And now, we get closer to the climax of Part II...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor do I own Quidditch, which is a part of Harry Potter, which you probably guessed...I'm going to stop babbling now and let you read the story.

July Fifth

Part One

America vs. Bulgaria

"Singleton?"

"Here."

"Brankovitch?"

"I'm here, I'm here."

"Fedele."

"Yeah, boss."

"Muntz."

"Mm-hmm."

"Green."

"You betcha."

"Ruczinsk?"

"Yes."

"Duvall."

"Uh-huh."

"And Heidelberger."

"Present."

I looked up from my clipboard to look at the line of professional Quidditch players in front of me. They were all decked out in their bright white uniforms, with the red and blue accents and the red turtlenecks underneath. Most of them wore a cooling charm to keep from dying in the intense July heat. "How many of you drank yesterday? Besides you, Ariel, you're underage, and if by chance you did drink, I would have you benched faster than you could say 'Snitch.'"

The little redhead blushed, her green eyes flashing innocently. "I-I didn't, Leigh Ann."

"The rest of you, then. Cough up, I know it was the Fourth."

Green, Brankovitch, and Duvall raised their hands bashfully. Troy Duvall's eyes were bloodshot with red. Robert Green, with his dark skin and bald head, was holding his head as if he had a hangover.

Oh, I'll give you a hangover. I snatched Troy's Beater bat from his hand and hit all three of the men over their heads. "Idiots! If I could pull you all out and still win the game, I would do it in a heartbeat."

"Well you're the one who's cavorting with the enemy," Maximus Brankovitch the Third grumbled under his breath, rubbing his head where I had hit him. "You and Krum. If I didn't know better, you were giving away team secrets."

I was seeing red. Or I thought I was seeing red. It might have been the red walls that I had spent days painting by hand and with magic. "This has nothing to do with Viktor and me. My relationship with him doesn't cloud my judgment like alcohol does yours."

"If anything," Debbie Muntz said, a small smile on her face as she stepped up, "it should cloud Krum's judgment while he's flying for the Snitch. Leigh Ann is going to be flying around out there, refereeing, and Viktor won't be able to keep his eyes off of her."

I couldn't believe what Debbie was insinuating. "H-he'll be fine. He's Viktor Krum for Christ's sake."

"Viktor Krum couldn't keep his eyes off your ass at practice," Debbie scoffed, her eyes rolling in her head. "I doubt that he'll be able to keep them off it during the game. So, this is a good thing, Brankovitch."

Troy Duvall shook his head, rubbing the spot where I'd hit him. "She didn't let me have my fun with that Clara girl…"

"Clara can't even speak three words of English, Troy," I growled, beating the bat against my hand menacingly. "And besides, I've known Krum for a lot longer, and I knew him outside of Quidditch. This is a professional sport. I won't let my team get distracted."

"You seemed very distracted at the fireworks last night," Ralph Heidelberger chuckled, making the rest of the team do the same.

Fire was in my face, and I felt my ears burning. "You are all insufferable!"

Robert laughed out loud, suddenly mimicking an English accent. "Oi, just talk like a bloomin' Englishwoman to us, mate! Your friends are quite lovely, if I do say so myself, if I'm not quite mistaken."

"Govna, I'd like a cup of tea," Greg Ruczinsk said with the same accent, making the two men laugh.

"ENOUGH!" I cried, brandishing my wand and pointing it at them. They suddenly stopped laughing, taking a step back. "Conditioning, now."

"But there's a game tonight," Gianni Fedele said, her mouth hanging open. "You can't just put us through rigorous conditioning before the game! Besides, I haven't done anything!"

I didn't waver. "If there's anything that I've learned in school, its that if one person gets in trouble, the entire class, or team gets in trouble. Now go. I don't expect you to stop for a half an hour." When no one moved, I instantly yelled, "GO!" Angry red sparks jumped from my wand.

They moved, bitterly glaring at each other for having to do conditioning in the one-hundred degree heat. I sighed, wishing that I hadn't had to do that, but I'd lost my cool.

