Light Nimbus pt 6

You followed Draco toward the Slytherin changing room on the south side of the pitch. Each house had a changing room tent situated on a different side. Slytherin was on the south side. Gryffindor was as far away as possible, long-ways across the five hundred foot long oval pitch on the north side. Hufflepuff was on the east side closest to the broomshed which left Ravenclaw short-ways across the one hundred eight foot wide pitch on the west.

Quidditch pitches being oriented north-to-south was standard in most official leagues. The main reason was that if a match went on for an extra long time - like over a day - none of the players would be at a disadvantage of playing facing the rising or setting sun.

Draco was looking extra pale. “You alright?” you asked him.

Your skittish roommate eyed you like a shifty weasel… or a shocked prairie dog… maybe even a flighty ferret. “Flint said if you didn’t show up… I’d get the flogging he’s saving for you.”

He was following the Captain’s orders by bringing you to him to face ‘justice’ but at least he warned you about the potential beating ahead of time.

You clapped him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’m here. And I’ll see to it that neither of us gets flogged tonight.”

A wave of tension washed over you as you entered the changing room tent. Everyone stared at you but you fixed your eyes at your surly-looking Captain seated on the far side of the room.

“There you are, Flint!” you chirped, “I found you!”

You mentally adjusted the score: Jones - five, Gaunt - two, and Flint - zero.

“All of you, get out! …’Cept him.” And, of course, Flint’s finger was pointed right at you.

Draco barely entered and thus was the first one out. The rest of the team rushed to escape the Captain’s company.

“Good luck,” Higgs - Flint’s fellow sixth year - warned you, “He’s been stewing all day.”

Flint rose from his seat on the bench once you were alone and trudged towards you. There were a few talon marks on his cheek and his chin. Millicent said there was a debate on whether or not the scratches were an improvement. They were not. He glared at you, but you met his eyes defiantly.

Much like when he made a run at the goal on the pitch, Flint was extremely predictable. You saw his hand clutching at his side and met his eyes… yup, he meant to grab you by the throat and hoist you up into the air. That would be detrimental to your ability to talk your way out of this.

So you stopped him when he was less than ten feet away.

You felt the familiar pulse of magic behind your eyes as you met Flint’s furious gaze and enacted a compulsion. Because **** times call for **** measures. “If you ever want to play professional Quidditch… then Marvolo Gaunt’s Quidditch advice is extremely valuable.”

He stopped. Got him. Score one for Gaunt.

Flint wasn’t an overly intelligent Slytherin. He wasn’t an averagely intelligent Slytherin. He lacked your house’s cunning. He didn’t have any sort of passion for academics and didn’t do well in practical lessons either. The only area he showed any true ambition for was Quidditch. That’s where he employed your house’s signature resourcefulness to win by any means necessary. And now you knew why. Marcus Flint had dreams of playing professional Quidditch. Your compulsion wouldn’t have worked otherwise.

“Let me guess… Falmouth Falcons?”

He nodded. It figured. They were known for their rough style of play which Flint’s roughneck playstyle was practically modeled after.

“Yes. I shared my way around the first year broom rule with the rest of the school and advised the other teams to bring in more reserves. It was a gesture of goodwill. And it paid off. Because despite Professor Snape, Potter, and Malfoy speaking in my defense and Professor McGonagall apologising… there was still some lingering doubt over whether or not I did it to get ahead. I know you even briefly entertained the idea. But after breakfast… those doubters have concluded that I didn’t poison Bletchley… and because of that gesture of goodwill we’re now riding on a wave of positive support for a change.”

Time to make it more relatable. “You’ve been to Quidditch matches. I don’t need to tell you how much of a difference fan support can make. That’s the whole point of a home pitch advantage in professional league and cup matches. So now… instead of having three-quarters of the school booing us for being cheating scumbags who stab each other in the back… we’ll have half the school cheering for us as we come from behind and snatch first place away from the birds. How many times have you cheered for the Falcons to have a come-from-behind victory?” The Falcons resorted to their rough tactics because… well… they generally weren’t very good and used roughness to compensate. “WE can be that team. You won’t be playing like a Slytherin. You’ll be playing like a Falcon! That’s the dream, isn’t it?”

For a fleeting moment, Flint forgot himself and nodded. Got him again. Score two for Gaunt! But then he remembered his stewing anger and glared. “You still made the other teams stronger!”

“Haven’t you heard the saying ‘iron sharpens iron’?” you countered, “Stronger competition makes us look stronger when we beat them!” You decided to goad him a little, “First years are the ones who are going to be taking advantage of the broom rule. And not all of them are going to be natural flyers like Potter. You’re not scared of untrained first years, are you?”

“NO!” he snapped.

“Don’t forget,” you reminded him, “After tomorrow, the season will be half over and they’ll be bringing in fresh rookie players who’ll need to be trained up before they’re ready to play a match. You’re the one who was ahead of the curve and was smart enough to see how useful it is to have extra players at practice. Your reserves have been training all season! You’ve had me and Draco attending every practice since the winter term began! And tomorrow that’ll pay off! What were your biggest complaints about me during tryouts? It wasn’t my Keeping. Because I managed two shutouts. Your first complaint was my lack of a broom.” You paused and held up the Nimbus Two Thousand. “Problem solved. You also said you wanted a Keeper who can take a hit. And since then I have taken hits. From you. No one on the Ravenclaw team is going to hit me as hard as you can!”

He nodded to acknowledge your point. Another point for Gaunt! Marcus Flint wasn’t the fastest or the most skilled player in the Hogwarts Inter-House Quidditch League, but he was the strongest and the meanest.

“Tomorrow, I want the same thing you want. A shutout victory against Ravenclaw. That’s your plan, right? Keep Parkin from catching the Snitch by whatever means necessary, and in the meantime, you run up the score against Fawley while I stop Mateo and the boys and keep the Ravenclaw score at zero. That kind of one-sided win will launch us from last place all the way to first. After all this drama… I have to prove myself on the pitch now more than ever. But to do that… I’ll need to do what no Hogwarts Keeper has done before and shutout Jessica Mateo. That’s where I’ll need your help tonight because I can’t do that without a working counter for Mateo’s signature corkscrew maneuver. Like her or not, her five goals on top of Parkin’s catch are why Ravenclaw’s in first place.”

“I already have a counter,” Flint insisted, “Ram into her. She’s right-handed. So I’ll aim for the right side so I can weaken her throwing arm.”

How savage.

“Okay…” you accepted his strategy as one viable option, “But you and I are both hoping for a long, drawn-out match where we can run up the score. What happens if she’s already at mid-pitch when she gets the Quaffle and you’re still down by the Ravenclaw goal? She’s on a Comet Two-Sixty. She’s fast. From that far behind, you won’t be able to catch up to ram her. She’ll start spinning and it’ll be up to me to block her. OR what happens if you do ram into her… and Madam Hooch calls a foul for Blatching? Then she’ll have plenty of space and time to make her shot and I’ll be defending against her all alone. If you want that shutout victory… then I’m going to need practice blocking that trick shot of hers. No offense, big guy, but I don’t think you could pull that one off. Can you set Warrington and Pucey up against me?”

Based on what you learned about the corkscrew at lunch… you didn’t think they could either. But that was the point. All part of the plan.

“Fine,” Flint grunted his agreement. “It’s the last practice before the match and to get that shutout… you’re gonna need all the help you can get.”

You grinned. Got him again. Score four for Gaunt! A shutout victory.

Maybe you got too cocky… because then you pointed out the gashes on his cheek and chin. “Did my owl make those?”

He glared.

“Brave little bird,” you remarked, “Four pound owl taking on…” You looked him up and down. He was over six feet tall. Six three maybe? A full foot taller than you. “You’re what? Fourteen stone? Gotta admit that took guts. He could be a Falcon.” As the recipient of said ‘Falcon attack’, Flint didn’t look like he agreed and he began advancing on you again. He was back to the idea of giving you a flogging. You realised where you’d gone wrong. Commenting on his face wasn’t the extremely valuable Quidditch advice your defensive compulsion compelled him to listen to. “If I might offer a small suggestion as a form of apology for my owl’s behavior…” Romeo had nothing to apologise for. He was a very good boy. “…perhaps you might consider covering the gashes with some face paint? Make yourself up like a Viking raider and scare that crap out of the Ravenclaws.” Now he looked interested. “That’s why the **** Eaters wore masks, right? Not just to hide their identity but to scare their victims. Those bone white skulls still terrify people. If you do it well enough… and put some fear into Fawley… it’ll make it easier to score.”

Flint’s ugly grin actually scared you. “That’s not a bad idea…”

“Sorry, Fawley,” you mentally apologised. You had absolutely no ulterior motive for setting Flint on the Ravenclaw Keeper. Nope. None. Zilch. Gemma was the one with the grudge, not you. Flint was going after her anyway. And if his makeup job was done properly menacingly and gave him an extra edge… then good for him and Slytherin. On the ground, the scope of Fawley’s influence was terrifying… but in the air… she was mortal and much less impressive.

You followed Flint out of the tent and found the rest of the team loitering outside. Most likely eavesdropping. That was fine. You hadn’t said anything incriminating. They hadn’t seen anything so you were safe. And now you wouldn’t have to explain a half-a-dozen times how you weaseled your way out of your flogging.

“Enough standing around,” Flint started barking orders, “Pucey, Warrington, you’re going to take turns doing Mateo’s corkscrew against Gaunt. If we wanna win tomorrow… then he needs to be able to block it.”

The team hurried off to the pitch but Draco hung back beside you.

“How did you do that?” it seems you were still going to have to explain yourself anyway.

“There’s a trick to being properly persuasive,” you informed him, “You have to be able to understand what the person you’re persuading wants. And then convince them that what they want is the same thing that what you want. Flint and I might not be on the same page, but at least now we’re in the same chapter of the same book.”

A more reasonable Captain Flint was to the benefit of the whole team.

“I’m good at reading people,” you continued, “I think that helps me perform well as a Keeper. I read people’s intent and I can anticipate what they’re going to do and that gives me a precious few fractions of a second more to prevent it.” You paused for a beat and turned it back to him, “You could try that with Higgs. You know he likes throwing elbows. Read his body language, sneak glances at his arm, and try to anticipate when he’s going to lash out so you can avoid it.”

