Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
<< >>

Decoding the Tutshill Tornados by Mistress
Chapter 15 : The One with Fern
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 13


Font:  
Background:   Font color:  

 


For The Sassy Bones for the shout-out I only just now saw while making sure no one stole my story and lemonpeeps.




“Thank you for joining me, Beth Walterson, on The Q Network!”

Loud applause.

“I know you already recognize my guests and I can tell by the cheers you’re excited to meet them!”

More applause. Louder. Louder. Screams.

Screams? Come on.

“Please join me in welcoming live on the air, James and Avery Potter!”

Avery tensed beside me, but said nothing. Heh.

We stood and waved, our free hands laced together. We faced a giant studio audience on risers and they stared at us on the set of Beth’s Quidditch Talk on The Q (Quidditch) Network. It was a program with good ratings and the followers had their own nicknames. I didn’t bother finding out what they were.

The only reason I agreed was because Beth knew her shit about Quidditch. At least her writers did, anyway, and the interviews aired on her show before weren’t all about relationships and clothes and bloody feelings.

Feelings were for tossers.

Mostly, she had on people like Henrik Lindt, players in the prime of their career doing great things. Not rookies who hadn’t played a single game.

But when your name is in every Quidditch Weekly and most of the Prophets, even Beth Walterson can’t ignore you.

I agreed. I also bribed Avery with a homemade chocolate cake (aka Fred would make it) to get her to agree.

We sat and the applause died down.

It was live. Live on the air. I had to watch my tongue. Mum was nervous about that.

“How are you?” Beth said, her tone light and excited.

Okay, I could work with this.

“Great, great,” I said. “Happy to be here.” Turned on the charm smile. Not even kidding, right when I grinned three girls in the audience squealed. I’d just turned eighteen. I was scrawny and though I was proud of my looks, I didn’t think they warranted THAT much attention.

Avery never so much as batted her eyelashes when I smirked. We would have to have a discussion about the eyelash batting.

“And how are things as a married couple?” Beth was all smirky about the married thing. Like it was our little secret – a code word.

“About the same, really,” Avery replied and she had a charm smile of her own. “Just a different last name is all.”

“How adorable,” Beth said and a few people aww’d. “Now, James, you’re set to play your first game for the Tornados in just a couple weeks and Avery, you’re doing great things for the Sparrows – which, for those of you who do not know, is the Harpies outrageously talented reserve squad.” Beth. Great woman. “Tell me, has the stress of the upcoming matches altered your relationship?”

I shook my head. “It’s harder to get away and have a quiet dinner, but we’re still the same people we were back in Hogwarts.”

“Is it hard playing on different teams? I’ve heard your Gryffindor squad was close.”

“The closest,” I said. “It was an honor to captain them, and yes, it’s unbearably hard to be on a different team and know she’s not the one keeping the Quaffles out of the hoops behind me, but I suppose Lindt is all right.”

The audience laughed. Henrik was going to give me hell for that tomorrow.

Beth looked to Avery, who also nodded. “The Sparrows are a great time and I’m lucky to have them in front of me on the pitch, but it’s different. We don’t all live in the same dormitory or eat in the Great Hall together. We are mates.”

“Do you keep in touch with the rest of the team?” Beth asked.

“I live with the other two Gryffindor Chasers,” I said and there were a lot of squeals because, believe it or not, the media had caught on to who I was rooming with and both Bink and Freddie had been featured in one article or another. “My sister, who was the Seeker for the second half of the season last year, lives nearby. The two Beaters are over frequently. We all keep in touch.”

For Al’s sake I left out the part about him shagging Paloma.

Stupid Al and his stupid sweater vests shagging Paloma Dove.

“Sounds cozy,” Beth said with a laugh. “How are you finding the big leagues, James? Different than practicing with Gryffindor?”

“A bit different now that I don’t call the shots,” I said and everyone laughed. “It’s tough. A lot of long days and ice baths.” Clearly, I said the right thing. Lots of mental images going through the audience. “But I wouldn’t give it up for anything. The Tornados squad is an honor to work with. They have so much talent and the fact that they share it is unbelievable.”

“How is the relationship with your two new Chasers?”

I grinned. “Perfect,” I said. “AliCat and Artemis are fantastic, funny, and they know what they’re doing. They’ve even showed me a thing or two, which I’ll never admit to them of course.”

“Obviously,” Beth said and laughed. She tilted her head to Avery. “And tell me, Avery, how is it knowing you could get called up at any moment to play for the Harpies?”

