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A Tragedy by FWHPObsessed
Chapter 2 : Potters and Quidditch Don't Mix Well
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 3


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AMAZING chapter image by shudder @ tda :D

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing you recognise :(

Author's Note: Please enjoy the chapter (:






Potters and Quidditch Don't Mix Well:


I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I was sure the thumping was loud enough to wake the rest of my family. I scooted past Mum and Dad's room, trying to make my feet light so I didn't make much noise. The hallway seemed to close in on me as I made my way down it and I almost screamed in frustration, but I held my tongue and resisted the urge to let go of all the dignity I still held.

When I finally reached the door it seemed a million miles away and when I shoved it with all my might, it didn't budge. I fumbled through my pockets for my wand and came up empty handed. Luckily the key to the door was hanging on a hook to my left and I only just got it into the door properly without bashing it down by myself, not that I would've had enough strength to.

The burst of crisp, fresh, night air was like a roaring fire on a cold evening. Unconsciously I had been holding my breath throughout our warm, stuffy halls and the outside air made me fall to the ground in happiness that didn't last. As my knees collided with the ground a thump of pain ricocheted through my head and I whimpered.

Quietly I closed the heavy wooden doors behind me, but I kept myself on the ground. The frozen concrete stuck to my pyjamas and my feet roared in pain that was overshadowed by the burning in my head. I slid myself so my back was to the wall and wrapped my arms around my legs. My warm, sticky breath made white mist in the clear air and I looked through the balcony pillars and at the dark scenery around me.

Weak. It was how I was, it was what I lived with, it was why I only found comfort on this cold balcony at night. Weak. It was how I looked now, it was my deepest secret, it was me. I was weak. My bones were brittle, my skin was dry and my eyes were dead because I was weak.

Two nights ago I had come out to this balcony and looked over the edge and pondered whether or not to jump. On the third floor of the house it wasn't exactly far to fall. Back when I was healthy I fell further heights playing Quidditch and got off with minimal bruises. It was a different story, now. The landing, with no doubt, would've killed me. Considering I was fragile and breakable. Considering I was dying, it would've killed me before the disease and I was ready. Death had been looming towards me for a long time now and for once it wasn't scary. It had become nothing but a waiting expectation on the dark horizon.

That night, my brother took my shoulder and pulled me back inside. I had never loved someone so much before.

 

*

 

There was honestly something amazing about the way I woke up every morning. I must've had a talent for all the different ways I managed to twist my bedding around myself by the time I woke. That night I had gone to sleep in fresh, clean sheets in my actual bed. My sky blue sheet was tucked magically under the corners of my bed, unable to be moved (because of my psychotic maman) and ghastly tight (it may have been her way of telling me I needed to lose weight.) My thin, Summer duvet was hung (also psychotically tight) over top and I could barely move. In the morning, however, I woke up to my sheet wrapped (so tight I could barely feel my toes) around my legs and my duvet almost falling off the bed apart from the fact I was holding onto it, so it was just covering my hands. I already told you she charmed then to stay tucked under my bed, right? I must've been fighting with my blankets all night to break her charm and I almost felt sorry for Bianca because of the paper thin walls.

That only lasted until I saw the reason why I had been so abruptly woken up. Because that morning I not only woke up to sheets strangling my ankles and cold ears. I also woke up to my excited, evil and rather slutty looking sister. Who was in fact, bouncing up and down on my bed.

She was fifteen.

“Bloody hell, pull your top up, woman,” was my way of greeting her.

She laughed her giggly laugh and pulled her black singlet up a little. Not enough as it just fell back down again. I rolled my eyes. She noticed.

“And good morning to you, too.”

“Bianca, what's the time?” I asked, squinting at the bright sunlight that she had revealed to the room by swiping the curtains open.

“It's twelve forty-five, silly and you need to get ready,” she smiled at me and skipped over to my wardrobe mirror. That was probably the only reason she entered my room, to use the stupid mirror.

