Author's Note: This chapter was a result of two things: first, re-reading what I'd already written on this series-that-was-never-supposed-to-be-a-series, and realizing I needed something to fill in the 11-month gap between Boxing Day/A Celtic Cross Reading, which take place in the middle of A/A's 6th year (December 26, 1994 and January 2, 1995, respectively), and The Art of Exacting Revenge on One's Dorm Mate, which takes place just after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match of their 7th year (November 1995).
Secondly, this segment also came about as a result of having a conversation with MandyinKC regarding "locker room fantasies". I think we both liked the idea of Adrian and Alicia fantasizing about stumbling across each other in the Quidditch locker rooms. ;)
Random Note: I have always wondered why we never hear about Quidditch players conditioning; Harry notes Quidditch training is hard, so I took it a step further.
Note on Dates: September 1, 1995 was a Friday. So classes wouldn't have started back until Monday, September 4 that year.
~EA
An Early Morning Conversation on the Quidditch Pitch
September 10, 1995 — Sunday
The first week of seventh year had been brutal. If Adrian thought the professors had assigned too much work in each of his previous years, he was sorely mistaken. Why was he taking ten classes again? Why had he not dropped Ancient Runes and Arithmancy like a normal person? Why did he feel the need to be the best at everything? Hell, the Auror Academy didn't even require Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. But with the current situation at hand, with the very real possibility of a war at some point in the future, Adrian had an uneasy feeling that the Ministry of Magic wouldn't be too keen to hire Slytherin students — if, of course, the Ministry ever decided that Dumbledore and Potter weren't lying about the situation. It was just best to keep his options open, though that had not been his intent when he signed up to continue both of those classes his sixth year. The original reason he'd kept studying both was because he wanted to prove himself.
The workload was made worse by the fact that, on top of his classes, he also had prefect duties and Quidditch practice. Montague had agreed to bring him back on the Slytherin team after his two year absence, mostly because Montague didn't have anyone else who flew half as well as Adrian. Even without constant conditioning, he was a damned good flyer, and having Adrian on the team meant having three seventh-year Chasers who knew each other well.
But Adrian also had a feeling that the other reason had to do with his broom.
In the summer of 1993, his father had finally gotten fed up seeing Adrian on that "damned Nimbus 2001" that Lucius Malfoy had purchased for the Slytherin team in 1992, the result being that Adrian got a new Firebolt. This had more to do with sending a veiled message to the Malfoy family than anything else: that the Pucey family could not and would not be bought with Malfoy gold, having just as much, if not more themselves. Adrian, however, kept his new broom a secret from his classmates that year. For one thing, he was already known as a loner, and for another, he had long-since heard the rumor that Marcus Flint wanted to boot him off the Slytherin Quidditch team. It had been circulating for months. He didn't want anyone sabotaging his new broom, and Marcus was exactly the type who would, because Marcus hated Adrian. So, during tryouts that year, Adrian flew the Nimbus 2001 and kept the Firebolt locked in his trunk.
Of course, Flint unceremoniously kicked him from the team as soon as try-outs were over, just as Adrian had expected. Flint's public reason was that Adrian refused to foul the Gryffindor Chasers. It didn't matter that Adrian had outflown everyone or that he didn't foul anyone, regardless of what house team they were on.
The unspoken reason was the real truth: Flint wasn't going to have a "fake Slytherin" on his team. Adrian had known it was coming, had known for a while that Marcus wanted to kick him off, but he had still been angry. Marcus had never liked him, and Adrian was too proud to lick Flint's boots for anything, not even the chance to play Quidditch.
To his frustration, Adrian remained the odd Slytherin out — always an outcast because he wasn't "as Slytherin" as the rest of his damn house. He was bloody well sick of hearing Flint's cruel, bullying remarks on how he should have been sorted elsewhere.
It didn't matter now, though. Flint was gone, thank Salazar, and Adrian didn't give a damn who saw his broom or not this year. It was a good deal faster than the Nimbus series, and he was going to fly it. His Firebolt was very likely a small part of why Montague had brought him back onto the team, but it was worth it to see the jealousy on Malfoy's miserable, pale little face.
It was a small balm to be able to play Quidditch again, but as much as he loved the game, it had the downside of taking up time he could have spent studying — particularly this year. He couldn't resign his prefect duties because he didn't trust any of his dorm mates with such tasks. They would absolutely abuse the privilege to no end. And dropping two classes seemed like admitting he was struggling, and he couldn't bear the thought of that, either.
