A/N: Enjoy!
Title: Just Some Quidditch
Summary: Adrian wants to play Quidditch, but his father is strongly opposed.
Genres: Family, Angst-ish?
Character: Adrian P.
THC - Round 9 - Slytherin
Class: Potions
Category: Drabble
Prompt: [character] Adrian Pucey
WC: 791
Betas: Aya Diefair, CupCakeyyy, Hope, shy-n-great, VanillaAshes
"Quidditch? Absolutely not."
That was what his father said when Adrian asked if he could try out for the Slytherin team. It wasn't exactly the way he'd planned it, but he really wanted Father and Mother to be there, and most days, Mother wasn't. She was in the French Riviera, enjoying an actual summer.
Today, however, they both were present, maybe because the torrential rain had kept Mother home before she could fly away to warmer lands once more. It was during breakfast in the middle of summer.
Despite the weather, this day still could've turned out to be a great one, the day when Father finally agreed to something. Of course, he hadn't. It was Father. When did he agree to anything Adrian suggested?
"But, Father—"
"We're not discussing this, Adrian. My answer is final."
Adrian was more than a little crestfallen. He'd prepared a whole argumentation, of all the pros and cons that Quidditch had. It could help him fit in, form relations, gain social standing, and all sorts of things Father wanted him to be doing already, and that, according to the older man, he was failing miserably at.
"Mother!" He turned to the woman sat in front of him, who looked up from the magazine she was reading, completely oblivious to whatever was happening around her, as usual.
"Yes, darling?"
"Don't ask your mother. I've already said no," Father growled, but Adrian ignored him. Maybe there was some hope in Mother, she was a little more pliable than his father.
"Quidditch, Mother. Can I play for Slytherin next year?" he pleaded.
Mother frowned. "Quidditch? No, Dri-Dri! You could get hurt."
Adrian blushed at the nickname. He hated it when his mother called him that. She was always treating him like a child, but he was already thirteen, for Merlin's sake!
"Mother, Marcus Flint said I'm really good, and it's all perfectly safe—"
"NO!" Father roared, his face completely red.
Adrian shrunk back into his chair, completely shocked by his father's outburst. He didn't usually get angry this quickly. Most times, it took a little more asking, a little more pleading, before his father would snap, but he maybe was in a bad mood today. Now that he thought about it, he really shouldn't have asked now. He should've known.
"Your education comes first, and your grades are pathetic," he told him cruelly.
Adrian nodded his head feebly. The report card had not been good, and while it had been over a month ago, Father still wasn't over it. It had been the biggest telling off he'd ever received.
"Could you pass me the wine bottle, darling?" Mother asked, once again completely oblivious to whatever had happened.
Mother always ignored Father like that. It was as if his bursts of anger meant nothing to her. Adrian didn't really like Mother when she was like that, but that was always how she had always been. Sometimes, it seemed like she couldn't care less about her husband and the way he acted.
Marcus eventually found him on the journey to Hogwarts
Adrian would've expected no less from the Slytherin captain, given how much he had pressured him into asking his parents last year. Though the fact that Marcus had found him within the first thirty minutes of the ride showed just how much he was relying on Adrian.
"Adrian!" the older boy declared as he found his compartment. "You talked to your parents?"
"I did," Adrian confirmed.
"And?"
Adrian smiled. Father had sent him back to school with quite a few Galleons, telling him to buy as many quills and rolls of parchment as needed, and that if he got good grades, more would come. It wasn't a lot, but it would be enough to buy something at least a bit better than the old school brooms. "Of course, I'm in."
Marcus beamed. "Brilliant. Oh, and don't worry about bringing a broom. Our new Seeker's got quite a surprise for us."
Adrian raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. On the contrary, he was glad for the broom. That way he could still buy the school supplies his father wanted him to.
He'd planned everything out: he would play Quidditch as safely as possible. That included playing by the rules, scoring goals, and avoiding every Bludger. Any injury would result in worse than his father's bark. His bite was worse than his bark.
And then, he would try to bring up his grades. Eventually, if he managed, he would show Father that he could handle both. Maybe then Father would agree to Quidditch, see how much good it was for Adrian.
But until then, it would be a little secret, and Adrian was planning on enjoying the most out of it.