“Where are we going?” I said, perching myself up on my shoulders and shaking my sheet off my feet. I had suddenly found myself awake and ready for the day, what ever we were doing. It was a Saturday and that meant a day without any work whatsoever. I was immediately happy, until I realized Bianca was staring at me through the mirror looking awestruck with her mouth hanging open in an unpleasant manner.

I freaked out almost instantly and threw myself off my bed in front of my mirror. No odd growths on my face. No third eye. I turned back to my bed and looked around for a murderous goblin holding a silver dagger over my bed. There was no goblin. All this happening in less than a second I turned to Bianca.

“What? What's wrong?” I almost shouted.

“Are you kidding?” she asked, still looking awestruck and a little shocked at how I had ended up beside her in milliseconds.

“No … what? I'm so confused! What is happening?” Once again, I almost yelled.

“Do you seriously not know where we're going?”

I felt myself relax, there was nothing wrong. Bianca was just being Bianca. I should've known.

“No.” I said, smiling sheepishly at her.

“Honestly, how are we even related?” she mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.

It was a good question.

She rolled her eyes and looked back in the mirror. She was waiting for me to ask what we were doing again, but I was determined not to and I knew she'd crack soon. She was a sucker when it came to patience. I was like that too.

I waited calmly, wondering if where we were going required any sort of dressing up.

Bianca's sigh directed my attention back to her.

“We're going to the Potter's, remember?” she said, trying to sound like she thought I was an idiot, but failing and sounding excited instead. “Fred invited us?”

“Oh, yeah, that's right,” I said, absent-mindedly.

I was nowhere near as excited as Bianca. She had, judging by the darkness under her eyes, got herself up early to get ready for this thing, whereas I had almost completely forgotten about it.

“Oh, and you've got a letter!” she said, brightening up and beaming at me. “It's from Fred.” she added, after handing me the letter. Trust her to remember Fred's owl. When was she going to realise I was over him?

Probably when I believed it myself.

I tightened my lips and proceeded to open the letter. I looked up to find my sister watching apprehensively and I almost rolled my eyes before I realized that all this eye-rolling probably wasn't good for their health.

 

Rette;

 

Bring togs, there's a water hole round the back if you want to go swimming later and don't forget your broom. And Mum was wondering if you can bring a plate, there's heaps of extra people coming that Aunt Ginny didn't expect.

 

Fred.

 

I almost turned over the paper to search for more, but I knew it was pointless. Bianca looked surprised that I had finished so quickly and I turned quickly to my wardrobe and pulled it open. I could feel her standing behind me, waiting for me to tell her that Fred had confessed his undying love towards me. I was over him.

“What did he say?” she finally burst.

“Not much,” I said, without turning. “He wants us to bring togs.”

Bianca gave an excited, little squeal and flew out of the room, supposedly to figure out which bikini to take. I flicked through my wardrobe before taking my usual almost-white denim shorts out, my Gryffindor-coloured singlet and a long black cardigan that belonged to Bianca, but first I desperately needed a shower.

I trudged through the hall and walked straight past the buzzing kitchen. I was three steps past the open kitchen when the smell of smoke reached my nose and I backed up slowly so I could see what was going on.

My maman never cooked. It was common knowledge in our house that if you ever found her in the kitchen, you assumed the world had ended and she was our last hope. So, of course, that's what I assumed. I stood there, my maman's long straight hair flicking around as she cooked food the Muggle way and a scroll of parchment burning on the stove without her noticing and I was frozen in shock.

Firstly, why the hell was my maman cooking?

Secondly, why the hell was I just standing there while a scroll of paper was seconds from burning?

Thirdly, what the hell was my maman don't in a soft pink cocktail dress?

And fourthly, why the hell was my maman cooking?

“Maman, what are you doing?” I asked over the sound of sizzling. I rushed forward and pulled the blackened parchment off the stove just before she realized she was burning something that was not food

“Aaargh,” Maman yelled, frustrated. “Zis eez a cauchemar.” I could see a tantrum coming on. “You're father left to finish 'is paperwork and 'as left me with ze cooking! 'E knows I can not cook! I'm not going to 'ave any time to get ready! Ze Potter's will see me as a disgrace! Zis eez a cauchemar!” she repeated.

