NOTES
A new chapter…in the same month (More or less…this was supposed to be um January 31st)? Oh my goodness, it's a miracle!
By the way, there's a Holly-related poll on my profile. If you happen to care who Holly's romantic interest is, go and vote!
DISCLAIMER
Me: This is Ayana.
Ayana: Hi!
Me: She is my beta.
Ayana: Yes I am!
Me: And we don't own anything that you recognize!
Ayana: No we don't!
Holly
Chapter Ten – Roger Davies is a Girl
I still hadn't been able to sleep properly since my nightmare. I also hadn't been able to look at Professor Snape the same way. I just try to detach myself from such emotionally compromising situations. But that's not going to bother me, now is it?
The owls never usually startled me, but one morning, I jumped out of my skin when they flooded in as I should have expected. I was way too jumpy. Maybe I needed to invest in a therapist. I glared at Roger when he started stabbing me with his fork.
"What do you want, Roger?" I said through clenched teeth. He has a stupid grin on his face – one that reminded me of Danny. Like co-captain like captain…right?
"Look up! The owls!" He grinned, refraining from poking me.
"Yes, Roger," Mandy burst in, "the owls come around to bring letters and packages from home."
Roger glared at her in response. "I know that, Smaller Brocklehurst. But see those six owls flying toward our vey own Holly in a menacing manor carrying a potentially deadly box?"
I looked up. Truth be told, there were six owls carrying a bow towards me. They weren't exactly menacing, but Roger got the right idea. The owls dropped the package in front of me. Another set of owls dropped another one in front of Harry. I slowly opened the letter on the package and held back a devious grin. Danny made an odd noise on my left, and grabbed the letter and ripped it open in one fluid movement.
"Don't open it," he said simply.
I stared at him. "And why not?"
"Because the letter says not to," he shrugged. He held the letter above his head and grinned. "You're short, you know."
I blinked, and then kicked his leg. He swore and dropped the paper. I stuck out my tongue.
DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Meet with Oliver Wood, Roger Davies, and Harry Potter tonight at seven o'clock on the Quidditch field for your first training session.
Professor M. McGonagall.
Roger sighed behind me. "I wish she would have actually mentioned this to me. If I hadn't been reading over your shoulder, I wouldn't have known to show up," he laughed.
"Maybe she just trusts that I'll run my mouth off to you," I shrugged.
"Give it," Mandy said simply, holding her hand out. I submitted, giving her the note. She wiggled her eyebrows at me, grinning, and gave it to Lisa.
"If this gets round the house, it'll sure get over to Hufflepuff, then Gryffindor, then…" I trailed off, pretending to be in deep thought.
"Oh, shut up. We won't let it get past…er…this half of the table," she winced, looking at Lisa, who passed it to Michael, who passed it to Anthony, who would pass it further…
Oh, boo. I'm screwed.
By our first class, all of Ravenclaw knew about my broomstick, and, by default, Harry's as well. I decided that it was all Michael Corner's fault. I mean, he took the not from poor Lisa and let it go around the table.
I walked with Mandy and Lisa to the library for our first break, as usual. I tripped over something, but they didn't notice my little fumble. I didn't care that they left me; I'd make it to class on time. Turns out, I tripped over Cedric. Or, he tripped me on purpose. What a stupid Hufflepuff!
"I haven't seen you much, redhead. I thought you forgot about me," he laughed with his stunning grin. I shook my head, returning his smile.
"How could I forget someone who trips me around once a month?" I giggled. "Oh, and that hair."
"My hair?" he asked, frantic. "What's wrong with my hair?"
"No, it was a compliment," I rolled my eyes. He mumbled something and laughed lightly.
"Hey, Holly," a familiar high-pitched voice chirped, "how does my hair look?"
"What?" I asked, caught slightly off-guard. "Oh, hi Pansy. Yours is fine."
"Just fine? Or are you too busy fawning over dream-boy to even look, Miss I'd-Love-to-be-a-Carrot?" I turned to her, surprised at the sudden behavior change.
"I'm not fawning over him, Pansy. He's my friend. Then again, I guess you wouldn't know what that means with that attitude," I spat back, ignoring her carrot comment. Hey, I got that a lot back home.