So the only solution was to find some form of stress relief, and Adrian found it in flying and training. It would have been nice if Bess was still around, but he didn't have that option. There was only one girl in the entire castle he wanted to shag right now, but she was off limits because he respected her too much. So... flying it was.
On the first Sunday after classes had been back in session, he was up earlier than anyone else in his dorm — or most of the castle, for that matter. It was still dark out and a fine mist covered the dim, dark grey, dew-damp lawn as Adrian made his way down to the Quidditch pitch. He was going to get in some weight training first, because he desperately needed it. He was sorely out of shape.
The problem was, when he got to the Quidditch locker rooms, he instantly heard the tale-tell sound of weights clinking in the weight room that all four teams shared. He groaned inwardly; he should have known he wouldn't have the time alone. With twenty-eight Quidditch players at Hogwarts, it would have been a miracle if none of them were down here this early. By next week, they would have a sign-up sheet to use the weight room to avoid opposing teams breaking out into fights, but the sheet hadn't gone around yet.
He went to the Slytherin locker rooms and stripped out of his clothes, put on a pair of trackies and a t-shirt he'd stored in his locker the previous weekend, and went back to the weight room. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open, kept his head down in hopes no one would say anything to him, and went up to one of the bench presses. But the other person didn't speak at all. Slightly surprised, Adrian glanced over to see who else was with him, and immediately felt a pleasurable shiver he most certainly didn't need run through his entire body.
Alicia Spinnet was pushing weights — not as many kilos as a man would, but just enough to keep her lithe, pretty arms toned. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on her reps — which was why she hadn't spoken — and sweat dripped down her temple and slender neck. Unbidden, his eyes were drawn immediately to her breasts, encased in a snug tank top, her cleavage and chest and arms slick with a fine sheen, and...bloody hell, she was also wearing a pair of athletic shorts that could only be called "damned indecent".
He instantly swung off his bench press, a flush creeping up his neck. Why hadn't he looked before he actually came in the room? There was no way he could work out without blatantly staring at her! Or worse, he might do something he really shouldn't, like —
No. He was not going to think about that. Even kissing her was out of the question, let alone that.
He quietly but quickly moved away to the dumbbells; yet even as he picked two five kilo weights, he heard the barbells clink back down onto their rest.
"Pucey?" Her voice was soft and startled, but carried through the room. "I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone else would be down here this early — do you need this one? I'm done."
"No, it's fine," he said shortly, starting to do arm curls, while keeping his back to her. It would look too suspicious if he left the weight room as soon as he got there. He had to do something...anything to keep his mind off what he really wanted to do. He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the way he could feel her eyes on his back.
"Are you sure?" She sounded confused.
"Yes."
There was a pause, in which he was torn between wishing she'd leave him alone and wanting her to keep talking to him. His nerves felt stretched to breaking point beneath the surface.
After a moment, she said hopefully, "You made your house team again, then?"
He glanced behind him. She was sitting up on the press, her arms crossed over the weight bar and her legs on either side of the bench. Her hair was up in a high ponytail to keep it out of her way, and she was smiling kindly at him. It wasn't meant to be provocative, and he had to remind himself of that. They were just... friendly acquaintances. They hadn't seen each other all summer, or even hardly throughout the previous two terms. When was the last time they'd had a conversation together, alone? He couldn't recall right off. Boxing Day, maybe? That was eight months ago.
"I did," he said, answering her question.
"I'm glad."
"Only because I don't foul the three of you every five seconds?"
"No. I'm glad because I know you enjoy playing," she said simply.
He hesitated. She was right: he did love playing. She'd said it without malice — just an honest statement that also indicated she understood him to a certain extent and was sincerely happy for him. His arms slowly uncurled and the weights dropped heavy against his thighs as he stood there, thinking. He heard her stand up and walk towards the door.
"Are you about to fly?" he asked, his heart in his throat.
"Mmhmm, as soon as I shower and change."
Well, that officially wrecked his thought process for the rest of the fucking day. The image of her in a shower was cemented in his brain forever, now — right up there with the image of her in athletic attire and those ridiculously short shorts and her very attractive legs. As for flying... he wanted to fly with her, but he didn't need to fly with her. That would indeed be too risky. So he merely nodded. "Have fun."