“Maman, calme bas!” I yelled in fluid French, knowing that when she was in a frenzy like this she would not respond to English. I watched her take huge gulps of air and actually listen to me. Finally, she had calmed down and I needed her to, because even though my maman was French, I didn't know much of the language myself and I wouldn't have known how to say my next words.

“Maman, why are you cooking?” I asked, exasperated.

“For ze party at ze Potters, of course!” she exclaimed, even through her exhausted expression and sweaty forehead she still managed to sound excited.

Oh, Merlin, I thought, why had Bianca told her? This was exactly what I didn't want to happen. Now my maman knew the Potter's address. She had been successfully given the opportunity to become an A-class stalker and knowing her, she would take it.

Just bloody perfect.

Blimin' fantastic.

This was all Bianca's fault.

 

*

 

It was probably one of the weirdest experiences I had ever been in. Half the Weasley's, the Potter's and a collection of distant relatives and friends were all standing in a huge circle around a plain white mug, staring at it with apprehension. They were all absolutely silent and beside me Bianca was giggling, possibly at Rose's mud-stained legs.

“Am I late?” I asked, to which several of them jumped.

“Shut up and get over here!” said Fred, opening up a space between him and another red-haired boy who I assumed was Hugo Weasley, though I wasn't sure as he towered inches over Fred, and Hugo was only in his third year.

“Harsh,” I muttered under my breath, but stepped into the newly-made space.

I heard a screech of, “Dom!” and the sound of my sister running to her favourite cousin. I proceeded to stare at the cup in the centre of the grass, everyone peered at it expectedly and my curiosity burned, wondering what we were waiting for. I itched to ask, but knew it was best to keep my mouth shut. And sure enough after thirty seconds of prolonged silence, the white mug glowed a violent pink and spat out two small, slightly burnt pieces of yellow parchment. Albus caught them both with his obvious Seeker skills and he held his breath. Everyone else pulled themselves up and stared expectantly at Albus.

“First captain is …” Albus began, with anticipation. So this was to decide who would captain the teams. The Weasley's were a competitive bunch and I found myself not overly excited about the upcoming day. “Me!” Albus exclaimed happily. I was the only one who didn't groan.

Lily snatched both of the papers out of Al's hands, read the one he had been reading, groaned and read the other one out loud. “Louis Weasley.” He gave a whoop.

Yes, someone who might actually pick me!

A whistle sounded and a tall, curvy, dark-skinned girl drew everyone's attention. She had chocolate skin, chocolate hair and the same dark eyes as Fred.

I looked at him, demanding an explanation.

“She's my sister, Roxanne,” he explained, under his breath

My mouth almost popped open in shock.

“You have a sister?” I whispered in the most awestruck voice I could manage while trying not to talk too loud.

“Yeah, she lives with my Mum in the States, she's the same year as me, but we're ten months apart.”

I went to reply, but Roxanne spoke instead. Her accent was odd, it had the same tinge at the end as Bianca's except American, not French.

“Right, Al and Louis are going to choose their teams now and there's no exceptions. Al, since you said your name first, you can start.” Roxanne gestured for Al to make his choice. He did an annoying, “hmm” and proceeded to ponder his choice. He was obviously trying to make it look like he was extremely picky about his players and it was an honour to be on his team, instead, he just ended up looking like a bit of a tosser.

All the while I focused on Freddie's sister. There was something different about her, something I didn't like. She held herself in a manner that suggested she was better than everyone else and pulled her head up high and stuck her chest out in a way that made even her relatives stare. She looked down on everyone and that was obvious, especially Freddie, she only had to take one glance at him and I knew.

Next thing I realised Freddie was leaving me and I guessed Albus had chosen him. Fred gave him a high-five and turned to flank his left. I turned to Louis and he winked at me. I got myself ready to walk to his side.

He had to choose me, right?

“James,” he said lazily and I pursed my lips. Some favourite cousin he was.

I turned back to Albus and willed myself not to look at Louis. Evil silent treatment was all I could come up with. It was my thing.