“Exhilarating,” Avery replied and though she hid it well, I knew it to be perfectly rehearsed. “Though I definitely don’t hope anyone gets injured, it will be nice to get a taste of that if it ever does happen.”

“At least you’re first in line,” Beth said with a grin.

“Absolutely,” Avery said.

The subject changed and we answered a bunch of Quidditch questions and then some funny ones like how our parents responded to us getting married and what’s this she hears about me having a cat that stemmed from Transfiguration? All in all, it was a great interview and the crowd went wild and I didn’t swear or strip naked or do anything to humiliate the family during the live broadcast.

Backstage, I grabbed Avery and kissed her. We shared the same dressing room, so I locked the door behind us. She flopped onto the plush pink sofa and groaned.

“Harpy problems?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“Come on. It was obvious.”

“Cooper’s a pain in my ass,” Avery muttered, closing her eyes and kicking off her shoes.

“Has he asked you on a date, because I have a feeling he’s going to do that.”

“Against the rules,” she replied. “It’s nothing. He’s still not letting me practice with them. I’m getting no league shots against me. Just reserves. That’s brilliant, but I want to face the shots from the actual league players so I know what I’m up against if anyone gets hurt.”

“Won’t let you? What’s that mean? Don’t you have regular reserve practices?” I hated ours. Mason was pratting around like a sod trying to tell the other Hurricanes players what to do and Shelby was giving me eyes. Lots of eyes. Thankfully, they were only once every fortnight and I hadn’t had one since the kidnapping incident.

“Oh, we have regular reserve practices.” She spoke through her teeth. “But Cooper always finds something different for me to do. Practicing certain drills. Anything to keep me off the fucking pitch during those times. At one point he sent me for tea. Tea. During a Quidditch practice.”

“In Wales?” I asked. “What do you make of it?”

She was quiet, wetting a rag and dabbing the heavy television makeup off her face. Then she sighed. “James, you know what I make of it.”

“Your father?”

She shrugged and tossed the rag across the faucet, swinging water into the basin. “It wasn’t Cooper who put me on the team, it was the General Manager. Said GM is currently in Australia getting sun and working on his fifth wife. I have a feeling others are more easily swayed.”

“And you think your father got to Cooper.”

“Among others, yes.”

What a perfectly lovely human, David Flynn. Father of the year.

I fell onto the sofa and left my clothes and makeup (yes, makeup) on. “D’you want to speak to him then?”

“And say what?” Avery slid beside me and leaned her head onto my shoulder. “Hey, Dad, great to see you. How’s jail? Lovely decorating they have going with the white on white. Anyway, did you by chance make it so even though I’m on a team I still can’t actually play? What, you did? Oh, that’s nice, good thing I snuck in my wand so we can have a replay of me blowing up an entire fucking village block-“

I patted her hair. “Yes, well, maybe we should just leave you at home.”

“Fine. No wand.” She smiled. “Let me borrow your machete.”

I considered how serious she might be. I concluded she was very serious, considering his name was not only attached to her career, but now attached to my kidnapping.

Fucking Mason with no nickname.

“Let me test the waters,” I told her and we watched the next guest go on from the television in our dressing room. “I’ll go have a visit with David Flynn and see if he really is up to something or if someone is tossing his name around to avoid detection.”

I didn’t know which idea I liked least.

*

I did just that. On Tuesday after practice and yet another ice bath since Lindt thought my comment about him was ‘funny,’ I dragged myself up the steps of the Wizarding Prison, Fern.

Yes, a prison housing some of Britain’s most dangerous criminals was named for a plant.

After Azkaban closed far before I was thought about, they built a series of seven prisons across Europe, the closest being Fern. It was out on an island just off the coast of Scotland. No apparating, obviously, so I took a rocky boat through cresting waves to the island. I only threw up twice, which was more than could be said for a blond girl near the front.

Fern looked like an old, molding castle. Its guards wore armor and carried swords with their wands. Inside was just as dreary. Everything was a shade of gray. The visiting room had chairs from last century and the plump bloke behind a thick layer of glass gave me a look when I said who I wanted to visit.

“Flynn? Bloody why?”

“I’m his son-in-law,” I said because I couldn’t help myself. Really.

“Sorry to hear.”

“Me too. He’s a pompous twat.”

“Glad we agree.” The man got on a radio and made a few comments while I waited. There was a pamphlet about how the prisoners were treated. One was smiling as he ate green mush.

