This chapter is rated T for language and suggestive themes.

Thanks for the reviews so far-please keep letting me know what you think!

Chapter 4: Close Encounters

The first week of classes went by at a snail's pace. I went to class, I practiced with the guys, and I went about my normal business. Hadley and Meg avoided me at all costs, I noticed. I didn't care, and I made no effort to avoid them. In my eyes, they had no one to blame but themselves. What goes around comes around, I kept telling myself. I ignored any potential feelings that crept inside me and made me doubt anything I'd done. Doubt would get me nowhere.

Doubt would get me back where I started.

I spent most of my free time blocking any unwelcome thoughts and daydreaming about Professor Malfoy and performing at the concert the following weekend. I was mad with nervous excitement. No one besides the four of us had heard the band play before. Most people knew we had a band, but still no one knew what we were about, as Albus liked to say.

On Monday, Hugo—who was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year—put up a sign up for trials. When I signed up under the chaser spot—a spot I'd had since fourth year—I saw that Hadley had already signed up as well. I tried not to remember old feelings. I didn't want to remember how we'd kissed after our first game together. I didn't want to remember our pre-game rituals. I ignored that bubbly feeling in my stomach—doubt, anxiety, maybe something else—that feeling (feelings?) was stupid and pointless.

Hugo knew Hadley and I had problems. He didn't know what had happened recently, and all last year we had managed to be on the team together without any problems (other than the few times that I sat in the locker room and cried after practice or after a game—seeing him had so often been unbearable, even after my resolution). I didn't plan on telling Hugo anything because I didn't want it to influence his decision. No matter what I felt about Hadley, the guy was a good fucking chaser. And I couldn't give him the satisfaction of making him think he meant anything to me.

So life went on. I'd walked in on Lucy and Nate snogging right before one of our practices. They'd both jumped away from each other like the other was on fire, but I'd just rolled my eyes and said "at least you're fucking on time for once."

I started to get suspicious about Lysander and Albus. Al assured me they weren't back together, but they always arrived either together or conspicuously right around the same time as the other. Lysander always looked lightly flushed, and Albus looked like he was forcing casual. I could have just been imagining things, but my instincts were almost always right when it came to those two idiots.

Professor Malfoy had assigned a two-foot long essay about the benefits and difficulties of the blood replenishing potion we'd worked on the first day of class, and I'd cursed him the entire time, all the while ignoring my betraying fingertips and plotting the prank with Albus.

"Hey, Rosie," I heard.

"Jesus, Hugo," I said without turning around, recognizing his voice. "You know I fucking hate when you call me that."

Hugo chuckled and ruffled my hair. He had had a growth spurt a few summers ago and now he was a good eight inches taller than me. I jerked my head away.

"And I hate when you fucking do that." I said, slapping his hand away.

He didn't say anything as he plopped down next to me on the couch in front of the fireplace. He propped his feet up on the table in front of us so that his long legs were bent in front of him. I was reading for Charms, my legs crossed under me and a book in my lap, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"What?" I said without looking up from my reading.

"We need to talk."

I closed my book slowly and sighed in annoyance—even though that attitude had no affect on my brother. He was one of the few who were immune.

"What about, Hugo?" I said in exasperation.

He rolled his eyes at what he liked to call my "faux toughness." Then he regarded me for a moment.

"I heard through the grapevine that Hadley and… her…" He paused, his eyes on me—studying me. "Broke up."

I wanted to hug him for not saying her name. He knew that even her named burned the pit of my stomach until I wanted to retch. Sometimes he was annoying—and he ruffled my goddamn hair all the goddamn time—but other times he was a really incredible brother.

"Yeah, so?"

He waited a few moments before he spoke, as if considering his words carefully. "Are you going to get back together?"

That actually made me laugh. That was the absolute last thing I had expected my brother to say, and it caught me off guard so much that I had to laugh. I laughed long and loud. "Oh, Hugo," I said through my laughter. "Come on, you know me better than that."

He held up his hands in surrender, smiling at me. "Just checking," he said. "Has he tried anything? I keep catching him staring at you."

I flashed an annoyed look at Hugo. "He's just being stupid," I said.

"Rose…" Hugo said, turning serious. When did my brother grow up? So serious. Sheesh. "If you don't want me to put him on the team, just say the word… There are a lot of other chasers."