"Leigh Ann."

"What?" I snapped, turning my face towards whomever had called my name.

Harold Flannigan had his hands held up defensively, ready to step back. "Whoa, girl, calm down. I just needed your signature on the ticket slip."

I ran a hand through my hair, rubbing my face irately. Shit. Not good to snap at the assistant manager. "Sorry, Harold. I didn't get much sleep last night." Sexual frustration was not a good thing when trying to sleep. "And besides, they know they aren't supposed to drink before a big game."

Harold shook his head as I signed the slip of permission for the ticket salesmen to actually sell the tickets. Normally, I would never have missed something like that. But, with the way my mind was, every little thing that was normally done first, I seemed to be missing. "You just need to put that Seeker out of your mind, Leigh Ann."

"Its kind of hard to get your boyfriend out of your mind," I grumbled, crossing my arms under my chest and huffing, turning away from him.

"Boyfriend?" Harold asked incredulously, his voice so soft that I barely heard him.

"Y-yeah," I said, fidgeting with the hem of my white church blouse. "There shouldn't be a problem."

"Leigh, you're refereeing!" he growled, throwing his hands up in the air irritably. I wondered if he knew how much he looked like a big red beat, with that Weasley-looking hair and his face all red. "You can't be having some affair with the opposite team's Seeker!"

"It's not an affair, we're openly going out!"

"Then why haven't I heard until now!"

I wanted to punch something. "We just started dating yesterday."

"And the fact that no one else knows doesn't bother you in any way at all?"

"Well, we'll tell people, sooner or later," I mumbled, taking my clipboard and starting to move away, checking off everything that I had done, then checking the ones I hadn't, to make sure I didn't forget anything else. Ah…lets go check on the Rocket, shall we?

Harold moved with me, his short, stubby legs having a difficult time keeping up. "Most likely later, I'm guessing."

"We don't want people harassing us, like you're doing now," I snapped, throwing my pen away. It was the only thing I could do, as I couldn't just punch or throw anything else. "So stop."

"Leigh Ann, is he using you?"

"They think that I am using you, and that you are using me. That ve are using each oother…"

It was hard not to smile as I remembered that. "When you look at it, it appears that we are, but we aren't. He's the stereotypical protective boyfriend, so lay off." I walked ahead, to try and get to the American's conference room, to the special broom that we had been testing just for today. "Now stop, and lets go see the broom."

He frowned and had that look that said he wanted to resume the previous conversation, but he would drop it. "Is it ready?"

"Not as well as I'd like it to be, for the team to just pick it up and play on it in a day, without practicing."

"But you've been practicing on it," he said, looking very miffed.

I nodded, reaching the secured vault and slowly taking down the charms and wards around the small metal safe behind the painting in the conference room. The Sitka spruce wood that we'd found that was light but durable shone lightly in the dim box. I pulled it out, wondering if the thin oak twigs at the end, mixed with the phoenix feathers and every charm known for broom flying (plus a few more) would be enough to have the fastest broom alive.

"I know I have. But I'm not willing to risk anyone's life on a broom that hasn't been thoroughly tested."

Harold rubbed one side of his face, which I took to be a sign of frustration and nervousness. "We need this broom to work, Leigh. If it doesn't—"

"It will," I snapped, softly running my fingers over the perfect handle. "Just not tonight. I'm not willing to risk America's chance in the World Cup just because you can't wait for them to try out a new broom."

"We might not make it without this broom! If you could just let Maximus use it—"

My glare must have shut him up, because he instantly got quiet. I was so not in the mood for this. "This is my broom, Harold. I will choose to manufacture more of it, I will choose to let them use it. But as it would be on my head if someone got hurt, no one is using it unless it is me, do you understand?"

He set his jaw, crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded irately.

I put the broom back in the box, locking it. "Good."

And that was the last I had to say to him as I put the wards and charms back around the box, making damn sure that the Bulgarians wouldn't be able to find it.

