Settling the Score.

The Road To Hell is Paved With Good Intentions

"…was utter hell today, he made us do the Gillygock formation and all these other crazy warm-ups just because you weren't there," Alicia was saying rather accusingly the following day in the common room, oblivious to the fact that I wasn't paying any attention to her whining.

No, my focus was directed on the massive pile of Astronomy homework spilling across my lap, glaring at me after weeks of neglect due to insane Quidditch scheduling. Now that I had no excuse to put it off—other than I simply didn't want to do it—I was attempting to sort through it as best I could.

I lifted up an empty star chart and wrinkled my nose, adding it to the pile of five or so by my foot. "I think I might have to spend a bit of time in the Astronomy tower tonight – try and catch up on these charts."

Alicia snorted as she glanced over the assignments, an Astronomy buff due to her obsession with planet alignments and horoscopes. "That might prove a bit difficult, seeing as the stars and planets we can see change position every few weeks."

I frowned at her announcement. "Do they really?"

She rolled her eyes, lounging back into a stuffed armchair and stretching out her legs, ignoring the various wizards ogling her. "You've been taking Astronomy for how many years?"

I brushed off the comment, instead focusing on the dates the charts were supposed to have been completed by and scowling – some were up to months ago. "Bollocks – I don't know what the sky looked like a month and a half ago!"

Alicia glanced upward in thought for a moment, scrunching her pretty face. "Jupiter and Mercury were aligned, and Orion was in the center of the sky."

I stared at her unblinkingly, managing a coy smile as I handed her the chart. "Please?"

She glared at me half-heartedly, alternating her gaze between the chart and my pleading face before quirking a blond brow. "Only if you come to practice tomorrow."

My face crumpled as I sighed, dropping my head dramatically. "I can't, Ally – the whole point was to get Wood to back down. He won't take me seriously if I just waltz onto the Quidditch pitch tomorrow and act like nothing happened."

"Then don't act like nothing happened," she explained, grabbing the chart out of my hand and starting to fill it with thoughtless ease, "go to him and give him a bit of a telling off before setting some regulations concerning how he treats you."

I threw her a pointed glance, expression flat and disbelieving. "Oh, sure, because he's really going to listen. Besides, I need this break to try and get on top of things."

A sly smirk pulled at her lips as she dotted something with her quill. "You seemed pretty 'on top of things' yesterday afternoon."

My nose wrinkled in confusion for a moment before flattening out into a dark scowl. "Oh, shove off."

Her smirk deepened at my defensive response, and casually, innocently, she began singing "Let's Get it On," scribbling in yet another answer.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed up my tattered Astronomy folder, rifling through my bag for a self-inking quill and shuffling to my feet. "I'm going to try and finish this – would you stop singing that bloody song?"

I scoffed as she got to the chorus, snapping to the sultry rhythm, and turned on my heel, stalking over to the Portrait hole. Stupid girl didn't even know the words. "I've been feelin' fine, baby!"—really?

Irritated, I glanced down at the blank chart in my hand, not paying attention to my surroundings and consequently knocking into someone with a graceless 'Oomph!'

"Women – can't seem to keep their hands off me," a familiar voice said, and I glanced up at the tall, rather lanky bloke with a shock of red hair and adorable freckles standing before me—George Weasley. He grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes as he shoved an accusing finger in my face. "You weren't at practice today."

I sighed at the statement, growing rather wary of explaining myself over and over again simply to meet the same response. "Yeah, I know."

"Were you dying?"

"No."

"Dead?"

"Obviously not."

"Paralyzed?"

"Nope."

His grinned widened. "Then you're not legitimately excused."

I nodded tiredly, a dark scowl sweeping over my features. "Wood took it upon himself to personally deliver the message."

George snorted in amusement. "Is that why he left practice early? I figured his mum must've died or something."

My eyes widened slightly despite my irritation. "George, you don't joke about that sort of thing."

He shrugged absently. "It's true."

I snorted at his indifference, shaking my head. "You're going straight to hell."

He grinned cheekily. "No, you see I've reasoned this out – they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?"

I raised a dark brow. "And?"

"I have no good intentions."

I chuckled lightly as I pushed past him to climb through the portrait hole.

"Oi, where you going?"

"Astronomy Tower," I called over my shoulder, swinging the portrait open.

I heard him snort humorously from the common room. "Have fun."

"Will do," I drawled, shaking my head at my misfortune as I ambled down the lightly bustling corridor – that is, of course, until my eyes met with an eager pair of dark brown ones.

Shit.