As big of a talk as I had, I didn’t think I could eat green mush. Hell, I’d had enough by the roadkill draping.

I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans as a tall fellow (in gray) led me to where I’d see David Flynn. It was a long hallway with no windows and the occasional light fixture. I heard prisoners yelling. Some in English, some not. Pots banging against walls.

“In here,” the man grunted. He opened a door to the right, entering into a visitor center.

It was just like in the movies – long row of chairs, glass, phones, and the same thing on the other side. A few prisoners were talking to people further down. The gruff man pointed to the second stool in and I took it.

I waited. I waited for a long damn time. It was about a half hour of sitting on the stool counting ceiling tiles when David Flynn finally sat across from me in a gray jumpsuit. He was unshaven and his hair was unruly. Otherwise, I spotted the few features he passed on to Avery.

Flynn picked up the phone. “What do you want, Potter?” he asked.

“Numerous things, but I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll deal in information,” I said casually. I practiced what I’d say a lot on the boat ride over (interrupted briefly by losing my lunch). “I know what you’re up to, even in here, and I want to know why you won’t give up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Flynn rolled his eyes. “I’ve been in here for months. I haven’t heard from you since your last letter.”

Ah, yes. One of my finer moments.

“You’re playing hands from inside,” I told him. “And I know you are. So cut the shit and let’s talk about what you want.”

“Big talk for such a small guy.”

“I’m not even short,” I snapped. “I’m an average height for a bloke my age – nevermind. You listen here. You can do as much as you want to me, but I want to know why you’re still trying to ruin Avery’s life. She was a good enough person to forgive you for what you did to her and her mum and take you back into her world, but then you fucked that all up. It’s over now. You fucked up too much, but you’re still prying. Why?”

“I’m not prying,” Flynn said.

“You are.”

“I heard you got married.” He nodded to my ring. “Congratulations. I read about it in the paper. What a noble thing to do.”

“Sad you couldn’t walk her down the aisle,” I shot back.

“I’m sure the two of you stumbled enough down the aisle even I couldn’t hold you up,” he replied calmly. “Don’t look at me like that, Potter. I’m not the only one who knows you didn’t marry for love. And now you’re using Avery to get what you want – the press off your back.”

Not entirely true, but not entirely false either.

“I want you to leave her alone,” I said.

“And if I don’t? If I continue to pull strings?”

“I will cut the strings,” I said softly, leaning toward the glass. My breath fogged it.

Flynn smirked, just a little. “Potter, my strings run different ways. I give people what they want. They give me what I want. It works very well.”

“Why are you working with Mason?”

“He’s charming, isn’t he?”

“That’s not exactly the word I’d use,” I muttered.

“Quite talented, I hear,” Flynn went on. “In fact, I wouldn’t rule out him playing on the team this year. All he needs is for one person to get hurt, after all. He is the captain of the Hurricanes. Just one person.” His eyes twinkled. That sinister look that told me all I needed to know –the plan was already in motion. Whatever David Flynn and Mason had agreed upon was already in the works and, if I was reading the expression right, I was powerless to stop it.

Whatever Mason had given Flynn, it was worth the ability to destroy me so he could play on the Tornados.

What did he have to give Flynn, though? A pardon? Cigarettes? A dirty magazine?

That still didn’t explain why Avery wasn’t playing.

“And Emerson?”

“Who’s Emerson?”

“Twatty boy in a bowtie.”

“Ah. He was here with Mason,” Flynn offered. “Didn’t speak with him other than to answer a question to validate who I was. He seems like a good match for Avery, don’t you think?”

Bingo.

“That’s why you’re doing it, isn’t it?” I snapped, louder than I should have. The guard gave me a look. “You don’t want her to play so she’ll quit and end up resenting me and breaking it off with me and going for Twitwards. What’s he giving you then?”

“He has some pull,” Flynn replied.

Of course. Assistant to the Assistant to the Minister.

I stared for a solid minute, legitimately wondering if Bink and Freddie were going to pop out from another booth and say they fooled me. Birthday jokes! How in Godric Gryffindor’s pants could David Flynn be working with both Mason, my new enemy, and Twitwards, my original enemy? I still wanted to know how the fuck they met.

Is there an ‘I hate James Potter’ fanclub out there?

“Let me get this straight,” I said, holding up an index finger. “You’re having secret weirdo conversations with Mason and Emerson. They’re doing something for you – which, by the way, probably won’t happen only because I know they’re both shit at coming through on things – and in turn you’re helping Mason get rid of me so he can make the team and ruining Avery’s career so she’ll date Twitwards? Do you even know he ordered her a salad?”

