Can I go back to the Library now? (Missy)

[Devereaux Gordon]

Devereaux hastily ran through the Hufflepuff common room and straight to his dorm room. He placed his bag on the table next to his bed then began ripping his robes off. “Freaking lunatic…. Gonna kill me…. How do I get myself into these messes….” He could be heard muttering under his breath as he hastily found his flying robes and pulled them on. After putting his flying goggles on his forehead, he grabbed his broom from where it rested at head of his bed. Finally, he grabbed his wand off the bed as he left his room in a rush. “Excuse me….sorry….excuse me…” He muttered as he sped back through the common room and out into the hallway. It had taken him a few minutes to get to his room from the library, plus at least a minute to change, and now he was worried he would miss his ten minute window. Missy seemed like the kind of person to hold him to it too.

In a manner that was really quite unusual for him, Devereaux began jogging through the hallways hoping beyond hope that no professors would spot him. He was momentarily grateful for all of the time he had spent working out as he repeatedly half-shouted “Excuse Me!” and saw people hurry to get out of his way for fear of being ran over.

After what felt like an eternity, Devereaux emerged from the doors. He began to speed up now that he was out of the school and, after taking a cursory glance to make sure no one was near him, he jumped and whipped his broom underneath him. He might not be a quidditch player, he thought to himself, but he hadn’t taken three years of flying for no reason. He loved being on his broom!

With a grin he gripped the broom and took off towards the pitch. It didn’t take long before he spotted Missy standing on the field. He dropped the nose of his broom and landed softly about ten feet from her.

“I’m holding your responsible if I get detention for running through the halls.” He said with a huff as his breathing began to even back out.

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy had been pacing impatiently, hands on her hips, her Firebolt slung casually over her shoulder. She knew she’d given Devereaux a ridiculously short window to get changed and get his arse down here, but that was part of the test. If he wasn’t willing to commit, what was the point?

She had just been about to start tapping her foot dramatically when a streak of movement caught her eye.

There he was.

She smirked as he zipped through the air, making a rather clean landing about ten feet away. She had to admit—not bad.

The moment his feet touched the ground, she pointed a finger at him. “Ten minutes exactly. I knew you’d make it.”

Then, her smirk widened at his breathless complaint. “Oh, please. If you get detention, that’s just proof you need to be faster. Consider it part of your training.” She spun her broom in her hands and twirled it once before planting it firmly on the ground. “Now, let’s see what we’re working with.”

She tilted her head as she took in his broom. “This is what you’ve been flying on?” she asked, giving it a critical once-over. “Wow. No wonder you’ve never played Quidditch before.” She stepped closer, reaching out to run a hand along the handle, testing the weight and grip. “This thing is fine for getting from A to B, but Quidditch is fast, Dev. You need a broom that listens to you—responds to you.” She patted her Firebolt affectionately, as if it were a trusted companion.

Then, she grinned at him.

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” She swung her leg over her broom, hovering just a few feet off the ground with practiced ease. “Let’s see you fly.”

With a wicked glint in her eye, she shot upward, climbing higher into the air before circling back around. “Catch me if you can, Hufflepuff!” she called, laughing as she darted toward the other end of the pitch, waiting to see if he’d keep up.

[Devereaux Gordon]

Devereaux smiled when Missy confirmed that he had made it in time. He was relieved that, at the very least, his running through the school had not been a complete waste. He observed her Firebolt briefly as she did the same to his much older broom.

The polished ebony handle and perfectly manicured twigs, he couldn’t quite tell from this distance if they were birch or hazel, came together to create a flying device of immense quality. If he could remember correctly, the advertisements used to play all the time, it could go from zero to one hundred and fifty miles an hour in ten seconds. All of the ironwork was goblin made, and each broom was hand numbered with its unique registration number. He couldn’t quite remember when it was released, but he knew there hadn’t yet been an anything to surpass it on the market. It was truly a magnificent broom!

That last thought caused Devereaux to have a brief mental image of a witch riding a broom with an assortment of animals riding with her while holding a wand and a cauldron. He shook his head, trying to focus.