“Dare,” said Albus, smiling. I heard James' growl as his brother chose his best friend. A gorgeous, tanned, Californian girl skipped to Freddie's side. Her butter blonde hair swayed in a pony tail as she moved. Her long slender legs matched the tone of Freddie's and I was filled with contempt at the colour of her skin.

“Lily.” said Louis as though he was pulling names off the top of his head. From the corner of my eye I could see Louis grinning at me maliciously.

This time Albus took almost as long as he had the first time to choose his next player and I wasn't sure if the next name was the one he was planning to say.

“Rette.” I grinned almost instantly, then turned to Louis and beamed at his slightly unhappy face. Louis retorted by poking his tongue out at me.

Mature.

“Hugo.”

A tall, lanky, fiery-haired boy joined Louis' team.

“Elliot.”

The toned, dark-skinned Gryffindor from my year took a spot on our team. As he left he gave Rose a quick kiss on the nose and I raised an eyebrow at her. She just gave me a small sheepish smile.

“Lysander,” said Louis, grinning at his best friend.

“Took you a while to choose me.” said the sexy, windswept Ravenclaw. He winked at me as he walked past and I couldn't help but blush. That was until he winked at Lily and I remembered everything everyone had told me about Lysander Scamander.

Louis mumbled something in response, but Al's voice overshadowed it.

“Rose!”

Rose let out a sigh in relief and skipped to Elliot, wrapping her hands around his. I tried not to be disturbed at the fact he was a head taller than her, but I couldn't help it. When they weren't standing beside each other the prospect of the couple was cute. When they were side by side, it was far from cute, it just seemed … wrong.

I looked back at the last three people left.

Harper Johnson, Freddie's cousin and, I guess, Roxanne's too. Harper was a Gryffindor in my year and it was now I realised that she looked uncannily like Roxanne. Harper's skin was darker and her hair a lighter brown, but the eyes had the biggest contrast. While Roxanne's were dark brown, Harper's eyes were a spectacular light grey.

Another boy was there, who I recognised from Hogwarts, but not from Gryffindor. He had the same to-die-for eyes as Harper and I guessed he was her brother, but his skin was at the half-way stage like Fred's. His hair was jet black and shaggy, but nothing like James' or Al's.

The last person there was Molly Weasley. She was a slightly plain girl, who was also in my year. She had straight brown hair and pale skin, with freckles over her nose. She was a quiet girl, until you brought out the Firewhiskey, then Molly was the life of the party. There was something about her I never really understood and therefore we weren't exactly the best of friends.

“I choose …” began Louis with a prolonged silence. “Harper.”

We had really missed out there, Harper was an excellent player. I wasn't sure why she had been left out last, she was great at Quidditch. It was with nerves that I realized all of these people were exceptional at the game, with the exception of me. Why had Al chosen me again?

“Liam,” said Al, really quick as though he knew he was never going to choose Molly.

In turn she rolled her eyes and flipped him off. This just made him laugh.

Suddenly Albus pulled us all together in a group huddle sort of thing. A quick glance told me that the other team followed suit. There was a collection of people bossing people around and it took a while for Albus to calm everyone down.

“OK, so I've got positions in my head,” said Albus, like this was the most important game for centuries. “We'll put Dare, Freddie and myself as Chasers. Louis'll put James and Hugo as Chasers, not sure about the other one, but we'll need you in there, Freddie, for defence.”

Freddie nodded and Rose interrupted.

“Al, get on with it, we don't need a reason why. Just give us the positions.” Rose was the only person who could tell Albus to shut up in such a nice way and he would actually listen.

“Right – ah. Rose, you and Liam can go as Beaters.” I let out a sigh of relief. “And Rette, it's up to you whether you want to go as Keeper or Seeker.”

“Don't talk shit Al, you know I play Keeper like a headless chicken,” said Elliot, they all laughed. “You're Keeper, R.”

He thumped me on the back and I stumbled forward at the strength in his arm. He caught me before I fell over completely and pulled me back towards him. I smacked into his chest.

What, was I a rag doll to him?

I pushed his hard chest as payback for throwing me around. I felt a surge of power when he stumbled a little.

“R?” I asked, sceptically.