"Were you going to go up?"
"Maybe in a bit. But I'm pretty soft." He gave her a rueful smile. "Two years off the pitch? I only have two months to get back in shape before the first game, you know. Or Montague might kick me off again."
She blushed cutely and kept her eyes diverted. "I don't think you look that out of shape."
He swallowed again. Did that mean she liked his physique? Rather than dwell on that (Did she really like his physique?), he started to do curls again and said, "Well, I am. The only reason Montague brought me back on the team is because I have a Firebolt." He realized, after he said the last bit, how bitter he sounded.
"That's not true," she said sharply. "You're a damn good flyer."
He smiled, a bit sadly. "Thanks, Spinnet. Listen, I might see you out there in a bit. I need to do a few more of these, though."
She nodded and left the weight room. As soon as she was gone, he exhaled and dropped the dumbbells back onto their rack, and leaned his head against the wall. His feelings were as strong as ever. He thought maybe they had diminished the past summer, but they hadn't. Not at all. Alicia Spinnet was still very much at the forefront of all his thoughts. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and he was still absolutely lovesick.
Alicia hurried back to the Gryffindor locker room, where she quickly stripped out of her athletic clothes and jumped in the shower.
Adrian Pucey had been the last person she had expected to see this morning at the crack of dawn. The reason she came down early was to avoid running into anyone, damn it! And she certainly hadn't expected to run into the boy she still had such a strong crush on. A summer away hadn't done anything to change how she felt, and to look up and see him wearing that t-shirt while doing arm curls? Good Godric. How on earth he thought he was out of shape was beyond her.
As soon as she rinsed the sweat off, she changed back into jeans and a sweatshirt, laced up her boots, loosely braided her hair, grabbed her broom, and hurried out to the field.
The sun had just crept over the horizon but it hadn't burned the mist off the field, which was quiet and chilly and still shrouded in half-light. Alicia exhaled and kicked off, soared into the air, and took off for a brisk lap around the stadium. The cold wind against her face woke her up far better than the shower or lifting weights or even Pucey wearing a t-shirt.
But try as she might, she couldn't get that image out of her head, either.
Merlin, that boy was fit. She had no idea how many times she'd thought that since December of last year, but it seemed to be an awful lot.
She wondered, with a slight sense of unease and worry, if he still fancied her— or had his feelings had faded? Had he moved on? She knew it was unreasonable to consider he might still like her. And foolish, too. He had already told her last year that dating her while they were at Hogwarts was impossible, and Pucey wouldn't date her in secret.
So...why did it bother her so much?
Her brow furrowed in disappointment. She wasn't really sure. Was it because she fancied him too, and because she knew he was right?
Why did these things have to be so complicated?
He'd been watching her fly since first year, when the Gryffindors were paired with the Slytherins for flying lessons. Back then, Adrian had wondered, vaguely, why the professors of Hogwarts felt it necessary to pair Gryffindor and Slytherin together for classes at all. The two houses clearly had an animosity that stretched back centuries, and forcing them into the same class certainly wasn't going to magically solve any problems. If anything, it only made the rivalry greater, and he had known that even at eleven.
But Alicia was a natural. He remembered when they all yelled "Up!": her broom had snapped straight into her hand, just like his broom had done.
Back then, he hadn't fancied her— he'd only been eleven. He hadn't noticed if any of the girls were cute or not because he wasn't much interested in girls at that simply made a mental note of everyone who's broom went straight into their hand, including Angelina Johnson and the Weasley twins (Jordan's just sort of hovered around his ankles and Towler's rolled over on the ground rather pathetically).
Of course, first years weren't allowed their own brooms and couldn't join the house teams, something Adrian found stifling and annoying. The school brooms were absolute rubbish; those who had grown up flying often, like Adrian had, loathed them.
Second year was different. He was at least allowed to bring his own broom. Most second years didn't make house teams either, still being quiteyoung, but Angelina Johnson was a notable exception, which certainly caught the attention of a number of people. Also noteworthy was that Oliver Wood slotted Alicia as a reserve Chaser.
Adrian himself was a reserve Chaser that year too, though Lee Jordan always seemed to "forget" that little bit of information.
However, just before his third year, his father agreed to purchase him the brand-new Nimbus 2000. He and Alicia both made their house teams that year, and Slytherin played well against Gryffindor — it had been him, Flint, and Warrington as Chasers — but Potter's capture of the Snitch put an end to that. Higgs, flying a Cleansweep model, simply couldn't compete with a Nimbus broom.
