I feel the familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. The air around Hogwarts is electric and energizes me as I pull on my Quidditch kit. The past four days have been busy with preparation for the entire team, but especially for Meredith, who was released Tuesday evening.

Meredith has been getting on much better now that she's not carrying a dark cloud around her at all times. The team has never flown better and our expectations for the match are high.

As for me and Meredith… Well, our interaction has been, admittedly, minimal. She seems to be two different people around me. There's the Meredith who barely looks at me and answers me in one word sentences while having no problems talking to anyone else. And then there's…

"Jaaa-aaames." I jump and look up from the area of floor that I've been intently staring at for… well, I'm not sure how long. Mer is waving her hand in front of my face and smirking. "You better start paying attention, Captain." Meredith leans in and whispers, "I wouldn't want you to miss anything." She pulls back, winks, and saunters off.

Then there's this Mer. She pops up at the oddest times… like now. I watch as she walks off and I can't help but look. Honestly! She hasn't put her kit on yet, so she's wearing her Muggle clothes (that is to say, skinny jeans and a fitted t-shirt) and she is sauntering. If Mer is trying to be discrete during these personality exchanges, she's not doing a very good job.

"Mer's acting a bit off recently, don't you think?" Roger asks to my right.

Case in point.

I direct my attention quickly away from Mer's backsi… back, and try to appear busy searching for something in my locker. I clear my throat before asking, "What do you mean?"

"Figures you wouldn't notice, Captain," Roger says with a laugh. He cuffs me lightly on the shoulder before turning back to his own locker. "It's like she's two different people." He stops and spins to face me again, frantic. "You don't think someone's impersonating Meredith, do you?" I roll my eyes, but he can't see since my back is too him. That was pointless.

"Cool your jets, Roger," inputs a voice from the door. Fred comes into view with Phillip just behind. "I'm positive Mer is not being impersonated."

"So you don't think she's been acting odd?"

"Who wouldn't know Mer's been acting odd?" Phillip says from being Fred.

"I didn't say she wasn't acting odd," Fred replies, rolling his eyes, "I just said that she isn't being impersonated. Mer is Mer."

"How do you know?" Roger asks accusingly.

"I know. You'll just have to live with that explanation."

"But what about how she's been behaving towards James?"

"Yeah! It's almost like she…"

An awkward pause comes over the room and the three of them look at me. I shake my head and shrug my shoulders.

Roger and Phillip look at each other and seem to come to some sort of realization at the same time. "Well, we… we wouldn't know anything like that anyway, right Phil?" Roger stutters into the silence.

"No! In fact… in fact… I could have been imagining it!" Phillip says, completely contradicting his previous statement. "I bet it's just the fact that we're so nervous…er… excited about the upcoming match."

"We better put our game faces on or the Captain won't let us play."

"Yeah! Then Gryffindor would have to forfeit because we wouldn't have a full team."

Roger and Phillip continue in this manner, with unnecessary volume, as they continue preparing for the match.

Fred opens his locker next to mine and says, "Told you so," without looking at me.

I roll my eyes, again. He did tell me that Tuesday evening.

"Aren't you coming?"

I'm putting the finishing touches on my fourth overdue essay and sitting in front of the Common Room fire. I look over my shoulder and see Fred looking at me questioningly.

"Nah. I don't think that would be a good idea." I turn back around and start to write one final sentence, when my parchment and textbooks go flying and I'm suddenly hanging upside-down in the air by my ankle. "Merlin, Fred. What the hell?"

Fred releases me and I fall onto the sofa below me. "I just needed to get your attention."

"What for?" I ask, barely masking my annoyance.

"So I can tell you what a dumb arse you're being."

I right myself and run my hand through my hair. "You don't have to tell me things I already know, alright?"

"Why don't you want to go the Hospital Wing with me? Mer's being released tonight."

I turn my back to him again and start collecting my school things that he so graciously flung across the floor. "She doesn't want me there, so why would I go?"

Fred walks around the sofa to face me and flicks his wand. I flinch, but instead of being upside-down, again, the items I'm gathering bring themselves together and organize in a neat stack on the coffee table. I glance up at Fred who is frowning seriously. "What did you say?"