Pansy glared, folding her arms. "I was stupid to even consider being friends with you, you filthy Yankee – stupid as a mudblood," she said the last word, one I didn't know, with an excessive amount of venom. A low growl emitted from beside me, and I remembered Cedric was there.
"I assume you're using such pleasant language to insult Miss Turpin, am I right?" He glared at her, staring down his nose at her. I never realized how utterly disgusting she was. Was I blinded by the inky shroud of nighttime? She looked like an albino pug on two legs instead of four.
"You said it first, rabbit," she snarled. "I don't name names, but you just did it for me." Cedric looked at e apologetically. 'Sorry,' he mouthed. I shrugged. He didn't mean it, I knew that much.
"Rabbit? Run out of insults, Pansy?" I asked sweetly.
"Oh, no. Rabbits just love carrots," she grinned. I stared at her smugly.
"It's not a good insult if you have to explain it," Cedric pointed out.
"Oh, shut up, you stupid Hufflepuff." How nice of Malfreak to show up…
"And you have an opinion, Barbie?" I said. "Do enlighten me with your dumb-blonde logic."
He glared at me. "Go back where you came from, Yankee. We don't need your American arse here." Racial discrimination, huh? Great, thanks, Barbie.
"I would say the same to you, but I'm sure Satan doesn't want you back," I shrugged.
He narrowed his eyes. "And what does that mean?" He glared between Cedric and me, unsure what to do.
"Figure it out and get back to me, okay?" I smiled at him. I felt hurt, really. I tried to make it seem like it didn't get to me, but it really, really did. If two people thought that, what did other British people think of me? I was invading their turf, wasn't I? I sighed and bit my lip. What did my friends think?
Cedric poked me. "You okay?" I looked up at him and nodded.
"No, I'm Holly Evans. My emotional state is…fair," I smiled.
"It's not," he countered bluntly.
"It is," I nodded. "Believe me." No, don't believe me. I'm lying.
"Holly, don't you dare lie to me," he said quietly, leaning towards me a bit. What was he doing?
He pressed his lips to mine for a brief moment, and pulled back. "Now you are," he grinned. He turned and left, leaving me alone in the hall. I felt my eye twitch.
"What was that, you stupid Hufflepuff? Who kisses and runs?" I yelled, knowing he wouldn't hear me. My face was hot, was I blushing? Oh, that stupid boy!
I hate him. And I love him. But, mostly, I hate him. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"First years shouldn't be having romantic engagements, Holly," a deep voice said, making me jump. It was Danny, but I couldn't hear his usually joking tone. Was he being serious for once?
I turned around. His arms were folded neatly over his chest, and he had an eyebrow raised. He towered over me in an intimidating manor, more than usual. He couldn't have grown; he was just trying to scare me.
"Fourth years shouldn't be concerned with other student's personal lives," I said blankly. "Now, I should be meeting Lisa and your sister in the library." I moved to walk away, but he grabbed my arm.
"I don't want you to get hurt, Holly," he mumbled. He traced circles on the floor with his shoe.
I blinked a few times. "You shouldn't worry about me. You have no reason to. Besides, I know girls who already did it back home."
Danny choked and stared at me in disgust. "But you're better than that. Those girls are…they're mini-whores."
I glared at him. "I think I know what I should and should not do at my age." I pulled away from him and began walking to the library.
"You're going the wrong way," he said.
I turned on my heel without looking at him. "I knew that," I mumbled. Does half of the world's male population hate me?
I decided to test that theory with Roger, Oliver, and Harry at my first Quidditch lesson.
Roger dragged me by the arm to the stadium, carrying my unopened broom – and his slightly battered one – with him. There was a wild look in his eyes, like he was more than excited to pull me into my possible death.
We got to the Quidditch pitch first, before Harry or Oliver. Roger happily kneeled on the grass to open my broom.
"That's illegal in America," I commented. He looked up. "Opening other people's mail."
He scoffed. "We're not in America, Toto." Please don't tell me that was his permanent nickname for me…
He savagely ripped the paper off my broom and threw the lid of the box across the field. Merry Christmas much? He lifted the broom from the box and the polished wood glittered in the dim moonlight. It was absolutely stunning.