Viktor Krum

Viktor, tired from this morning's training and irate from his lack of sleep, trudged through the hallways of the Quidditch pitch, still unable to take a nap and get rid of his grogginess.

He knew that his lack of sleep was from his woman, and the thoughts he'd entertained during the night. He knew that he shouldn't have thought about her in that way, not yet, but he'd been fantasizing about her since he first met her. He was only human, after all, and male at that.

He heard something going on outside, so he decided to check it out. The sounds got louder, the light brighter, and the heat more excruciating as he made his way there, so he cast a cooling charm over his Quidditch uniform and stepped outside.

The American team was flying complicated, Advanced maneuvers, appearing without cooling charms and sweating out everything inside of them.

"COME ON, YOU DRUNKARDS," Leigh Ann's voice rang out angrily over the air. He looked up to find her, and he saw her directly in the center circle of the team, her wand against her throat. "SWEAT OUT THAT ALCOHOL."

Viktor couldn't help but let out a laugh. There she was, in the center of many sweaty Quidditch stars, with murder on their faces, dressed in her Sunday best and her hair done up perfectly around her head, high heels on her feet.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU DRINK THE NIGHT BEFORE A GAME, YOU IDIOTS. REMEMBER THIS WELL: I AM NOT YOUR CAPTAIN, I AM YOUR COACH, AND IN THIS INSTANCE, I HAVE MORE AUTHORITY OVER YOU THAN HIM."

Viktor had to bite his cheek to not laugh at this display of sports anger. She circled again, taking her wand off her throat to yell at each of the players individually, grabbing their collars and shaking them or hitting them over the heads.

Finally, she landed, throwing her broom to the side. He knew that she was mumbling irately under her breath, probably cursing out her team. It is a good thing that she is not our trainer, he thought, smiling at her as she kicked at something on her grass. We drink every day, even before a game.

He saw that she was coming his way, but that she hadn't seen him yet, so he hid behind the corner in the hallway and waited for her. Finally, he heard her soft voice and the click of her heels, and he reached an arm out, pulling her to him and forcing his mouth on hers.

She let out a scream of protest until she figured out who he was, and then she giggled against his lips and kissed him back. Her slim arms wrapped around his neck, and he gently pushed her up against the wall, letting his hands roam her curving hips. He pushed his hips to hers, gently moving against her, so that she could feel how much he had really missed her.

Leigh Ann quickly pulled away from the playful kiss, sighing in content and lying her head against his chest. He wondered if she even knew his lust. "Oh, get me out of here, please. I'm about to go crazy."

Viktor chuckled and rested his hands on her hips, letting his thumbs rub against the hem of her shirt, pushing it up and rubbing against the bare skin of her hip bones. He felt slightly drunk in her presence. "Eet vill be alright."

"Mmm…" she moaned, shaking her head, moving her hips against his. "No, it won't be, but I'll have to deal with it. You know, you smell really good."

As do you, he thought, wondering if the smell of freshly-cut grass would ever leave her. "Eet ees alvight for your team to celebrate."

She snorted that cute little laugh of hers, snuggling up against him even more. How was it that he was now against the wall? She set her chin up on his chest, looking at him. "They were drunk as buzzards this morning when they walked in here."

"So vas my team."

"You weren't," she said matter-of-factly, wiggling her eyebrows as if she were playful. He almost wanted to correct her, but decided that it was best not to. "And besides, I'm sure that you guys drink a lot."

"True," he said, kissing her forehead lovingly.

"So," she said, drawing out the 'O', "how much is a lot?"

Viktor had to smirk. "Are you vorried about my drinking habits?"

She leaned up and kissed him again, though it wasn't long enough for his taste. "Maybe just a little. I have a right to worry, though. I am your girlfriend."

He felt a satisfied rumble go through his body as he pulled her closer to him, gently searching her lips with his. "I like the sound of that," he growled against her lips, wondering if she was up to learning a few more things from him today.

