I feel like this one is unnecessarily dramatic, and for that I apologize - it had to happen. Although I do love the line, "Hey, look, a bludger."

My eyes scanned the horizon as I tried desperately to remember to breathe. My instincts to fly had always driven me here, even though my anklet was beeping that I had flown too far, and I had about twenty minutes to get back to the school grounds. It would only take me ten minutes to get back, and I figured they couldn't yell at me if I was all of a second late.

I took in a deep breathe, my palms laying flat against the rock on the edge of my cliff. I call it my cliff, even if it is technically, you know, just a cliff in the Forbidden Forest. It's not that high – maybe fifty yards, but it's sheer rock wall. Perfect nesting place, if I was a full-time falcon.

I flinched naturally at the sound of the threstrals as they snapped at a bird. I had seen them since I was twelve and watched as some ornately large werewolf tore apart a sparrow while I was in my bird form, and I've never liked those damn bird-horses. They liked to chase birds around for fun, a pastime I'm obviously opposed to.

One of my palms pushed off the stone, almost of it's own accord, and I fought it as it reached for my hair. There's nothing to be nervous about – sure, there happens to be a Quidditch game tomorrow. Sure, it'll be the first time I've ever spent more than five seconds around Wood, and even better it'll be in full view of Ben who, by the way, is still not officially my boyfriend. Nothing about that is nerve-wracking.

My hand trembled as I forced it back down onto the stone, staring out into the full moon. Ben assured me that I'll be better than fine tomorrow – that the Slytherins we're facing are just wusses, and all I need is one good hit at them and I'll have them running. It's the 'one-good-hit' part that I'm worried about. Most specifically, the 'good' and the 'hit.'

I closed my eyes and concentrated again on breathing, which shouldn't be as hard as it is. Focus on something good, Darling. Well, things with Ben are going good. He and I are joking and laughing and kissing and he's very much a gentleman. He's, like, perfect. It's crazy. And if he tries to kiss me in front of Wood tomorrow, I might shrivel up and die.

Not that I don't think Wood doesn't already know about me and him – I'm convinced it was him in the Hog's Head last Saturday, and he always made it is his business to know everything about my life. Maybe that's done now, but I'm sure he still hears a few things.

I gulped passed the part where it was done now and concentrated again on Ben. There was no reason that I should be nervous about anything tomorrow – I'll be fine; we might even win. Slytherin's team this year isn't very good; they haven't caught a Snitch yet. I doubt anyone will even be out there to watch.

Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone will be there and I'm going to choke in front of Wood. I mean, my God, we broke up because of this! I don't even know why, but if I do badly tomorrow, it'll... oh my God, I'm forgetting to breathe!

With the faint realization, my body pitched itself forward with the force of my breathing, and I felt weightless. I'd only done this once before...

Alright, so before when I jumped off this cliff I had actually jumped and turned into a falcon immediately; now, I'm panicking a bit. My eyes squeezed shut as my instincts kicked in, my bones squeezing themselves into place painfully fast and my body swooping forward as I pulled my beak out of the nose dive.

I skimmed against the forest floor dangerously for a seconds before my body crashed to the ground, admittedly much slower than it would have had I been human. I felt a few feathers pull out of place, the skin under it becoming red and irritated at the friction of dirt against bare skin.

My head rang, and I let my eyes flutter for a second. Some dirt had gotten in them, but I didn't think I had broken anything. Careful, I hopped onto my back feet, digging my talons into the dirt and glancing around, amazed as always at the sharp clarity with which I saw everything. The threstrals I had heard earlier were attracted to the commotion, cutting my recovery time sickeningly short. I could only imagine their hooves coming into contact with my skull, easily crushing it if they wanted to.

I spread my wings, concentrating on the flight as I pushed forward, trying to feel for wind currents or thermals of warm air to ride back to Hogwarts. Of course, I felt nothing, and resigned to flapping desperately to make it back to my window before anyone would be coming for me.

I dug my nails carefully into the handle of my broomstick as I watched Wood, Ben, and whoever the Slytherin captain was talk in the middle of the field, biting my lip and somehow expecting a fight to break out. Like Wood cared enough to smell me on Ben, and then everything would be ruined. Cause I like Ben, really. I certainly don't want Wood to beat him up.

The thought that Ben would win didn't even occur to me – sure, Ben was taller, but Wood was stronger. Wood was a keeper, built to stop balls flying at his face; Ben was a chaser, perfectly built for leaning forward and speeding through the air. Completely different body type. It's just common sense that Wood would win. I don't have a preference. Oh, wait, yeah, I do... for Ben, guys.

There were three nods of agreement, and Ben quickly turn and sprung back to our team, his brow furrowed. I hurried forward to meet him, a little scared that Wood had told Ben our secret in some strange revenge, even though Wood doesn't care.

I caught him gently by the arm, shocking him into looking up at me, "What's wrong?"

Ben shook his head a moment after I asked the question, as if shaking off the thought, "Nothing, Professor Wood's just being... weird."

My chest became its usual vacuum cleaner, a feeling I did distinctly not miss, "What'd he say?"

"He doesn't want you to play – says he thinks you'll get hurt."

I grit my teeth, feigning innocence the best I knew, "Does he usually give you advice on the team?"

Ben shook his head, his blond hair slapping gently against his forehead, "No, never. I wouldn't think he cares."

I shrugged, trying to be dismissive, "Probably just wants to make sure we kick Slytherin's ass – you know, him being an ex-Gryffindor and all."

Ben nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Wood, who was carrying the various boxes of balls towards the center of the field, "I guess that makes sense."