“So you can predict everyone?”

“Not everyone,” you replied, “Jones has proven to be hard to anticipate. I knew she was coming after me… but she still caught me off guard quite a few times today. Perhaps being a wildcard is part of her appeal?”

“More like mental,” he muttered. You sent him a warning glare.

You were stepping onto the pitch when he asked, “Why’d you call yourself ‘Marvolo Gaunt?’”

He had been listening closely. Likely not to intervene, but maybe to report back what Flint had done to you to other interested parties.

“That’s my name, Draco,” you reminded him. He was someone else you used your compulsion on so you needed to tread carefully.

“Not like that, you loony!” he snapped in annoyance. “When you told him to follow your advice… you referred to yourself in the third person… as Marvolo Gaunt. You make Gaunt puns all the time, but you rarely refer to yourself by your full name. Only when you’re being especially dramatic.”

“And that situation called for being dramatic,” you stated. “You know better than anyone that names have power in our society, Draco Malfoy. Had I said ‘my’.... he would’ve only seen me as the annoying first year he wanted to flog. But by using my full name it added that extra bit of emphasis needed to catch his attention and remind him who I am. Now if he repeats it to himself… the third person will help it stick.”

“I hope you realise how obscenely luc—”

Your hand flashed out and you hastily covered his mouth. “SSHH!” you hissed. “Don’t jinx it! What’s the matter with you? Drawing attention to a Quidditch player on a hot streak could be disastrous! If there is something at play… it would be in our best interest that it continues into the match tomorrow… right?” He nodded. “Then let’s avoid acknowledging it until it ends. A troll came into a bathroom I was in, a broom was jinxed during our last match, someone at our table got poisoned, and I was falsely accused of doing it! Who knows what could happen if things swing the other way!? Don’t tempt Fate!”

You removed your hand but his eyes were extra wide. It looked like you spooked him.

Hhmm… you pondered something that would snap him out of it. Ah!

“And don’t make me do that again, Draco!” you chided him, “I have it on very dubious authority that girls imagine the two of us snogging.”

“WHAT!?” he shrieked. Got him. Score another point for Gaunt! “Stay away from me!”

After that, practice proceeded as you hoped… in that Warrington and Pucey repeatedly failed to perform the Mateo Corkscrew. It wasn’t really their fault. She trained long and hard to pull that maneuver off with the skill and accuracy she did. Your Chasers were being put on the spot and **** to learn it in less than fifteen minutes with Flint looking on from the foul line outside the scoring area and getting angrier and angrier with every miss.

Warrington, despite being a year younger, was the bigger of the two. He couldn’t tuck his tall, lanky body in enough to perform a properly balanced corkscrew. His shots didn’t come anywhere close to the hoops. Most of the time you didn’t even need to move to block.

Pucey was the more skilled and experienced player and flyer. He was used to throwing the Quaffle in a spinning spiral for his signature curving trick shot. But that required precise aim... and it was hard to aim when you were spinning upside-down if you weren’t used to it.

You swooped down and caught the Quaffle that would’ve just missed the bottom rim of the right hoop then flew over to a fuming Flint.

“This isn’t working,” you pointed out the obvious, “But I’ve got an idea to salvage things.”

Time to enact Plan G.

You flew across the pitch and landed near Gemma who was seated in her usual spot in the front row of the Slytherin tower. With Bletchley absent, you were able to take up residence in front of the nearby south-facing hoops so she had a perfect view of the sloppy Slytherin shitshow.

“Enjoying yourself?” you inquired.

She smirked, “Glad I got my own private preview of this dysfunction.”

“Great, because you’re up.” You tossed her the Quaffle and she stared at you with wide shocked sapphire eyes. “I watched you perform multiple corkscrews at lunch. And knowing you, I wager you’ve practiced Mateo’s signature move on your own… just to prove that you could do it too.” You grinned, “Gemma Farley… it’s time for your long-awaited Quidditch tryout.”

“I… what!?” she sputtered as her face began turning red. You’d caught her completely off guard.

You smiled fondly at her, “This is the opportunity you should’ve gotten a long time ago. This is your moment. Seize it. Now’s your chance to show those meatheads why that plucky second year should’ve made the Slytherin team three-and-a-half years ago!”

Were those tears in her eyes? Oh, Merlin! You’d broken her! “I… but… I’m still not wearing a bra!”

You shook your head with a mirthful grin. She really was out-of-sorts. “You’re a witch, aren’t you? Use your wand, woman! Stick them in place with magic!” You side-stepped to stand in front of her. “I’ll block for you.”

The frazzled fifth year drew her wand and pointed it at her heart. “Immobulus!” A pale blue icy light washed over her chest as a cone-shaped wave and - based on the incantation - rendered her large Quaffles immobile.

She stood - with her bra-less breasts remaining perfectly in place - and you handed her the Nimbus Two Thousand. “I’ll leave you to take a few runs at the empty goal so you can make the best impression possible. In the meantime, I’ll be talking you up to Flint.” You leaned to the side and picked up the Cleansweep she ‘conveniently’ brought up to the stands with her… as you requested.

The dots connected in Gemma’s recovering mind, “Did you… plan this!?”

You smiled wide and adoringly, “My fair Farley… I told you I was on your side.” Her beautiful sapphire eyes were a swirling cerulean storm of mixed emotions. You knew how much this opportunity meant to her. It was almost like she was that plucky second year again. “I’m doing what you asked… and I’m paying it forward… now get up there and make me proud!”

Both of you mounted your respective brooms. Gemma flew to mid-pitch with the Quaffle while you swung behind the hoops and came around to float beside Flint.

“She taught me to do a corkscrew while we were breaking in the Nimbus at lunch,” you explained. “Obviously, I can’t perform a Mateo Corkscrew against myself, but I have a hunch that she’ll be able to pull this off.”

And she did. Gemma soared across the pitch in a corkscrew, it wasn’t quite as tight as Mateo’s - she explained the issue with her larger chest size keeping her from getting as low - but the Nimbus Two Thousand gave her all the speed she needed to execute it and she sent the Quaffle sailing through the middle-height left hoop on her right. It was a little close to the edge but it went in.

Wait a tick… that would be a good thing in a match. The defending Keeper (you) would need to reach farther to block a shot at the far edge of the hoop.

Gemma Farley proved she could do something that all three of your team’s Chasers couldn’t.

“Do it again, Farley!” you called out as she dove to retrieve the Quaffle. “This time upside-down!”

You and Flint… and a number of your teammates… all watched as Gemma brought the Quaffle back out to mid-pitch and flew at the Slytherin scoring area. She spun into another tight spiral and flung the Quaffle while she was halfway through a rotation and still upside-down. She scored again and the Quaffle sailed through the low right hoop on her right side since she was inverted and upside-down. So far both shots were on the same side as her throwing arm.

“You know…” you carefully broached a sensitive subject while Gemma retrieved the Quaffle again without being asked. “She’d make a good Reserve Chaser.”

“No girls on the team!” Flint snapped.

“You sure?” you pressed him. “Because while Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and maybe Ravenclaw bring in untrained rookie reserves… we’ll have one who can do that.” The Quaffle spun through the right hoop again. This time while she was right-side-up. A crossbody shot. “I’d say we still have the advantage. She’s going to be here anyway to loan me her broom. And she’s got this spare broom too. The practical thing to do would be to make use of her.”

Flint growled at you. You knew your point registered… but he was notoriously stubborn and not very practical. Pucey and Warrington flew over and hovered above you to listen in while Gemma continued her wondrous one-woman-show.

A loose upside-down crossbody shot sent the Quaffle through the left hoop now on her left side.

You noted that she made goals on both side hoops both upside-down and right-side-up. Also, her shots were getting more accurate now that she was getting used to throwing out of a spiral.

“Look at it this way,” you persisted, “All the other teams have witches on them. Three Gryffindor Chasers, two on Hufflepuff, and one on Ravenclaw. That’s half of the twelve Starting Chasers from last November. I can’t be the only one who sees the benefit of practicing against someone roughly the same size and shape as the six-of-nine, two-third majority of the Chasers we’ll be facing.”

You looked over at Bode as he floated closer. “Bode! Farley’s Jessica Mateo. Hit a Bludger at her when she takes her next run.”

The Beater - wisely - didn’t follow your instruction and looked to the Captain for approval.

“Do it,” Flint ordered.

And so, when Gemma took her next run and went into another spiral, her yearmate Lucian Bode smashed a Bludger at her. She took it in stride and dipped under it while she was upside-down and let it sail over her. Another rotation later she did a loose upside-down crossbody shot and threw the Quaffle up through the bottom of the middle-height left hoop.

“Hhmm…” you mused to yourself. Thanks to your up-close view of Gemma’s five corkscrew shots, you were starting to notice a pattern in her pre-shot body language.

“And here’s why I think it should be that witch,” you continued, “If she can pull off Mateo’s signature maneuver… then she’s probably written an entire book on how to pick apart Applebee and Macavoy’s tandem offense. I’ve only been here one full term and I know how much of a grudge she has against Applebee. Most of you lot have been here long enough to see the full rivalry play out before your eyes. So if anyone in Hogwarts wants to see Slytherin crush and humiliate Hufflepuff in the cup finals more than you, Flint… it’s her.”

“Look out!” Pucey called out as the loose Bludger swung back around to barreled towards your cluster of stationary floating players.

Everyone scattered, with you diving down underneath the flying cannonball. There was a crack from overhead as Derrick smashed it with his bat and sent it flying back toward Gemma. She weaved around it, launched into another corkscrew, threw with a tight arm, and made another goal through the left hoop.

The pattern persisted.

You floated back up to hover near Flint, “Speaking of reserves… does your mate Burke still have his broom at Hogwarts?”