Leigh Ann gave a sexy little purr and he parted her lips, instantly putting their bodies together. He instantly wondered how he could have slept without her warming his bed last night, without those pert breasts against his chest, those lean legs slowly moving against his, and those wide hips that were just perfect to grasp onto and thrust.

Viktor had to hold in his moan as he let his hands trail back up, gently under that sensible white button-up blouse, so that he could massage the cool skin of her waist and stomach with the pads of his thumbs. He decided to see if she what she would allow, and he slowly let his hands wander upwards…

Suddenly she pulled away, her breathing heavy, her eyes lidded in a way that really made him want to throw him over his shoulder and take her away to ravish her. "I need to go do that thing," she whispered, her words low and husky.

He couldn't help but smile; her innocence and hesitation amused him. He slowly moved his hands back down. "You are here, da? Vhat ees so eempoortant noot to vant to stay?"

Leigh Ann blushed, looking away and hugging herself to him. "I would stay here forever if I didn't have other commitments." She sat her chin on his chest and looked up at him, a smile on her face. "The French Ambassador calls, unfortunately."

"The French Ambassador?" Perhaps her clothing hadn't been for church, but for meeting a diplomat.

She nodded and leaned against him again, squeezing him tight. "He's a big fan of yours. And apparently Ariel's as well, though hers are probably for her looks."

He raised his eyebrow at her in mock confusion. "And he does noot like me for my looks?"

Her laugh vibrated through his chest, and he thought that he could get used to it. "If it were that, I'd be worried at him getting to meet you."

"Are you getting protective, Mees Neelsoon?"

Another laugh. "Perhaps. My teddy bear can't get stolen from me after only one day."

"Teddy bear?"

She nodded against his chest, snuggling up against him as he squeezed her slightly back. He even allowed himself to put his head in her curly, up-done hair. It smelled like strawberries. "I want to cuddle with you all day."

"But you must speak to the French Ambassador."

She raised an eyebrow, though didn't open her eyes. "I do speak French, you know."

He had been wondering. "Here you are, reading my mind already."

She sighed and let him go, reaching up on her tiptoes to give him another peck on the lips. "I have to go."

Viktor strengthened his grip on her waist, forcing her to stay in place. "No, you do noot."

She gave him a firm look, putting her hands on his chest and gently pushing. "Viktor, I really have to go." She gave him one more short kiss. "See you later."

And then his wily witch Apparated out of his arms, and into those of a French Ambassador.

Short chapter, I know, and I apologize. But I've got to space these out as I finish Part III of the story! Thank you, all of you, who have been waiting patiently as I leave town for days and don't post on time!

Here's a look at the next chapter!

"Beautiful," he said in heavily-accented English, bowing low and capturing my hand in his. He kissed the back of my hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Iñigo Fuente Marrero, Seeker for the Spanish National Quidditch Team. I hope I am not being forward by saying that you are beautiful, chica."

I had just died and went to heaven. Iñigo Fuente Marrero, my idol, just called me beautiful! "N-no, not at all. M-my name is Leigh Ann Nelson. I'm the m-manager of the pitch and American National Quidditch Team"

He clasped one hand beneath and one over my hand, smiling at me, showing those bright white teeth and those cute little dimples. He then leaned forwards and kissed my left cheek, slowly, and then my right one, taking plenty of time to pull away. "I have heard many great things about you. I must say, Miss Nelson, that your reputation for managing precedes you. Your pitch is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, second only to both of the women in my company." Iñigo Fuente Marrero is commenting on my pitch! "It is too bad that you are taken, you would be quickly snatched up in my country."

Taken? I thought, staring into his handsome eyes. Oh, I'm taken. And the object that had "taken" me was instantly behind me, one arm wrapped around my waist. "Oh! Viktor!" I exclaimed, turning to look up at his handsome face. At the moment it was dark and stormy, his eyes glaring into those of my idol. Oh, crap. I'm screwed.

"Yes, Iñigo," Viktor said in a low, menacing voice. "She ees takeen."