Was he paying attention to Alicia on the field back then, during that game? Vaguely, because she was an opponent, and she, Johnson, and Bell were a good team. But he still didn't fancy her.
He only barely got to watch her play in Gryffindor's second game of the 1991-1992 season, against Hufflepuff, because Potter caught the Snitch so damn fast. And the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game that year was horrendous. Despite the three Gryffindor Chasers desperately trying to keep up, the team lost spectacularly because Potter couldn't play. Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup that year, and that was all that really mattered. Adrian had helped win it, but Flint— slimy bastard that he was — took all the credit.
The following year, Adrian's fourth year, Gryffindor beat Slytherin again, despite Lucius Malfoy buying the entire Slytherin team brand-new Nimbus 2001's. The Malfoys were always trying to buy someone's favor, and it wasn't as if any of the boys on the Slytherin Quidditch team couldn't afford the newest broom. It was rather insulting, really. Adrian remembered his parents being quite irritated about the whole thing, especially his father. He'd had a lot to say about it during the Christmas hols, that was for sure, particularly how Lucius Malfoy had only done it to get Draco on the team in the first place, though Draco did have more talent as a Seeker than Higgs had.
Unfortunately, the final game of that season was cancelled because of the attacks on students by the Heir of Slytherin. Which was also Lucius Malfoy's fault.
When fifth year rolled around, Adrian was made a prefect, which earned him quite a bit of sneering and hateful comments from his dorm mates, on top of being kicked off the Quidditch team. He mostly kept his head down that year, while seething and hating Marcus Flint.
But because he'd been kicked off the team, it meant he had the chance to watch the game from the stands. At first, this only made him angry, but then he realized something very important.
It enabled him to watch Alicia fly without being watched and judged himself.
His sudden interest in Alicia had started that very September 1, when he saw her on Platform 9&3/4's. Merlin, but she suddenly stood out more than she ever had before. All three of the Gryffindor Chasers were fit, but it was at that very moment that Adrian officially lost his heart to Alicia uniform hugged her curves in all the right ways, but she was also sleek and lean from Quidditch training. Her long, high ponytail swayed as she climbed on the train with Johnson and Bell, laughing over something one of the girls had said. The laughter and her smile made her look so happy, so cheerful. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, just watching her board the train — and never mind that just ten minutes later, he had to sit near her in the prefects' car while Head Girl Gemma Farley and Head Boy Percy Weasley went over their duties with them. He was pretty sure he hadn't absorbed a damn word of Weasley and Farley's speeches.
The rest of his fifth year, he found he was hyper-aware of her because they shared four classes together: Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes. Especially Ancient Runes. He sat right beside her and he knew if he didn't watch it, his grades would start plummeting and Professor Babbling would question what was going on. He couldn't help it, though. She was beautiful, smart, funny, kind, and sweet. He was head over heels.
Alicia, of course, remained oblivious. He was pretty sure she hadn't even noticed him sitting next to her in Ancient Runes, or in any of their other classes, or in prefect meetings. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not. On the one hand, it enabled him to watch her without notice. On the other, he rather wished she did notice him. Was it because he was a Slytherin? That thought was unpleasant; he was nothing like Marcus Flint and the others. But she probably didn't know that. Gryffindors didn't like Slytherins on principle.
And then on Halloween night, he was told to patrol the Great Hall with her, which was a dream come true but also incredibly nerve-wracking. Least of all because Sirius Black had broken into the castle. Who the hell cared about that when Adrian was walking beside the very girl he had a huge crush on? Thank goodness for that polite mask he always wore when he wanted to conceal his real emotions; it helped keep his nerves tamped down enough for him to walk next to her without tripping, at any , he found things to talk about that didn't seem contrite or boring. She answered his questions and talked with him normally, as if they were friends instead of in two houses that generally hated each other. Furthermore, she didn't shove him away when he tossed a sleeping bag down beside her, which was far more than Ernest could say when Courtney practically kicked him for daring to lay down next to her. That made Adrian feel much better, except for that niggling concern that Chrysanthe Hayden had figured him out. But Alicia hadn't really believed her. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, either.