Flint blinked in surprise at the sudden change, “No…”

“Well, maybe convince him to bring it back over Easter holidays?” you suggested, “He… wasn’t a great Chaser… but he’s strong. He might make a fair Reserve Beater. He’s also someone you’ve known for years who will do anything you tell him. I’m not suggesting you need to replace anyone… but I can do basic pattern recognition… Potter’s broom got jinxed during our match against Gryffindor in November. And now Bletchley’s been poisoned ahead of our match against Ravenclaw. The culprit still hasn’t been caught and we don’t know their true motivations. Do you want to risk going into the finals against Hufflepuff down a Chaser or a Beater? With Burke and Farley on the team as reserves we’ll have a spare player for every position. When Bletchley gets back we’ll have enough players to play a scrimmage match against each other.” You paused and pointedly looked up at Pucey and Warrington until Flint followed your gaze, “Wait a tick…we could do that now… we’ve got a Mateo… they could serve as Davies and Stretton stand-ins. I could practice defending against a full fake-Ravenclaw Chaser line… and you could practice breaking up their passes and try your counter to Mateo’s Corkscrew.”

Flint didn’t acknowledge recruiting Gemma as a Reserve Chaser, but adding Burke as a potential Reserve Beater would make the idea of bringing in extra players easier for him to swallow. However, he smiled at the prospect of a ‘practice match’ and definitely saw the value of doing that the night before the big match.

Flint started barking orders, “Pucey! Warrington! You’re with Farley. Gaunt and I are defending. Bode, you’re Slytherin. Derrick, you’re on their side.” He raised his voice to shout up at the two Seekers who were still scouring the pitch for the Snitch after all this time, “HIGGS! You’re Slytherin. Malfoy, you’re Parkin!”

“I can loan him the Nimbus later if you really want him to be a Parkin stand-in,” you offered.

That also seemed to appeal to him.

“So is Gaunt calling the practice now!?” Warrington blurted out.

IDIOT! Maybe he was suspicious of your new ‘hold’ over Flint? Maybe he was wary of potentially losing his spot? (Despite loudly stating your plan for making use of all your extra players.) The look of building fury on Flint’s face told you he was preparing to **** you and Warrington for the sake of being thorough.

“I mean…” Warrington sputtered and realised his mistake when he saw Flint’s expression.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you hastily objected, “You all know by now that I’ve got a big mouth. Flint’s allowing me to prattle on. If he wanted to shut me up… he’d cob me in the face. I’m running my mouth and spewing out random ideas. Flint’s Captain. He decides if they’re worth anything.”

That seemed to appease Flint. At least far as you were concerned.

“GET TO IT!” Captain Flint roared and you all scattered.

You made use of the Cleansweep’s acceleration and flew by Gemma to catch her up on ‘Flint’s’ new practice plan. “Your tryout’s still ongoing. You’ve impressed so far and Flint hasn’t outright rejected the prospect of you on the team. But now you need to prove you can play as a member of the Chaser line, so you’re Mateo… Pucey’s Davies… Warrington’s Stretton. Flint and I are defending Slytherins. Derreck and Malfoy are on your side. Bode and Higgs are on mine.”

“Kind of lopsided,” she remarked.

“We’re working with what we have,” you pointed out, “Your side doesn’t have a Keeper. If you want Flint in a good - agreeable - mood… let him score on those empty Ravenclaw hoops a few times.”

You avoided Flint’s fury, but he was still sore at Warrington. Your defender’s default way to break up the opposing Chaser line’s offensive maneuvers was to smash into the unfortunate third year who dared to question his leadership. There was no referee so that meant there was no one to call a foul. And if Warrington tried calling his own fouls… Flint would think him weak. He just had to take it. Not the best thing to happen to one of your Starting Chasers when you have a match tomorrow. Maybe you’d give him one of your extra vials of bruise remover after practice ended? With Flint on your side, you wouldn’t need it.

Flint didn’t always recover the Quaffle so Pucey and Farely made use of their numbers to swarm the area and avoid a turnover. Warrington’s (very ****) job became to ‘take one for the team’ and lob the Quaffle towards one of his teammates right before Flint rammed into him. When the other two Chasers came at you for a normal shot you were good at reading their intended target and used the Cleansweep’s quick acceleration to block or intercept.

It was when Flint did recover the Quaffle after body checking Warrington that things got interesting. He’d take off across the pitch towards the opposing goal. And since he didn’t have anyone to pass to… the largest player on the pitch made himself a human battering ram as he charged across. When someone flew to intercept… he rammed into them. Pucey and Farley didn’t seem to like that as your savage captain kept aiming for the side with their throwing arm whenever he could. So after the first couple of tries… they started letting him through to score on their empty goal then recovered the Quaffle once it went through the hoops. Or they relied on their Beater Derreck to smash Flint with the lone Bludger and knock the Quaffle loose.

One of the owl scratches on his cheek came open during the roughhousing and blood started to run down his face. It wasn’t face paint, but the extra-aggressive, bleeding Flint was pretty scary.

Whoever recovered the Quaffle would make use of their three-on-one advantage and pass the Quaffle off to the other. The second Chaser would often shuffle the Quaffle to Warrington who was closest to you… but with the beating Flint was laying on him… he wasn’t doing too well. He wasn’t throwing anywhere near his full strength and speed. His usual tactic of feinting for one hoop and then actually aiming at the one of the opposite side worked when you were on a Shooting Star… but now you were armed with Cleansweep Seven that excelled at acceleration and you were easily able to block and catch all his shots.

So far it was the one-sided shutout Flint wanted. You hadn’t let anything in and he’d scored multiple times on the empty ‘Ravenclaw’ hoops.

Gemma attempted her first Mateo Corkscrew when Pucey recovered the Quaffle and lobbed it to her at mid-pitch.

“Those two are working really well together,” you noted.

Farley came at you and started spinning. And now that you were facing her head-on you made a point to study her form. Not her chest. Her braless breasts were still frozen in place despite all her high-speed spinning. No, your focus was on her throwing arm because - from what you observed on the sidelines - that was the tell.

As she came out of her last spin, her arm was loose.

“Crossbody,” you deduced. You shot to the right and caught the Quaffle in front of the hoop.

You grinned at her surprised expression, “I figured it out.”

Flint and Pucey came rushing over to your side of the pitch. Usually after a catch, you’d throw the Quaffle back to Flint and one of the others would try to intercept. But in this case, you reached back and stuck your hand with the Quaffle into the hoop behind you.

“FOUL!” you called on yourself. “Flacking!” Flint had called you out on that when you tried performing a slingshot maneuver during a previous practice. A Keeper couldn’t put any part of his anatomy through the hoop to knock the Quaffle out. They had to stop it before it went in. “Penalty Ravenclaw.” You lobbed the Quaffle back to Gemma with an underhand throw.

Pucey and Warrington hovered together on the right side of the scoring area. Flint, thankfully, realised what you were doing and came over to hover opposite them on the left. You floated below the high middle hoop while Farley took the Quaffle to the mid-pitch for her penalty shot. She knew she was expected to do another corkscrew and she didn’t disappoint.

You studied her right arm as she spun. It was still tight at her side when she ended her last rotation halfway through and upside-down.

“Same side. Inverted target.” Right-side-up the right-handed thrower would aim for the left hoop on her right. But upside down she was inverted and thus aiming for the right hoop again.

You dove for the low hoop and caught the Quaffle again.

“Third time’s the charm!” you called out and tossed it back to her.

Your mistake was not instigating another foul and calling for a penalty.

When Gemma started spinning and came in for her third corkscrew attempt against you… Flint decided it was time to try HIS corkscrew counter and shot forward from his position on your left and crashed FULL **** into the spinning witch’s right side as she reached the edge of the scoring area.

You winced. Flint was wearing pads to absorb some of the **** from the high-speed collision. Gemma was wearing trousers, the top half of her school uniform, and a winter cloak. She had no pads - she wasn’t even wearing a bra - so she felt the full impact of the crash as the eight-inch-taller, eighty-pound-heavier wizard smashed into her and sent her flying clear off her broom and crashing down to the pitch.

“FOUL!” you called out as Flint recovered the Quaffle. “BLATCHING!”

Pucey acted quickly and recovered his ‘teammate’s’ loose Nimbus while Flint chucked the Quaffle at your face. You caught it on reflex, but kept your eyes on the witch lying in the sand at the edge of the scoring area below you.

“Come on, Gemma!” you urged her. “Get up!” You’d taken hits like this from Flint so you knew the pain she was in, but she had to endure it. Quidditch was a rough game. If she couldn’t tough it out, then it would justify Flint’s refusal to have girls on the team. “Flint wants his players to be able to take a hit.”

Slowly, the lone witch on the pitch staggered back to her feet. Pucey flew down and offered her the Nimbus Two Thousand back. She grimaced as she climbed on it and flew back up in the air. Her right arm looked a little wonky, which - you realised - was Flint’s intended target.

“Atta girl, Gemma!” you mentally cheered as you tossed her the Quaffle so she could take her penalty shot, “If playing Quidditch is your dream… then you’ve gotta keep fighting for it.”

Gemma took the Quaffle back out to mid-pitch and came again. You were half-tempted to let her score on this one to make her look better… but you could tell she was flying visibly slower as she started spinning for her fourth corkscrew attempt against you. Flint was paying attention. Sandbagging for Gemma would be too obvious. What was important was that she went through with it, made the throw, showed her grit, and didn’t quit after taking a hard hit.

You shot to the left as she threw with her weakened right arm at the hoop on her right… you also flew forward to catch the Quaffle early before Flint realised it would’ve missed the rim.

“CATCH!” Higgs shouted as he flew by with the Snitch in his hand.

So ended the 1994 Slytherin Quidditch team’s first notably un-friendly practice match.

It was a one-sided shutout.

The result made Flint incredibly happy.

As everyone landed, you pulled a vial of full-strength Topical Bruise Remover from your boot and brought it to Gemma. She needed it. Her hair was a mess, there were grains of sand on her face, neck, and clothes, her right arm was hanging stiffly at her side, and she was hiding her physical pain behind a grumpy scowl.

“This is Slytherin Quidditch,” you reminded her, “Hang in there. You’re doing well.” You slipped her the vial of purple potion. “He’s going to make us run a lap to end practice and you’re still being judged. Apply that in the changing room so you can put on a good performance. I’ll loan the Nimbus to Malfoy in the meantime.”