"Don't be stupid," I said, shaking my head, though feeling my heart swell at my brother's offer. "He's the best chaser we've got—"

"Not better than you."

I rolled my eyes, still trying not to let the affect of all my brother's words show. I was supposed to be cultivating an image. Or something. But dammit if his protectiveness didn't feel like warm hands were cupping my heart, whispering sweet nothings until my heart fell head over heels for those bloody words. "Regardless, we need him if we want to win the Cup. I'll be fine."

"You sure? You can tell me—"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," he said, dropping his feet from the table and leaning forward. "I'm gonna go to dinner," he said. "Wanna come with me?"

"I'll meet you down there in a bit," I said. "I want to finish this."

"Okay," he said, standing up and turning to go. "And Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"You know your faux toughness doesn't fool me, right?" Hugo said with a smirk. "I know you appreciate me having your back. And I know you love me." He said the last part in a gushy voice.

I just rolled my eyes with a smile and went back to my reading. "Whatever."

Hugo was almost out of the common room when he turned back and nearly shouted, "Love you, Rosie!"

I growled and turned quickly, chucking a pillow in his direction. It missed, but I still smiled.

I was walking through the castle, trying to clear my head so I could come up with some new lyrics for a song the band was working on. This was my routine when I wanted to get the creative juices flowing. I would just walk the castle and simultaneously try to clear my head while trying to flood my brain with images and words and memories that would make a good song. It hadn't failed me yet.

And I needed to clear my head. I kept getting flashes of Hadley—why? Honestly.—and The Bitch. I kept seeing them on that day—the day that had changed everything. And it frustrated me that even a small fraction of the feelings I felt still remained, whether or not they had been deeply suppressed.

I begged my mind to forget them. I would rather see anything than that day.

It also frustrated me that even the faintest hint of remorse occasionally crept up when I thought about what I'd done. Fuck. I was just too damn empathetic. Don't relate, Rose, I told myself. Don't you dare put yourself in her shoes. Because she sure as hell hadn't paid me the same courtesy.

It was just a hint—just the very slightest little spec of dust in the back of my mind. But it was there.

I was walking through the corridors, trying to forget, and somehow I made it onto the grounds. I was wandering around Hagrid's hut, on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest—trying to forget, trying to garner inspiration—and I wandered my way down to the Quidditch pitch. At that point, I felt like I had the beginnings of a new song swarming in my head. Somehow it had managed to push its way past that spec of dust in the back of my mind. I had the idea, but I was trying to string the words together. I made a lap around the pitch and when I passed the locker rooms, which was when I heard the showers running.

I frowned and walked in. As far as I knew, none of the teams had started trials yet. I walked through the locker room, and I saw a pile of clothes with a broom sitting on top. My frown deepened a bit as I walked toward the shower. If I saw some Ravenclaw or Slytherin getting washed up, I knew what I would do—I would steal his or her clothes and make a run for it. Obviously. That would teach anyone who was trying to get a leg up on Gryffindor.

When I got to the shower, though, the sight before me stopped me in my tracks. My eyes started at the bottom. They trailed up toned legs and a firm behind—good god. They went up further and got stuck on the muscles that were flexing in the back and shoulders—are you kidding me? The arms were bent over the head, running soap through the hair as water cascaded down… down. The hair was blonde, the skin was perfect, the body… The body. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from making any sound as I tried to rip my eyes away.

But before I could duck away, the head turned slowly—as if it felt eyes—and for a brief moment, when our eyes met—gray and blue—time seemed to stand still. I'd been caught—staring—but I didn't feel ashamed. I couldn't even bring myself to blush. The gray eyes were locked on me, and for a moment, I thought the mouth might smile. The face went from looking surprised to confused to angry. The change in emotion was so quick it was almost comic.

"Ms. Weasley—"

"I—I'm sorry—I didn't know—" Who was I kidding? I wasn't sorry in the least.

Malfoy yanked the towel from where it was laying on a ledge and wrapped it around his hips.

When he turned around, I tried not to let my eyes wander—not with him looking at me. But it was hard. The body. The front was even better than the back. His chest and stomach were toned, and with his arms at his sides, I was able to get a better look. Briefly, I imagined what it would be like to run my hands up his arms and squeeze his biceps—then to let my hands drift over to his firm chest, through the bit of light blonde hair that covered it. Enough, I told myself.

"I'll go—" I said quickly, tearing my eyes away.

