Chapter Thirteen

James sat on the edge of the bed, idly rolling his wand over and over in his hand, staring blankly at nothing as a dozen different things fought for attention in his overcrowded head. He wasn't listening at all to the others as they dressed for the day; he had got ready early and had already been to the Great Hall for breakfast, eating alone with his thoughts.

"Really, Prongs, of all the stupid, immature, impulsive things we've done this year, that has got to be the most," said Sirius, pulling a striped jumper over his head for the Gryffindor/Slytherin match that day. It was cool and cloudy, and James was certain it would probably begin raining as soon as the match started.

"He's right," said Peter, shaking his head. "You had no reason to quit. Why would you turn in your badge?"

"I didn't quit," said James, still staring at his wand. "I resigned. And I resigned because I've messed up too many times."

"So you turned Evans into a cat," said Sirius with a shrug. "I'm surprised it wasn't a dog, considering what a bitch she can be."

James's head snapped up, though he didn't say anything. Peter snorted, but Remus frowned at them.

"She's not—not really," said Remus. "I'm sure most girls would slap a guy for using a spell like that."

Sirius threw himself down on the bed and slung a protective arm around James. "All I know is she won't let up on my mate here, even after I talked to her about it."

James dropped his friend's arm. "You talkedto her? About me? What did you say?"

Sirius shrugged as he jumped back up and walked over to his trunk, where he took out a scarf and hat. "Tried to get her to see what's going on, for one. And told her to back off, for another."

"That worked well," murmured Peter, pulling on his shoes. "Can't imagine what Charms would have been like if she hadn't been holding back."

James agreed. "And what do you think is going on, exactly, that you had to have a talk with her about something that's none of your business?"

"I'm just looking out for you," Sirius said, avoiding the question.

"And I've told you before, I—"

"—don't need a bodyguard," the three of them finished in unison.

"Exactly," said James. He stood up, once again irritated with his friends and their meddlesome prying, however well-intentioned. "I have to get to the pitch. I'll see you later."

He grabbed the rest of his Quidditch gear and left the dormitory, silently steaming. He heard his friends murmuring behind him and ignored it, too annoyed to care what they were saying about him now. Bursting into the common room, he stopped short when he saw Lily sitting on the chair directly opposite the stairs. She looked up immediately, as if she had been waiting for him, and he groaned inside; he really couldn't handle another confrontation with her, not before the game.

Barely glancing her way, he hurried toward the portrait hole, hoping she wouldn't say anything. She jumped up and followed him instead.

"James, wait!" she called. He stopped and gave her an exasperated look.

"I can't talk right now," he said, trying to keep his voice level.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What, you can chase me out of the Great Hall, but I can't catch up with you in the common room?"

"That depends on whether or not you're going to slap me again," he pointed out.

"That depends on whether or not you—oh, never mind." She was obviously struggling with her reaction, and it was odd to watch her try to control her instinctive, biting reply. They always seemed to respond with defensive anger whenever they spoke; it was a habit neither of them seemed able to break.

"What do you want then?" he asked bluntly. "I have a match, you know."

She looked wounded by his curt words. "I know you do. I was just wondering…well, if we could talk afterwards? About what happened?"

"Which time?" he asked bitterly. To his surprise, she did not snap, but nodded ruefully.

"Good point," she murmured. "About Charms. About yesterday." She watched him expectantly.

"Did Dumbledore put you up to it?" he asked, wondering how her conversation with the Headmaster had gone. He imagined it had been nothing like his own, since she was still wearing her Head Badge.

"No, not really," she said, glancing away with an embarrassed flush. "He just gave me something to think about."

James snorted. "Let me guess, was it framed in inexplicable philosophical babble or did it actually make sense?"

"A little of both," she replied. "So can we talk later? I'm s—"

She didn't have a chance to finish, because his friends came tumbling down the stairs right then and ruined whatever moment they might have had.

"Oi, Evans!" Sirius exclaimed. "You better not be bothering Prongs today. He's got enough on his mind and doesn't need any feline distraction."

Her eyes flashed and James almost thought she'd take out her wand and hex Sirius right there. He caught Remus shaking his head and agreed: Sirius was definitely pushing things with the cat comments.

"You know, Black, if I didn't think I'd get expelled, I'd turn you into a pig for good." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and stared at him.

Sirius shrugged, clearly amused by her temper. "I'm just looking out for my friend."