You flew over to Flint to cause a distraction and make a nuisance of yourself while Farley slipped off to tend to her battle wounds. You held up the Nimbus Two Thousand. “Wanna let the Snitch loose again? I think we’ve got the Chasing and Keeping sorted. Now we need to focus on the Seeking. If Parkin catches the Snitch early before we can fully run up the score… not only would we lose the match despite a perfect performance on your and my part… but then we’re in BIG trouble with the standings. They’ll be at three-fifty and we’ll be - at most - two hundred. Definitely not the scores we want going into the finals. Ideally, we want those scores inverted with them still at two hundred and us close to four hundred. Until we get ahead like you want… Higgs’ job shouldn’t be to catch the Snitch himself, but to prevent Parkin from getting it.”

“Malfoy! Get over here!” Flint ordered. “Round two!”

Draco jogged over after leaving his Shooting Star leaning in the broom rack. You presented him the Nimbus Two Thousand with both hands. “Brand new broom. Don’t scratch it.”

He mounted and flew off. Flint had some words with Higgs, then let the Snitch loose and sent the two Seekers after it again. However, it quickly became apparent that Draco wasn’t so much looking for the Snitch as he was enjoying riding a quality broom for a change. He was good on it too. It was once he started looking that Higgs started going after him.

Maybe he took your advice on reading his opponent? Maybe it was having a fast, responsive broom? Maybe it was his unhindered flying skills? But Draco managed to avoid most of Higgs’ usual ‘cobbing’ offense and his frequent bodychecks.

You floated over to Flint on the Cleansweep and watched Draco duck under the much larger sixth year and swoop under him. “Now we’ve got a proper Parkin at practice.” You paused then offered your broomstick analysis. “So I tested both the Cleansweep Seven - which Higgs is on - and the Nimbus Two Thousand at lunch… and here’s what I noticed: the Cleansweep has superior acceleration. If the Snitch is nearby and they’re both an equal distance away… Higgs will reach his top speed first and has a chance to get it first. However… if the Snitch makes a break for it and they both have to give chase… that’s where the top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousands’ greater speed comes into play. Parkin will overtake him in a matter of seconds and from there it’s her chase to lose. In that scenario… our best bet is to slow her down - wich Higgs is doing - by keeping up the pressure and forcing him to change direction to avoid him.”

Flint grunted and went to coordinate Bode and Derrick. They released the second Bludger and BOTH Beaters AND Higgs targeted Malfoy. During the actual match there would be an opposing pair of Beaters to concern yourself with but at least your Beaters were getting practice going after a fast-moving target akin to Skye Parkin.

You spotted Gemma slipping back onto the pitch and flew over to Pucey and Warrington.

“I come bearing gifts,” you announced to the two Starting Chasers as you removed a vial of Topical Bruise Remover from each of your boots. “This one’s full strength and works best on deep bruises.” You handed that one to Warrington. He needed it even more than Gemma. “This one’s my own custom remedy that is meant to be fast-acting.” You handed that one to Pucey.

You would need to wake up early tomorrow morning and brew a new batch.

The - understandably - twitchy Warrington looked up in alarm and called out, “FLINT!”

“I’ll handle it,” you volunteered. “Go apply that.”

The Chasers hurried off while you were left with the role of ‘taking one for the team’ and flew up to meet Flint who had caught you giving two of his Chasers bruise remover.

You led off with, “You want them at full strength for the match tomorrow, don’t you? Your plan is to beat and wear down the Ravenclaws… not our team, right? Sending our Chasers into the match banged up starts us off at a disadvantage.”

He didn’t throttle you, so that was a good sign.

You reached into your boot, pulled out your last vial, and offered it to him. “Want it? You got hit as many times as the other three put together.” Because he was doing all the hitting. “You hit me so many times last term that I developed my own custom variation of the usual recipe. I call this one Lightning Bruise Remover. It’s fast-acting and clears up bruises in a fraction of the usual time. A small one would only need a few seconds. A larger bruise would probably take a minute. The catch… is that there may still be some lingering soreness on the deeper bruises, so you keep a reminder of the lesson that came with the bruise, but not the bruise itself.” You shrugged and appealed to your pureblood audience, “What are we, muggles? If we have magic to heal ourselves with… then why not use it? Especially with an extremely important match tomorrow.”

He took it and stuffed the vial into the top of his long Chaser glove. He still had a practice to run and had too much pride to admit when he was hurting.

Speaking of manly pride…

“Oh! A random idea just popped into my head!” you announced, then looked over at Gemma who was watching Malfoy get triple teamed on her Nimbus Two Thousand. “Another useful thing about having a witch on the team. If you’re serious about using face paint… she could probably help you apply it and make sure it looks good.”

“What do you take me for!?” he demanded. Face paint wasn’t Quidditch related.

“A strong, tough wizard who has never used makeup in his life,” you stated, then pointed over at Gemma. “She has. Face paint is different, but it’s applied the same way. Tomorrow morning you have four options… Option one: Apply it yourself and risk it not coming out well ‘cause you’ve never done it before. Option two: Ask Burke or Higgs to help you out… but I’d wager they’re similarly inexperienced at applying makeup. Option three: Forgo paint entirely and smear more blood on your face in the hopes that maybe that will intimidate Fawley. Or… Option Four: Go to a witch who’s used to using makeup, knows what she’s doing, and can help you come up with a design that will look scary and badass. And if you want someone who can come up with a design that’ll intimidate Fawley…” you pointed over at Gemma, “It’s that witch. Plus, she’s probably got the quality stuff that will stay dry when you start sweating and won’t run down your forehead into your eyes while you’re playing. That seems important.”

He nodded and gave Farley a brief look. It was working! You were winning him over!

You pressed the aspiring Quidditch player button, “Who knows? If it looks good… painting your face for a match and making yourself up like a terrifying monster could win you some fans who look forward to seeing what you do for each match. And it wouldn’t be a Slytherin thing. It’d be a Marcus Flint thing. Something you could take with you when you graduate and go pro. Imagine playing for the Falcons and painting your face to look like a screeching bird of prey. My owl showed you today those are nothing to scoff at. Probably not the best idea when we’re playing Ravenclaw tomorrow… but an idea for the future.”

Flint lowered his voice, “You really think I can make it?”

Whoa! He was actually asking you!? Well, he was a sixth year… this was when Hogwarts students needed to get serious about their career aspirations.

“An aspiring violent Quidditch player is better than an aspiring violent **** Eater.”

“Of course!” you chirped, “If there’s one thing I know about you… it’s that you're dedicated to Quidditch above all else. The whole school knows that. I doubt the professors are too pleased about it, but no one will argue that you’re not dedicated to your craft. The trick is - and I’m sure even Keaton Flitney from the Falcons will tell you - it’s not always a matter of how strong you are or how hard you can hit… sometimes, it’s the angle you hit from that makes the difference. Take what happened during our practice match; you hit Pucey, Farley, and Warrington a dozen times each. In fact, I think you got Cassius closer to two dozen. So that’s four dozen crashes. But it was the one time when you sped toward Farley at the right speed and at the right angle that you knocked her clear off her broom. That ended up being the hardest, most solid hit you landed all night.” You paused for a beat so Flint could remember that Gemma Farley - the girl - got up from that extremely hard hit. “That’s the extra strategic element you need if you want to go pro. You just need the extra tiny bit of direction to get you where you want to be. And I’m happy to help with it because, while you’re here, it makes for a stronger Slytherin team. If Quidditch was about one player succeeding on their own then there wouldn’t be seven players on a team.”

Speaking of teamwork, the three-on-one harassment of Draco Malfoy ended when Higgs broke off after the Snitch. Draco tried to follow him but Bode and Derrick each had a Bludger to hit at him and slow him down which was why Higgs once again beat Malfoy to the Snitch… even with the Reserve Seeker riding the Nimbus Two Thousand.

“I doubt even Skye Parkin could’ve done much better against that,” you remarked.

Flint’s triumphant grin told you that was the point.

“Draco’s going to be sore about this one.” You flew over to your sulking and exhausted roommate to cheer him up. “Don’t take it personally. This wasn’t about beating you. It was about beating Skye Parkin tomorrow. You played the part perfectly and I made sure Flint knows that. Your loss here tonight was to the benefit of the team. Same as when Flint and I shutout Pucey, Farley, and Warrington. Establishing a strong defense so we can keep the match going long and run up the score is how we climb the rankings.”

The balls were wrangled and stuffed back in the chest and everyone’s broom was placed on the broom rack for the traditional end-of-practice run..

“Do a lap ‘round the pitch!” Flint ordered, then pointed at Gemma, “You too. Don’t come in last.”

Pucey and Warrington’s bruises were healed and they wanted to get back in the Captain’s good graces after he spent a good chunk of practice clobbering them so they ran hard and were off to a fast lead. Flint, Bode, and Derrick were powerhouses and lagged behind everyone else. The two Beaters had been working Malfoy over pretty hard so they were competing with Flint to avoid last place. Higgs would normally be up at the front fighting for first, but he and Draco were tired after their two previous races and were both pushing for a middle of the pack finish. This left you competing with Gemma for third/fourth place. This being Gemma’s first practice, you set a fast pace and pushed to make sure the two lead Chasers remained within forty feet of you.

“Does Flint normally let you natter on like that?” Gemma asked.

“No, but today I’m actively pushing for things,” you replied. “The fact that he told you to run with us means it’s working. Finish strong. You’ve got this.” You realised you still needed to warn her about the face painting. “Also… I might have sold Flint on decorating his face with war paint to cover the owl scratches. I pointed out you have the most makeup experience on the pitch.”

“What makes you think I want to be anywhere near Flint’s face?”

“To gain standing with the Team Captain?” you offered. “It’s a unique skill you have that the rest of us blokes don’t. But that’s me assuming. Maybe Pucey’s an aspiring artist? Do you want him to have his opportunity instead?”

“Hgn,” she grunted and didn’t seem overly happy about her close encounter of the Flint kind but she saw that doing it would be helpful to her goals.

“He’ll be looking for something scary and intimidating,” you added, “Like a monster maybe? And I told him to go to you - instead of another witch - because you’d be able to come up with something that might spook Fawley when she sees it charging across the pitch at her.”