"You stay right where you are," he snapped as he walked out of the communal shower and back into the locker area. He brushed past me and when his arm touched mine, I shivered.

And the shiver confused me. I had never shivered before from a simple touch like that—if it could even be called a touch. It was nothing. The slightest brush of skin on skin. Nothing. And I felt light headed. I wanted to reach out—to grip something to find a center—a balance—so I could try to feel normal again. Because surely feeling this way by just being in someone's vicinity was not normal.

When I turned around, he was buckling his trousers with his back to me. He then yanked his shirt over his head. He turned to face me and I noticed that since he was still wet, his shirt was clinging to his chest, arms, and torso. I stopped myself from swallowing hard and licking my lips.

"I should give you detention," he said, grabbing his broomstick.

I snapped out of my reverie. The shift was jarring—the fire still burning but changing. "This locker room is for students," I challenged. "You can't punish me for being here."

He narrowed his eyes.

"What are you doing down here."

I tried to think of a quick lie.

"I'm on the Gryffindor team. I wanted to get some practice in before our trials next week."

He regarded me. "What position do you play?"

"Chaser."

"When did you get on the team?"

"Fourth year."

"Who's the captain?"

"Are you quizzing me to see if I'm lying?"

He arched an eyebrow and I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "Who's the captain?" he repeated. That answered my question.

"My brother. Hugo."

"Isn't he a fifth year?"

"Yeah," I said, as if daring him to saying anything against Hugo.

"Good for him," he muttered, looking at the floor.

"You play?" I asked.

He looked up at me. "I did."

"Were you practicing?" I nodded toward the broom in his hand.

"Why would I be practicing?" he said as if I was the biggest idiot alive. "I'm not on any team."

Anger flared inside me. Dick. "Yeah, well, it sounded better than 'were you jerking off with your broom down here?'"

His eyes widened. "Detention," he hissed. "Tonight. In my office. Be there at 8 o'clock." And with that, he stormed from the locker room.

As soon as he was gone, I flopped down onto the nearest bench. That bastard had some nerve—talking to me like that after he was practicing in our locker room. Clearly, he wasn't over his past glory days as captain of the Slytherin team, and he was down here trying to relive it all. It was pathetic.

But the body.

Enough.

A bit later, I was walking quickly back to Gryffindor Tower. I hadn't completed my song—I was too distracted by Malfoy. I just kept going back and forth between hearing him snap at me—"why would I be practicing?"—and seeing his bare torso glistening with water and feeling that shiver.

It was all very confusing.

I stomped through the common room and toward the staircase that led to my dorm, but a hand on my elbow stopped me.

"Hey—"

"What—oh," I turned. "Hey, Al."

"What's wrong?" he said. "I was following you through the castle—did you not hear me calling you?"

"How did you get in here?" I said.

"I was following you," he repeated more slowly.

"Sorry," I said absently. "I was distracted."

"What happened?" he said, lowering his voice. "Hadley?"

"No, stop," I said, looking around the room. "You can't say his name in here. One of these nosey assholes might hear you and then it will get around that I was talking about him and suddenly it'll be that I'm still in love with him, and then—"

"Okay, okay," Albus said, holding up a hand with a confused smile. "I get it. What happened?"

"I got detention."

"Who?"

"Fucking Malfoy."

"What—why?"

"Well, I walked in on him when he was showering in the Quidditch locker rooms."

"You what? Why was he—wait… did you see him naked?" Albus lowered his voice again.

I bit the corner of my lower lip as I smiled.

"You sa—" Albus gasped out, unable to finish his sentence. He raised an eyebrow. "How was it?"

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Better than you would fucking believe."

"Holy shit," Albus breathed, breaking into a grin. Then he frowned. "But wait, why would he give you detention for that? It's not your fault he's hanging out in our locker rooms."

"Tell me about it," I said, the image of Malfoy's naked body leaving temporarily. "Well, I may have said something…"

"What?"

I told him about the exchange. Albus rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Bloody typical," he said.

"I don't—"

"So you won't be able to come to practice tonight?"

I shrugged apologetically. "I suppose not."

"Can't you just stay out of trouble for the next few days?"

I pouted. "Yes."

"This is important, Rose."

"Albus, I know."

"Fine, just get your shit, we're going to dinner."

I pouted for the rest of the evening.

Next chapter:

Detentions, detentions.