"Then be a good friend and back off, pigface."

"Good one, Evans. Care to try it?"

Remus stepped between them, hands up. James snapped; he'd had it with everyone's interference, and listening to Sirius and Lily argue reminded him too well of all the verbal battles he'd shared with them both. "Stop it, both of you! I told you I don't need a bloody bodyguard-and I certainly don't need any more fighting." He turned on them all and stormed out through the portrait hole, leaving his friends behind and Lily without an answer.

He stomped through the castle, his gear bouncing madly against his back in time with his temper. He took several deep breaths and tried to concentrate instead on all the plays they'd practiced over the past two weeks. This was the first Gryffindor match of the season, and one of his last at Hogwarts, and he couldn't afford to be distracted—not by his friends, and certainly not by Lily.

As he stepped onto the lawn and made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, a low rumble of thunder echoed across the grounds. He glanced up at the clouds and swore, sick to death of the weather. It somehow always seemed to mirror his mood; right now he'd give anything for the sun to come out so he could concentrate on the game and not worry about flying through wind and rain.

The Slytherin team was already on the Quidditch pitch, running through their warm-up exercises. James walked around the field, avoiding them as best as he could. Cynthia Morris came up next to him and smiled. Unfortunately, at that same moment Dante Avery jeered down at them from his broomstick and made a crude motion with his hands.

"Ignore him," Cynthia murmured.

James nodded and gave her a grateful smile, glad for her company as they continued toward the changing rooms. He had not talked to her for a long time and could really use her support.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Avery called after them. "Scared? You're going down, you know!"

"Sod off!" James shouted back. He resisted the urge to draw his wand and send a hex at Avery; he was already in enough trouble and just needed to concentrate on his game.

Cynthia shook her head. "He's never going to let up on you, is he?" she asked.

James just rolled his eyes. "Add him to the list. Sometimes I wonder who doesn't want to slap, jinx, or otherwise torture me."

"You mean Lily," Cynthia said, pausing at the door. "I heard what happened."

"You don't know the half of it," James muttered.

"I know," she said softly, giving him a sad smile. "We haven't talked much lately."

"You said it might be awkward after Halloween," he replied with a shrug. "You were right."

"Well, let's get over that and talk sometime, okay?" she asked. "We can bring our brooms if we need to, since we're fine on the pitch."

James couldn't help but grin at the image of them flying around the Quidditch pitch trying to catch up. "What about after the match?" he asked, before he remembered that Lily had wanted to talk to him as well. He kicked himself mentally for it, but he could really use Cynthia's advice before he met Lily.

Unfortunately, she gave him an apologetic look. "I can't. I've got plans."

He nodded to hide his disappointment. "That's fine. Diggory?" he asked, wondering how things had fared for her since she had confessed her feelings for the Hufflepuff.

"No, he's with Julie Higgins, remember?" She coughed to hide her awkwardness. "I'm actually getting together with Ryan. He's been awfully nice to me since Halloween. He noticed we hadn't been talking as much and said he'd been wanting to ask me out all year, only he hadn't wanted to come between us."

James was genuinely happy for her, even though he sort of felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. He gave her a quick hug and a forced grin. "Then we have even more to catch up on," he said. He pushed open the door to the changing room. "Especially if you want to know how I lost my badge."

He glanced up to see the rest of the team staring at him. Suddenly embarrassed, he waved them off with another roll of his eyes. "Never mind. It's not that great of a story."

Thomas Kirke hurried over to him, frowning. "You're not Head Boy anymore? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it's true," James muttered as he began to pull on his Quidditch robes.

Kirke leaned in closer. "Did you get sacked, or did you quit? Are you good to fly?"

"Neither," James replied as nonchalantly as he could manage. "I resigned. And I'm good to fly, don't worry. Less pressure now." He wasn't exactly focused, not yet, but he didn't want Kirke to know that; he'd worked them too hard over the past two weeks to worry now.

Kirke clapped him on the back. "Brilliant, then. Glad you're all right. Remember the plays we worked on?"

"Every one," said James.

"Then just watch out for Avery, he's been talking about you all week."

"Yeah, we just saw him outside. I'll be fine." Really, he had no idea what a confrontation with the Slytherin Beater would look like in the air and hoped it didn't come to that; he imagined himself falling, or worse.