Touching her hair the next morning was a secret only he knew, and it was his alone. She would probably think it very weird if she ever found out, or she might even feel violated, but he had only wanted to see if it was as soft as it looked. (It was. Silky soft. He still shivered thinking about it.)
He was looking forward to watching her fly their fifth year, but the first game of the season — Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff (because Malfoy was a fucking arse) was one of the worst games he'd ever witnessed. The stormy weather was horrendous, making it nearly impossible to see anything. Adrian had no idea how Jordan was managing to even shout out plays. Every once in a while he caught a glimpse of Alicia; he thought he saw her score once, through the sheets of rain, but it was impossible to see how she really flew up there. (He did remember praying to any deity that would listen that she wouldn't get struck by lightning.)
It wasn't until that year's Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game that he really got to watch her fly. And his heart was nearly in his throat the whole time, because Alicia could seriously fly. She, Johnson, and Bell were a well-oiled machine by that point. They had been working together for two solid years and it showed; they scored eight goals very quickly. Davies, Stretton, and Burrow couldn't keep up, and that was exhilarating to watch. It took those snobbish Ravenclaw arseholes down a notch, and that in and of itself was worth it.
As for Alicia?
Adrian could feel the heat pounding through his body just watching her. The rest of the crowd was far more interested in Potter and his brand-new Firebolt, but Adrian could have cared less about that; he had a Firebolt of his own, after all. He only wanted to watch Alicia. She was thrilling. She got his blood going.
Of course, Potter got the Snitch, and Flint, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle got detentions and lost Slytherin fifty points by attempting to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker. Those things just made the whole game even better.
Slytherin went into the final match against Gryffindor that May two hundred points up, having narrowly beaten Ravenclaw, but having crushed Hufflepuff by a landslide. The tension between the two houses was at a breaking point, and it was were attempting to hex the Gryffindor team at any opportunity, and Oliver Wood counteracted by making sure that the team was surrounded by other people. Particularly Potter, his precious golden boy, though the Chasers never went anywhere without others as well. Those three girls knew the Slytherins were out for blood. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan and even Kenneth Towler kept Johnson and Spinnet out of harm's way, while several boys in Bell's class, including the insufferable Cormac McClaggen and his cousin Sean, were always with her as a protective measure (Adrian noticed that royally irritated the youngest Gryffindor Chaser).
When the two teams walked onto the field for that game, Adrian's eyes instantly went to Alicia, who was standing opposite Warrington. Cassius's lip curled, but Alicia didn't react at all. She just had a look of cool determination in her eyes.
The game started dirty right off the bat. Flint fouled Johnson after she scored first, and then one of the Weasleys fouled Flint in retaliation (which Adrian rather wholeheartedly approved of — Flint deserved whatever the fuck he got). Penalties were awarded for each team. Alicia had always been the Chaser who took the majority of Gryffindor's penalty shots, and she was bloody brilliant at it. She scored the penalty off Bletchley, which Adrian knew would have Miles throwing shite around their dorm that night. Then Wood saved Flint's attempt, which pissed the Slytherin team off even more because it put Gryffindor in the lead.
Flint, enraged at the how the game had started, grabbed Bell's head (rich of him, Adrian had thought dryly, since Flint spent most of his time bitching about Gryffindor's little "mudblood" player, but her blood status apparently didn't stop him from touching her...) and then Bole, the completely arsehole, hit Alicia deliberately with his beater's bat. It was a wonder she didn't suffer a cracked skull. Adrian could feel fury burst within him. And yet, he could do nothing. It was maddening. One of the Weasley demons retaliated again, though — elbowing Bole hard in the face.
Despite being hit with a damn Beater's bat, Alicia managed to take the penalty shot and scored off Bletchley again. To make matters worse, Wood saved the second penalty Flint attempted. Then Bell scored again, at which point the score was 50-10, prompting Fred and George to fly around Bell to protect her from the Slytherin team. In the meantime, the Slytherin Beaters attacked Wood together with the Bludgers and Madam Hooch nearly had kittens.
Angelina took that particular penalty. Afterwards, Slytherin got possession of the Quaffle for just a moment, but Alicia snagged it from Warrington. It was a fantastic move on her part, and Adrian's blood was humming with excitement at just watching her. Looking back on it now, he had to admit it was a wonder no one around him figured out how he felt back then.
When Malfoy fouled Potter on Potter's first attempt to get the Snitch, three-fourths of the crowd nearly went up-in-arms, but no one was angrier than Alicia, who missed the penalty awarded by a mile because she was visibly shaking with fury. Watching her that angry was just as exhilarating as anything else.
