be nice." A cup of tea did sound relaxing. It reminded me of something my own mother would do.

Once we each had a cup of tea and a biscuit in front of us, Mrs. Potter settled down into the chair across from mine. Suddenly my brain caught up with the rest of me as I realized that I was sitting at Ginny Potter's kitchen table. (And Harry Potter's too, come to think of it.)

"I'm not really sure how to begin…" I trailed off. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea." I went to stand up, thinking that this had been a rubbish idea.

"Sit down," she instructed me, her brown eyes going from soft to steely in less than a second. I had seen that look in her children's eyes, but it was certainly more impressive coming from Mrs. Potter.

I sat. Sweet Merlin, that was intimidating. One moment she had been all motherly with the tea and biscuits, and the next she'd turned into a drill sergeant. Mrs. Potter was slender and not particularly tall, but she had suddenly seemed very physically impressive and overpowering. And she hadn't even been standing up.

"You clearly came here for a reason," Mrs. Potter said, her tone gentler than before. "Now let's hear it."

At that moment, I think I would have told her anything she'd asked to hear.

"I-I had a tryout with the Holyhead Harpies for their reserve team," I began, then amended my statement. "Well, actually, when I got the original offer, they offered me a tryout for their main team."

"That's quite unusual," Mrs. Potter observed and I thought I detected a hint of appreciation in her voice. The thought that I might have been able to impress the Ginny Potter made my heart flutter. "They must have been very impressed with you."

Yeah, before my tryout.

I knew that I needed to stop dwelling on my poor performance at the reserves tryout. I knew that. I did. It was just that it was difficult to get past my disappointment in myself.

"I turned it down in favor of a tryout for the reserve team."

Mrs. Potter looked surprised, and opened her mouth to say something before reconsidering. "Go on," she prompted me.

"I know I'm not ready to play on a main team just yet. I still have a lot to learn. And after what happened with Tristan…I wanted a team to know that. My Harpies tryout was my last tryout, and it was definitely not my best effort. I mean, I gave it my all," I quickly corrected, not wanting her to think I hadn't tried to do well. "I just played terribly. Everything went the absolute worst that it could. I was so upset and embarrassed."

Across the table, Mrs. Potter nodded and took a sip from her cup of tea. "I think it shows real maturity to turn down a main team offer, Eva. You're thinking like a real Quidditch player," her smile had just a touch of smirk to it.

In my excitement over her words, I very nearly spilled my tea. Holy hippogriffs, I was being a fangirl around my boyfriend's mother!

"I, um, then this morning, this came in the post." Reaching into my robes, I pulled out the letter that had puzzled me so much, and handed it to Mrs. Potter. "You can read it."

Setting down her teacup, she took the letter from me and carefully unfolded it. Her brown eyes, so like James's, moved quickly across the page.

"So you want to know what this letter means? Because you thought your tryout would automatically exclude you from contention?"

"Yes, exactly," I nearly breathed a sigh of relief at Mrs. Potter's perceptiveness. I hadn't really known how to properly phrase my question. Saying, "So, my tryout was pants, but I got this letter and I'm thinking that they might want me anyway. What do you think?" would have been strictly accurate, but rather awkward.

"It's been a while since I've been with the Harpies, but I can tell you that when I was there, new players were judged on a variety of factors. The tryout was just one aspect. They also take the meeting with the other team members into account. You were probably told that they wanted to see how you fit in with the others?"

I nodded. It sounded like the Harpies still operated under a similar system. "I really liked everyone. They seemed to have a good team dynamic."

"That's seen as a very important part of the interview and tryout process. The team members get to share their thoughts on the prospects with the captain. Of course, the in-person interview is important, more so than the meeting with the players, at least when I was there. And don't forget that you were observed by scouts who saw you play at Hogwarts."

I'd been so focused on my disastrous tryout that I'd actually managed to forget the fact that scouts would have seen me play before that day. That made me feel slightly better, knowing that the one horrible day wasn't the only impression that I'd left on the Holyhead staff.

"It's easy to only focus on how you played at the tryout, isn't it?" Mrs. Potter said knowingly. "During my time with the Harpies, I saw women with non-exceptional tryouts but strong records offered positions on the team. In fact, I didn't think that my own tryout was particularly brilliant."

Considering that this was Ginny Potter, that was rather difficult to believe. But then if she could have an unremarkable tryout and end up being a celebrated player, then why couldn't I stand a chance?