"I said, 'she doesn't want me there'."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Because she doesn't want to be my friend anymore."

"She told you this, herself?"

I look away and bring myself to my feet. "No. Not exactly," I admit.

"Then let's go." I am about to protest, but Fred grabs my arm and drags me toward the portrait hole and into the corridor. He turns so we're facing each other and says, "I thought I already told you she doesn't hate you."

"You did, but-"

"And you already found a way to convince yourself otherwise?"

We glare at one another for a moment before I close my eyes and deflate slightly. "I told you: I screwed up. There's no getting around that."

"Mate, I don't know how else to say this, but Meredith fancies you."

I shake my head. "Impossible. You're definitely mistaken."

Fred jerks back slightly. "That's not how I envisioned you reacting."

"Look, I. Screwed. It. Up." I say again, emphasizing every word. Won't he just drop it?

What am I thinking? Of course he won't. He's a Weasley.

"You keep saying that," Fred semi-shouts, visibly frustrated. "What did you do that makes you think that you should punish yourself."

I'm really very tired of this conversation. Maybe if I just tell him, we can move on. "I kissed her! Okay?"

Fred freezes, stunned, with a look of confusion on his face. "And that's… a bad thing?" he asks after a moment.

"Yes!"

"Merlin, James. I just told you she fancies you. How could kissing her be a bad thing?"

"I did it on Saturday morning." Fred tilts his head as if to ask 'aaaand?' "Right after she broke up with Corner."

Fred's eyebrows shoot up in comprehension. "So what you're saying is that you have terrible timing."

"No. What I'm saying is that she doesn't fancy me. She ran away!"

Fred's jaw drops a fraction and then he shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts. "She ran away?"

I nod.

"Did she slap you?"

"No."

"Did she hex you?

"No…"

"Did she cause you any bodily harm at all after you kissed her?"

"No!"

Fred stares at me and brings his palm to his forehead. "James," he starts, bringing his hands in front of him and gesturing as he speaks. "Do you really think… and follow me on this one… do you think that Meredith wouldn't have retaliated if you had done something that she wasn't okay with?"

"I don't know… maybe?"

"Okay, think about it this way." Fred crosses his arms and leans against the corridor wall. "Do you think Mer would have cursed Harris if he had kissed her?"

"Why do you have to compare me to him?"

"If you really think she hates you, I think it's an apt comparison." Fred gestures for me to follow him down the hall and we start on our way to the Hospital Wing. "She doesn't hate you, mate. If you haven't noticed, she has been in much better spirits since she woke up."

"Yeah… so?" It's true. She's been much more like the pre-Corner Meredith. Not to mention, yesterday I could have sworn she was flirting with me again.

"I coughed it up to her ditching Corner, but hearing your piece of information makes me think there may be other reasons."

"Yeah, right."

"Honestly, James? Don't beat yourself up over this anymore."

A brief vision of Meredith, wandless, backing fearfully away from the dark figure of Brenden O'Toole pops into my mind. "But… I forced myself on her. OW!"

Fred pulled back his fist from where he just punched my arm. "Don't say it like that!" The serious tone he has squelches my retort in my throat. "You may have only just found out, but I've known about O'Toole. He is the lowest type of scum-of-the-earth. You get offended that I compare you to Harris, but you compare yourself to O'Toole? The only people who should be compared to O'Toole are the other low-life scum-of-the-earth creeps in the world.

"Mer is my friend and I've done my best to look after her, just like you have done. If I honestly thought there was a problem with you, I would be doing my best to keep her away from you. But, for the record, I'm fairly sure that nothing you, being you, would ever do would put you in the same camp at that wanker."

We walk in silence for a little while as I think of what to say. "Has anyone else said anything about Mer's behavior recently?"

"Everyone who has visited her as noticed. So… your family and the team, basically. It would be practically impossible for someone to not notice that she doesn't have a dark cloud of impending doom hanging over her anymore." Fred sniffs and adds "And don't think I didn't notice what was going on yesterday when we stopped by to see her. She seems to be… distracting you a lot." Fred smirks and adds "You didn't seem to think she didn't want you around then."