Thank Merlin Potter got the Snitch before it went on any further, though he nearly missed it for trying to help out the Chasers score another goal. The only reason he caught it was because his Firebolt was faster than Malfoy's Nimbus 2001.
Flint was utterly enraged at Malfoy's second loss to Potter in two years. Adrian was glad for once that hewasn't the one taking the brunt of Flint's anger in the common room that night. He actually went to bed early, closing his bed curtains and casting all of his wards, only to lay there grinning like an idiot at all the memories of Alicia flying back and forth across the field.
Flint graduated (finally) and Adrian was hoping to get back on the team the previous year, but the Triwizard Tournament effectively cancelled Quidditch.
So this year, his seventh, was his last chance—and he wasn't going to miss it even if it did take up a lot of his time, because it meant getting to fly alongside Alicia despite being on opposing sides. He was going to be a wreck the first game, he was sure. Could he even play and score without staring at her? Especially now that he'd seen her in the weight room, wearing less than he'd ever seen her wear before? Well, he would have to play without staring at her, because he definitely didn't need his cretin teammates figuring out he had the hardest crush of the century.
But he could watch her now without being judged. As soon as she left the weight room, he waited a grand total of ten minutes before he bolted back to the Slytherin locker rooms, just so he could change back into his jeans and jumper and go fly with her. There likely wouldn't be anyone out on the field this early, and if there was, he would just fly the opposite circuit instead of alongside her. No matter how many times he told himself it was a bad idea, he couldn't stop himself from seizing the opportunity.
Maybe he was pathetic. But at that moment, he didn't particularly care.
He stepped into the stadium to see Alicia soaring around the pitch effortlessly, her eyes closed and the sun hitting her face, making her long hair shine gold instead of chestnut. She'd braided it, though a few wisps were coming free. Thank Merlin she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that hid a lot of what he'd seen earlier; that was a big help. He kicked off, noted there was no one else around, and caught up with her easily.
"Mind if I join you?" he shouted over the wind.
Alicia jolted slightly and her eyes flew open in surprise. "Oh! No, I don't— I mean— sure! That's fine!"
He smiled at her and slowed to a coast; Alicia matched him.
"It feels good," he said, able to talk at a normal level now that they weren't speeding along. "Being up in the air again."
"It does. It feels like everything I've been worrying about just... gets left behind on the ground when I go up." She smiled at him and he felt his stomach flip.
"Exactly. I'm wishing I'd dropped Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, though. I can't believe I'm taking ten classes. I must be an idiot."
"That makes two of us." Her brows pinched together in worry. "I don't know how I'm going to get everything done this year, between classes, N.E.W.T.s, Quidditch practice, and prefect duties."
"We should form a support team," he joked. "Just the two of us. Pretty sure no one else in our year was daft enough to take ten N.E.W.T.s. Not even Ernest."
Alicia laughed; that bright, happy burble that made his chest lighten. "What does that say about us? That we're stupid?"
"Maybe. At least we're in it together, right?"
She grinned at him. "It does make me feel marginally better to know there's someone struggling with the exact same problems I am, this year. Even if you are a Slytherin."
He teased, "Ouch, really? You wound me, Spinnet. I haven't said anything about house rivalries and you have to throw that up in my face?"
"Yes, well... let's just hope none of your teammates come out while we're flying. They may kick you off the team again, and I wouldn't want that to happen."
"Heaven forbid. They might bring on someone who would try to knock you off your broom, after all." He deliberately swerved and lightly bumped his knee into hers.
Alicia laughed and bumped back into him, not hard, just enough to jostle the both of them. They weren't flying fast enough or high enough for it to matter, anyways. Their eyes met and Adrian realized abruptly that they were too close, flying side by side like this, touching knees and elbows and shoulders. He could see the deep brown of her eyes, the early morning sunlight reflecting off of those gorgeous irises, that beautiful smile on her pretty lips, and he swallowed and pulled away.
Alicia must have sensed his change in posture and the way he tensed, because sheasked in concern, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine." And, casting about for a change of subject, he asked shortly, "So...what do you think of Defense classes this year?"
Alicia made a noise like an angry cat. "I would hardly call them classes. More like a huge waste of my time."
