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chapter four; the winning flying acrobat
Amaya Santoro was a cocky little witch and James had been ready to make her eat her words and admit Quidditch, was in fact, not easy.
He'd spent years at Hogwarts honing his skills, he'd become captain when his love for the sport had made him the best and if it weren't for the war James reckoned he would've considered a career playing. Only, a career as an Auror was much more practical and reliant in these times.
Amaya's passive face, her lips curved into a soft smile, flashed in his mind and he grinned. She was so going to lose.
Only, he wasn't so sure now, because when he and Sirius found her broomstick leaning against her wardrobe they both had stopped in their tracks, jaws slack.
Her broomstick was a wonder. Slick redwood with carvings of flowers throughout and a golden band linking the stick to the tail. They'd never seen a broom like that—so well crafted it looked like art. And he couldn't fathom someone who wasn't a good flyer to feel the need to have one like that—unless her family was just that rich, then again, if she only had it because of money he doubted she'd bring it along with her when changing countries.
"She won't win, right?" Sirius murmured as they stared in awe at the broom.
"Not a chance."
When they got to the Quidditch pitch at the back of the house they found Remus, Amaya, and Mum talking with conspiring smiles on their faces. James narrowed his eyes just as Dad showed up.
"Alright," said Dad as he showed the little golden snitch in his hand, "Amaya, you and James will compete for the Snitch. He's a chaser so it's not his specialty, and since you've never played I gather that's fair."
"So I just need to catch that?" she asked, looking mighty unimpressed.
Sirius nodded. "Not as easy as it seems, love."
"Oh, so it's easier, good to know, amor," she replied, the word love in Spanish rolling off her tongue like a melody, though she meant it as a taunt to Sirius' pet name.
James grumbled, ignoring the reaction he had to her voice. "You're confident for someone who never played." He stepped closer to her as he handed her her broom. "Looking forward to wiping that smirk off your face."
She looked up at him, her eyes dark under the moonlight, and she raised an eyebrow. "And you're so sure you'll win?"
"Positive."
"Good luck then," she said taking her broom out of his hands before winking at him, "You're going to need it."
And then she was off. It was as if her broomstick took off before her and she just hung onto the stick as she lifted into the sky, throwing one leg over it as she hovered in the air, looking smugly down at him. James didn't wait another moment and soon he was in front of her in his broom, looking down and waiting for his dad to release the Snitch.