"Oi, Andy!" Lee called out, pushing through the crowd gathering about him and Fred Weasley as I tried to quicken my pace.

"Sorry, Jordan – essays to write, star charts to botch," I chirped with a somewhat forced ease as I broke out into a brisk sort of power walk. I felt like Angelina – the girl always walked like twenty paces before everyone else like the dictator she was.

"Wait, I just wanted to talk to you about Ka—"

"Kaleidoscopes? Yeah, don't know anything about them, sorry," I interjected in a charmingly Tourette's-esque fashion, spitting out the first Ka-word that sprang into my head to cover his announcement.

"Kaleidoscopes?" he echoed, his voice seeming farther away as I strode even faster, effectively losing him amongst the crowd. "I didn't say…"

I sighed in relief as I turned a corner and his voice trailed off, slowing my Speed Walker Marathon pace and letting my tension ebb slightly. I knew I was going to have to deal with that whole situation eventually, but at the moment putting it off seemed like the most viable option.

I spent the remainder of the rather lengthy trip to the Astronomy Tower mentally berating myself – something I'm beginning to realize I do quite often – and cursing under my breath. It was wonderfully schizophrenic, and by the time I got all the way up the stairs, I'd convinced about thirteen portraits that I was mental.

Let's just get this over with, I thought as I pushed the thick, oak door to the Observatory open, sighing in resignation. These next few hours were not going to be fun, not by any means – Astronomy had never been my strongest suit.

Or really one of my suits, period.

I dumped my doodle-covered folder onto a nearby chair, extracting one of the many empty star charts from within it and wandering over to the telescopes by the window.

"Alright," I muttered to myself as I bent over one of them, squeezing an eye shut and peering into the thick lens with the other, "which one of you buggers is Neptune?"

An endless sea of stars and constellations twinkled back at me, a uniform blanket of identical white dots peppered against a black, satin canvas. A slow, dark scowl lowered itself over my features. "Splendid."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Saturn – can't you just raise your sodding hand or something!" I snapped at the evening sky as I glared through the telescope, utterly frustrated and beyond sanity.

Honestly, could the stars be a little less annoying? Always bloody twinkling and throwing you off – making you think, 'Oi, could be a planet!' when really it's just a stupid con-artist star shining extra bright just to mess with your head.

I exhaled sharply in frustration as I shoved the instrument away, wrenching my messy, scribble-littered chart off the window ledge and simply making up the planet's position. After a moment of furious scrawling, I held it up and peered at it – it didn't exactly scream 'bullshit'.

"Good enough," I muttered, tossing the parchment back down onto the ledge and bending back down to the telescope, pretending to know what the hell I was doing. Of course, as luck would have it, my hand accidentally knocked the instrument askew in the process, and the pre-set crystal clear image grew slightly blurry. "Oh, brilliant – simply brilliant."

My eyes rolled skyward as I tried to reposition the lens, having immense difficulty finding the correct knob to do so. Naturally, there were about seven million of them, and I had absolutely no idea what any of them did.

After a moment of silent contemplation, I shrugged – couldn't hurt to try all of them. So I reached out for the first one, turning it to the left slightly and peering into the lens with expectant eyes.

Everything was black. Oh. Great idea, Andy.

Without even bothering to readjust it, I simply moved on to the next knob, too aggravated to stop and think like a rational human being.

Shit. The clear black was now a fuzzy, texturized kind of black.

Excellent.

I groaned as I rapidly fiddled with the remaining knobs, twisting them somewhat erratically in order to get some sort of distinguishable image, though they really didn't alter the hazy black much.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," I growled as I stepped away from the telescope, glaring it down like the monstrous, out-to-ruin-me beast that it knew it was.

I heard a low chuckle sound from a few feet away, dark and condescending, and I immediately swiveled around in surprise. My scowl deepened at the sight before me – Wood leaning against the door frame, staring at me with a crooked smirk. Typical.

"You're always so colorful in your choice of language," he drawled, the Scottish accent lighting up his voice in the darkness.

My gaze narrowed, wondering what he of all people was doing in the Observatory this late at night. "Is there a reason you're here, or is stalking people just another wonderful quality of yours to add to my list?"

He snorted derisively. "You have a list?"

I tapped my head. "Mental."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "No argument there."

I shot him a 'ha-ha-you're-so-funny' look before wheeling back around, swooping down to the telescope and keeping my back to him. I was fully prepared to simply delve into my assignment and ignore him until he went away, but then the blurry, entirely black image once again met my eyes.

"Oh, bollocks," I muttered, pulling away from the telescope and crossing my arms. Well, great, there went that plan.