“Well, I know it’s pretty outdated. But I never really had need for anything faster. I doubt my parents would dole out for a fireboat, but I might be able to get an upgrade to something a little faster, if I needed. I bet I could find a used iteration in the Nimbus Line” He shrugged, not too concerned.

With a grin and a challenge, she mounted her broom and was off. Devereaux quickly snatched his broom and practically leapt on. With a little pressure from his feet the broom took off. Well, compared to Missy’s Firebolt, it was more like one of those vehicles that really old people would bring into his dad’s shop. There was a just-noticeable delay and then he began to pickup speed.

With a tug against the handle, Devereaux directed his broom up and then quickly leveled out to follow Missy across the pitch. He pushed his broom harder than he had before, and for the first time he found that he was disappointed in it’s performance. Most of his flying to this point had been for personal fun, he had never really had need to push his broom to it’s limit. It turned out, it’s limit was not particularly fast.

Shrugging to himself, Devereaux adjusted his grip and continued flying after Missy. Ignoring the fact that he felt so slow compared to her, he realized it had been a few weeks since he had flow, and he had missed it a great deal. He let a whoop as he performed a barrel roll and relished the momentary sensation of weightlessness.

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy glanced over her shoulder mid-flight, grinning as she saw Dev following after her. He wasn’t bad. A little slow, sure, but he handled his broom well enough. And more importantly—he liked flying. That was half the battle won already.

She heard his whoop as he rolled through the air, and she let out a laugh. Finally, he was getting into it. “See?” she called back to him, banking left sharply before flipping into a quick spiral. “Flying is meant to be fun! You’ve been holding back this whole time!”

Still grinning, she slowed just enough to let him catch up, flying alongside him. “Alright, so you’ve got control, and you’re not afraid to throw yourself around up here. That’s good. But if you’re gonna play Quidditch, you need to think faster. You don’t have time to just react—you have to anticipate.”

Without warning, she twisted suddenly and shot upward at a steep angle, challenging him to follow. If he was serious about learning, she was going to make sure he earned it.

“C’mon, Hufflepuff, you wanna learn or what?!” she teased, hovering just above him. “First lesson—agility. You need to be able to change direction fast. No lazy turns, no slow pivots. Quidditch isn’t patient.” She let out a whoop and dove downward, pulling up at the last second before zipping past him again.

Missy wasn’t taking it easy on him, but she could already tell—he’d keep up.

[Devereaux Gordon]

Devereaux followed Missy around the pitch with a grin on his face. For the moment, his studies were forgotten, replaced by the wind rushing around him and the broom in his hands. He also found great delight in seeing Missy looping and wheeling ahead of him. She was, in fact, a fantastic flier, and it seemed to him that she was elated to have someone flying with her.

"Holding back?" he yelled back to her, "I've never had to follow an adrenaline junky through the air before!"

She allowed him to catch up so she could say a few words, but then she was off again. He drove down with his feet and pulled with his hands, following her in her steep climb. She was quick, her ability to turn the broom in an instant with no loss of balance was incredible.

They continued to climb, Devereaux’s slower broom causing him to fall behind continuously. Finally, Missy pitched forward and shot for the ground. Devereaux followed suit and felt the wind tearing across his face as his picked up speed, his vision narrowing until all he could see was the ground rising steady before him. He tried to mimic her actions and got as low as he could before finally yanking up. He felt the twigs of his broom just barely brush the ground as he struggle to match her agility.

“You certainly seem particularly skilled for chaser. How long have you been playing?” Her words rang true in his head as she pushed him to his limit around the pitch. He had never been forced to manhandle his broom the way he was now. Without playing a game like quidditch, he doubted he would have ever been in a situation that required these types of maneuvers, so he had never practiced them before.

“I’ve never had to fly like this.” He yelled to her as he tried to regain his breath. “How are you able to turn so quickly? I feel like I might rip my broom in half trying to get it to turn like this.” His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt a little sweat on his brow. Damn this is fun. He thought to himself.