She grinned, “You should’ve led off with that.”

“Just make sure to use the right kind of paint,” you advised, “The non-smudge kind you threatened me with at the return feast. Can’t have it running into his eyes when he starts sweating during the match. Then your face painting efforts would work against you.”

Gemma jostled you aside to take the inside ‘lane’ as you approached the final turn before the home stretch. This meant you had to run harder to keep pace with her.

“Oi! Sand-witch!” you teased her, “Enjoy your nap on the beach? I’ve been there before. Got any sand on you still?”

“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed, “I’m a witch. I brushed the sand off with magic.”

“Sure… but it tends to get everywhere,” you kept up the banter as you pushed to pass her on the outside ‘lane’. “Might be some under your clothes. I recommend a long hot shower.”

“Want me to think of you while I’m in there?”

“GAAHH!” you shrieked in surprise. The mental image of a naked Gemma ‘thinking’ of you in the shower was distracting enough to allow her to pull ahead. “OI! You dirty witch!”

“Are you still hungry from skipping dinner?” she taunted when you caught up again, “If you want another sand-witch to eat… I could always pin you down and sit on your face.”

Critical damage! “HUURK!”

Gemma cackled as she ran ahead and left you behind as the victim of her dirty innuendos. This aspiring Quidditch player and ‘role model’ school prefect was the same witch who instructed you to tell Parkinson that she’d **** on your big wand two weeks ago.

Speaking of wands… Gemma had drawn hers. You realised that her mental ‘attack’ on you was the opening move in her bid to take first place. Her sights were now set on Pucey and Warrington who were still forty feet ahead as she came out of the bend.

“I guess she’s trying to finish strong,” you mused as you chased after her.

“Colloshoo!”

“What the!?” Pucey sputtered and nearly tripped as the low-flying yellow light from Gemma’s wand hit his back leg and stuck his planted foot to the grass. His other one twisted and nearly slipped as he was thrown off balance and struggled to keep from falling. Warrington left him there and kept running to take the lead.

“He never said any rules other than ‘don’t come in last’!” Gemma recounted as she passed him and tore off after Warrington. Her loyal Chaser ‘partner’ was left stuck to the pitch by one foot as he fished his wand out of his robes.

“An easier counter is to remove your boot,” you advised as you ran up behind Pucey.

“I know the counterspell,” the fourth year insisted as you left him in fourth place.

“Good to hear,” you replied, then turned and cast the Stickfast Hex on his other foot, “Colloshoo!”

“OH, COME ON!” he complained.

“She changed the game when she started slinging spells!” you defended yourself.

Speaking of ‘she’... “LEVICORPUS!”

“Hwaahh!” There was a squawk of shock up ahead as Warrington was yanked into the air by his ankle and was left dangling in midair as Gemma ran under him and stole first place. Another two hundred feet and he would’ve won.

You gave chase hoping for a second place finish, but forgot that the fourth year you left behind you with both boots stuck to the grass had his wand out.

“DEPULSO!”

The spell hit you in the back and you were banished FORWARD… flew underneath Warrington… and crashed INTO GEMMA! The warm, soft, curvy body of a fifth year girl broke your fall as you both crashed down on the grass with one hundred sixty feet to the finish.

You spat out a mouthful of auburn hair. “You see what you’ve done!?” you complained as you felt a round, strangely stiff orb in your hand - quickly realised what it was - and yanked your arm out from under her. “Now things have fallen into chaos and people are flinging first years like weapons!” You rolled off her, scrambled to your feet, and took off running, now at the very front of the pack. “First place! Golden Gaunt!”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Gemma called after you, “Locomotor Mortis!”

You recognised the incantation of the Leg-Locker Curse Draco learned from Flint to use against Potter in your midnight duel back in September… AND JUMPED! The low-flying purple spell flew underneath your feet as you spun in midair, gave your wand a familiar double swish, and cast “Flipendo!” back at Gemma.

But the fifth year prefect who taught you the Knockback Jinx was too fast and swung her wand upward as she cast “Protego!” An orange half-bubble appeared in front of her… the blue light of your spell hit it… AND WAS REFLECTED BACK AT YOU!

BANG! You were hit in the chest by your own spell! “GYYYAAH!” You went flipping and flying through the air and crashed down on the grass… one hundred feet from the finish.

You staggered up and looked back to see a free Pucey fire a spell at Gemma from behind only for her to spin and block it with another orange bubble shield, but then she ended the exchange by casting, “Libracorpus!” and dropped Warrington on him.

There was no way you’d win a duel against a fifth year, so you didn’t try, and raced for the finish at a dead sprint. Eighty feet. Sixty.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” Farley shouted after you, “Immobulus!”

You recognised the incantation of the Freezing Charm that Gemma cast on her chest, remembered that it came out as a cone-shaped wave… and DOVE aside to avoid the icy blue light as it flew past you, expanding outward as it went.

But that gave you an idea and you spun into a crouch, pointed your wand at the approaching Gemma’s chest, swung it in a spiral and cast, “Finite Incantatem!”

“Proteg–OOH!” Her half-cast Shield Spell couldn’t block a counter-spell. Her chest glowed white as her frozen Quaffles came unfrozen with a pleasing bounce. Her sapphire eyes went wide in shock then she hastily cast “Impedimenta!” before you could rise from your crouch.

Bad news: you were the one frozen in place now.

Good news: you were still facing backwards so you had the BEST. VIEW. EVER. as Gemma and her bra-less D-Cups bounced towards you and passed you.

You felt yourself come unfrozen once she was behind you and broke eye contact classifying the Impediment Spell as a Jinx. You began to get up when you suddenly heard, “Enpalmo!”

“GAH!” You felt a familiar swat on your bum as she used her Spanking Spell again. You jumped, spun around, and followed Farley the final five dozen feet through the finish line.

SECOND PLACE!

“Golden Gemma,” the fifth year taunted, then poked your forehead, “Silver Slytherin.” She waved half-heartedly at the finish line as Warrington managed to beat Pucey over it. “And everyone else.”

“Are you crazy?” Pucey demanded, still sore about Farley using her wand during a race.

“I won,” she stated unapologetically as Higgs and Malfoy finished fifth and sixth.

“Let’s wait and see what Flint thinks,” you suggested. Gemma gambled by turning the race into a running duel but, as she said, there were no rules. This was the Slytherin Quidditch team, after all. Doing whatever it took to win might work in Gemma’s favor.

Bode and Derrick really pushed in the final stretch to beat Flint across the finish line.

The eight of you stood clustered together as you waited for Flint to join you.

“A win’s a win,” Captain Flint stated, “but Farley’s gonna do the penalty lap.”

“But… I won,” she objected.

“Then call it a victory lap,” he sneered. “You cast the first spell. In a match, that would’ve been a foul. Still counts as a win… but you’ve gotta serve the penalty.” He jabbed a finger at you, “Gaunt, run it with her. You’ve been running your mouth all night. That means you still have too much energy.”

Pucey and Warrington seemed pleased with Flint’s judgment. The Beaters and Seekers just looked glad it wasn’t them and that practice was over.

Nearly over.

There was one last matter to resolve.

“And?” you prompted.

“Ugh,” he grunted, “And… I’m gonna add Farley to the team roster as a Reserve Chaser. Not gonna do much now, but she’ll practice with us in the spring going into the match against Hufflepuff.”

OBJECTIVE ACHIEVED!

“...” Gemma stared in shock. It really happened. She made the team!

“Sounds like you need to buy some Irish Quidditdch gear,” you quipped and patted her on the back.

“Everyone else, bugger off!”

While the other six went to retrieve their brooms, you slipped over to Flint as he went to grab the crate of balls.

“I told her about the face painting,” you informed him, “She’s willing.”

You went to Gemma, who still seemed shocked, and pinched her arm. “Not a dream. Come on. We’ve gotta run.”

The two of you started on your penalty lap and ran side-by-side at a much calmer pace than before. It was more of a jog than a run really but you still noticed her chest heaving with each stride.

“You gonna apply your spell again?” you inquired.

She looked down… then over at you, “No.”

Maybe it was a reward of some kind? You snuck numerous peeks at her bouncing chest throughout your lap. They would’ve been bouncing more if she was running at a faster pace but it was still fun to see. Gemma was strangely quiet during the jog around the pitch. She caught you sneaking a peek numerous times, but never said anything. In fact, you found her staring at you fairly frequently. Maybe she was still processing tonight’s events?

You finished your lap, gathered your brooms from the rack, brought them to the broomshed, and locked them away in locker 34D.

“How did you do that?” She finally asked.

“I told you… I reasoned with him,” you replied.

“Marcus Flint can’t be reasoned with!”

“And yet, I did it,” you countered, “It was just a matter of figuring out what he wanted… and then convincing him that allowing you on the team would help him on the road to getting it.”

“And what do you want for this miracle?” she challenged you, eyes suddenly suspicious, “You want me to snog you? Flash you? Suck you off? Sit on your–”

“Gemma! Gemma! Stop!” you cut her off. “Don’t ruin this. I didn’t do it expecting anything in return. I did it because I could. I did it for the simple joy of righting a previous injustice and helping a friend achieve a goal that means the world to her.”

“That’s not how Slytherins operate!”

“Usually not, my fair Farley,” you admitted, “But in this special case… it’s how I operate.”

“This is the single greatest thing anyone has ever done for me… and you want nothing in return?”

You shrugged, “More of the same. Keep being my friend. Keep helping me. Keep looking out for me. And now that I’m starting to gain some proper influence in this school… I’ll do the same for you.”

“So… we do nice things for each other… just because?”

“Yeah, that’s how friendship is generally supposed to work,” you said, “Is that truly so hard to understand?”

She grabbed your shoulders and pressed you back into your shared locker, “So I can do this… simply because I think you’ll enjoy it?” She kissed you, stepping closer as she did and squashing her chest against yours. Hard locker behind you… soft body in front of you… hand gently cupping your face… hungry lips on yours looking to devour you.

You were glad you had the locker behind you for support, because you lost yourself in the sensation of a very grateful witch snogging you with everything she had.