“What? Personally, I hate the name Rette.” Oh my, thank you so much. “And I think R is a great substitute.”

“Why don't you just go with my full name?”

“It's too much to say!” he complained.

I rolled my eyes. “It's a word, Elliot.” I said with prejudice.

“It's a long word.” he pointed out.

Before I could retort a whistle blew and our attention was diverted to Roxanne, who had one hand on her hip and was standing further west, right in front of what I hadn't noticed before. A Quidditch pitch. A whole, full-sized Quidditch pitch. Right in the Potter's backyard.

A full-blown fucking Quidditch pitch, in the Potter's fucking backyard. I guess that's what you got when your mother was a Professional Quidditch player, but boy, they must've been rich.

I stood, my jaw on the ground, collecting a lovely layer of crisp Summer dirt on my chin. Everyone else took off from the ground and flew to the pitch, the only person who watched me with amusement was Freddie and I turned to him, giving him a what-the-fuck expression.

“Extravagant, isn't it?” he said, gazing at it with affection.

“A bit too extravagant, don't you think?” I said, in a high, awestruck voice, that suited me like peanut butter suited apples. In no world would they ever work.

“Wait 'till you see their house.” he commented with an attractive smile, glancing to whatever rich monstrosity was behind me.

“I won't look, until I've gotten over the Quidditch pitch on the lawn,” I said, looking at the pitch that I was sure would disappear any second, now.

His reply was a laugh, followed quickly with a gasp. “Please don't tell me that's yours.”

I looked down to see him staring at the broom in my hand. I grinned instantly and looked at the dark brown broom in my hand with a loving expression. It was made of ebony wood, with a golden clasp around the end of the broom sticks. The twigs were smooth and shaped into a tear dropped tail. It was the newest broom out there and the first one in England was mine.

“A whole box of them arrived yesterday,” I beamed. “They're going on sale tomorrow and the first ones mine.” I sang it like I had found the end of the rainbow, which I pretty much had.

“A Firebolt 500!” Freddie yelled and his sister turned, eyebrows raised to look in our direction. “You're bloody kidding me!”

“I'm not bloody kidding you!” I exclaimed.

“I would high-five you if I wasn't so jealous,” he muttered, looking at the ground rather sadly.

“I feel sad that I missed out on your high-five.”

We high-fived anyway.

“I miss this,” I mumbled, before I could stop myself from blurting the words out. I felt a hot blush coming over my face.

“What?” he asked, halfway through mounting his broom.

“I miss this – us … being friends …”

Emphasis on the 'friends'.

“Me too,” he said, his ears going red in a Weasley-ish manner.

“Friends?” I asked holding my hand out.

“Friends.” he replied.

We shook on it, smiled, then took off from the ground. The old awkwardness and feelings were left behind and a new friendship came with us.

It felt great.

 

*

 

We were two minutes into the game and I was already nervous as hell. And don't forget the sweating, I was sweating like hell too. From the minute the game had started neither of us Keeper's had gotten near the ball. The ball had been situated entirely in the middle of the pitch since Roxanne had blown the whistle. Just like Albus had said, Louis had made James and Hugo Chasers and Harper was the third. It seemed each time one team got the ball as soon as they passed to another team member, someone like Hugo or Freddie would intercept it. It wasn't like it wasn't amazing to watch – it sure was, the whole Weasley family had proved that by standing on the side lines screaming at their siblings and children – it was just, I was bored.

Yes, I admit it, I was playing Quidditch with the most famous family in the Wizarding community and I was bored. But, hello? Keeper had to be the most least active position on the team and I had to be bored. I had a right.

I took the current situation as an example. The gorgeous, mouthwatering, sexy, ravishing … ah, Lysander Scamander was at the other end of the pitch a speeding Albus Potter flying straight for him. He was positioned in mid-air non-moving with a competitive – and I mean really competitive – Potter flying full speed towards him. I squinted at he lifted his arm and threw the Quaffle straight for the goal, just as Lysander started moving. He rocketed forward and braked the front of his broom, the tip stopped, but the rest of the broom kept moving and his tail swung 180 degrees and smacked right into the Quaffle. It shot off to the side to be caught by a grinning Weasley.