"Alright, Toto, I know this is a Quidditch lesson. But, since our Gryffindor friends decided not to show up just yet, we're flying," he grinned. "I trust that you remember how to mount, right?" I nodded, getting on my broom. He mounted his with a large grin and clapped me on the shoulder. We were in the air, high above the world, breathing the cold night air. I felt like I was in an icy heaven, one I hadn't been in since last winter. I missed my ice heaven. Sure, it was splattered with blood sometimes, but that just makes it colorful!
"Oi, Ravenclaws!" Oliver Wood shouted from below. Harry stood beside him, his hair looking more windswept than usual. "Come down or we'll start without you!" Roger rolled his eyes and I giggled.
We landed in front of the two. Roger stood taller than Oliver, but he was less muscular. He actually looked more feminine, minus the…you know.
"Right," Oliver mumbled. "Well, we're here to teach you the rules. And then you'll practice with your respective teams three times each week."
"Actually," Roger interjected with a pleasant grin, "I'm thinking of bumping the Ravenclaws up to four a week."
"Well, our Gryffindors don't need more practice. We're great the way we are," Oliver countered.
Roger's grin got a bit more sinister. "There's always room to improve, friend."
"Uh…right," Oliver said, ignoring Roger for the moment. "Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."
"Mind if I do this part, Wood?" Roger asked. "As you are probably aware, I know the position much better than you do." Oliver glared, but stepped aside.
Roger took a red ball with dimples out of Oliver's box. It seemed to be soccer ball sized. "This is the Quaffle. You see, a Chaser is the one who throws this thing around and tries to get it through one of the circular goals. Got it?"
"It's like basketball," Harry remarked, "but it's played on broomstick with six hoops, isn't it?"
"What's basketball?" Oliver inquired from Roger's side.
"No time for Muggle sports, my good man," Roger grinned. "The one who guards the hoops –"
"Mind if I do this part, Davies?" Oliver asked. "As you are probably aware, I know the position much better than you do." He mimicked Roger with a triumphant grin.
Roger narrowed his eyes. "Of course," he said. "Take the floor."
"I'm the Keeper for Gryffindor," Oliver grinned. And we need to know this because…? God, if we were playing on or against his team, couldn't we figure that out later on? We're not stupid. "I have to fly around the hoops and stop the other team from scoring."
"Three Chasers, one Keeper," Harry said with a determined glint in his eye. "And they play with the Quaffle. So what are those for?" He pointed at three balls: two black ones that trembled, and one tiny gold one.
"Take these," Oliver said, handing us a couple of things that looked like small cricket bats. "I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do. These two are the Bludgers," he said, gesturing to the two that wanted to get out of the box so badly. "Stand back," Oliver warned. I took an ample step backwards as he bent down to release one of the balls.
The ball flew upwards suddenly and veered towards Harry's face. I snorted. Come on, if you saw a large flying object going at the unsuspecting kid next to you, you'd laugh, right? Right! Harry swung at the thing, and then it looped around at went for Oliver. Roger was off to the side, bent over laughing as well. I told you! It's funny! Oliver pinned it to the ground and fought o get it back in the box. You see, that ball knew well enough not to attack either of the two brilliant Ravenclaws…unless it has a thing for females and it thought Roger was a girl…oh well!
"See?" Oliver huffed, slowly regaining his breath. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team, the Weasley twins are ours –"
"—and ours are Jason Samuels and Duncan Inglebee. They are, by far, better than the Weasley losers," Roger chimed in with a cocky smile.
"Down kitty," I mumbled. Harry gave me one of those 'what are you talking about' looks. Maybe that was an American phrase…
Oliver glared at Roger. His temper was obviously shortening, and I didn't think he could take much more. "Anyway," he said through gritted teeth, "it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them towards the other team. So, think you've got all that?"
"Three Chasers try to score with the Quaffle," Harry started.
"One of which is Roger, King of Awesome," I added. I couldn't let Roger have all the fun. It was fun to tease Oliver!