I nodded and sat back in my chair, mentally digesting all of this information. It was a lot to think about.

Mrs. Potter sipped her tea, then said, "I don't want to raise your hopes. It's always possible that Holyhead would want to tell you in the person that they'd decided not to offer you a spot on the reserves, but in my opinion I think it's just as possible – if not more likely – that they want to offer you a position."

"The Catapults sent me their offer in a letter," I explained. "Do they Harpies always meet with the women they want to accept?"

"They did when I played for them," was Mrs. Potter's answer. "The Harpies management has always operated quite differently from the other teams in the League. I suppose that's to be expected from a team that only hires witches."

"Thank you for all of your help, Mrs. Potter," I told her. I'd definitely made the right choice to come here and talk to her, even if she could be a bit intimidating.

"I'm glad you came to talk to me, Eva. Don't feel like you can't ask me questions about Quidditch. And remember, you can call me Ginny."

Yeah, I definitely couldn't do that. For one thing, I had admired her forever and for another, she was James's mum. Maybe in about five years I could start thinking of her as Ginny and work up to calling her that.

Looking around me towards the doorway, Mrs. Potter called out, "I know you're there, you can come in now."

Turning around, I saw James, Al, and Lily enter the kitchen. They looked a bit sheepish at having been caught eavesdropping by their mum.

"My brothers invented Extendable Ears, and I used to use them all the time," she fixed them with a pointed look. "You think I don't know when they're being used?"

Oh holy hippogriffs, Mrs. Potter had been a meddler. Maybe she still was one. After all, once a meddler, always a meddler. Or something like that.

"That's right," James smirked at me, and strolled over to sling an arm around Mrs. Potter's shoulders. "We learned all we know from Mum."

"James Sirius, don't you pin this all on me," Mrs. Potter chided him, but a smirk played around the edges of her mouth. "I think your dad taught you plenty. Not to mention your Uncle George and Uncle Ron."

Suddenly, the interfering ways of the Potter and Weasley families made much more sense. It wasn't just my generation; it was the adults too. It wasn't just learned. It was born. They were a whole family of nosy parkers.

"Tell us about your Harpies letter, Eva," Lily asked, looking extremely hopeful. Like James, Lily was quite the Harpies fan.

"They asked to talk to me about my tryout and interview in person," I said. "That's really it. The letter was quite short."

"But that's a good sign, yeah?" Al said. "They're not going to bring you in in person just to tell you you're not what they're looking for?"

"Well don't jinx it," James put in.

"I think it's a good sign, but let's not get ahead of ourselves," Mrs. Potter reminded us all.

"Okay, okay. Say, Al and I were going to walk into the village," Lily offered by way of distraction. "Do you two want to come? There's a lovely little ice cream shop on the square."

"That sounds fun," I agreed. "Nothing like ice cream on a warm, August day."

"You'll have to borrow a top from Lily or use a glamor spell," James reminded me, pointing at my blouse. "I think a Gryffindor Quidditch shirt is going to raise some questions from the Muggles."

I looked down and realized he was right. "Good job you noticed. I'd forgotten."

"Here," Lily threw a t-shirt at me. The moment James had mentioned my shirt, she had gone to the laundry room off the kitchen and found me a replacement garment.

"Scotland Rugby," I read the logo aloud. "Good choice."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Come in, Miss Wood," Celestia Pendergast welcomed me. "It's good to see you again. We were pleased that you were interested in learning more about the Chaser position."

I was ushered into a meeting room with a long, oval table in the middle. Sitting around the table was an older woman I recognized as the Holyhead manager, as well Joelle Smith, the trainer I had worked with on the day of my tryout. I tried not to cringe as I made eye contact with her.

"Hello," I said nervously as I took a seat across the oval table from the other women.

"I'm sure you were surprised to hear from us," Joelle Smith said by way of greeting.

"I was a bit, yes," I admitted. Might as well be honest. It had been a horrid tryout and there was really no getting around that.

"Eva, this is Chrysanthemum Perkins. She's the manager of the Holyhead Harpies."

"It's nice to meet you," I told her.

"Thank you," she inclined her head towards me. "I must say I'm pleased to finally meet you. I've been hearing quite a lot about you, Miss Wood, and I was anxious to see what all the fuss was about."

"Oh," I managed, not quite certain what her words meant. "That's good to hear."

At least I hoped so.