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy felt alive. Every nerve in her body thrummed with excitement, her heart pounding as she streaked through the air, wind whipping against her face. Flying had always been where she felt the most herself, and now, for the first time in ages, she had someone flying alongside her—really flying. Dev wasn’t just following; he was pushing himself, and she could see it in the way he leaned into his broom, the way he fought to keep up.

She stole a quick glance at him, grinning wildly, her cheeks flushed from exertion and exhilaration. “Merlin’s beard, Dev, you’re actually keeping up!” she shouted, breathless with laughter. “This is brilliant!”

There was a kind of reckless joy in flying like this, looping and rolling through the open sky without a care. And Dev—Dev was trying so damn hard, she couldn’t help but admire him for it. He wasn’t as fast, his broom wasn’t built for these kinds of sharp turns, but he was determined. That counted for something. That counted for a lot, and it impressed her.

“I’ve been flying since I was tiny, but I only got serious last year when I tried out for the team,” she told him, flipping effortlessly into an inverted roll before righting herself. “Best decision I ever made. Nothing beats this—nothing.”

She slowed just enough to hover beside him, her energy still buzzing. “Alright, if you’re gonna really fly, you need to trust your broom. Stop fighting it—work with it.” She reached out and tapped the handle of his older broom, her fingers light against the worn wood. “Tighter turns aren’t just about yanking it around. You’ve gotta shift your weight—move with the broom, not against it. Lean into your turns. Commit.”

Her grin turned positively wicked. “Speaking of commitment, let’s see what you’re made of.” She shot him a challenging look, eyes glinting with excitement. “I’m giving you a crash course in every Quidditch position—Keeper, Beater, and Seeker. You've already shown me that you're a fair flyer as a Chaser. Let’s see where you really shine.”

And without waiting for an answer, she bolted toward the goalposts, her Firebolt cutting through the air like a blade. “First up—Keeper!” she called over her shoulder. “You’re defending the hoops. I’m trying to score. Don’t let me!” Her whole body hummed with anticipation. This—this—was what she lived for. And if Dev was willing to put in the effort, she’d make sure he got the full Quidditch experience.

Missy didn’t even need to look as she pulled her wand from her robes, flicking it effortlessly. "Accio Quaffle!" she called, and within seconds, the red ball came soaring toward her. She caught it one-handed, spinning it in her palm before turning her bright, eager gaze back to Devereaux.

“Alright, Keeper,” she called out, pointing toward the goalposts with the Quaffle. “Get your arse over there and hover in front of the hoops! Your job is simple—stop me from scoring.”

She grinned, tucking the Quaffle under her arm before taking off, circling high above the pitch like a hawk sizing up its prey. The three golden hoops stood tall in the distance, each at a different height, and she wasted no time in putting Dev to the test. Missy dove sharply, closing in fast, before feinting left at the last second and whipping the Quaffle toward the tallest hoop. Then, before Dev could fully recover, she darted to the opposite side, twisting midair to send a shot at the smallest one.

She wasn’t going easy on him.

Spinning, swerving, relentlessly testing his reflexes, Missy zipped across the air, firing off shots at every angle—fast, unpredictable, some with just enough curve to mess with his balance. She grinned as she played, the endorphins rushing through her veins, exhilaration lighting up her entire being.

“Come on, Dev the Destroyer!” she called, laughter in her voice as she looped around him for another shot. “You stopping me, or am I running up the score?!”

[Devereaux Gordon]

Devereaux nodded his head as Missy gave him some tips on how to fly a little more efficiently. She seemed to really know what she was talking about. He had been putting a ton of effort into forcing his broom through each turn, it had started to wear out his arms and legs. He knew that it wasn’t a sustainable method, especially for someone who had to stay on the pitch for potentially hours at a time in a Quidditch match. He couldn’t imagine it, he would be out after fifteen minutes at this rate.

“Okay, I can definitely try that. I’ve never tried to go through turns and movements so fast before, I will have to spend some time working on it.” He sat up on his broom and let go of the handle so he could shake out his hands.

Suddenly, Missy got a glint in her eyes and explained that she was going to run him through every position on the pitch. “Listen, I don’t think that is…” But she was gone. “…really necessary.” He sighed as she shot across the pitch towards one of the sets of three elevated rings.