She suddenly stopped. “Careful,” she warned you. “Those hands of yours are dangerously close to my bum.”

You both looked down and eyed your hands on her hips. Keeper gloves were designed to protect your palms and fingers when you caught a fast-flying Quaffle. The palm was firmly padded and the ‘sleeves’ for the bottom half of your fingers were reinforced to keep them from behind bent at awkward angles. But your finger-TIPS were left exposed through the holes… likely to give you a better grip on the Quaffle. The tips of your bottom two fingers were less than an inch away from the top swell of her bum.

“Since we’re looking out for each other…” the prefect commented, “Let me explain some of the unwritten rules of Hogwarts. There is a ward in place around the castle - and grounds - that detects acts of what is considered ‘underaged sexual contact’.”

“Kissing… ” She pecked you on the lips. “...is fine.”

“Hand holding…” She reached down and grabbed both of your hands with hers. “...also fine.”

“Touching the arms and legs…” She ran her hands from your wrists up to your shoulders. “...that’s allowed.”

“Contact with the back and sides…” She slipped her hands behind you, ran them down your back, then wrapped her around your sides and hugged you against her. “…not forbidden.”

“But touching a girl’s bum, baps, or bits… or letting her touch your bits or bum… that will all get you in trouble.” She obviously didn’t demonstrate this ‘illegal’ conduct. “That’s why I use my wand for this… Enpalmo!”

“OW!” you yelped as she delivered another magical spank to your bum, but in doing so she showed you a way around these restrictions… you could still touch someone’s naughty bits… with magic.

“I know about this…” she concluded her demonstration as she drew you back into a hug in a hug, “...because when an incident of inappropriate contact takes place within the grounds - either between two underage students or an unaged student and someone of age - the ward detects it and the nearest prefect receives a ‘ping’ on their badge which alerts them that something untoward is occurring within their vicinity and that they best put a stop to it. That’s half my job as a prefect. The other half is looking after cute little sprogs like you. The previously-stated approved contact won’t get you in trouble… as long as you do it somewhere private. Like a broom closet. If you do it in public that’s considered a PDA or Public Display of Affection and those are frowned upon.”

“Is that why none of the school broom closets have any brooms in them?” you questioned.

“This one does,” Gemma pointed out as she looked back at the two rows of Shooting Star broomsticks meant for ‘public use’ on the other side of the broomshed.

“Huh…” you mused, “I guess the broomshed is the school’s only real broom closet.”

“Filch has a closet packed full of cleaning supplies near his office,” she informed you, “But that’s meant to a function as a proper supply closet. The elves have their own storage area for their cleaning supplies.”

Now properly informed, you slid your hands up Gemma’s back and gave her a proper squeeze. When you looked down you saw and felt that her much larger chest was squashed flush against yours… but when you craned your neck to look around Gemma’s chest… you saw that her bottom parts were a couple inches away.from yours.

“So you noticed,” she observed your observation, “The ward is more concerned with bottom bits… since those are the parts that can lead to a young, impulsive, irresponsible, and unprepared witch becoming pregnant. That’s the main thing the ward is in place to prevent. This…” She rolled her shoulders and ‘kneaded’ her chest against yours. “Is allowed because - for all they know - I’m hugging you.” She WAS hugging you! BEST! HUG! EVER! “If I were to press my bits against your bits… that’d get a ping. If I were to turn around and rub my bum against your bits… that would get a ping. So… as long as you’re not petting or fondling my chest with your hands… the alert won’t go off. Sitting in someone’s lap… is okay if you’re sitting across the lap side-saddle, like when you jumped into my lap in the common room yesterday.” And how Sally-Anne Perks was sitting on yours in the broom closet earlier. “But sitting directly on someone’s lap with their bum against your bits or your bum against their bits… that’ll send out a loud PING since you’re basically in a coupling position.”

You appreciated Gemma’s inside information. She was spelling out - as one of the prefects charged with hunting down coupling couples - what you could or couldn’t get away with.

“One last thing,” she added as she suddenly grabbed both of your hands, wrenched them up above your head, and pinned them against the locker, “Keep your sneaky little hands OUT of her clothes. Nothing draws a prefect to you faster than naughty skin-on-skin contact. I don’t care if some tramp lifts her top, shows you her tits, and calls out ‘come get ‘em, big boy!’... consider it a trap. Because the second your greedy little hands make contact with those puppies… the nearest prefect's badge won’t just ping… it’ll start RINGING… and that ringing will get louder and louder as they get closer. Over-the-clothes contact can sometimes be overlooked, but sins of the flesh are the exact thing prefects are supposed to prevent… our badges will lead us right to you.” She kissed you. “Be a gentleman… or I’ll have to punish you.”

That inspired a curious new question, “Punish me how?”

“Depends on the severity of the situation,” she admitted as she stepped back and pulled you away from the locker. “The main requirements are that we stop the incident and bring you back where you’re supposed to be. In most cases, you’d get a personal escort back to your common room and a nasty scolding. Some prefects take points, but we can only take points from our own house. In incidents where it’s a couple from two different houses… or both students are from a different house… that’s a write up and the Head Boy or Head Girl will take the points off. They have proved themselves worthy of taking points from any house. Other prefects issue separate detentions. Those also need to be signed off on by the Head Boy or Head Girl. Me? I like to add something a little extra. Because a scolding and a loss of points doesn’t often sink in.” You felt her flick her arm against your side again. “Enpalmo!”

“OW!” you yelped as she hit you with her Spanking Spell for the FOURTH time that day. “Wait… you spank them?”

This explained why Gemma knew so many spells to slow someone down or stick them in place.

Prefect Gemma Farley grinned, “It’s not expressly forbidden, so it’s allowed. This school has a very loose stance on corporal punishment. There are detention cells in the dungeons." You’d seen them. “Filch still has shackles hanging in his office from when they used to string misbehaving students up by their ankles. I consider it my own personal brand of justice. Act like a naughty, misbehaving animal… and I’ll treat you like one.”

Gemma only had her prefect badge for one full term, but her ‘reign of terror’ had likely bolstered her notorious reputation as the Green-Eyed Monster.

“No wonder students try to actively avoid your patrols,” you commented.

“That tells you it's working,” she insisted, “Detention… losing House Points… certain misbehaving students don’t care about those things. But the extra humiliation that comes from spanking a boy in front of his girlfriend… and then sticking him to the wall so he can watch helplessly as you do the same to her… that makes the lesson really sink in.”

“Wait…” you suddenly remembered Gemma’s previous ‘offers’, “Didn’t you offer to perform… sins of the flesh on me? Does having a prefect badge excuse you from following the rules?”

“No,” she replied, “But being one of the students in charge of enforcing the rules means you know them the best… and that means a cunning prefect will know the best ways around them.”

“Then how would you…”

“The ward covers the castle grounds…” she reminded you, then pointed at your shared locker, “I would have removed you from them. Of course… that comes with its own set of problems. When a student is removed from the school grounds… it’s not a prefect who gets the ping but their Head of House.” Professor Snape would not have been happy about that. “And while the restriction for performing underage magic is lifted here while we’re learning at school… you cast one spell off the grounds… and it will be the British Ministry’s detection spells you’ll need to worry about. You get caught performing underage magic… and that can result in criminal charges. I wouldn’t risk that for just anyone… but you’ve proven yourself to be very special.”

“Well… thanks for the warning,” you said.

She hooked her arm around your shoulders and steered you toward the door, “Remember, just because I like you… doesn’t mean I won’t spank your cute little bottom if I catch you breaking the rules.”

“On an unrelated note…” you hastily changed the subject away from Gemma spanking you as you stepped out of the broomshed. “Now that Quidditch is an option again… if you go pro… which team would you tryout for? The Wasps? Or the Arrows?”

“I… hadn’t thought about that,” she confessed. There was a strange look on her face. Being able to play Quidditch threw a wrench into her meticulous future plans. Hopefully, in a GOOD way.

“Could you be convinced to tryout for the Tornados instead?” you suggested, “Then I won’t have to deliberate over what team to cheer for.”

“Or… she could do what Rath did and join the Harpies.”

You felt Gemma tense against you at the sound of the familiar voice. You looked back to see Megan Jones sitting on the roof of the broomshed.

“Were you spying on us?” Gemma hissed, her wand was still in her hand and was aimed at Megan.

You hastily grabbed her wrist, pushed her arm down, and stopped in between them. “Gemma, no!”

Jones dropped off the roof and landed behind you… and you found yourself once again serving as the Hufflepuff’s human shield in the face of a hostile Slytherin.

“I only wanted to see him play Keeper for a bit,” she admitted, as she tapped you on the back. Six. “Came too late. Do Slytherin practices always end in a running duel?”

“No,” you answered, “Normally, it’s just running. Farley decided to change the game.”

“Don’t let her spank me,” Megan urged you as she grabbed your shoulders from behind, “It won’t be one of those ‘love taps’ she gives you. For me, it’ll be a beating!”

“Why did she have to run her mouth!?” you - of all people - complained as Gemma’s blue eyes ignited. Farley’s fierce - and defensive - expression told you why other students thought of her as a monster. The ‘beating’ she was going to lay on Jones would be designed to protect her reputation and scare her into keeping quiet. .

“Gemma,” you tried to reassure her, “I’ll handle it…” Blue eyes were still blazing as you looked back at Megan. “You do realise… that act of mercy won’t come for free. You’ll need to buy it… with silence… and not repeat anything you may or may not have overhead in the broomshed.”

“Overheard what?” Jones asked, “I didn’t hear anything! The roof’s really thick. And the room’s insulated to keep the brooms warm in the cold months… which are basically all of them.”

A Slytherin might have tried to **** her way out of the situation, but Megan's quick caving and clear fear told you she already knew about Gemma’s infamous reputation as a monster.

“You’re lying to a pair of Slytherins,” you pointed out, “You’ll need to do better than that. Make her believe you.”

“I won’t say anything!” she insisted, “Mum’s the word!”

“You promise?” you pressed her.

“Cross my heart!”

Your eyes flicked back to Gemma, “So… when you tell your Hufflepuff friends what happened out here tonight? What are you going to say?”