"We agree again. That Slinkhard book is the biggest load of shite I've ever had the misfortune to buy. A total waste of galleons," he scoffed.
"Wasn't it, though? I dread sitting through her classes all year."
"I heard Potter popped off to her last week and earned several detentions for it." His brow furrowed. The whole school knew about that; it was hardly a big secret, but it had certainly sent a message to everyone else that Umbridge would not tolerate anyone presenting a view she disagreed with in her classes. Not even the seventh years. She thought of them as children, too.
"Angelina nearly murdered him." Alicia grimaced. "He missed Quidditch try-outs for it."
"Did Gryffindor find a new Keeper?"
She nodded, but she looked worried. "Fred and George's younger brother, Ron Weasley. He's not remotely as good as Oliver, but then... no one is. We knew it was going to be bollocks replacing Ollie."
"Didn't Wood get on with Puddlemere?"
"He did. Reserve team."
"Oh, well, they'll move him up soon enough, I'd think. He's damned good at Keeping."
She nodded in agreement. "I think they will, too."
How had she never really paid attention to how well Pucey flew, before? Alicia tried to think back. She had absolutely seen him fly before: they had played Quidditch against each other in their third and fourth years, after all, so she knew he was a good flyer. He'd been moved to reserve their fifth year, and then the Inter-House Championship was cancelled the year before because of the Triwizard Tournament. So it was almost as though she were seeing him for the first time now.
He glided effortlessly beside her, one leg dangling while the other stayed firmly on the footrest in case he needed to brake, and only one hand on the handle. She knew the Firebolts were precision-tuned to a high degree; Harry had been gracious enough to let all of the Gryffindor team fly his at some point so they could see how it handled.
She hated to give him information on Ron's goalkeeping abilities (or lack thereof), because whatever else, he was still a member of the Slytherin team and it would be foolish to think he wouldn't take intel back to Montague. She was glad they shifted to Puddlemere, but then the conversation fizzled out and they were simply coasting beside each other. She could feel warmth in her cheeks despite the chill in the morning air.
Out of nowhere, Pucey asked, "So...what are you hoping to do with ten N.E.W.T.s?"
Alicia felt only slightly startled; she supposed she'd never told him. Then again, why would she?
"I want to enter the Healer Program at St. Mungo's. Chrysanthe is trying for it, too." She glanced at him. "What about you?"
A soft blush covered his cheekbones. "I doubt I'll get to do what I want."
Alicia frowned and braked, coming to a stop in midair. Pucey realized a second later that she had; he turned back to hover beside her again, facing her.
His brow puckered slightly. "Something wrong?"
"That's what I should be asking," she said quietly, meeting his hazel eyes. "What do you mean, you doubt you'll get to do what you want?"
He blinked, but then smiled sadly. "I wanted to be an Auror. But, let's face it, the Auror Academy isn't going to be keen on taking Slytherin graduates right now, are they?"
Without waiting for a reply, he averted his gaze, glided to the ground and dismounted.
Alicia remained frozen in midair for a couple of seconds, but then she shook off the surprise and followed him. He was at least waiting for her on the grass below, which meant he wasn't upset with her for asking, but she could still see the sadness in his eyes.
"That's..." Her voice was hollow, angry. Unfair? Stereotyping? Bullying? Cruel? So many negative words flitted through her head; she couldn't pick just one.
"...how the real world works," he finished.
"It's not fair," she whispered, clutching her broom. "Pucey — that's not fair —!" Her voice rose in her anger.
"There's nothing I can do about it." He shrugged. "So I'll have to figure something else out."
"But —!"
Pucey gave her one of his fake smiles if she'd ever seen one. "Ah, Spinnet, don't worry about it, though I do appreciate it." The smile became more sincere and he rubbed a hand behind his neck. "Thanks for letting me fly with you this morning. I enjoyed catching up. But I probably need to get back to the weight room. See you around, yeah?"
She opened her mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say, and he was already walking off anyway. Defeated, she watched his back as he strode back towards the locker rooms.
The door swung shut behind him just as she realized something very important.
He had stopped his weight training just to fly with her.
Bonus Scene:
Albus Dumbledore rarely saw anything unusual when he took his morning constitutionals, but today was an exception. He had to quickly Disillusion himself so they wouldn't see him watching, but he did find it somewhat fascinating, the two students who were gliding gracefully around the Quidditch stadium in the early morning light.