Devereaux leaned forward and took hold of his broom once again before taking off for the goal posts. “We don’t have the….” He started to say, but she was already summoning the quaffle. “Oh gosh.” He groaned to himself and floated into what he thought would be the best spot to defend from. He felt his heart rate picking back up as he watched the ball fly across the pitch into Missy’s hand. Although he was a little nervous, Devereaux realized suddenly that he also felt extremely excited. He had never been opposed to athletic pursuits. After all, he enjoyed lifting weights, and he often went hiking with his family when he was home. He had just not spent very much of his life in organized sport.

Snapping back to reality, Devereaux realized Missy was circling high above the pitch planning her first attack. He squeezed his broom tight before taking a deep breath and letting his grip relax on the handle. He would have to try to follow Missy’s advice and stay relaxed if he planned on blocking any of her shots.

In a flash, she dove towards the goals. Devereaux tracked her movement and calculated where her trajectory was taking her, he urged his broom over, trying to make it to the right-most goal. Just as he thought he would make it in time to catch her shot, she jerked the other way and fired the ball right at the middle ring. Wait no, Devereaux jerked back towards the tallest ring just in time to realize it had been a fake and she had launched the ball at the shorted ring.

“Nice shot!” He yelled and tried to reposition to prepare for her next attack. Which she scored on again, and the next after that. On the fourth shot he managed to get his finger tips on the ball, but not enough to actually block the shot. And, although she also scored shots six, seven, and eight, Devereaux did feel like he was responding better and figuring out better positions to hover in while waiting for her shot. Not only did he have to adjust how he prepare himself for her shots, he also realized that she was able to cure the ball slightly by adding some spin. All of these factors made it extremely difficult for him to ever pinpoint exactly where the quaffle would be. He managed to get his hand on a few of them, just never enough to block it completely.

Then, on Missy’s twelfth shot, he managed to get his hand completely infront of the quaffle and swat it away from the goal. In hind sight, Devereaux was pretty sure that the ball had slipped a little bit when Missy released it, causing it to lack the normal power. But a block was a block in his book. “YES!” Devereaux shouted as he spun back around to circle in front of the goal. He had a good bit of sweat on his face, and he couldn’t remember the last time he breathed so hard. “I got one.” He said through deep breaths, sitting back on his broom and shaking his hands out again. "It is seriously insane how much variation you can put into your shots. I feel like I'm taking a physics class over here trying to calculate where the quaffle is going!"

Although he did manage to black a couple more after that. By the time they were done, he was fairly certain that the score was 16-3 for Missy. “Maybe I can try a different position?” He said as he tried to catch his breath. “Also, water would be great!”

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy hovered in place, still absolutely glowing from the thrill of their Keeper drill. Her pulse was hammering, her whole body was alive with energy, and Dev? He had done way better than she expected. Most first-timers barely lasted two minutes in front of the hoops before getting completely discouraged. But Dev? He'd actually started adapting.

“You’re a quick learner, Dev,” she said, giving him an approving nod. “Seriously, blocking any of my shots is a feat—ask the other Keepers." She smirked, lowering down to the ground while spinning the Quaffle absentmindedly on her fingertip before tossing it back into the equipment trunk. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you reading the spin. You’re good at tracking movement—means you've got some solid instincts.”

She wiped the sweat from her brow and gave him another long look. His breathing was heavy, his face slick with sweat, and he was shaking out his arms, but there was no sign of him tapping out. The guy could handle himself, that was for sure. For someone who was into his studies, he was holding his own as a player. He also looked like he could use a short break, pulling out her wand again and conjuring some water in a goblet, she prompted him to join her down on the ground and handed him the cool liquid.

And, now that she was really looking at him, she realized something else—he was built for something even more aggressive. A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face.

“But,” she said, drawing out the word dramatically, “you’ve also got the shoulders of a Beater.”

Without waiting for a response, she looked back down at the equipment trunk at the bottom of the goal posts. The trunk rattled violently, the iron-clad Bludgers slamming against their restraints like caged beasts sensing their moment of freedom. She flipped the lid open, letting out a low whistle as the enchanted balls fought to be released. "Alright, now we’re getting to the real fun."