"Let's get started." Kirke gathered everyone around him and began his ritual pep talk. James let his eyes drift around the team as he half-listened: Ryan Sloper was watching Cynthia, who was following along but stealing glances back. Anthony Phillips was bouncing his leg and grinning with anticipation, while Anne Rogers, the other Beater, was listening closely and nodding to herself. Sean Holmes, their new fifth-year Seeker, looked nervous but determined.

All too soon they left for the Quidditch pitch and their own short warm-up. Kirke put them through their normal routine, then ran a few plays once the Slytherin team were in the changing room for their final review. James concentrated on his flying and found it was easier to focus than he would have thought. He had to fight against the wind, but he enjoyed the extra effort it took to fly and the feeling of really working his muscles, of concentrating on his broom.

Professor Flitby soon came out and called everyone to the center of the field. The Slytherin team returned and gathered opposite the Gryffindors as the students filed into the stands and cheered wildly for them both. James couldn't help but glance at Avery, who mimed a wand across his throat and sneered at him.

After going over the rules once more, Flitby released the Snitch, followed closely by the Bludgers. He tossed the Quaffle high up into the air, blew his whistle, and the game began. Just as they had practiced, Cynthia shot off after the Quaffle, while James and Anthony headed toward the Slytherin goal hoops. The Beaters, Anne and Ryan, dashed off after the Bludgers to start their defense, and Sean set out to start searching for the Golden Snitch.

It was a tense but typical start to the match: the Beaters tried to stop the Chasers from scoring, the Chasers tried to avoid the Bludgers the Beaters aimed at them. The two Seekers roamed above the pitch, eyes scanning diligently for the Snitch. The Slytherin Keeper, Nigel Parkinson, was not as strong as Kirke, but Dante Avery and Corin Mulciber made up for that by sending a constant barrage of Bludgers at the Gryffindor Chasers, often making it difficult to get close enough for a good shot.

James finally gave the signal for one of the plays they had worked out in practice. Cynthia and Anthony expertly passed the Quaffle back and forth as they flew down the pitch, dodging constant Bludgers. James dashed toward the goal hoops, virtually unopposed, with Ryan backing him up as defense. When he was close enough, Anthony sent the Quaffle zooming toward him instead of Cynthia, catching the other team by surprise. Avery was quick, though, and managed to get a Bludger off toward him. Ryan hit it back, James caught the Quaffle, and Gryffindor scored the first goal of the game.

The crowd erupted into cheers. James glanced down at the stands and saw his friends waving wildly. He thought he saw Lily not far behind them, clapping as well, and he grinned to himself as he set off back down the pitch. Yet his good mood was suddenly soaked as the sky opened up and it began to pour. The students groaned, but James just shook the rain from his hair as he sped toward his teammates; he was determined not to let it bother him. He had played in the rain before, after all.

Avery sneered at him as he flew by and James couldn't resist returning a cocky look; Gryffindor were in the lead, and he intended to keep it that way. Unfortunately, Avery reached out and grabbed the back of his broomstick, slowing him down. It was a deliberate foul, but Flitby must have missed it, because he was the watching the Gryffindor goals, where Aaron Carrow had somehow barreled his way through all the Bludgers Ryan and Anne had thrown at him. With a violent throw, he scored, almost knocking Kirke off his broom.

James shook off Avery and hurried back toward the center of the pitch. He caught the Quaffle as Kirke sent it back into play, determined to make up for the goal they had just lost. Within minutes both he and Cynthia had scored, putting them ahead once more. But the Slytherin Keeper found his focus again and stopped every attempt they made after that, and the game continued through a series of blocked goals on either side for almost half an hour.

Regulus Black and Sean Holmes still searched the skies for the Snitch, but with the rain coming down harder, it became more and more difficult for them to spot anything, yet alone a tiny golden ball. Once or twice they made a sudden dive, but each time turned up empty, and they glided back toward the edges of the game, eyes straining once more for any sign of the game-ending Snitch.

James was starting to get tired. They had been playing for almost an hour straight without a break. He was cold and wet and ready for Sean to find the Snitch so they could go inside and warm up. He almost missed a play when Anthony Phillips abruptly tossed him the Quaffle before rolling around to avoid a Bludger. Barely catching the ball, James flew toward the goal posts, trying to get his focus back. Unfortunately the other Bludger crashed into him from the left, the glancing blow taking him on the shoulder and brushing against his face, leaving him with a split lip. As he struggled to keep his balance, he threw the ball behind him to Cynthia, hoping she would speed in for the goal.