I can feel the heat on my face again. I've been blushing far too much as of late. Men shouldn't be allowed to blush this much. "I only went to see her because you refused to go to dinner until we did. And why are you bringing this up, anyway?"

"Just trying to make you realize that I'm not making things up when I tell you Meredith fancies you."

"How do you know? It's not like she's done anything obvious." I think about practice and yesterday and my stomach knots. I believe that would be considered pretty obvious.

"Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, but the truth is: if she keeps this up, even Roger and Phillip are going to notice. I know you have."

I rub my eyes hard and muss my hair. Bloody hell. This is getting out of hand.

I pull my gloves on and look at myself in the full length wall mirror across the room. I check to see if anyone is looking, then brush off some sort of debris from the fabric of my kit and cross my arms. When I'm on a Quidditch team poster, I'll pose like this. I look too good to not make that happen. Steps from behind me alert me of some standing right behind me. I drop the pose quickly, immediately feeling foolish.

"Stop checking yourself out, Captain," Meredith appears on my left. I'm not sure how she has been managing to sneak on me constantly the past few days, but I don't think my heart can handle it if it continues. She then lowers her voice so only I can hear as she passes me. "I do that enough for you." Her eyes are doing that same thing they were doing at practice.

She actually was discreet this time. None of my mates seemed to notice anything. Then again, Roger and Phillip are probably only playing dumb and Fred will just take the mickey out of me for it later.

Bullocks.

"Where are the Scamanders?" I ask the room. "It's almost time for us to go out and I still need to make my speech." There is a unanimous groan at my words. "Don't start that. You lot know it's tradition."

"Can't we break tradition for once?" Phillip whines, covering his face.

I can't respond. Meredith has reached back to tie her hair back and started looking at me that way, again. Is there something different about today? Maybe the pressure is getting to me and causing me to imagine things.

"James!"

I'm jolted out of my reverie. How rude. Who is disturbing the pre-game ritual of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team anyway?

Lorcan and Lysander have arrived (finally… the slackers), but they do not look like they're in the best mood. They quickly move towards their own lockers and reveal…

"Hugo?" Rose's younger brother is standing in front of the team, looking slightly frantic. "What are you doing-?"

"Julia." The room is tensely quiet. Her name is not something that is welcome to this group of people. I raise an eyebrow at him questioningly. Hugo looks me dead in the eyes and says with forced calm, "Julia is commentating on the match."

"What?" Meredith jumps to her feet and runs over to Hugo, grabbing his shoulders. "Julia's the commentator today?" Hugo nods grimly. Mer releases him roughly and turns, yelling and pulling her hair in frustration. "Bloody hell."

No one else has said anything, yet. Either the rest of the team doesn't know what to say. Or Meredith summed it up perfectly. Probably the second one. The fact that this is likely the sincerest reaction I've seen out of her in a week is refreshing, though.

But this isn't about Meredith, right now. This is about Julia.

Julia Carter is commentating on a Quidditch match? Who okay-ed this? "Does she even know enough about Quidditch to announce it? My best guess is that McGonagall was not the one in charge of this selection.

"Thanks for the heads up, Hugo," Fred finally responds. Hugo just nods and exits the room.

"Did any of you know about this?" I ask as the door closes behind my cousin.

"We only just found out right before you did," Lorcan admits, motioning to him and his brother. "We ran into Hugo on his way down from the castle and we can straight here after he told us."

I turn and pound the locker behind me with my fist. "Why?" I yell to no one in particular. "Why does she have to ruin everything? She is never satisfied until she wins. She always has to win!"

Behind me, I hear Fred stand and walk over to me. He sets his hand firmly on my shoulder. "Calm down, James," he says resolutely. I spin around to face him, my eyes flashing. He meets them with his own intense stare. "The only way she can win is if you let her get into your head."

I glance over Fred's shoulder to see Meredith looking at me as well. Her gaze is identical to Fred's and she nods as if in agreement with his words. That's exactly what I needed.

I feel my anger start to shift from blind rage to a singular overwhelming fury towards a single target: Julia.

"She isn't going to win," I insist, looking at each of my teammates in turn. "You lot know what lengths she would go to for revenge and I don't doubt it will be full-scale warfare on the pitch today because of it." My mates nod in agreement at my words. "I'll do my best to ignore anything she says, but I'll need you out there backing me up. And you all bloody well promise to stop me if I lose it. I don't want to be disqualified because of my stupidity."