She grabbed one of the thick, slightly worn Beater’s bats, tossing it in her hand a few times, testing the weight before turning to Dev. “Catch.”

With a sharp toss, she sent another bat flying toward him.

“This,” she said, giving her own bat a solid thwack against her palm, “is a Beater’s best friend. And this…” She flicked her wand, and with a loud snap, one of the Bludgers’ restraints broke.

The iron ball exploded into the air with a terrifying whoosh, circling them like a shark scenting blood, shifting erratically as it searched for its first target.

“…is your enemy,” she finished with a smirk, mounting her broom. She gave him no further warning before she dived out of the way, leaving him face-to-face with a Bludger now zeroing in on him.

“Swing hard, Dev! Don’t hold back!” she called as she rocketed upward. "And for Merlin’s sake, aim!"

[Devereaux Gordon]

A smile lit up Devereaux’s face at Missy’s praise. Usually her comments were framed in sarcasm, even the good ones, so as to make it questionable wether or not she was actually giving a complement. “Thanks.” He replied simply. Tilting the nose of his broom down until he landed next to her on the pitch. He gladly accepted the water and drank until the goblet ran dry. His heart was still beating relatively quickly and he relished the feeling of blood singing through his veins. “I can’t imagine having to do that in an actual game where there are multiple chasers to track AND beaters that could be sending the Quaffle at me. It’s a lot easier, I think, when I can focus on nothing els but you and your shot.”

Devereaux watched Missy as she seemed to be deep in thought. Although she had been flying around like a mad woman nonstop in order to present him with so many shots, she did not seem particularly tired. Sweaty, sure, but not winded or even getting close to it. She had a few brown hairs stuck to her forehead by sweat, and he could see the damp spot on her sleeve from where she had wiped her face already. Other than that, however, she seemed largely unaffected. Devereaux had, of course, been very aware that his new friend was very pretty. Until this moment he hadn’t really felt particularly impacted by her looks. Something about her now though, so in her element on the quidditch pitch and so willing to exert herself to do something she loved, was extremely attractive to him.

Devereaux blinked and shook his head once, dismissing his thoughts, as Missy shot him another of her mischievous smiles. He wasn’t sure if it was just one of her signature looks, or if something about interacting with him made her feel particularly devious. “My shoulders?” He responded as she turned from him to look at the equipment trunk. The trunk itself shook with a violent energy, the Bludgers inside yearning to break free and do their best to hurt someone. “Oh boy, this will be interesting.”

Devereaux smiled as Missy tossed one of the Beater bats to him. Although he had never played himself, he had attended games at school and watched a few with his mom. He was, of course, well aware of what a Beater did with their bat.

Without any more warning, Missy set one of the Bludgers free and quickly took off on her broom. Just in time to leave the enchanted ball of death flying right towards Devereaux. With an embarrassing yelp, he just manage to get the bat up and stop the Bludger from collinding with his ribs. His grip wasn’t optimal, however, and the impact caused strong vibrations to rattle his hand painfully. “Crap..” He grunted as the Bludgers flew away briefly before circling back towards him.

Devereaux quickly swung a leg over this broom and launched himself into the air. He managed to make a little space, since the Bludger seemed to move rather erratically, before turning around and fixing his grip on the bat as the Bludger approached again. This time he managed to swing and catch the edge of the crazy thing. It wasn’t a clean hit, but he managed to deflect it away again. “Gosh that thing is heavy. Surely they can crack some ribs if they get a clean shot right?”
Instead of floating still, Devereaux began flying around the pitch as he imagined a Beater would be doing during a game. The Bludger came after him time and time again. Sometimes of it’s own volition, and sometimes sent after him by Missy and the bat she was holding. For the most part he managed to at least clip the thing with his bat just about every time. The times that he missed, he managed to dodge enough to keep the ball from hitting him head-on. He only took one direct shot and it was painful enough to make him hope it NEVER happened again.