"Like our counterparts, we consider many factors when selecting a new member for our teams," Ms. Perkins continued as though I hadn't spoken. "Your tryout is one factor, of course, as is the interview. But we also pay very close attention to your interaction with the women who would be your potential teammates. All of the women on our reserves side spoke highly of you and felt that you would fit in well with the team dynamics."

A flicker of hope rose inside me. The current reserve team had liked me. That was a good sign, yeah?

"I liked them too," I said. "There seemed to be a genuine camaraderie among everyone. I've played with that kind of team before and I know what a difference it makes."

All three women facing me nodded in agreement, which I took to be a good sign.

"Your tryout, however, was not to the standard that we were expecting," Joelle Smith began.

My heart sank. I knew that we couldn't avoid this subject, but it was still a source of embarrassment all the same.

"It wasn't what I was expecting of myself either," I told her honestly. "I was very disappointed in my performance at my tryout. I know that I'm capable of playing at a much, much higher caliber than I showed you."

"We assumed as much," Ms. Pendergast replied. "It was obvious to us at the time that you were frustrated and displeased with yourself. You're something of an open book when it comes to your facial expressions," she added with a hint of a smile.

Well, that was somewhat mortifying. I'd been told as much by people who knew me well, but never by someone I barely knew.

Joelle Smith glanced over a piece of parchment sitting in front of her. "From our scouting trips to Hogwarts, we know what you're capable of, and have quite a good sense of your Quidditch record in school. You were a reserve starting in second year, and then joined the main team in your third year. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"And you were captain of the Gryffindor team your final year, and under your leadership Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup?"

"We did," I answered, unable to stop myself from smiling at the memory. "Our team was really something special."

"Your play statistics are quite impressive," Joelle continued. "You showed improvement each year in skill, goals and passes intercepted, and goals scored."

Holy hippogriffs, exactly how long had scouts been watching me? I would have been much more nervous if I'd known that teams had been interested me in before sixth year.

Ms. Pendergast shuffled some papers, then said, "If we were to consider your tryout alone, we wouldn't gain a fair picture of who you are a Quidditch player, or as a person. As it is, we're highly impressed with you, Miss Wood. We think you'd be a fine addition to our reserves team here at the Holyhead Harpies."

Oh sweet Merlin, this was it. I was being offered a place. I was going to have options!

"Our salaries are competitive with other pay rates within the League, and we also offer a set number of holidays and illness days for each year. Pay is commensurate with experience and skill. This pamphlet," she handed me a glossy brochure with a smiling witch on the front, "lists all of the finer details. As you'll see, as a new recruit, you'd start in the lowest pay bracket, but each year players receive a formal review at which time their salary can be negotiated. Contracts are renewed yearly."

My head was fairly spinning with all of this information. Pay brackets, holidays, contracts…It struck me anew how lucky I was to do something that I loved with all of my heart and be paid for it.

Ms. Perkins smiled at me as she said, "Of course we understand if you want time to weigh our offer against other teams. That's only right and fair. We do ask that you give us an answer within a week, so that if you select another team, we have enough time to extend the offer to another woman."

"Of course," I answered with a smile of my own. I felt so relieved that two teams wanted me and that I would be able to have options. "I would like a few days to decide."

"Fine, fine. Now, you're likely not aware of this, but Holyhead is actually searching to fill two open Chaser positions."

"I don't mind telling you," said Joelle with a slight twist of her mouth, "that you and one other woman were our top choices. Our other top choice has already accepted our offer. I believe you've met her – Eleanor Cooper."

I thought for a moment. Eleanor Cooper…oh, right! Ellie Cooper from the Catapults tryout.

"We've met," I said, then almost laughed as I remembered that she had punched me in the nose. "We got on. I liked her."

Everyone around the table nodded and smiled knowingly. Maybe they'd heard the story of my failed attempt at dodging a punch.

"Thank you for your time," I told the assembled women. "I'm really very excited to have been offered a position here with the Harpies. I'll send you an owl with my decision in a few days."

"We look forward to hearing from you," Ms. Pendergast told me, reaching over to shake my hand.

After shaking hands with Ms. Perkins and Joelle Smith, I left the room, fairly feeling as though I was floating.

Everything was going to be okay.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Now what about the other list for comparison?" Christine asked as we examined my stack of pros and cons lists. I had made one up for every team that had ultimately offered me a spot on their reserve team. In the end, the Catapults, Magpies, Falcons, and Harpies had all made me offers.

