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Scoundrel.

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"Um, Allison? Allison?" Holly said hesitantly.

I ignored her, staring blankly down at the textbook lying open on the desk beneath me, as I started unscrewing the cap of the vial in my hands.

"Allison? H-hey, Alli, what—what are ya doing there, you scalawag, you—"

I tipped my hand into the bubbling cauldron below.

"Ah, fuck—"

BOOM.

When I woke up, slowly, groggily, and with a pounding headache that hammered so violently against the inside of my skull that I immediately fell back on my pillow and cradled my head, cursing, I laid on a crisp white cot tucked under crisp white sheets and staring at a crisp white ceiling.

"Shiiiitt," I moaned. The hammer gave another good whack, as if in agreement.

"'Shit' is right," said Holly's voice to my left.

I had to wait five seconds before I could muster the strength to turn my head. Holly was sitting up with her back propped with several crisp white pillows. She held a magazine on her lap that looked well read; little creases on the edges and turned down dog-ears on the corners. "I'd give you a right slap on the noggin if you didn't look so bad right now," she informed me, turning a page. "You idiot."

The sudden pain that hit my stomach drew a quiet whimper. Fuck, dinnae be a Jessie, Allison, shit.

Holly made this sort of 'tch' noise that just made me want to hit her but Merlin's wee little weenie everything just hurt and "We go to a fucking magic school can I get some fucking magic here fuck—"

"Oh, right. Madame Kelley said to take that potion there-," she nodded to a large purple flask on the table to my right, "as soon as you wake up." She smiled cheerlessly.

"Bitch," I muttered under my breath as I made a grab for the elixir.

"Moron," she retorted. "Of all times to get stuck in a daydream. Freaking Potions class."

I threw back the vile concoction. "This tastes like hippogriff baws," I gasped.

"I offer no sympathy," Holly sniffed. "You got us sent here. We had Potions on Wednesday. It's freaking Friday."

"Ahhh," I groaned as the potion worked its magic, throwing myself back on the bed. My stomach eased its conniptions and my head felt like it rested on clouds. "Rowena, that feels so fucking good. Shit." I arched my body, reveling in the sheer bliss.

A strangled noise from somewhere in front of me had me opening my eyes. James stood there, jaw slack, eyes wider than moons and with none of their shine. His bag dangled from one limp hand.

"Oh, hey, James," I said, grinning, impossibly giddy. I stretched my arms out to him, still a little punch-drunk from all that magic.

He dropped his bag and started walking towards me slowly, like a wolf stalks a rabbit, hair all mussed and nostrils flaring and eyes all dark and—

"A-hem," coughed Holly. "I'm right here."

James stopped like he'd run into a brick wall. His face flamed. "Uh, yeah, right. Um. So, here." He shoved a couple muffins into my lap, careful not to look me in the eyes, and then left very quickly.

I picked up a muffin and held it to the light. "What in the name of Merlin-," I mused aloud. I looked over at Holly just in time to see her famous eye roll. "You got something to say?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, smiling like she did before, but with a little more twinkle in her eye and a little more sparkle in her teeth. "He's adorable. You're very lucky."

"I—what?"

"Eat your muffin, you hopeless creature."

Madame Kelley pronounced me fit for discharge an hour later, just in time for lunch. "And for goodness' sake, don't let your mind wander, child!" she called to my disappearing back.

Elli had popped in earlier to give me my homework. "Don't play the wounded warrior," she scolded through my groans of "But why". "It's important not o get behind on your schoolwork.

I didn't really feel like going to lunch. Exploding a potion really takes the appetite out of you. I also didn't feel like going to Care of Magical Creatures, which I had later that afternoon, either. So because I didn't want to feel guilty about skipping, I decided to hole myself up in the library and catch up on stuff. Once at the library, I successfully avoided Mr. Horne, the stern school librarian—because, you know, I'm such a delinquent, skipping class to hang out in the library—and settled myself in an abandoned corner.

I sighed and opened, with no small amount of reluctance, Advanced Potion Making to get started on my make-up report. Then—"Hey," said a soft voice waaaayy too close for comfort.

"Mother of all fuckers-,"

I'm not proud of what happened next, so I won't go into explicit detail. When it was over, the offender in question lay on the floor, curled into the fetal position, bearing several nicks and bruises from the heavy volume I still clutched above my head, panting.

"Owww," said the perp.

"I am so sorry," I said, mortified.

The boy slowly uncurled himself. "Are you going to hit me again?"

"No," I whispered.

"Good." He pulled himself up and straightened the round wire glasses that perched on his slim nose. "Do you always attack well-meaning strangers with the written word?"