“I think I would need some gloves for his position.” He groaned during one of the times that he managed to send the Bludger far enough away that he could shake out his hand. “The vibrations are absolutely brutal.”

Over the next ten minutes Devereaux managed to get a few solid hits that send the Bludger carrying toward Missy. Of course, the thing had no hope of hitting her when all of her focus was set on avoiding it, and she seemed at least proficient with the bat, even if she lacked the typical strength of a beater. “It must take a lot of focus to coordinate passes with the other chasers while also looking out for enemy Chasers and the Bludgers. The longer we are out here the more this game seems like absolute mayhem!” He said with a laugh as he grabbed the bat with two hands so he could land a particularly powerful hit towards Missy.

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy had been having way too much fun watching Dev scramble to keep the Bludger at bay. At first, it had been hilarious—his startled yelp, the way he fumbled the bat, how the vibrations nearly rattled it right out of his hands. But to his credit, he’d adapted quickly. He wasn’t exactly graceful, but he was getting solid contact more often than not, and that was impressive.

“Ribs? Oh, mate,” she called as she lazily looped above him, smirking down from her broom. “A clean shot from a Bludger has broken arms, legs, and one very unfortunate Slytherin Seeker’s nose last year. If you get cracked in the ribs, just hope it only bruises.”

She had expected him to tire out by now, but he kept going, his hits getting stronger, his reaction time improving. He was still flying like a Keeper—too structured, too focused on a single target instead of the whole field—but it was clear he was getting the rush of it. And when that final swing came, she realized too late just how much he’d improved.

The hit was solid.

The Bludger exploded off his bat, rocketing across the pitch, and—

“Bollocks—!”

Missy barely had time to react. She jerked her broom sideways on instinct, just missing the Bludger smashing full-force into her shoulder. But it grazed her hard enough that the impact sent a shock of pain through her arm and spun her completely off balance.

For a single terrifying second, she felt herself tipping—her body thrown sideways, legs slipping—

She barely managed to hook her knee around the broom’s handle before she dropped, her stomach lurching as she ended up dangling beneath it, one hand gripping the wood for dear life.

The Bludger, satisfied with the chaos it had caused, veered away into the distance.

Missy let out a sharp, breathless laugh. “Holy hell, Dev!” she gasped, voice half-stunned, half-impressed as she swung herself back up onto her broom. “That was a hit!” She rolled her shoulder, wincing slightly before flashing him a wild grin. “Didn’t take you for the ‘send-my-friends-flying’ type, but damn, you’ve got an arm on you!”

She flexed her fingers, shaking out the sting. “Alright, alright—call it before you kill me. Maybe you’re not half bad at this Beater thing after all. Now, there's just one last position you haven't tried...”

Missy rolled her shoulder, wincing at the lingering sting from that last Bludger. She’d been laughing at Dev’s clumsy swings not even ten minutes ago, and now she was the one nearly knocked off her broom. He was still grinning like a total idiot, gripping the Beater’s bat like he was dangerously considering another swing. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite bite back her own smirk.

Alright, enough of that.

Back on the ground once more, she reached into the trunk, her fingers curling around something small and smooth. When she pulled it out, she let the golden ball rest in the center of her palm, wings twitching anxiously against her skin. She assumed he knew what this little ball of magic did. She glanced up at him still in the air, before mounting her broom again to meet him face to face.

"Now, the last position - the Seeker." She nodded, interested to see how he would fair with this one. So far he had presented himself well as a beater, chaser, keeper and this last trial would give her a rough idea of which position he had the strength in. "I'm going to let it go, and we're going to catch it. The loser who doesn't catch this little bugger first, buys the other an ice cream next Hogsmeade visit." She eyeballed Dev slyly, eager to see if the wager was worth the battle.

She let the Snitch go.

It vanished instantly, zipping away so fast it was nearly impossible to tell which direction it had gone. Missy didn’t wait—she launched forward, grinning as the wind whipped against her face. She wasn’t about to go easy on him.

The Snitch cut hard to the right, then dropped in an instant. She dove after it, pushing her broom to the limit, revelling in the speed, in the chase. She was a chaser herself, so following something with speed wasn't new to her. She understood the weaving and dodging this little golden ball did.