"The Keeper guards the goal posts," Harry said again, more timid this time.
"Which Wood cannot do very well," Roger grinned, punching Oliver on the arm.
"And the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harry said meekly.
"Samuels and Inglebee will have your twins off their brooms before your Chasers even consider scoring, Wood," Roger shrugged with innocent eyes.
"Yeah, but your girly little Seeker has nothing on my guy," Oliver growled. Now, I wasn't about to go and let myself be insulted. However, I wasn't going to say anything. I'd find him and trip him down the stairs during the week, don't you worry.
"In case you didn't notice," Roger growled, "she is a girl. She's supposed to be girly. And the little thing is just cute."
"Uh…have the Bludgers ever killed someone?" Harry asked, trying to break up the war of words. And just when it was getting good, too. Why was my cousin such a killjoy?
"Never at Hogwarts," Oliver said, turning back to us. Roger made pained faces behind him. Gripping his neck, sticking his tongue out, and pretending to cry were just a few. "We've had a couple of broken jaws, but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you two. You don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers –"
"—unless they crack my head open."
"Don't worry. The Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers – they're a pair of human Bludgers themselves."
"I'll bet that we have to worry about the little shiny thing," I muttered.
"You're right, Evans." Surnames, huh? Great. "This is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and the Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages – I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep." He sighed, apparently longing to beat that record. God, he's such a creep. "Well, that's about it. Any questions?"
Harry shook his head. I put on my best face of innocence. "Why is it that you are such a freak of nature, Mister Wood?" Poor Roger started laughing again. Oliver's ears turned red and he muttered something through gritted teeth. All I could get was "Stupid girl".
"Uh, anyway," he coughed. "We won't practice with the Snitch yet. It's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these." Oliver produced some golf balls. He and Harry left us and went far, far away. They hung around the other end of the stadium to play with some balls in the sky.
That left me with Roger.
"Well, Toto," he started. I was beginning to think that that really was my new nickname. "They're over there. We're over here. Guess what's next?"
I cringed. "I'll scream if you make any advances."
"Ugh, no. I'm not that sick," he wrinkled his nose. "Gross, gross, gross. Now I'm going to have images of child molestation in my mind for the next week. Thanks a lot, Toto."
"Sorry, Dorothy. I didn't mean to fire up your little girl fetish." I grinned as he coughed and glared at me. "Really, though. What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to throw golf balls at you, just like Wood over there. But our golf balls are awesome because…" He dug around in his jacket. "Ours are neon colored!" He produced a bag of hot pink, yellow, green, and orange golf balls.
We were in the air at the other end of the stadium. Roger and I circled each other, him hovering slightly above me. He chucked a ball at me, while screaming, "The Swedish army is going to kill us on cows wearing bras and mini-skirts!"
I caught the ball, and glared up at him. "How much are they paying you to cross-dress?" I shouted back.
"We're not wearing them, dummy. The Swedes are!" He laughed, circling me once again. He ended up below me this time.
He threw a yellow ball at me. "I love your whale, Toto!"
I caught that one, too. "That's just stupid, Dorothy!"
He stuck out his tongue. He looked up at me, perfectly serious, and asked, "Do you like muffins, Toto?"
I stared at him. "What?
He hurriedly chucked at green ball at me, and I cursed as I caught it. "What was that for, Dorothy?"
"To check your reflexes! I see that they're in excellent shape!" He grinned. I glared at him. I doubted Harry was getting this from his captain.
"This color," he yelled angrily, "should be eaten by dogs in South Africa wearing pineapple hats!" He threw an orange ball at me with a large amount of force. I caught it, but I ended up flipping over on my broom. I regained balance, however, and straightened.
"You know my hair is orange, right?" I glared.
He shrugged. "I forgive you."
I rolled my eyes and threw all of the balls at him at once. I loved it when the orange one hit him in the forehead.
"Potter and Wood left a few minutes ago. It's really dark out; we should head in," Roger said, touching the ground with me.
"Why? Is Dorothy afraid of the dark?" I asked, leaning on his arm.
"No, are you, Toto?" He asked, grinning. Oh, God, that grin of his.
Damn the world's male population.