"Hey, I never said that guy makes sense. I don't think any of Quidditch makes sense, honestly," I joked, smirking up at him. Ben pivoted towards me, his jaw dropped in obvious shock. Note to self: don't joke about not knowing Quidditch with your Quidditch captain just before your first game. He attempted to stutter a response, but I saved him the embarrassment, "I'm joking, Ben. I know everything I could possibly need to know about playing Quidditch." I absentmindedly twisted my finger into my hair, trying to seem nonchalant, "Did Wood say anything else?"

"He didn't say that you couldn't play," Ben responded, obviously thinking that's what I meant, groaning when he looked up and saw my face?

My expression fell, wondering what he'd seen, "What?"

Ben's hand shot out, and I felt my heart skip and my body tense as Ben shoved his own hand into my hair, drawing my hand out of the knots they were tying, "You make me nervous when you do that."

My jaw dropped at the sudden... intimacy of the moment. I was speechless, and my heart was beating in what was either pain or anticipation. Wood's face flashed before my eyes involuntarily, but was quickly replaced by Ben's lips moving in to catch my own.

Of course, Wood blew the whistle at that time, and my head snapped his direction. I was horrified to find him staring back at me with his hard, brown eyes, so contradictory to the man I'd dated what felt like forever ago. I couldn't tell what made him so angry, but I didn't dare think he'd seen what me and Ben were going to do. He had to know.

Lining up with the rest of the team, everyone leapt simultaneously into the air, brooms holding us still in the air as Wood rose slowly after us, his eyes still hard as he glanced around, scrutinizing, "I want a clean match from everyone of you."

He glanced especially at the Slytherin Beaters, who were two terrified Third year twins, before continuing to study everyone in the circle. It was hard to look him in the eye, but his gaze drifted passed me uninterestedly. Good, because I plan on showing him I'm strong, even if it kills me. And showing him I'm strong is easier if he's not looking at me.

Wood didn't say anything else, but threw the Quaffle into the air, diving out of the way as the Chasers sped forward, Bry grabbing it out of the air and weaving through the air easily. And with that, the game began.

I let my eyes glaze over, like they did in practice, and waited for a streak of black to catch my attention. A streak of black, unfamiliar, crossed my path, and it registered that it was Wood. He paused, just in the line of my vision, and I fought the urge to look at him. It was... harder than I'd imagined it would be. But it..

Hey, look, a bludger.

I leaned into my broom, willing it forward and continuing to grip it with my nails. I reached my bat up towards the ball, wheeling it around my head and throwing my weight into it, sending the ball flying harmlessly towards a stand. Oh, right, aiming. My bad. At least I didn't hit Ben in the face.

"Thanks," Lees, a sixth year Chaser, smiled at me before she flew away, attempting to knock the ball out of the Slytherin Chaser's arms. I nodded at her before looking around for my counterpart, one George Isaacs, the only other seventh year on our team.

I sighed in relief when I made out his large, hulking figure at the opposite end of the field, which was most definitely the busy side. I should probably go help him out, but I get the feeling he wouldn't see me and he'd run me over trying to get to the Bludger. Best to let him do his thing.

And so I hovered there for a second, watching as the team looped and ducked in time with each other, feeling like what I was watching was more art than sport. It's, like, a complete one-eighty from what I used to think, but I feel strangely at peace, especially when I look at Ben and ignore Wood.

"Hello, Darling." Speak of the devil.

"Hello, Wood," I said, trying to match his coldness. Like we didn't, you know, date.

"I just couldn't help but notice your arms."

I didn't dare look over at him, and was thankful for the excuse to look down at my arms, which were just exposed between my robes and my elbow/wrist guards. What was exposed, though, included places from where I'd gotten scratched up last night after falling off the cliff. Heh, how many people can say that honestly and be out playing Quidditch the next night?

"I fell," I explained, glancing back towards the game. My eyes squinted, but they just couldn't seem to focus on the Bludger as it bounced between Isaacs and the Slytherin Beaters. I should be helping. But I'm not going to run away with my tail feathers between my legs; oh no.

"Maybe you shouldn't be playing, then; might make it easier... for both of us," he muttered the last part, and my mind blanked. I looked over at him, my mouth gaping. Was Wood... sorry?

Of course, at that moment, Isaacs issued a very thoughtful, "Heads up!" My attention turned immediately, even if my mind still reeling with the possibilities.

A Bludger was soaring picturesquely towards my head, no doubt a gift from our friends the Slytherins. I wound my arm back, my eyes wide and my body acting of it's own mindless accord. I didn't think about anything as my bat came into it's violent contact with the iron, my arms straining against the pressure of having to redirect it.

Wood ducked under the swing of my bat and Bludger, and I was about to apologize for not paying attention when he lost his balance, the broom slipping from between his legs and his scream echoing and blending with the screams of the school as our Seeker, who is suddenly nameless to me, caught the Snitch and won us the game.

I felt a familiar arm quickly wrap around my waist, nearly pulling me from my broom in an attempt to kiss me. But I felt sick, and screamed into Ben's mouth. He thought I was screaming in excitement, until I pushed him off and he realized that I was screaming, 'Wood.'

I fell into nearly vertical dive, trusting my instincts to pull me out of the dive at the perfect moment. I landed clumsily next to Wood, who was barely conscious. I shook his shoulders desperately as the Pitch fell silent. I was mindful of what I was screaming. I knew he would be alright – Madame Pomfrey is a god sent.

"Professor?! PROFESSOR?!"