Devereaux did not.

For the first few turns, he was still trailing behind, reacting too late, not quite grasping the way it zigged when instinct said it should zag. She threw a look over her shoulder, flashing a grin.

“C’mon, Dev! You've got anything left?”

The Snitch banked left. Hard.

Missy snapped after it, cutting so sharply her broom groaned in protest. She could see it now, just barely, the glimmer of gold taunting her—just a little closer—

A blur of movement to her right.

Her grin widened.

[Devereaux Gordon]

Devereaux let out a whoop of joy as his final hit connected and sent the Bludger rocketing towards Missy. His joy turned to a moment of panic as he realized it was actually moving really fast. He winced as the enchanted ball very nearly connected with Missy’s shoulder. Fortunately she was just quick enough to roll out of the way. Her quick movement did send her turning and ultimately hanging from her broom upside down. “Oh hell, sorry about that!” He called out with an apologetic look.

Pushing down on his broom handle, Devereaux matched Missy’s descent and landed a few feet from her. He was still gripping the bat in his right hand, relishing the feel of it. “I think I could get used to this one. Feels a little more natural to me than the other positions.” He commented before finally returning the bat to the equipment box.

His focus returned to Missy as she removed a final item from the box. The Snitch. It was basically impossible for anyone to know about magic and not know what the Golden Snitch was. The entire game of Quidditch was essentially won by catching the snitch. It was, of course, the Seekers job to spend the whole game searching for the thing, and ultimately trying to catch it.

“Ice cream in Hogsmeade?” He replied to her bet with a grin. “I’m beginning to think you’re trying to find reasons to hang out with me Missy Dravonov.” He arched an eyebrow at her, but she was already opening her fingers.

The Snitch didn’t so much fly away as it vanished from it’s place in her palm. Without a moments hesitation Missy took to the air again. “How on earth am I supposed to catch a Snitch on this broom, let alone beat you at it?” Devereaux hollered after her as he too launched himself into the air.

At first, he tried following Missy, but her broom was simply too quick. Even if she slowed down for a turn, or to relocated the Snitch, by the time he got close she was off again. Gradually, however, he slowed down. He knew he had no hope of beating her out right. But if he could just read the movements a little better maybe he could cut the distance.

Devereaux watched as Missy chased the snitch like a pro. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought that she was surely the top pick for Slytherin chaser. Maybe that was just his lack of experience showing, but damn was she quick, and agile! He continued to watch as he allowed the distance between them to grow. If he was lucky then…there! The Snitch banked hard causing Missy cut a sharp left. Fortunately for him, it had cut back closer to his spot towards the center of the pitch.

Devereaux shot forwards as fast as he could force his broom to move. He was now approaching at an angle with Missy to his left. His slightly better angle was the only reason he was able to put up a fight, Missy’s speed far outstripped his own. “I can’t wait for my ice cream.” He bellowed as he leaned forwards and stretched out his hand. A laugh of pure joy erupted form his throat as he lunged forward dangerously on his broom, his hand snapping shut….around nothing. “Bloody hell.” He cursed as he felt the rear of his broom beginning to whip up behind him as his weight went to the front. Both of his hands shot back down, clinging to the handle of his broom as the whole thing inverted, leaving him dangling beneath it.

A little dizzy and turned around, Devereaux didn’t have a chance to see Missy catch the Snitch, but he was certain she had done so without fail. “All right, all right. I’ll buy you some ice cream.” He shouted across the pitch as his broom slowly descended, with him dangling beneath it, to the grass. “As if there was ever a doubt in anyones mind about who would be the winner of that little bet.” He grumbled, a little quieter this time.

