VIOLET (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

19.

The first few weeks of Marlowe's off-season were very enjoyable. He spent a lot of time with Caiti, helped her when he could, and tried not to bother her when he couldn't. Once a week, he went to the field for training and sometimes he went on his own, determined to keep his skills up and come back next season stronger than ever.

But the appeal of all his free time faded pretty quickly, and Marlowe had started to get bored.

He and Caiti were sitting on the couch in his living room one evening the in October, listening to coverage of the playoff match happening that night between the Holyhead Harpies and the Ballycastle Bats. Marlowe, who'd been tentatively recruited and then dropped by the Bats after he'd been bitten, was violently angling for them to lose.

His dad had been listening too, but the match was going on a very long time — it had started at three that afternoon and was still raging at nearly ten pm — and he'd decided to call it a night. It wasn't the final, final game. The Wigtown Wanderers had been knocked out the day before and whoever won today would play the Wimbourne Wasps on Sunday.

That match would decide the league champion.

"How is anyone going to win this late?" Caiti asked through a yawn. She sunk down a little lower on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder. "No one's going to be able to see the snitch in the dark."

"Well, the field is lit," said Marlowe.

"I still don't see how they could do it. They've been going for ages. Just sitting on a broom that long would kill me."

"They're not so bad," Marlowe said. "The good ones anyway. Have you ever even flown anything but a school broom?"

Caiti shook her head.

"See, that's a tragedy," Marlowe said. "That's why you don't like it. You've never really experienced it. When was the last time you were on a broom anyway?"

"First year," said Caiti proudly.

"No," said Marlowe.

"Yes."

"It can't have been. Not even once?"

"Never," Caiti said. "I swore off it after my last compulsory flying lesson."

"What would I have to do to get you back on a broom?" Marlowe asked.

"You can't," said Caiti. "I won't be convinced."

"It would be so different, though," Marlowe said earnestly. "You could fly mine. Those school brooms always hang left and they're not very responsive. I swear they've been around since like... the eighties. No one's ever replaced them. You need to try a good broom. Mine does exactly what you want it to and it's smooth, it's comfortable... it'd just be so different."

"As persuasive as you are..." Caiti said. "No thank you."

"Please?"

Caiti just patted his knee.

"What if I did it with you? You wouldn't even have to be in control."

"Oh god," said Caiti, sitting up to look at him. She had the most appalled expression on her face. "I'm not getting a broom with you in control. I've seen the way you whip that thing around."

"Fine, then you be in control. You can stay low to the ground and go slow."

Caiti raised her eyebrows.

"Please, Caiti," said Marlowe, giving her his very best puppy-dog expression. It had worked on his mum many times when he'd been little. It's probably still work on her today if he tried.