I tilted my head to get a good look at him. Long and lanky, with a delicate, angular face half hidden behind a mane of sleek black hair, he seemed to disappear in the folds of his robes. His eyes shone through the lenses of his glasses, bright and impossibly green like chips of raw emerald.

"Do-," I hesitated. It was absurd, how familiar he felt and yet I couldn't quite—"Do I know you?"

"You probably know my brother," he said. His lips lifted into a smirk. "It's quite unlikely that you don't, given his tendency for loud spectacle and such."

I couldn't stop the smile that worked its way across my face. Ah.

"Albus Potter," he offered, holding out a thin hand.

I took it. "Allison Wood."

"Yes. Well, I already knew that," Albus said, smiling in an odd way. "What?" he asked, when I opened my mouth to say something and then thought better of it.

"Nothing," I said. "It's just—your hair. It's surprisingly… well kept."

He blinked, face carefully blank. "Well. A thank you is in order, I suppose."

I laughed. This kid, I swear. "You're welcome, then. And, uh, sorry. Again. For the, uh, book mauling."

Albus shrugged and made to sit down across from me. "It's no matter. I startled you."

"No, I should have seen you," I said. Because, of course, he had occupied the corner I thought abandoned.

"Salazar, woman, do you seek eternal repentance?" Albus snapped.

I shrank away. "Um. No, no not really."

"Then stop apologizing."

"Okay."

We sat there for a moment.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," said Albus, standing up. "I like to take an investment in these sort of things. I must say, you've made the top five, and I've only just met you. Impressive."

"I—what?"

"I'll see you around." And just like that, he retreated, disappearing among the many bookshelves of the library.

"Alright then," I said. But no one was around to hear.

So that's Albus, I mused silently. The lone wolf of the family; a black sheep among lions; the shrewd little Slytherin in the middle of a hoard of self-righteous Gryffindors. He doesn't seem that bad to me. Suddenly I felt a tide of shame wash over me; if I'd prejudged Albus because of the dingy dungeon he'd made a dormitory, had I done the same to his housemates? Didn't that make me the same as them? And didn't that previous thought undo the well-meaning one before?

"You disgust me."

I slammed my fist down hard on the table before me, the pain dragging me from the confines of my own head. "You're different now," I grit out. "You're different now."

I didn't leave the library for a while.


"Okay, let's call it a day!" I shouted, my voice hoarse as I fought to make myself heard over the downpour. The rest of the team stopped, looks of relief on their faces clear as they pelted toward the ground. I followed them, blinking furiously through the rain, and nearly slid into Stephen after landing with an impressive spray of mud. "Inside, get inside!"

"Feeling merciful, Your Highness?" Stephen sneered once we'd made it in the locker rooms.

I rolled my eyes, already tired of his constant challenges. "You-,"

Maggie interrupted, laying a hand on his shoulder and sending him a sweet smile. "Come on, Stephen. It's Friday. And did you really want to spend another minute out there?"

He visibly softened. "You're right, as always. Sorry, Cap." He moved to his locker on the other side of the room.

My eyebrows shot up. Cap? What in the name of Merlin's gay lover was that? "I wouldn't suggest changing yet," I advised everyone. "You still have to make the run up to the castle, after all."

"Bugger," muttered the gawky Timothy McCulley. "Ol' Rupp'll have our heads if we get a speck of mud on his precious floors."

"You're a fourth year, Timmy," said Kayla, her nose wrinkling scornfully. "Haven't you learned Scourgify yet? Education these days…"

"Alright, alright," I stepped in hastily. Kayla and her permanent premenstrual syndrome, I tell you. "Hurry up, you lot." I bent down to grab my bag.

That's when I saw it.

Turning away, Maggie grasped the hem of her soaking wet practice jersey and pulled it off in one smooth motion, revealing an equally drenched white tank that clung like a second skin. Her shoulders worked as she swung the garment up and over her head. My eyes flitted to Kayla, zoomed in hers, picked out the way her gaze followed the dribbles of water that trickled between Maggie's shoulder blades and lingered on the soft curves made obvious by the torrent outside, the way her lips parted involuntarily and her jaw slacked, how her face, her whole body, seemed frozen, unable to move.

Oh. Oh.

I snapped my head away quickly, my face burning, and shoved the rest of my equipment away in rushed, haphazard fashion. I felt like I'd witnessed something incredibly private, an impossibly intimate side I'd never known of the girl I'd shared a dormitory with for nigh on seven years.

Stupid. So, so, stupid. My eyes stung. What kind of Captain am I?