I had narrowed down my decision to two teams: the Catapults and the Harpies. They shared almost all of the same pros and cons, which only served to make my choice all the more difficult.

"Hmm…" she mused, cradling a mug of tea in her hands as she examined the lists side by side.

"Hmm what?" I asked, desperate for advice. I had always known that I might have to choose a team other than Puddlemere, but the knowledge had been rather abstract. I hadn't thought I'd actually have to choose another team.

"I can't make this decision for you, Eva!" Christine exclaimed. We'd been through this several times over the last hour.

"I know, I know," I sighed and dropped my head unto the tabletop. "I'm just feeling overwhelmed."

"Okay," Christine set down her mug and placed both lists in front of me. "These lists are almost identical. As far as I can see, the real difference – at least on paper - is that you didn't meet the reserves at the Catapults tryout. Is that fair to say?"

"I suppose so," I said after a moment's consideration. "The personalities of the Catapults coach and the Harpies coach were quite different, but I liked each of them in a different way."

"Maybe it just comes down to personality and first impressions?" Christine suggested. "Obviously I wasn't there, but on paper it looks like either decision you make will be a good one."

I chewed on my bottom lip as I looked over the lists for what felt like the hundredth time. "I just never thought I'd have to worry about this, you know?"

Christine gave me a small, kind smile. "I know. But you have some great offers, you're going to work hard and get noticed, and then the people at Puddlemere would be truly mental not to want to sign you. You have a plan."

Now I just needed to pick a team that would help me learn to be a better Quidditch player and that would further my career ambitions.

"I also never thought I'd be looking into two teams in Wales," I mused out loud. "I've never thought about living in Wales. Or outside of England, really."

"That doesn't have to be in the con list, you know," Christine reminded me for the third time since I'd originally written the lists.

"I'm just not sure how I feel about living in a small village surrounded by sheep!" I laughed.

Christine laughed as well. "It's not all sheep and you know it!"

"I know, but it's more fun to pretend like it is."

"It's the land of Merlin, and magic, and men's choirs, and – "

"Sheep," I finished for her, trying (and failing) to keep a straight face.

"Would you stop with the sheep?" she protested, even as she couldn't stop laughing. "You're from Dorset – largely rural and a small population. Isn't that rather the pot calling the kettle black?"

"Oh, probably," I conceded, brining myself mentally back to the task at hand. "I suppose I can't just close my eyes and point at one?"

"Your future," Christine shrugged.

What I had wanted for my future wasn't possible right now, but I did have two respectable options. I glanced over the lists again, thinking about what Christine had said about team and coach personalities, and about first impressions.

"I notice you're looking more at one than the other," Christine said quietly. "You keep joking about me picking for you or needing my advice, but I think you've chosen your team, Eva."

Christine wasn't my best friend for nothing. She knew that I'd been favoring one team this entire process, but that I was having trouble admitting it. Given my longstanding dream, it almost felt disloyal to be choosing a team that wasn't Puddlemere.

I nodded and found myself smiling. "I've chosen."

She pushed a piece of parchment and a quill my way. "Then I think you have a letter to write," she told me with a wide smile.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Good morning," I greeted James, fairly bursting with my news. I'd sent my acceptance letter off yesterday afternoon with Waffle and had already received a reply from the administrative office confirming my choice. I was to report for reserves team practice in two weeks. In the meantime, they'd get my paperwork in order so that I could be paid (always important) and order my kit.

"You look extra chipper," he observed. "I take it you made a decision, then?"

"I did," I acknowledged with a wide grin. "Sent the letter off and everything. I start in two weeks."

"That's brilliant!" James leaned down and kissed me. What started out as a quick peck turned into a lingering kiss, but I could hardly complain about that.

"So are you going to tell me what team you chose, or are you going to leave me in suspense?" he teased with his usual smirk.

"Leave you in suspense, of course," I replied. "I thought I'd let you find out during the first match that our teams play against each other."

"Catapults?" he guessed, bending down to look me in the eyes, as though trying to read my mind. "Harpies? Falcons? Tornadoes?"

"You," I said, unable to stop the grin that was spreading across my face, "are going to be dating a member of the Holyhead Harpies."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! A special thanks to my beta, blue and gold, for the helpful suggestions and fabulous beta abilities, and the extra help on this particular chapter.

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

Next chapter: Eva meets more of James's family, and we see some familiar faces and some new faces.