A sigh escaped his lips as his feet found the grass and he was finally able to let go of his death grip on the broom handle. “This has been quite the educational trip for me. I don’t know why it never occurred to me that I might actually enjoy playing Quidditch!” He exclaimed with a laugh, turning to smile at Missy. “You’re phenomenal, by the way. I’ll have to come out to see you play sometime this semester. I wonder if there is like a pick-up league that ever happens. Do you know what pick-up is? I just realized I think I learned that word from muggles. It’s where a bunch of people show up to play a sport and you just randomly choose captains and make teams right there on the spot out of whoever is there.” Devereaux realized he was rambling and closed his mouth so fast he though he could hear his teeth clack together. “Sorry.” He muttered, embarrassed. “Got a little excited I think.” He muttered again feeling his cheeks grow warm.

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy snorted, still gripping the Snitch between her fingers as she levelled out her broom. Dev was dangling beneath his, looking every bit the idiot she suspected he was when he first picked up a Beater’s bat. It was almost too perfect.

“You think you might actually enjoy Quidditch?” she echoed, tossing the Snitch back into the trunk and snapping the lid shut. “Devereaux, you’ve been grinning like a madman since the second you nearly killed me with that Bludger.”

She hovered for a moment before dropping smoothly to the ground, landing in front of him just as his broom finally let him down. He looked thoroughly dishevelled, and if she wasn’t so smug about her win, she might’ve offered to help untangle him from himself. Instead, she grinned, a hand on her hip as she watched him struggle.

“And yeah, obviously you were gonna lose that bet,” she continued, stretching her arms over her head like the match had been way too easy. “But good effort, I guess.”

She shot him a look, arching a brow as he launched into some long-winded ramble about pick-up leagues and Muggle sports. She let him go on—partly because it was entertaining, but mostly because his enthusiasm was kinda... endearing.

Finally, he seemed to realize he was talking way too much, and his mouth clamped shut so hard she almost felt secondhand embarrassment.

Missy smirked. “First off, yes, I know what pick-up games are. You do realize I have Muggle-born teammates, right? You’re not the only one who’s ever talked to a Muggle.” She shook her head, amused. “And second... if you wanna get better at this, you just gotta play more.”

She nudged his broom with the toe of her boot. “Lucky for you, I might be willing to let you tag along next time I run drills.” Her smirk widened. “You know, since I definitely want that ice cream, and I need you to get good enough that you can at least put up a fight next time.”

Missy glanced toward the pitch, her expression shifting slightly. She knew she was good. No, scratch that—she was really good. But being only in her fourth year on the Slytherin team meant she didn’t always get the chance to prove it. The older players ran the show, and as much as she loved the game, she sometimes felt like she was just waiting for her turn to really show off what she could do.

“I’m hoping to be captain in a couple years,” she admitted, a rare moment of openness slipping into her voice. “Once the older players graduate, it’ll be my turn to actually lead the team.” She turned back to Dev, her smirk returning. “And when that happens, I'll whoop your arse, along with the whole Hufflepuff team.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head.

[Devereaux Gordon]

Devereaux couldn’t help but laugh at himself when Missy made it clear that he was hardly the only one who was privy to the muggle world. Sometimes some of his classmates seemed so oblivious to those things, he could hardly help but assume everyone was the same. “Right, sorry.” He said, embarrassed.

His smile returned when she mentioned playing more, or even tagging along for drills. “Right, that would be fun, plus it gives me a reason to fly some more since I’m not in flying class anymore. Apparently if I don’t make it a priority, like I haven’t so far this semester, then I tend to forget about it all together.”

He followed her gaze to the pitch. The matching triple ring goals at each end, the rows upon rows of bleachers, and the flags flying periodically above the outer ring of the field, showing off the symbols of each house. Something about being down on the pitch for once, instead of just pretending to watch a game from the stands, made his heart pound with excitement.

Then Missy was speaking again, only this time about something a little more serious. Her desire to lead the team as captain. “I bet you would make a great captain, even now I bet you could do a damn good job.” He said with a reassuring smile. “The Hufflepuff team? I’m not on the team!” He paused and tilted his head. “Wait…do you think they could use a back up beater? I don’t even know who the beaters are now. I think last year our beaters were seventh years or something.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe they would let me practice with them and be a back up or something?” He shook his head, thinking to himself. “I don’t know, this is literally my first time playing, there’s no way they would take me right?” He asked, half to himself, half to Missy.