“The truth!” she said, “I spied on your practice, I watched Farley beat the entire Slytherin Quidditch team in a race - and earn herself a spot on it, I hid in the Hufflepuff changing room while everyone else left, and I caught you both coming out of the broomshed.”

You raised an eyebrow as you stared at Gemma. Megan spreading the story of the infamous prefect snogging a first year would hurt her reputaion… but the one of her beating all the boys and earning herself that precious reserve spot would BOOST it. “Sounds about right.”

Prefect Farley lowered her wand and nodded her head to the side, “Go.”

You grabbed Megan’s hand and ran. The two of you didn’t slow down until you reached the covered bridge.

“That’s six,” she bragged.

“Yeah, yeah,” you conceded, “Since I doubt you’ll be finding me in the common room or the shower later… let’s call it in your favor. Final score: Jones - six, Gaunt - two, Flint - zero.”

“Two?” she repeated your score.

“I found Flint before he found me,” you insisted, “I dedicated an entire day to that one. It counts.”

“I still won though,” she reminded you, “If you want this to end… say the magic words.”

You sighed, “Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders.”

She raised both arms over her head and cheered. “Victory, Hufflepuff!”

This seemed like an appropriate time to ask, “Now that you’ve defended your title as Top Finder… can I ask the story behind that?”

“You can ask… but I’m not gonna tell you until you earn it,” she informed you with a firm glare.

Right… Erumphant in the room… “Look… about me and her…”

“I lied,” she blurted out and interrupted you.

Now you were glaring. “About keeping quiet…”

“No, about coming too late,” she corrected you, “I wasn’t late. I was early. I walked Sally back to the common room, had a quick chat with the girls, threw my cloak on, and grabbed a snack on my way out. There was a troll guarding this bridge… but a strange bird flew by on a Nimbus Two Thousand and landed in the middle of the lake so he grunted and left for the pitch. I made it to the pitch before you did… Sir Snogs-a-Lot. I’m using that, by the way.” You probably had that coming. “I was under the stands the whole practice. The Snitch even came and hid with me for a bit. Your Seekers are lousy finders. You did really well though. You didn’t let in a single shot all night. I was impressed.”

“Hopefully, I can carry that momentum into tomorrow,” you admitted.

“I was more impressed by what you did for her,” Jones confessed. “I’ve spoken to Erika Rath. Gwen brought her around for dinner one night last summer. She doesn’t go on and on like you… short, direct sentences. But I learned how she got booted and how rough joining the Slytherin Quidditch team became for witches after that point. Probably one of the reasons I wasn’t sorted into your house. I didn’t hear what you said… too far away… but I saw how you set up that exhibition for her and basically talked Flint’s ear off until he finally caved and let her join.” She smiled warmly, “If you did something like that for me… you and I would’ve been snogging in the broomshed too.”

“We could still do that?” you cautiously offered, “Or we could find a broom closet.”

“Uh-uh,” she refused, “Sorry, Sir Snogs-a-Lot, you’ve gotta earn that. You might be willing to step into a broom closet and snog just about anyone, but when I do that… I want it to be special.”

“I don’t snog just about anyone!” you objected, “I only had my first kiss a few hours ago! Before that, I’d been kissed… but I hadn’t kissed anyone else. A hearty Hufflepuff like you talking about special kisses obviously knows the difference. Today hasn’t exactly painted me in the best light… but it’s been pointed out that you and I have only known each other for a week. If you’re worried about me being faithful… understand that we haven’t committed to anything yet. The last two days have been a whirlwind. I’ve been ensuring that the things around me stay settled once the wind finally dies down and I can safely move forward into new territory. When I commit to a relationship… I promise… I’ll be as loyal as any Hufflepuff.”

She tilted her head, “Believe it or not, I was leaning in the other direction.”

“Pardon?”

“I had this… kind of wonky idea…” she said, “What if… one of those special fringe benefits you mentioned… is that you’re allowed to snog witches in your Top Four.”

That sounded off. “Is this a trap?”

“You Slytherins are always so suspicious,” she remarked, “Why are you looking the gift horse in the mouth?”

“Because in this case… that horse could be a kelpie… and those things eat people!”

She smiled in amusement then shook her head causing her frizzy dark hair to flutter around her head like a cloud. “I’ve seen today what petty jealousy looks like. Parkinson has been going after me like I’m stealing her boyfriend.”

“She wishes,” you scoffed, “She’s got it in her head that she fancies me. I can’t tell her what to think… but I am not interested. She’s the kind of girl pureblood society would tell me I’d be lucky to date… but I can’t stand her. And because I’m not caving and giving Princess Parkinson what she wants… that makes me her favorite target. You deal with her in little bits and pieces. I’m stuck with that shrill harpy all day.” You remembered Millicent taking you to task earlier. “Sod it, I’m doing it again. I’ve been told that I can be just as nasty back… and don’t like who I become when I’m around her. Her grand scheme is that if she annoys me enough… maybe I’ll snog her to finally shut her up. Dumb plan. All her efforts make me resent her more.”

“And I don’t want to be like the girl you resent,” Jones stated, “Running around picking fights and insulting anyone who shows interest in something I think of as ‘mine’. That’s not me. I want to be able to trust you not to mess around behind my back.”

“Then why offer to let me kiss other girls?”

“Not just any girls,” she said, “Your Top Four. The ones who are most important to you. If we’re going to go down this road together… then we need to establish some rules, mister kissy. If I know what you’re doing… then it’s not behind my back, is it? If the witch is on the approved Top Four list… then it’s allowed… only if it’s kissing and snogging. Don’t do anything that’ll ping a prefect. There’s reasons for all of them, so let’s take this one at a time and sort out your baggage. Number One: Bulstrode… she fancies you.”

“I know.”

“She said something?”

“At your urging.”

“And?”

“She’s family,” you explained. “My fourth cousin. I don’t have a lot of that. I told you and seven other Hufflepuffs last week how those old pureblood breeding practices nearly led my family to ruin. If I want to keep the line going and restore the Gaunt family… then I need to do something different.” You also needed a partner but that seemed awkward to mention before even having a first date.

“Is that why you’re Jonesing for some chocolate?”

She said it with a completely straight face but the quip caught you off guard and the laughter burst out of you before you could stop it, “Ah-hahahahahahahaha!” That dangerous dimpled grin returned and the mirth you found dancing her dark eyes told you that was the exact reaction she wanted.

“On a semi-related note,” you said once you regained control of yourself, “What kind of chocolate do you like?”

“Why?”

“Because Valentine’s Day is coming up and I want to get you the right kind.”

“You’re not gonna try surprising me?” she questioned… which confirmed she would like chocolate from you.

“I’m still getting to know you,” you reasoned, “I’d feel better getting you something I know you’d like rather than risk making a bad first impression at gift-giving by guessing and getting you something you don’t. At least point me in the right direction.”

“I like sweet,” she said, “Milk chocolate over dark. If you get me white chocolate… I’ll know you’re being cheeky.”

You smiled, “I ran into Katie Bell on my way out of the castle. She called me a ‘cheeky dickwaffle’. Not completely sure what it means…” Megan’s eyes flicked down to the front of your Quidditch trousers which made you think she was taking it literally. “But I’m translating it to ‘cheeky little bastard’.”

“She can keep that one,” Megan decided, “I like Sir Snogs-a-Lot better.”

“Speaking of…” you said as you returned to the previous subject, “I kissed Millicent. Four times. The first one was my first kiss.” You studied her face. “How does that make you feel?”

“Kind of good,” she admitted with a small grin, no dimple, but still a smile, “Like I saved you both months of blustering and dancing around each other.” She licked her lips and looked to the side, “Sally was the dealbreaker. If you couldn’t conduct yourself properly with her… then I was going to stop trying to find you. She said you were sweet to her.”

“And - as I just learned - you like sweet,” you recalled.

Jones nodded, “You were nice to my best friend, so I thought I’d be nice to yours. I imagine that a true, loyal friend in Slytherin is worth her weight in gold.” She wisely didn’t say anything about Millicent’s weight. “So… if you catch her giving you another one of those pining looks… pull her into a closet and give her a nice smooch to cheer her up. Girls like to feel appreciated.”

This still seemed like some kind of trick. “Do you kiss your best friend?”

“No,” she answered, “but my best friend doesn’t fancy me. You care about Bulstrode and I don’t want her to think I’m stealing you away from her. Parkinson can sod off, but I don’t want to get between you and your best friend. That could cause both of you to resent me.”

“Why not just say Millicent has the stamp of approval as a special exception rather than this Top Four thing?” you suggested, “Number Two is Gemma Farley.. and you don’t seem nearly as fond of her.”

“But you are,” she countered, “and she is. Let’s call that one appeasement. Do you have any idea how many older girls pulled me aside to warn me about her? ‘Beware the Green-Eyed Monster!’ ‘The Green-Eyed Monster doesn’t like other people playing with her things!’ ‘Watch your arse, Jones, you’re going to the right route for a vicious spanking!’ ‘Careful, Megan, or you could end up like Stephanie Gamp.’”

“Who’s Stephanie Gamp?”

“She would have been the fourth Slytherin fifth year girl,” Jones informed you. “Came from the famous pureblood Gamp family, a model student, a prodigy in Transfiguration, regularly earned points from McGonagall. Everyone thought she was a sure-in to get the prefect badge, but last year she had some kind of breakdown and dropped out.”

“And you think Gemma was behind it?”

“No one can prove anything,” she admitted, “It was a Slytherin rivalry… most of it took place behind closed doors.”

“Farley, Gamp… Rowle, Yaxley… they would’ve been roommates.”

“From what I’ve been told… Farley had Yaxley and Rowle on her side,” Jones recounted. “Imagine it was Parkinson rallying Greengrass and Davis to bully Bulstrode out of the school. Plenty of petty comments, dozens of dirty looks, and who knows what else they did to her when no one else was around.”

You remembered fifth year ‘Pansy’ tearing first year Pansy a new one at breakfast, but still pushed back, “You said it yourself ‘who knows?’ Until I hear or see actual proof… I’m not going to believe it. Maybe Gamp couldn’t handle the stress and broke down all on her own?”