"Hear, hear," shouts Roger, pumping his fist in the air as the other nod, looks of determination on their faces.

I grab my broom and stalk out of the locker room and towards the pitch. The rest of the team falls in step behind me. No one says anything. We are focused on the enemy. This time, it's not the opposing team.

"Good afternoon." Julia's familiar, infuriatingly snooty voice is amplified over the pitch. The knot in my stomach that slowly developed throughout the morning tightens suddenly. This is not going to be pretty. I can feel it.

"It would appear that it's a great day for Quidditch, though I'm not sure how great the Quidditch might actually turn out." I inwardly hope that no one realizes that Julia's speaking.

Yeah, right. Who wouldn't know her voice? She talks so damn much.

We reach the edge of the pitch and I shake hands with the Hufflepuff captain, Brandon Hughes. The Hufflepuffs are looking at me warily and Hughes silently says, "Try to keep your head, mate," before we break into our starting positions. Well, then… the Hufflepuffs are nervous about this, too. At least they don't have an advantage in that.

"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch releases the Bludges and the Snitch and holds the Quaffle between the two teams. "I want a clean game," she adds looking from Hughes to myself. "No matter what is going on."

Great. Madame Hooch is worried about it too! Apparently everyone thinks I'm a hot headed idiot.

I can't say that they're wrong.

Madame Hooch blows her whistle and throws the Quaffle into the air. The fourteen of us push off of the ground and the match is underway. Roger gets to the Quaffle first and flies towards the Hufflepuff rings. I see Meredith race forward and up to hover over the pitch and the Scamanders are watching carefully off to the side, waiting for the Bludgers to come around. We are ready.

"And it's Gryffindor at the toss," Julia's voice echoes. Her lack of enthusiasm is evident… and annoying. "It's Thomas to Finnigan to Thomas… you'd think their captain would think of something a bit more imaginative than this." I hear some laughter coming from the Hufflepuff stands and a section of the Ravenclaw stands (probably Corner and his cronies… the wanker). That was rather mild, but I have a bad feeling it isn't going to stay that way.

"Finnigan is going for the goal…"

Phillip shoots, but the shot is blocked by Gordon Parks and I quickly move to midfield. "Hufflepuff stops the shot. Parks is able to block a rather pathetic shot by Finnigan. I have to say that this is further evidence that Finnigan's 'scoring' tactics are both predictable and fruitless."

Oh. Merlin. You can't be serious.

"Parks tosses the Quaffle off to Hughes who, I know for a fact, handles balls better than anyone." Hughes drops the Quaffle in surprise when Julia says this. Even though I feel awful (he doesn't have anything to do with Julia), I dive for it and head back toward the Hufflepuff end, dodging a Bludger from one of the Hufflepuff Beaters.

I force myself to tune Julia's voice out as a fly to the opposite end of the pitch. It's not hard considering I have plenty of experience in doing just this. When I approach the Keeper, I feint left, and easily toss the Quaffle through the center hoop.

The droning in my ears tells me that Julia's said something, but only the booing from the Gryffindor stands notifies me that it was over the line. I couldn't care less what she's said about me right now. I just scored! I pump my fist as I fly back towards the Gryffindor end of the pitch, but I seem to be the only one celebrating.

One of the Hufflepuff Chasers has the ball, but a well-aimed Bludger from Lorcan makes him drop it. Roger dives to grab it, but Hughes swoops in and snatches the Quaffle before he can reach it. Hughes flies to the end of the pitch and takes a shot. Fred lunges but has to grab the handle of his broom to keep himself from falling and barely misses the save.

"Weasley misses the shot from 'Ball Handler' Hughes. Once again, Weasley is thinking with his broomstick. One could say he values it over the needs of his teammates, especially the Captain."

So she's going to bring that up? I bet she doesn't know that Fred told me about what happened between them and that's why she said what she did right then.

And, really? How is this still going on? I know teachers are slightly off about what 'teenagers are talking about these days', but how could they miss such blatant and degrading innuendo?