One wore a red-and-gold Gryffindor sweatshirt; the other wore a dark green sweater. He recognized both well, because both were seventh year prefects, and he'd had to make the difficult decision not to appoint them as Head Girl and Boy that year. It had been a very close call, actually. His reasoning had been that they were the only two seventh years taking ten classes each, and they had prefect duties on top of that. Miss Spinnet was also a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and he was not remotely surprised when Mr. Pucey made the Slytherin team again just three days earlier after a two-year absence (which had been no thanks to Marcus Flint's interference). When Albus made his Head Boy and Girl decision over the summer, he couldn't bear the thought of piling more work on Miss Spinnet and Mr. Pucey, even if he knew they could handle it. Chrysanthe Hayden and Kenneth Towler weren't taking as many classes and both had the character he needed with Umbridge and Fudge trying to take control.
Miss Spinnet and Mr. Pucey had character, too... but he also knew that if he'd put them in charge, they would have rebelled against Umbridge at some point during the upcoming year. Alicia could be very diplomatic, certainly... but her Gryffindor-ness manifested in the form of hot-headed honesty when pushed too far, and Adrian was far too much of an opportunist for all he was the very rare, fair-minded Slytherin. They would have certainly found a way to work together despite house rivalries simply to make Umbridge's life hell, and they would have relished the challenge. And while that certainly had a lot of appeal to Albus, it wasn't necessarily right. They had too much on their plates to take on the role of battling Delores Umbridge. Chrysanthe and Kenneth weren't as overloaded and would handle things very differently. Miss Hayden was stubborn to a fault, but fair and diplomatic, and Mr. Towler was as unusual for a Gryffindor as Adrian was unusual for a Slytherin. It didn't mean either were less, just that they weren't the norm for their house. Kenneth was mild-tempered and followed rules, but he also looked out for younger students. Albus needed him for that.
And, truthfully, while watching Miss Spinnet and Mr. Pucey fly around the stadium together in the glow of dawn, laughing and smiling because they believed no one was around to witness them...it only confirmed Albus's thoughts. These two were not enemies — far from it. Had they been Head Boy and Girl, they would have given Umbridge hell in some form or another. It was almost a pity he hadn't given them the duties; it would have been entertaining to watch.
He wondered how long they had been friends. Clearly for a while, because they were obviously comfortable with each other, even if he couldn't hear their conversation. He could see their smiles, their laughter, the way they joked around with each other. It was very unusual for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, though not unheard of.
But when Miss Spinnetsuddenly stopped in midair, right next to the entrance to the stadium, and Mr. Pucey circled back to find out what was wrong, Albus finally caught what they were saying.
"What's wrong?"
"That's what I should be asking. What do you mean, you doubt you'll get to do what you want?"
"I wanted to be an Auror. But, let's face it, the Auror Academy isn't going to be keen on taking Slytherin graduates, now are they?"
Adrian didn't wait for her reply; he went back to the ground and dismounted, his hair windswept and his face pink. Albus wasn't sure if that was from the cold or from blushing. Alicia remained in midair only for a moment before she followed him. He'd waited for her, so clearly they weren't arguing about the issue.
"That's..." She trailed off, clearly struggling to find a word to describe how much the whole thing frustrated her.
"...how the real world works."
"It isn't fair. Pucey — that's not fair —!"
"There's nothing I can do about it. So I'll have to figure something else out."
"But —!"
"Ah, Spinnet, don't worry about it, though I do appreciate it." The smile became more sincere and he rubbed a hand behind his neck. "Thanks for letting me fly with you this morning. I enjoyed catching up. But I probably need to get back to the weight room. See you around, yeah?"
He was gone before she could reply, but Albus saw the faint blush on Alicia's cheeks, too. And it suddenly struck him then that this was more than friendship — these two fancied each other.
It was several minutes after Alicia trudged back to the castle and the sun had risen a bit more before Albus himself moved. Adrian still hadn't returned from the Quidditch locker rooms, but that didn't matter.
They weren't like other Slytherins and Gryffindors he'd known — nothing like Severus and Lily, for instance. Adrian wasn't interested in the Dark Arts; far from it.
Ten minutes later, back in his office on the seventh floor, Albus made up his mind. He pulled out two sheaves of parchment and began to write two letters. Maybe one day, they would come in handy, he thought sadly. Because he rather agreed with Miss Spinnet on this.