"I'll see you all at practice tomorrow morning," I managed without raising my head for fear of making eye contact. Ignoring the others' questioning protests, I threw my bag over my shoulder and pushed my way outside.

I barely felt the raindrops as they attacked my face, accusing me, exposing me; I dug my nails into my palms, relishing in the harsh sense of reality it brought.

Stupid.

Kayla wasn't in love with Stephen. She was in love with Maggie. Sweet, considerate Maggie, never a cruel word to anyone, with her crop of mousy hair and big brown eyes and full, pink mouth.

Kayla and Maggie in the library, bent over large dusty volumes, Kayla reaching over Maggie for a quill, her arm just a little too close.

Kayla and Maggie outside the Great Hall, the younger girl scrabbling in her bag as the older threw her head back in unrestrained laughter.

Kayla and Maggie in the Ravenclaw common room, Maggie's feet in Kayla's lap, talking in low voices, Kayla's gaze focused downward, shy and innocent.

Kayla and Maggie. Maggie and Kayla. Kayla and Maggie KaylaandMaggie KaylaandMaggie. And then it was just Kayla.

"Fuck," I said out loud, reaching the castle doors. I threw them open and hurried inside. It was too close, too close to how—"Shit."

"Allison?"

I flew around at the sound. I had the culprit back up against a wall, my wand at their throat, my eyes wide and unblinking, my breath falling short and ragged. I felt unbelievably cold. Then—

"James?"

He grinned shakily, hands held up next to his face. "Wotcher, Wood."

I fell back like I'd been burned. "Merlin, Potter. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on women in the dead of night?" I couldn't meet his gaze, afraid he'd look into them and into me and see the guilt swallow me whole.

James scoffed. "I'd hardly call this the dead of night. It's not even eight o'clock." He glanced down at my muddy attire. "Quidditch practice?"

I shrugged, not sure why he even had to ask.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, Wood, you've got to give me something. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to leave a guy hanging?" He tried for a smile.

"Don't." The word forced its way past my chapped lips, like a confession from an innocent man. I threw his hand from my shoulder and backed away, slowly. I raised my eyes to his in a moment of wonderful weakness—drowned in the warmth of his gaze, brown brown brown that reached all the way down to the very tips of my toes—and then ruined it all with stupid words as careless as the wind: "I don't need to give you anything."

And then I walked away.


The next morning's practice was awful. I yelled at everyone, even little David, who gave me such a look of hurt and betrayal that I instantly apologized.

The practice after was worse. And the one after that. And the one after that—I don't even want to talk about it.

Friday's dinner found me crouched down behind a suit of armor in an abandoned corridor, back hunched, knees drawn to my chest. Tomorrow we play Hufflepuff.

I've ruined everything. I started to sob quietly, great fat drops that pooled down my cheeks and dripped off my chin. I shivered and drew my robe tighter around me.

I dug my fist in my mouth when I heard a noise down the corridor, inwardly sighing. Where does one go to cry, when one shares residency with three hundred or so others? Absolutely no privacy. I closed my eyes tightly. If I can't see them, they can't see me, I said, over and over, the words a mantra.

"Wood?"

I peeked open one eye. James knelt before me, his bag thrown carelessly to one side. He peered carefully at me. I hiccupped pitifully.

"Oh, Wood," he whispered. He reached out with both hands and brushed away the tears on my cheeks, almost cradling my head. His thumbs felt rough and soft at the same time against my skin.

"S-sorry," I choked. Stop crying, you nincompoop, I ordered myself furiously. Stop it!

"Don't be silly. What've you got to apologize for?" James said, wiping away. Finally he crawled next to me and folded me against him. I buried my face farther into his chest as an answer.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked after a minute or so. I started to cry harder. "Guess not, then." He stroked my back absentmindedly, little light touches, barely there. "Is it about your match tomorrow?"

Mutedly, I nodded against his chest.

"It's your first game as Captain," he guessed. "You don't want to lose to Hufflepuff."

"Someone's going to," I mumbled. "Eventually. You h-have to know that. The, the tables will turn. Someday they're going to beat us all."

"I get the feeling that's not all what this is about, though. Am I right?"

I sniffed. "Just—this past week, I've just realized something—something incredibly important, I've just been so stupid, and I'm bringing everybody down, and all our practices have been s-so terribly awful, and I keep yelling at people and I h-hate yelling at people and—and I got my first Acceptable on a test ever!" I finished with a wail and a new spurt of sobs.

"Sh, sh," he murmured.

"I, I-,"

"Sh. Don't talk, just listen."

I quieted immediately.

