ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇᴏʀʏ

➳ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 ~ 𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

This chapter is dedicated to Lovegood-Odair for literally just existing and being cool idk what else to say!
Love you ♥️♥️♥️

(26th September 1977)

Esme-Leigh Bisset didn't mind not being on the quidditch team anymore. Honestly she didn't. It was easy enough to say to anyone that asked that she preferred to watch James torture his team, it was easy to lie and say she wasn't bothered but the truth was she did mind.
She missed the feeling of the wind in her hair, bringing it to life. She pined for the roars of a crowd when she scored a goal for Gryffindor; she the adrenaline that ran through her veins when the quaffle was tucked her her arm, fingerless gloves gripping the leather of the ball as if it were alive and about to leap from her arms at any second. And more than anything, she missed the rush that breezed over her like ice cold water when she caught sight of the proud smirk on James' lips when she was doing well; the smirk would reach his eyes and she would see them sparkle if she got close enough. A smirk from James while he was in Captain-mode was like finding a pearl in a clamshell; not impossible but very unlikely. She doubted there was anything better.

In short, no matter how fine she said it was, Esme-Leigh missed quidditch more than she'd miss her right leg if it fell off in the night– she'd still be able to play without it so what was the point? But she still had her right leg, and she was still just watching the practices from the commentator box. She hated it more than she'd hated anything in a while.

Quidditch was a chance to be something more than the pretty veela girl with the velvety accent and the killer smile. She was part of a team, and it wouldn't matter what she looked like as long as the quaffle found itself familiar with the hoops.

No matter how long she dwelled on it, the pain didn't seem to dim. It had been a week of getting used to it (technically longer, seen as detention had prevented her from even trying out) and yet the idea hadn't yet found a home inside her brain. It sat there, clinging on like an unwelcome guest or a virus she'd rather shake off than admit was eating her alive. But she kept a smile on her face when James stuck the notice on the Gryffindor common room board– he'd always insisted he would never tell anyone early if they'd made the team– and when Marlene bounced around with glee at being made seeker, Esme grinned with her and assured her there was never any doubt. She'd even congratulated Sirius for his spot as beater being returned to him. And to no-ones surprise but everyone's delight, Remus had gotten the commentator gig.

In hindsight it was probably a dismal idea to agree to come along and watch a few of the practices, it only aided in rubbing salt in the wound, and a nasty wound it was too. She watched the team –a lot of whom she'd flown beside many times over the years– zip along the pitch in time trails, repetition practices and various other drills James had devised to pressure his team to become better than they'd ever been; and as much as she hated to admit it: they were doing terrific without her.