Dante Avery was there, though, and slammed into her hard from the side just as she was reaching for the Quaffle. She fell from her broom, grabbing hold with one hand. Time seemed to slow down as James turned and rushed back toward her. She tried to pull herself up, but a Bludger sent by Corin Mulciber caught her square in the stomach, and with a terrified yell, she fell to the ground, landing awkwardly on her left leg.

Professor Flitby blew his whistle, calling an end to all play. The Slytherins stopped and laughed, while the Gryffindors hurried toward Cynthia, who was sitting with her arms wrapped around her left knee and swearing. Ryan landed first, his face both livid and concerned. Anne landed next and knelt beside her teammate. When Kirke came down, she glanced up at him and just shook her head. James could tell by the look on Cynthia's face that she wasn't going back up. That left them down one Chaser; they needed Sean to get the Snitch as fast as he could, before they lost anyone else.

Professor Flitby conjured a stretcher for Cynthia and sent her toward the edge of the field, where Madam Pomfrey was waiting. They watched her go until Kirke shook them out of it, encouraging them to win it for Cynthia. James nodded at Anthony Phillips. They had run a few plays for being down one Chaser, thinking that Avery might make a move on James instead. With a determined look on his face, James rose back into the air with the team. Flitby blew his whistle and play began again.

Anthony took the penalty shot for Gryffindor. It sailed past Parkinson, who dived for the Quaffle, nearly falling from his broom when he lunged and overbalanced, and put them up by thirty points. A second quick play saw James pelting toward the goals so fast that he was able to score before the Slytherins could figure out how to manage two determined Chasers as opposed to three. Then a sudden movement at the far end of the pitch caught everyone's attention; the crowd gasped as both Seekers shot off across the field toward a shiny golden light near the ground.

The sudden focus on the Snitch let Davis Duncan score, as he faked toward the center and sent the Quaffle though the left hoop faster than Kirke was able to follow the play. Slytherin was up another ten points. James countered with a fierce pass to Anthony, who slammed the ball through the opposing hoops before Slytherin could even get back into formation. The crowd went wild, and James nodded, satisfied. They could do this; they could win.

The Quaffle went back into play, with Jeremiah Ford taking it down the pitch for Slytherin. James raced after, trying to intercept. He could feel Dante Avery tailing him, though, and knew the Beater was almost certainly steaming about the Gryffindor lead. He dodged a Bludger from Avery, which Ryan then hit back toward Jeremiah. Ford passed the ball to Aaron Carrow, who continued to fly toward the goal posts, evading any attempt to intercept or stop him.

Just before Carrow scored, Mulciber hit one of the Bludgers toward the Gryffindor stands. A collective gasp went up from the crowd. James saw half the students duck and half raise their wands. Flitby raced across the pitch, wand raised, and stopped the heavy ball inches from slamming into the middle of the section.

James pulled to a stop, confused. Bumphing was such an obvious foul, what was the Slytherin team thinking? It would just give Gryffindor another penalty shot. He realized the trick quickly enough, though, when Dante Avery raced by, his Beater's bat raised. He slammed it across James's hold on his broom, striking him across the forearms. James felt his right wrist twist awkwardly and swore as he shot off after the offensive Slytherin, determined to do…something.

Flitby missed the egregious foul, but blew the whistle for a Gryffindor penalty shot due to Mulciber's bumphing. He threw the Quaffle toward James, who barely managed to stop and catch it with his good arm. He wasn't able to get the same force behind it as he could with his right hand, and Parkinson blocked it easily; the crowd groaned, and Kirke called a timeout when he saw James was injured.

"That's the second time that bastard has fouled me behind Flitby's back!" James raged when they landed. He held his wrist close to him; he could already feel it growing stiff and sore. It would be hard enough staying on his broom with an injured arm; he'd barely be able to catch the Quaffle and score with his weaker hand.

"Don't let him get to you," said Kirke, shaking wet hair from his face. "Not only are they trying to take us out one by one, but they're trying to make us mad." He took out his wand and waved it at James's wrist. The pain lessened, though it was still swollen and stiff. James nodded his thanks.

"I know. I just wish Flitby would keep his damn eyes open," he grumbled.

"I agree," said Kirke. He was surprisingly calm given how he had reacted earlier when James had slipped up about losing the Head Badge. It was one of the reasons he had been made Captain: he was not only talented, but focused when the time came.