"Having trouble?"

A steely look flickered over my features as I brushed off the comment, determined to ignore him. I glanced at the first two knobs – the ones that had done the damage in the first place – and contemplated moving them again.

Well. Couldn't hurt.

I tentatively reached out and twisted the first one, peeking back into the lens hopefully. My face immediately crumpled into a scowl – nothing. I repeated the process with the second one, growling with frustration as once again, nothing changed.

"Bloody—argh!" Without really thinking, I just grabbed the nearest knob and began readjusting it furiously, trying to get some sort of image to surface before my eyes.

After a moment of intense aggravation, something warm and rough gripped my hand, slowing it down considerably and guiding it into a careful, counter-clockwise movement. I pulled my head back immediately, and my whole back collided against something firm that I quickly defined as Wood's chest.

My gaze snapped up indignantly, mouth open and ready to protest, but I was instantly distracted by the intent look etched onto his features in the pale light of the moon. For a moment there was no mockery, no arrogance, and no authority spilling from his gaze, only gentle focus.

After a second or two, his concentrated gaze flickered to mine briefly, and he raised a dark brow. "Keep looking, you have to tell me when it's focused," he said, nodding his head toward the abandoned lens.

I mentally shook myself, wrenching myself out of my slight daze – I really had to stop getting within such close proximity, it was messing with my mind. "I didn't ask for help."

His lips curled a bit at the ends, and he returned his attention back to the knob he was twisting – the one where his large hand was covering mine. "I didn't expect you to."

I parted my lips to respond, but he gestured toward the lens rather impatiently. I rolled my eyes, sighing darkly. "I'm going, relax."

I bent low to peer back into the instrument, a spark of hope springing to life within me as I saw an incredibly blurry image of black and white. "It's a bit better, but I still can't make out anything."

He murmured something in response as he continued to guide my hand, though after a moment he moved on to another knob, making my fingers feel somewhat cold and oddly abandoned. "Oh – no wonder…"

I was about to ask what he'd discovered, when suddenly I felt his entire chest press against my back as both of his arms encircled mine. I reared back slightly, utterly flustered by his sudden proximity, my gaze flickering about in surprise.

Each of his arms was on either side of the telescope, closing me in within the tight space between them and his body. My eyes widened slightly as the situation, body stirring with an electric sort of anxiety.

"This side regulates the lens, the other regulates the power of the spell – you have to find a perfect balance," he explained in a low murmur that was dangerously close to my ear, though he didn't even seem to notice as he continued to mess with the focus.

"Oh," I managed rather stupidly as I tried to gather my thoughts, a bit concerned by my considerable lack of disgust. If I'd envisioned this scenario in my head without actually experiencing it, I would've immediately pictured a wave of indignation and nausea washing through my body.

Yeah, not happening.

"Wiles?"

"Huh?" I responded, shaking myself from my cluttered thoughts and refusing to look over my shoulder – that'd simply be too close for comfort. Not that this wasn't already.

"I said check it now," he restated humorously, and I could just imagine the dark smirk pulling at his lips.

"Oh, right," I muttered, rolling my eyes at myself as I bent down to gaze into the lens, careful not to press the rest of my body against his any tighter than it already was.

My gaze lit up in frenzied glee at the image before me, the tension shattering in a hearbeat. The picture was perfect – the stars far clearer and closer than they had been before, and the planets easily visible from the heightened magnitude.

"Bloody hell, Wood, you are good for something!" I cheered, all of my previous anxiety forgotten as I continued to gaze at the stunning sky in awe – my assignment had just become seven million times easier.

He snorted at my words, pulling his hands away from the telescope and stepping back casually. I ignored the fact that I suddenly felt cold. "You're not capable of saying thank you, are you?"

I glanced over my shoulder, struggling with my manic grin. "Not to gits."

His lips lifted into a smirk. "And helping you out of the kindness of my philanthropic heart makes me a git?"

Philanthropic heart? Wood? Uh – might I point you in the direction of the two hundred bleacher suicides he made me do? "Everything about you makes you a git," I replied, though I suddenly realized I still didn't know what he was doing here.

My eyes narrowed slightly, stare growing a bit more curious. Helping me for no reason wasn't his style – it was more along the lines of 'make me suffer and laugh on the sidelines.' Something was off.

His amused expression flickered almost imperceptibly as I held his stare, and a slow smirk crept onto my lips – busted. "You want something, don't you?"

His smirk remained casual and cool, though his eyes hardened somewhat defensively. "No."

"Then why'd you come up here?"