“Not just that,” Flynn said, ignoring my last part even though it was really important. “I’ll also write you a letter in the same style as yours after you’re off the Tornados and your entire life is ruined.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I got signed as a starter to a professional Quidditch team. You don’t think I can play my way onto another one? I sure as hell do.”

He smirked. The sinister one. “That’s fine. I’d love to watch that happen after what is in the works.”

Yep. In the works.

His tone said it all. David Flynn wasn’t just going to get me hurt or showcase how great Mason was.

He intended on destroying me. Whether that meant my reputation or actually destroying me, wasn’t clear.

*

I didn’t tell Avery right away.

Yes, I knew that the hiding how much of a douche her father was during seventh year caused us to breakup. I wasn’t going to outright hide it. She left that morning for a Harpies practice and said so far Cooper hadn’t given her a separate task. I didn’t want to show up and ruin it.

Instead, I went home and found my baby sister in the garden practicing drills.

Did I mention how proud I was?

Super proud.

Like Albus-hexing-Slytherins proud.

“Hey, baby sister,” I said, strolling up looking extremely casual and like I hadn’t just spoken to my father-in-law who admitted to wanting to destroy me in some form or another.

Lily leveled her broom some twenty feet above me and shifted bangs from her eyes. “Oh, no. What’s happened now?”

“What?”

“You have that look about you. Something’s wrong.”

“Kidnapping hangover,” I said, like it was a thing.

“Mum told me about that. I know you’re hiding something. You’re terrible at it, James.”

“What? I’m wonderful at secrets. I know all of Freddie’s secrets.”

“Everyone knows Freddie’s secrets,” Lily muttered, floating toward the grass. “What’s going on?”

Her brows raised and she tossed her broom toward the bench. She was genuinely concerned. Not that I was surprised, she spent the better part of fourteen years being concerned about me. I spent the better part of it threatening people who looked at her.

Worth.

“Look, let’s just say I’m having a bit of a problem staying where I need to be.”

“Who the fuck is trying to ruin your life now?” Lily snapped. “I am getting a little sick of this. Give me a name. I’m going to take care of them.”

I raised a brow. “How exactly are you going to take care of them?”

“I know people.”

“Who do you know that can ‘take care’ of people? You’re like seven.”

Lily smirked. “I’ve aged a lot since my tryouts, don’t you think?”

“Don’t change the subject. Are you in contact with Slytherins? You know how I feel about Slytherins.” Mason was probably a Slytherin. Did he even go to Hogwarts? Was he educated? Home-schooled in a dungeon on the wrong side of London?

Who the hell taught him to work with criminals to get your way?

And what in Godric’s name was he offering David Flynn?

“You don’t change the subject,” Lily snapped, prodding me in the chest with her index finger. “Who’s messing with your life and what are they trying to pull?”

I knew I should trust Lily in the same way Dad convinced me to trust him. She’d done nothing but help and protect me over the years, but saying it out loud meant it was real.

“Let’s just say I know who kidnapped me,” I explained. “And they have quite a few goals. The main goal, however, is getting rid of me.”

“Getting rid of you?” Lily said. “Like offing you?”

“No idea.” I shrugged, stuffing my hands in my pockets again. It was sunny and I squinted whenever I looked away from her. “Either offing me or, I’m assuming, ruining my reputation so even talent can’t save my career.”

She sighed and made a face. “You know, in normal families the big brothers aren’t world famous Quidditch players and the younger sisters don’t normally have to figure out a way to save their career.”

“We’re Potters,” I said and tousled my hair. “Also, you meant baby sister. You’re not just younger. You’re a baby.”

She ignored me. “We’ll figure it out, James. All of us. Together.”

I didn’t know what she meant by ‘all of us,’ but it was comforting.

Lily knocked me away from thought by slapping my shoulder. “Now go tell Avery. I know you’re only here because you’re trying to figure out how to tell her. Go. I have practice.”

I huffed. “Your left turns are off,” I said as I walked away and she threw a rock at my arm.

*

I waited outside the Harpy’s locker rooms for Avery on a modern bench that went with the rest of the glass décor. I hadn’t returned since her try-out, mostly in fear of arrest in case they discovered my identity in some awesome high-tech camera. Turns out, they didn’t and Twitwards hadn’t outed me.

After the kidnapping, I wished we would have driven his car into a ditch or at least let the cows Freddie petted kick it a few times.

