⠀ ❝ And in the back of her mind, Katie knew that her words were a lie. Because if her nightmares could creep up into her mind and become her reality, she would be damned if this Remus Lupin - his lips, his hands, his ragged breath, his willing rec...
[ His eyes came to land on the book that was once again in Peter's hand. "Where did you get that book?" His voice was quiet, but the slight edge to it made Peter flinch. ]
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The green grass was damp from the rain that poured down the previous night, minuscule droplets of dew dotting the green grass. The sloshing sounds of rough leather boots making contact with the wet mud, loud chatter from the stands - packed with sections of green, red, yellow, and blue - and the ragged breaths of the team members were heard.
Two circles of red and green stood on the slightly fraying grass, both located on opposite sides of the field.
"Listen up, you lot!" James stood at the very head of the circle, gaining the attention of his team so quickly it was as if they'd been entranced. He swept a peering look at them from behind him wire-rimmed glasses, his posture level and stiff at the shoulders.
"Slytherin has beaten us in the race for the Quidditch Cup in all but one of my years as a chaser, always by less than fifty points. So this match—whoever wins—could set the tone for the entire quidditch season. Returners, you know how important the first game of the season is, I don't want to see any stupid mistakes that can be avoided. Newbies, you'd better learn quick," he announced to the team, his voice oozing of authority, slick and entrancing.
Gone was the James that carried around with him a light step, instead replaced with the imposing quidditch captain that he'd taken up every time he stepped foot on the fields he knew so well.
"Play hard, be determined, don't be deterred. Also be aware that if the games gets to the wire, the Slytherin team gets real physical, so watch your backs. And do not, I repeat, do not give up too quickly. I don't want a repeat of last year's final match. Understand?" The entirety of the team winced upon the mention of last year's match - it was as bad for the team playing as it was for those in the stands. But the team nodded simultaneously, newfound looks of determination on their faces.
"Alright then, let's kick some arse!" He raised his polished broom high over his head, trying to spike the energy of his otherwise dreary team. That seemed to do the trick, the team cheered loudly along with him, clapping each other's backs for luck.
The loud booming voice of Madame Hooch echoed throughout the pitch as the two teams lined up, ready to mount. "Brooms up!" The players did as they were instructed, kicking a foot on the wet grass. Soon 15 brooms were suspended high in the air, seven red, seven green, and the small figure of Madame Hooch located between them to complete the picture.