Megan shook her head, “There’s normal levels of stress from pushing yourself to succeed in school… and there’s the extra stress that comes from being relentlessly bullied by the most manipulative and sadistic bitch in the school.”

“Careful, Jones!” you warned her. “One of the actual fringe benefits of being in my Top Four is that I will adamantly defend you when someone else has a go at you. Even if that someone is also in my Top Four. I defended you when Gemma had some harsh words for you earlier… and I’ll defend her if you keep flinging around unfounded accusations of her character.”

“Unfounded?” she repeated, “The majority of the school believes it!”

“Yesterday, I saw how quick the majority of the school was to believe that I poisoned a housemate,” you countered, “And do you know who had my back then? Who was the first person to speak up in my defense after Professor McGonagall made her unfounded claim? Not Potter. Not Malfoy. Not Snape. Gemma Farley. Yes, she plays favorites, but I’m her favorite. I value that position and I’m not giving it up without a fight. She’s been going out of her way to look out for me and support me since September, so I don’t rightly care if the entire school sees her as a monster! She’s MY monster! I’ll continue to see the best in her because clearly someone needs to!”

She sighed, “If nothing else… I admire your loyalty. I doubt she’s used to such positive affection. That’s probably why she has such a soft spot for you. And why I think there should be a snogging exception for your Number Two. Because I don’t want to find myself walking down an empty corridor, see her coming the other way, and fear what she might do to me while we’re alone. If you want me to turn a blind eye… I will. I’ll consider it an act of charity. Maybe getting discretely snogged by her favorite will make her more bearable for the rest of us?”

“If you’re that wary of her… then why are you bothering?” You felt like you were shooting yourself in the foot, but you had to ask.

“Because of what you did for her tonight,” she replied as she grabbed your hand and began leading you across the bridge to the castle. “You performed a miracle and gave her back her dream. I may not be half as fond of her as you are… but anyone who can take a hit like that from Marcus Flint without any kind of pads… and still get up after should be allowed to play Quidditch. If I keep you close… maybe I’ll find myself with a front row seat for your next miracle. I’m still waiting to see what you do with that potion.”

Maybe the trick to this trap was to have permission but not use it?

“Alright, that covers one and two,” you prompted in an effort to move on, “Now let’s talk about Number Three. She’s the one I’m most interested in at the moment.”

“Actually… let’s skip me and circle back,” she decided. “Number Four. The fact that you put a mermaid you met this morning in that slot makes me think that while the other three remain fixed… the fourth spot is meant to be the ‘Wildcard’ and is situational and subject to change. The other two are above me… so as long as it’s only kissing… I don’t need to know what you do with them. Just be discrete and don’t get caught. I don’t want to hear rumors that you’re sneaking around behind my back.” She wouldn’t hear any rumors if you could help it. “But fair’s fair… since four is below me… I want to be informed of anyone you kiss while they inhabit that spot.”

This definitely sounded like dangerous territory. “And who do you think I’ll be snogging?”

“Well, if you snog that mermaid when you see her again… you tell me.”

Chell was fairly harmless. You could probably explain away the ‘snog’ as a one-time thing.

“You take a stroll through the forest, meet a lady-centaur, snog her, and end up improving human-centaur relations… you tell me.”

She was still pushing for that but you still didn’t know if such a person existed.

“If you and your academic rival Granger get into it… steal away into a closet… and snog each other’s brains out... preferably sometime in third year when we take on extra classes… you tell me.”

The specifics of ‘third year’ meant she not only knew about the pool revolving around you and Granger getting caught snogging… BUT PUT MONEY IN!! This girl might have a gambling problem. If Millicent and Megan both knew about the pool, it made you wonder who started it. Probably a girl. Or… maybe two? You thought of a pair of Gryffindor first years who frequently saw you and Granger face off in Potions and could have started it to cause some drama.

“If I toss you in another closet with Sally… and call out ‘She’s your new Number Four, snog her good!’ so she and I can compare notes after… you snog her good… and you tell me.”

Based on ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ earlier… that seemed like something she might do. Was that why she was allowing you to snog Millicent? So she could dictate her friend as Number Four and get you to snog her?

“I’m starting to notice a pattern here,” you noted as you entered the castle together, “What’s with you wanting me to snog muggleborns?”

“It proves you’re open-minded,” she responded as she steered you past the Great Hall toward the basement stairs, “Which is why I’m trying to be open-minded about this snogging thing. If we take this time to establish our rules of what I would or wouldn’t consider cheating… then I don’t need to worry as much about you spending time with a bunch of girls. There might be something to Bulstrode’s theory that you have a talent for charming ladies.”

“Fine, we covered Number Four,” you resolved, “Tell you if it happens. Back to Number Three.”

“Right… so… since I’m being so generous… I want something in return…”

“Ah, the catch. Who are you going to be kissing while I’m being permitted to kiss other girls?”

She stopped beside a large dragon statue at the entrance of the basement and turned to meet your eyes, “I haven’t kissed anyone, but I want my first kiss to be magical.”

“Magical?” you repeated.

“Call it a girlish fantasy. I think there’s a part of every girl that dreams about their first kiss and wants it to be one of those special ones that resonates and causes fireworks to go off, the hills to sing, and the stars to start sparkling. That’s what I want. A magical first kiss. Don’t even think about kissing me until you know you can pull it off.”

A magical kiss? You weren’t even sure where to start on that. What made a kiss magic? Was it a special technique? Chemistry between the people involved? You thought you did alright with Gemma… but she wasn’t swooning either time when she pulled away. She hadn’t praised you for your kissing technique… but she hadn’t put you down for your inexperience either. You eyed the statue of the sleeping grey dragon beside you and read the plaque with the school’s motto ‘Never tickle a sleeping dragon’.

“Can you do that?” she pressed you.

“Erm… maybe?”

Perhaps she sensed your apprehension? Because her dangerous dimpled grin was back as she folded her arms across her chest, “What happened to all your cute, confident swagger?”

“I thought Hufflepuffs didn’t like gloating? I lost a point for it today.”

“This one does,” she replied, then grabbed your hand again and tugged you deeper into the basement. You eyed a portrait of a fruit bowl as you went. “Aren’t you Mr. Competitive? Where’s that plucky python who climbed into a nest of honey badgers and cried ‘bite me!’?” She stopped beside a wall of three large Hagrid-sized barrels and turned to face you. “I accepted your challenge. A final score of six to two to zero is clear evidence that I’m the Top Finder. Now you have to face my challenge - a magical first kiss.”

You took a long, deep breath and grabbed both her hands in yours. You both looked down and you noted how her darker hand contrasted with your paler one. Then you looked back up again and grinned, “If that’s your fantasy… I’ll find a way to make it real.”

Her grin grew into a full smile, “There he is!” Her fingers brushed against the back of your hand as she began to pull away… but then she had a sudden change of heart and leaned back in to peck you on the cheek. “That’s all you get for now. Impress me. I’ll be waiting on my miracle.”

With that, Megan Jones turned and knocked on the middle Hagrid-sized barrel with a distinct one-two, one-two-three pattern. The front of the barrel spun to the side to reveal a large round hole… and the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

The spacious, two-story room had a yellow hue and vine-covered arches running along the top of the second floor and matching railing going around the entire second floor of the room. Most of the high half-moon windows had plants in them. The doors to the various rooms were all round in shape. A lot of the furniture was made of sturdy-looking wood and there were numerous small tables where people were playing games of Exploding Snap, Wizards Chess, or having a late night spot of tea. There was even a loud group playing Gobstones on the floor in one of the corners. Assorted tables were laid out with various snacks like fruit, vegetables, and breads. Barrels of drinks were nearby to wash it down. There was also a warm and comfortable-looking cluster of cushioned yellow couches and easy chairs around the fire where dozens of Hufflepuffs were chatting after a long day. Even thought it was dark, there were enough lamps that - when combined with the yellow colour of the walls - made the Hufflepuff common room feel warm and inviting.

Sally-Anne Perks was in one of those groups. “Hey, Megan! Hey, Marvolo!” She padded over wearing purple plaid pajama pants and a dark blue jumper that looked warm and comfortable. On her feet were a pair of fuzzy pink socks with purple stars on them.

“Perks,” you greeted her, “Nice socks.”

“They’re my lucky ones!” You still didn’t know the story there. Another thing you had to earn.

“Thanks for walking me back to the common room, Marvolo!” Megan said as she stepped inside but then turned around and stood in the threshold of the round open door.

“Yours looks a lot warmer and seems more inviting than ours,” you admitted as you cast another glance inside, “We’re in a dungeon and look out into the lake so it’s always kind of dim and murky in the Slytheirn common room.”

“And we get free snacks!” Perks chirped as she grabbed a piece of green fruit from a bowl and tossed it at you.

You caught it reflexively. It was a pear. “Thanks!”

“And what did you learn today?” Jones prompted, “Say it once more - with everyone listening - for good measure.”

You humored her since all her housemates were watching. “Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders.”

“HA!” Megan crowed and pumped her arm over her head as the barrel door began to roll closed. “Ernie! Zach! I won by four! That’s four Chocolate Frogs you owe me!”

Seriously. A gambling problem!

“Good luck in the match tomorrow!” Perks called through the quickly closing opening.

The door shut.

You stood staring at the sealed barrel entrance. A knock. That was it? Their password was a not-so-secret knock?

“One-two, one-two-three,” you recalled the precise pattern Megan knocked in. You raised your hand to repeat it… but stopped.

It couldn’t be that simple, could it? Maybe there was a trick to it? You hadn’t been expressly invited in and you didn’t want to intrude.

“Good night!” you said to the door as you lowered your hand, turned away, and took a bite from your provided pear. Mmmm. Juicy.

You pondered the enigma that was Megan Jones as you made your way back through the basement. You couldn’t get a good read on her.

But that’s what made her interesting.

You still weren’t sure if this Top Four ‘kissing exception’ was a trap or not… and paused to eye the sleeping dragon statue when you reached the stairs… tickling that Welsh Dragon by doing the wrong thing could be very bad… but maybe you could use it to complete the new quest she set for you?

A magical kiss for Megan Jones… the walking wildcard.