Practice ended and several of the Sparrows said hi on their way out. One or two Harpies left too. All of them smiled and waved. They knew me by now. Avery’s doting husband.

I couldn’t even think it with a straight face.

Regardless, I waited for twenty minutes after the first Sparrow left.

Then thirty. I started pacing.

Forty-five.

Eventually, after an hour, I knocked on the doors. “Hello?” I called. “Aves, are you in there?”

No answer. I pushed it open, but kept my eyes closed.

“Hi! Boy out here! Please don’t be naked because I don’t need a lawsuit today!” Maybe that was what David had suggested. Me seeing a naked Harpy and being blasted as a terrible person and sued and effectively ruining my life.

No, that couldn’t be it. I could talk my way out of that.

I opened my eyes. No one.

With a disgruntled sigh, I walked over to Avery’s locker. It was untouched. Her practice gear hung neatly on hooks. I wondered if she even got so far as to open her locker.

Clearly, Cooper had other plans for her. Again.

I closed the locker and made my way down the attached hallway toward the stadium. It was dark and lined with legendary Harpies players in the same way that the Tornados did. Each photograph had a spotlight, but otherwise the path was dim. No sign of her.

The doors squeaked when I pushed them open and light flooded the entry. It was still too damn sunny and I left my aviators at home. Damn. With a hand above my brows, I searched the pitch for any sign of her. No one was on the grass, but just as I was about to give up and head home for a chat with Gaia, I spotted someone in the stands.

Two someones, actually.

Cooper Bradley sat in the same section from which he’d watched Avery’s tryout. His feet were crossed, up on the chair before him. He was chatting on a phone.

Avery was – wait, what?

I squinted, just to see if I was right.

Avery was picking up water bottles and trash from practice. She had garbage bags sorted in to trash and recycling. As I watched, she speared two wrappers and shoved them into the left bag.

She was cleaning. The all-star Keeper of Hogwarts was cleaning up after a bunch of Quidditch players.

I thought of what reaction I would get for going over there. Cooper would be smarmy, charming, and a tool. Avery would probably get mad at me for intervening in what was clearly her battle.

Psh. She wasn’t doing well with the battle so I marched down the sidelines of the pitch.

Okay, I didn’t march. It was more of a swift power-walk.

Regardless, I tried to look tough.

Avery spotted me some twenty meters away. I actually saw her groan internally.

That’s real love, folks.

“James, what’re you doing here?” she asked when I was near enough. Cooper was still on the phone.

“I came to escort you home after practice,” I announced. “Only you didn’t come out after practice so I came to find you…cleaning.”

Another internal groan. “I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

“How’d practice go then?” I said. Louder this time so Cooper looked over. “How did the Sparrows do with the Harpies? Great, I’m assuming. You’re an ace Keeper. I mean, you were originally named as the starting Keeper, so I’m going to assume you’re getting some great practice time in case someone gets hurt.”

“Leave it, James.”

Who can blame me? I got mad. I hated how much talent she had and how she wasn’t playing. Hell, she could have made the big leagues if David Flynn didn’t get in the way and there was more than one person playing Keeper (I got lucky – three Chasers to a team!).

“No, seriously though. What if someone gets hurt? Isn’t it a little counter-productive to have you not practice? What’s the GM going to say when he comes back and sees he went out on a limb for pure talent, only to have it shoved in a corner when it could be helping the team win?”

Avery was giving me a pointed and annoyed look.

“Oh, but what if someone sees you during a Sparrows game and picks you up and lets you practice properly?” I said. “Then you go on to be some big name Quidditch star and the Harpies are left feeling salty when they lose twenty games straight, go to the bottom of the rankings, and people start making up silly nicknames for the players based on how bad they suck.” I looked at Cooper. He was still on the phone, but no longer paying attention to the line. “What nickname do you think they’ll have for the coach?”

“Let’s go, James.” Avery tied the bags and shoved them toward the aisle. “Cooper, I’m leaving for the day. It was an inspiring practice.” She rolled her eyes and he said nothing.

I escorted her back to the locker room, where she slapped me hard on the shoulder.

“What’s with you?” she snapped.

“You weren’t playing.”

“Which has what to do with you?”

“Everything.”

Avery didn’t dignify it with a response. She grabbed her bag from the locker and tossed it over her shoulder. “I’ll handle it myself, thank you.”

“Handled it really well into trash and recycling. Tell me, does that help your Quaffle-toss? I bet it does.”