Fred throws the Quaffle to Roger and he speeds down the pitch. I follow him closely and he passes it back to me. "Potter with the Quaffle, heading down the pitch. His agile ability on the pitch, however, doesn't relate any other activities off of it." My pride isn't the least bit hurt by her statement. She wouldn't know anything about my 'abilities' anyway.

The atmosphere in the stadium is charged, but not in the normal way. The usual positive energy that flows from the crowd has warped into blood-thirst.

… That may be an exaggeration, but it's pretty safe to say that they are, mostly, not happy. A Hufflepuff beater flies towards me and checks me hard in the side, causing me to drop the Quaffle.

A Hufflepuff just checked me. Wow. It would appear that it's not just the crowd that's unhappy.

Merlin, I hope this game doesn't take too much longer.

Thirty minutes and many, many more of Julia's innuendoes later, the game is 100-80 to Gryffindor. Both teams are playing heated, taking their frustration with Julia out in the game. I've never seen the Lorcan or Lysander so angry… ever. They're usually so much like their mother it's unnerving, but this is a side of them that I've never seen before. They are hitting more accurate and harder than I've ever seen during practice. They must be holding back, normally.

Slackers.

A shadow passes over me; Meredith is busily searching for the Snitch, eager to end the game. The rest of the team are dealing with the constant personal jabs fairly well. I have, amazingly, been able to keep myself from killing anyone throughout the duration of the game. I did end up fouling one of the Hufflepuff Chasers after a particularly nasty comment about Meredith.

The Hufflepuff team isn't faring much better. The Hufflepuffs have been playing quite a bit more aggressively than normal, though there has not been very many fouls in the game. Hey, they are still Hufflepuffs. We're all trying to stay on our brooms from the high-speed Bludgers aimed at our heads and since Quidditch at some point turned into a contact sport.

"Once again, Thomas has the Quaffle and is once again headed down the pitch." A groan echoes around the stadium. "Ooh… Thomas has been knocked off his broom by a Bludger. It's likely not the first time he's fallen off his ride." Phillip dives and catches Roger before he falls too far and sets him on the ground.

One side of the stands starts cheering. Meredith is racing past the Slytherin stands. She's seen the Snitch and the Hufflepuff Seeker is racing across the field to join the chase. Meredith dives suddenly and the Hufflepuff Seeker follows suit, falling for her feint. He doesn't seem to have seen the Snitch himself, yet. Mer pulls up and sloth rolls to bring her back onto her original course.

I can hear Julia's voice, but the excitement from the pair of Seekers has my full attention… and everyone else's for that matter. Meredith gracefully speeds after the gold orb but the opposing Seeker is soon on her tail.

"I'm sure Potter wishes he were Henderson right now. You could say he likes to come from behind." Meredith suddenly lunges forward and at the same instant the crowd roars in both excitement and anger. Meredith caught the Snitch. I speed towards her to celebrate, but before I can even make it halfway there, Meredith has already flown to the ground and stomped off the pitch.

"A surprising victory for Gryffindor," Julia starts. "The final score is 250-80, but Potter's victory can probably still be lawfully disput-" but before she finishes the statement, someone has snatched the microphone away from her.

Thank Merlin. Why they hell did that not happen sooner? I see the other players visibly relieved that her voice has stopped as well. I fly over to Hughes who is already on the ground. He looks dejected; humiliated. Hughes looks over to me and mutters "Thanks for being sane through that, Potter." Turning away, he starts walking distractedly back towards the castle.

The rest of my team has landed and I make my way cautiously towards them. They all look ready to kill… well, beat to within an inch of their life, anyone who comes near them. Lorcan, Roger, and Lysander are whispering furiously with each other. Phillip is pacing. Fred is just staring at the opposite wall like he's trying to burn a hole through it.

"Great game, mates," I say. All the guys focus on me at once. "You played fantastically, considering the circumstances." They just nod in acknowledgement.

We make our way to the locker rooms silently. As we reach the final bend, I hear high pitched laughter around the corner followed by a *smack*. I turn the corner, and in the walkway in front of the locker rooms is Julia. Her friends are standing there and she is holding a reddened cheek and glaring at the person in front of her. A foot or so away stands Meredith.