"I'll call him on it if he misses another," said Kirke. "In the meantime, we just need to step up our game. Anne, Ryan—keep at them when they've got the Quaffle, but even more importantly, we really need you to defend Potter and Phillips. And Sean—get the damn Snitch before we're all in the hospital wing with broken bones and head colds. That's an order."

Sean swallowed and nodded. Kirke gave them one last encouraging word, and they rose as one back into the air. The wind and the rain continued to lash at them. The game continued, with the Slytherins diving into a particularly nasty defensive as Gryffindor took the Quaffle. James felt his temper flare again as Mulciber deliberately rammed into Ryan, sending him spinning away and leaving Anthony undefended for a direct hit from Avery's Bludger.

It was a move open to interpretation: Mulciber hadn't used elbows, so it wasn't cobbing, and Anthony hadn't fallen, so it wasn't excessive force. Yet he dropped the Quaffle, leaving Jeremiah Ford open to grab it and dash toward the Gryffindor hoops. James caught Kirke's eye; the Keeper shook his head, meaning he wasn't going to protest the lack of a call. He steeled himself for the shot, but Ford ducked aside as both Anne and Ryan sent Bludgers speeding his way.

Ford tossed the Quaffle to Carrow, but both teams were distracted by a sudden gasp from the crowd that was timed perfectly with a large crack of thunder. Glancing back over his shoulder, James saw Regulus Black and Sean Holmes neck-in-neck as they sped across the pitch and crashed into the commentator's box.

James couldn't help but watch: they barreled into the stands, sending people scrambling out of the way. There was scuffling and even a few punches thrown, but by the time Flitby got there, Regulus Black was standing with the Snitch in his hand, the match over.

Slytherin had won.

Half the crowd cheered, while half the crowd hissed. Aaron Carrow's shot went right through the hoops, unopposed, but it didn't matter, they didn't need the points anyway. He only did it to rub salt in the wound.

Sean Holmes stood up, his face bruised and his lip bleeding from the scuffle in the stands. He jumped on his broom and dashed away, speeding past them all without a word. Kirke sank to the ground as well, looking slightly stunned at the abrupt and inglorious end to a hard-fought game. Ryan and Anne followed, but James and Anthony stayed, watching the celebration with blank faces, almost unable to believe it.

Dante Avery did a loop nearby, and it was all James could do to keep from pulling out his wand and hexing the Slytherin. Avery flashed the same cocky grin James had given him at the start of the game. "At least you stayed on your broom, loser!" he called as he raced by.

Though he desperately wanted to wrestle Avery to the ground and punch him in the face, James was a better sportsman than to start a fight with the winning team. He couldn't resist a verbal retort, though.

"You're just lucky Flitby missed those fouls, tosspot!" he shouted back. Under his breath he added, "You won't be so lucky next time." He didn't even know what he meant by it, and shook his head, surprised to find himself making stupid, empty threats. A sudden weariness filled him, and his arm began to throb. With one last look at the clearing crowd, he turned back toward the changing rooms.

James landed hard on the ground, his wet robes splattering with mud in time with another round of thunder. He swore as the Slytherin team whizzed by overhead, cheering their victorious Seeker on the way back to their own changing rooms. He didn't look up, but trudged through the rain with the rest of the Gryffindor team, each of them dead silent.

They had lost the first match of the season. Even worse, they had lost to Slytherin. James couldn't imagine a more humiliating way to end one of the worst weeks of the year. No one talked in the changing room. Sean looked completely devastated, apologizing glumly before leaving, and Anne ran after him to try and console him. Anthony and Ryan left with silent nods. Thomas Kirke sat and stared at the wall. James thought about talking to him, but finally decided to just leave. Kirke would deal with it in his own way, just as they all would.

As he walked back out into the rain, James was glad to see that the stands had emptied quickly. He thought about wandering around the grounds a bit, letting the rain wash away defeat, but then he saw a figure sitting on a bench nearby. Lily's long hair was drenched around her shoulders, which were hunched forward against the wind and rain. She looked cold and miserable, and yet James felt his breath catch as he stared at her, shivering where she sat.

Maybe she had waited for him after all.

End Notes:

Thank you Lea, for your lovely additions to the Quidditch match! I must admit writing this game about put me under the table, so I hope everyone enjoys it because I don't plan on writing any more Quidditch in the near future. :)