A/N: Not my sandbox, just my sand castle. I don't own anything from Harry Potter. Additionally, no one has permission to bind and sell my works, fandom or otherwise. Shame on you for exploiting other people's works!

Hello everyone! Welcome back to another fic :)

Inspired by the jousts at my local Renaissance Faire, this fic (literally) came to me while I was in the shower. I ended up finishing it while sitting waiting to have lunch with my boyfriend.

Hope you enjoy this snippet :)

This one is for the final Round (Challenge Round 2) of The Houses Competition, where I'm in Gryffindor House and writing for Potions. This competition, we have to write a drabble (500-1000 words) as well as a standard (1000-3000 words). For this round, however, we are challenged with writing a microfic, so the fic MUST be between 100 and 400 words. We're also assigned our prompts, and none can be repeated.

Prompts are listed below.

Thank you kindly to Charliemanx, and Dora for the beta!

Word Count: 338

Disclaimers/Warnings:

Summary: Vincent Crabbe is squired to Knight Draco of the House of Malfoy, to pay a debt his family owes. Vincent only wished he was more interested in horsemanship.

Prompts:

The Houses Competition Y11 CR2

[Character] Vincent Crabbe

"Silly Boy with a Horse and Stick"

Vincent still wasn't sure what he was meant to do. He had only been squired to Knight Draco for a week, and the young lord hadn't been forthcoming in his instructions.

"You're just supposed to know," he had said. Vincent squinted into the dying sun as he tried to remember Lord Draco's next words. Something about lancing him and fixing his shield. This was the third day in Bristol's annual jousting tournament and Lord Draco was speedily dominating his opponents. This was his fourth tournament this year, yet he was so beastly to work with, his last squire, someone from the Goyle family, had pulled out of his contract.

"LANCE!" came the shout from his left and Vincent jumped to attention. He hurried forward, the massive lance in his hands pointed upward. He offered it to Lord Draco, who took it angrily. "Expect my needs!" he shouted as he hefted the lance into the proper hand. His now free hand came up and slammed his visor shut. "Imbecile," he bit out before turning his horse back towards the jousting arena. His horse, a black stallion nearly as green as Lord Draco, pranced excitedly, ready to sprint.

Vincent reddened at the admonishment, turning back to the stand that held the last lance in this set of jousts. Lord Draco was currently winning, but if his opponent could unseat him–

A loud crack and the crowd gasping made him whirl around to see Lord Draco on his back, his opponent proudly promenading to the end of the railing. Inwardly, Vincent cheered at the ponce being knocked down a peg or two. With Lord Gryffindor knocking Lord Draco off his horse, they were out of the tournament and could finally go home.

A real bed…

"Help me up, you oaf!" Lord Draco demanded, struggling in his full suit of armor. Vincent hurried forward to do as he bid. Only three more years, and he could leave, his family's debt paid off in full. Then this Lord would be someone else's problem.