Dirty Little Game ♠ Professor Lupin

Twenty two: Bad Habits

The time has come for a Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, so I had to be there. Although the weather was terrible, Wilton and I took our seats high in the stands. Students around us were talking loudly among themselves, making bets and praising their favourite players. I snorted loudly as I heard a boy two rows below say Ryley's name.

My friend looked at me with raised eyebrows, "Have you switched to the enemy team?"

I raised my hands up, "Of course not! I support our team... just not Ryley."

A group of Slytherin boys took the row of empty seats next to us. One of them kept brushing his shoulder against mine.

"You do it on purpose or do you act like that on a daily basis?" I snapped at him after I ran out of patience.

He turned to me and we came face to face. A pretty attractive face. Why didn't I know him?

"Did you get off on the wrong foot today or it's just a typical you?" He pondered aloud. His friends laughed.

I looked over his shoulder and recognized one of the guys he came with. It was impossible not to remember him when he was the laughingstock of an entire Slytherin team nearly a year ago. Short, fat boy came to the qualifying to try out for a Keeper. I remember Ryley, who had been occupying this position since his third year, laughing at him saying that the only role the boy was suited to play was Quaffle's.

I recalled he was a year below me, so probably all of his colleagues were as well. That would explain why I didn't know the boy in front of me, although he was good-looking and I rather paid attention to such people. I wasn't usually interested in younger boys.

"Your courtesy is beyond outstanding." I said, rolling my eyes. I turned back to the stadium.

"As is your attitude."

"Look, boy." I looked at him again. "Being cocky won't make your own willy grow, although it may sound deceptive."

Wilton started coughing hysterically next to me, trying to disguise his laugh.

The boy didn't look like it made any impression on him. He raised one eyebrow and asked, "You're an expert?"

"You can call me that. Or master. Or-"

"And you can call me Connor." He interrupted. The corner of his mouth quirked up. Smooth.

"I doubt there will ever be a need for that." I said sarcastically.

The players flew into the air and we both forgot about each other. I focused on the game, every now and then shouting the name of one of our players or booing when the opposing team scored. Wilton wrapped a scarf in our house's colour schemes around me about halfway through the game.

The teams practically went head to head. When it seemed that Slytherin was starting to get the upper hand, Ravenclaw was doing something that effectively stopped us from thinking so. We knew that virtually no one but us was cheering for our house. The Gryffindors just wished to bring us down a peg; after all, a Slytherin victory would force them to face us, and like cowards that they were, they would rather avoid it. The Hufflepuffs were the exact opposites of us, so of course they weren't rooting for us. And the Ravenclaws were playing against us, naturally they wanted to be the winning team.

It was one house against three others. Apparently we had to shout louder than them because in the end it was Slytherin who won the match. Our entire stands exploded, everyone shouted at the top of their lungs, some jumped, some, like me, threw themselves at their friends. But I quickly let go of Wilton when he started screaming right into my ear. I was still a bit oversensitive to sounds from my concussion two weeks ago.