“I will physically injure you,” she muttered and shoved open the door to the hallway I’d originally waited at. “Just leave it alone. I’d love to know how many stupid drills I’ll have to run at the next Sparrows practice because of what you just said – really, silly nicknames, James? You’re not Captain anymore. You can’t just go around mouthing off.”

I considered this. “Yes, I can. Clearly, I’m going to be ruined anyway so it’s only a matter of time. Might as well be brutally honest until it happens. I’m banking on before the first game. Maybe even the second exhibition game.”

She turned and walked backward in front of me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d rather not have this discussion here.” I motioned to a few cameras lining the walls. I didn’t know if there were on or had audio, but it made me uncomfortable. “I went to Fern today.”

Her eyes widened. “Let’s go back to your place.”

“Are we going to snog?” I said hopefully.

Avery grabbed my arm, ready to Apparate. “You’ve been living with Bink and Freddie too long.”

*

Neither was home when we arrived, though Freddie did leave a note asking (again) if we should consider adopting a dog. Bink’s schedule was taped to the fridge. He was at the bar working until early morning.

“Sit,” said Avery, nodding to the sofa. I did. “Now tell me what happened at Fern.” She paused and held up a finger. “And don’t leave anything out. Remember the last – zillion times – you left something out.”

That was something I thought about on the way back from Fern this afternoon. How I’d tell Avery. What I’d tell her. How I’d word it to sound less extravagant and dramatic than it was.

No matter how many versions of the story I went through, I knew what I had to do.

So I did. I told her the truth, exactly as it came from our conversation. I even added the bit about the salad, which David Flynn ignored rudely. Everything.

She was quiet. She paced the living room, every so often reaching up to push hair away from her face. This is how Avery thought. How she developed plans.

It was no longer a plan to get back at Emerson and Mason for thinking they could kidnap me and leave me in a field. This had evolved into something dangerous. A situation that could impact our lives. That would impact our lives.

“So?” I prompted after a solid thirty seconds of silence.

Avery sighed and leaned against the wall. “I wish he would have just stayed gone,” she said with a shallow laugh. “I thought this was over. I don’t know if it will ever be over.”

“Unless you divorce me, marry Twitwards, and I am in a gutter selling Gryffindor socks.”

“Of course they’d be Gryffindor,” she murmured and closed her eyes. “We need a plan, James.”

“I don’t know how much we can do. Their plan is already in motion. Whatever they’re going to do to me, it’s already happening.”

She made a face. “How could he possibly think if I couldn’t play for the Harpies I’d quit Quidditch, break up with you, and date Emerson of all people?”

“Salad,” I said.

“Do you think we should talk to your father?”

I made a face. I knew I had to eventually talk to Dad, especially if this got over my head, but it being the beginning stages I didn’t want to seem like a twit. “Not yet,” I said.

“And if this plan explodes tomorrow?”

“Then we’ll have tonight,” I said like a real sap. “It’s probably too late to save me other than doing damage control, but I’ll look into it. You, however, are a different story.”

“You can’t convince Cooper to let me play by insulting him,” she deadpanned.

“What about other teams?”

“You think my father doesn’t have the same pull on other teams? I’m sure Cooper is getting something out of this. Funding for new Quaffles or a date with some owner’s daughter.”

I groaned. “Promise not to break up with me when you’re forced to quit Quidditch?”

She pushed off from the wall and smirked. Godric, I loved that smirk. “Quit Quidditch? If I have to, I’ll play for the goddamn Sparrows forever.” She leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. “I have to go.”

“Wait, where are you going? What about that snog? My stupid roommates aren’t here.”

“I need to go have a talk with Emerson. It appears there has been a misunderstanding.”

*

She did.

I found out the next morning when Avery sauntered in and tossed Emerson’s St. Mungo’s bracelet on my chest.

“One down,” she said. “He won’t be asking me to dinner anytime soon.”




A/N: Thanks for reading! And all the amazing things everyone has said about the ending of 30 Days and the start of my newest story. 

How did everyone like the return of the very charming David Flynn? 

UP NEXT: A familiar face, a lacy store, and James learns something about Avery.


Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Favorite |Reading List |Currently Reading

<< >>


Review Write a Review
Decoding the Tutshill Tornados: The One with Fern

Review

(6000 characters max.) 6000 remaining

Your Name:
Rating:

Prove you are Human:
What is the name of the Harry Potter character seen in the image on the left?


Submit this review and continue reading next chapter.
 




Other Similar Stories

No similar stories found!