I stared open-mouthed. I had to try that.

I almost froze when I realized that Hugo had a free road straight to the posts. The only problem was that I floated right at the end of that road. I didn't have time to prepare myself much, he threw from a long distance, surprisingly to my right. My new broom, however, responded before me and took me straight in it's path, I blocked it with my hip and it smacked me with a tremendous force, almost pushing me off my broom. Unfortunately I wasn't smart enough to think about using my hands to defend myself, but my boredom was gone. I counted that as something.

The rest of the game went by quickly. The scores were annoyingly even and so were the teams. Unfortunately my saves weren't one hundred percent flawless throughout the game, but I still managed a few crowd-pleaser's. Ones that were obviously caused by my Firebolt 500, not that I would ever truly admit it to myself. The final scores were undoubtedly going to be decided by the two Seekers, who had both lost the Snitch twice already. Now, they were both plummeting towards the ground, equally close to the glittering, golden ball and Molly pulled herself up first, her hand clamped around something I could only guess was the Snitch.

“SHAME!” I heard a yell from Louis as he pointed at me from the other side of the pitch.

I laughed, I wasn't a sore loser, unlike Albus, who threw the Quaffle to the ground so hard it made a dent in the crusty earth. I chuckled more at the red-faced boy, but my face went solemn when he glanced at me. I landed on the ground in an exhausted manner, throwing my broom to the ground in such a casual way it made Freddie flinch.

“You don't want to leave it there,” said a heavily accented voice at my side. “I wouldn't want to tempt James too much, he doesn't have that much self control.”

I didn't want to even look at her. All I knew was that I'd see her perfect skin, perfect hair and perfect face and I'd be instantly jealous. I sighed, Dare was the only girl who could bring out so much insecurity in me.

I picked up my broom.

“Where should I put it?” I asked.

“Here,” Unfortunately, by sticking out her hand to take my broom, I was forced to look at her. She was sweating, at least I wasn't the only one. She pulled her wand out from the side of her shorts and banished the brooms away. They flew towards the house slowly, I didn't wait to see where they landed. “There. Should be able to get them later.” She gave me a warm smile and I forced one back.

“Lets go.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, walking alongside her.

“Swimming of course!”

“Swimming?” I whimpered, instantly worried.

Oh great. Bikini's. This was going to be interesting.

 

*

 

I stood in the middle of the bushy green forest. My red singlet and denim shorts were strewn across the mossy ground and I was attempting to tie up the back of my silver bikini. I felt sure my back had been scratched by my unnaturally long nails and I just couldn't seem to tie the string tight enough. To be honest, I was near tantrum stage. Unfortunately, I had been a little slow in my clothes changing process and everyone else had disappeared to the water hole.

“Having trouble there?” I very nearly jumped out of my skin, instead I clumsily spun myself around, my bikini top almost flying off completely.

“Bloody hell, Freddie!” I resisted the urge to shove him, remembering the fact that I still hadn't done up my top. “Now that your here will you at least do me up?” I didn't wait for an answer, I just turned and pulled my hair out of his way, trusting him not to fling my bikini off like any normal hormonal teenager would do. A few black strands of hair fell onto my face and I blew them away.

“Is this tight enough?” he asked.

“Perfect,” I let my hair fall down once I knew he had it tied. He pushed it over my left shoulder and I felt something brush against my neck. I froze when I realized what he had done.

I couldn't mention it. It must've just been the wind or his breath. Or maybe he was just wiping away sweat or something along those lines. Whatever had just happened I didn't need to comment about it.

My mouth betrayed me, of course.

“Freddie, did you just kiss my neck?”






Author's Note: So, what did you think? Am I terrible ending it there? Was it too soon? I know it's only the second chapter and I usually don't get into that sort of thing so quickly, but it's not what you think it is and I wanted to make it interesting so I changed it around a bit :D Feel free to give me a review, they're what keeps me going (:

Next Chapter:

Abruptly we both pulled ourselves away from each other and stumbled backwards.
“No.”
“It's just wrong.”


 


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