"I…"

My smile widened triumphantly. "Thought so – kindness of your heart, my arse."

His gaze flattened slightly, and he brought a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it. "Look, I ran into Alicia in the common room—"

"Oh, God."

"—and she," he paused, lips curling into a somewhat perplexed frown, "well, she gave me a bit of a telling off – something about how I've been treating you unfairly…"

I raised a dark brow, eyeing him closely for a silent moment or two and gauging his reaction. "And do you agree?"

He simply stopped rubbing his neck, glancing up to meet my sharp stare with frank eyes. "Not really."

My gaze flattened. "What?"

He simply shrugged noncommittally at my expression, crossing his arms rather indignantly. "I don't see what's so wrong with how I treated you – you were late, there were repercussions."

I scoffed heatedly at his response, rolling my eyes in disbelief. "You really are a bastard, you know that? Only you can assign someone two hundred suicides for getting to practice a few minutes late and call that fair," I snapped, gaze steely and cold. "Some leader."

Shit. I knew the moment those last two words left my lips, there'd be trouble – but then again, I was too stubbornly angry to take them back.

Surely enough, his eyes took on a dark, angry gleam at my words, bristling somewhat. "Are you questioning my role as captain, Wiles?"

"As a matter of fact, I am, sir," I spat sarcastically, folding my arms across my chest and staring at him resentfully.

This seemed to be the wrong response, for his playful, mocking demeanor faded instantly, falling prey to cold anger. Bloody hell, he took Quidditch seriously.

"You know what, Wiles?" he asked, Scottish accent thicker due to the anger in his voice, "I was going to come up here against my better judgment and apologize; I was going to tell you that yeah, maybe I have been a little hard on you lately because I know you can take it – you're a vital part of our team and we can't have you slacking so early in the season, but now…"

I stared at him coolly as he glared down at me, taking a few slow, threatening steps closer so that his vast height advantage became evident. "Now you're only hope of making it back on is through trying out again, and even then, your chances are slim. We can't afford to have such a fickle princess quitting and rejoining whenever she pleases without any consideration for the rest of the team," he growled, his eyes darkening coldly as he spat out the last few words with utter disdain, "especially if she can't learn to respect her own goddamn captain."

A tense silence hung in the cool air for a moment after those words, his eyes glaring down at my own narrowed gaze disapprovingly. After a few seconds, he simply scoffed, shaking his head dismissively and stalking off into the darkness of the corridor.

I watched him go through steely, anger-ridden eyes, resent welling up inside me like a brewing storm as his patronizing words echoed in my head. I had no consideration? I was a burden they couldn't afford to have?

Everyone knew that the various times I had quit, it'd just been out of frustration and anger – I always came back the next day and never skipped a single, solitary beat. I had a temper, yes – but in the end I always managed to come through for the team. I'd never really abandoned them except now, and this was just a result of one of the many unjust things that have been culminating under Wood's bloody supervision!

The bleacher suicides weren't even the half of it – it was his constant singling me out, his unnecessary lectures and patronizing rants about how I didn't catch the Snitch perfectly, or how he had caught a glimpse of it in the middle of a scrimmage and I was on the other side of the field – yet somehow I was supposed to have seen it too.

Even during our wins, he'd always make some sort of snide comment like 'We would've won even sooner if Wiles had been a little more focused.' I was bloody focused, I was always focused during games! I got into a sodding trance, for Christ's sake, and yet he expected more from me.

Always more, it was never good enough – and I have no idea in hell what to do to get him to realize that there is no more. I fly faster than anyone else on the team, I'm a fearless diver and a ruthless competitor – I'll chase the sodding Snitch to the other side of the globe if I have to!

And yet, somehow – that's nowhere near good enough. So, for once, I actually stood by my convictions and really meant what I said – I quit. And unless there was some sort of apologetic compromise between Wood and me, it would stay that way.

Honestly, if he thinks it's the least bit easy for me to give up Quidditch, even for a week – he's sorely mistaken. There's no other rush in the world like a deadly, game-determining dive, where it's you against the laws of gravity – nothing else can even try to control you. Wind soars by you, a deafening rush in your ear drums as your heart pounds, willing you to go just a little bit faster; to risk your life just a little but further.

It's the purest source of adrenaline available, and it's what I thrive off – adrenaline and competition.

So if he somehow thinks—in all his arrogance and distortions of reality—that this easy for me, he really doesn't know me at all.

Not one tiny, minuscule bit.

A/N: Reviews = love! Fav. quotes, interestingly enough, also = love! = ! I don't even know what this author's note means anymore.