James took a deep breath. "First off, your first A ever? You Ravenclaws have high standards. No, shush," he said as I made to protest. "Acceptables are just that. Acceptable. A pass is a pass, Allison. Be grateful you're not Aaron Carhatz," he told me, naming a Hufflepuff boy in his year. "He has the IQ of a flobberworm. You're a hundred times, no, a thousand times smarter than he is." I couldn't help but giggle just a bit, the sound asphyxiated by intermittent hiccupping. "And I love that you hate yelling at people. You're a kind, selfless individual with a heart of gold. I mean it," he added, one hand now running through my hair. And who cares if your practices have been awful? You have one more, tonight. You have tomorrow. As much as it pains me to admit, you have a great team. You'll pull through.

"Now, I don't know whatever it is that you realized, or whatever, and I'm not asking—that's your problem. But what I do know is that you're not stupid, and you don't do things just to spite people. So whatever it is, I know that you didn't do it on purpose. It's not your fault, okay? If you missed something, that's because it was hidden and you weren't looking for it. You are okay."

I was still for a moment more after he finished, my breathing soft and steady, his chest firm and warm and there beneath me. Then I lifted my head: all I could see was James, him and his kindness that shone like a beacon in the middle of an empty ocean.

"I want you to go out there-," he gestured with his head in the general direction of the Quidditch pitch, "And tell your team what's going on. How much you want to win. How much that team means to you. Can you do that for me?"

My eyes shone as I nodded silently. Impulsively, I grasped his face with my two hands and gently guided it downwards. I pressed my lips to his forehead for a beat—two—before pulling away. I met his gaze and held it. "Thank you," I whispered shakily. "Thank you."

Then I carefully removed myself from his embrace, gathered up my things, and left, telling myself I didn't miss warmth of his arms.


"Come in here, guys," I called. "We won't go out just yet."

The team filed in to my office, one by one, heads down and shoulders sagging. My heart squeezed painfully at the sight. What have I done?

I took a deep breath. "Let's sit." I plunked myself down on the floor in front of my desk and gestured for them to do the same.

"We've had a tough week, haven't we?" There were murmurs of agreement. "Well, more like I've had a tough week, and I'm just bringing you all down with me." I sighed and looked down at my hands. "Recently, I, uh, had a revelation about someone close to me. Someone that I thought I knew, that I should have known. Sometimes-," I paused and smiled sadly, "sometimes I feel like I'm just drifting, just going through the motions of 'life,' and I miss stuff. I don't pay attention to other people's problems because I didn't think they had any. I think... I wanna change that. I want to be more involved with my friends, with my teammates, and do for them, for you guys, what you all do for me."

Pause. No one moved.

"So I think I owe you guys an apology," I said finally, looking up. "Don't I always say it? Leave it at the gate. I shouldn't have let this affect the way I handle practice. I messed our whole group dynamic, for fuck's sake.

"I really—Quidditch is, it's everything to me. I love the pure sport of it, and I know you guys do too—that's why I chose each and everyone of you to be apart of this team. You are, all of you, individuals that make up a whole. Every member of this team is important. After all, a clock can't work with a missing piece.

"So I'm asking you guys if you'll forgive me. If you can help me put aside this—thing—of mine, if you'll help me help you pull this team back together."

The silence that followed was overwhelming. Then—

"Well, if you put it that way…" Stephen stood and stretched, his tall frame towering over us all. He grinned in that jackass way of his that I seem to have grown fond of. "I'm in."

"So am I," said Maggie, springing to her feet.

"And me." Kayla said it like a challenge.

Tim and Carl exchanged glances. "We're in," they said together. "As if I'd desert you," Carl added, with an impish smirk.

David stayed silent for a moment longer. "I forgive you for yelling," he said in a small voice. "So I guess I'm in."

My face split in a smile so wide it hurt like hell. "Guys," I said. I'll admit it, my voice cracked a little, even after my epic crying session earlier. "I love you all."

"Group hug!" Carl shouted. There were groans of protest and good-natured raillery, but everyone moved in together.

"To team spirit!" Carl yelled.

"To a good practice!" added Stephen.

"To kicking the tar out of Hufflepuff's arses!" I finished, grinning broadly.

I'm back, baby.


[A/N: Wrote that in about two hours. You're welcome. My fingers hurt.

Some of that was planned. Some of it... was not. I actually wanted to end with the Quidditch match, but I'm tired, I wanted to get this up and it's long enough already.

I can't describe how dedicated I am to this story. If I had the time and the willpower, I'd write all of it right now. I want you guys to know that. So if I take a really long time to update, I'm sorry. But better late than never, right?

Love ya.]

Edit: 11/26/13