MISSED CALLS ➡︎ TEDDY LUPIN [2] ✓

cxxxvi. HOLYHEAD, WALES

"Faster, Weasley! I want to see you sweat!"

Avalon was dying. That she was sure of.

Her first few weeks of training had gone by, slowly and roughly. The practices wouldn't have been so bad if the head coach didn't have it out for Avalon. The poor girl hadn't even gotten a chance to run drills with a Snitch—all she'd been able to do was run laps, fetch water for the other players, and do other physical exercises like sit-ups and push-ups.

And with the rain pouring down from the sky, how could the head coach possibly see her sweat?

She grumbled and panted as she pushed herself to run faster and pumped her legs harder.

Clarissa never made me run like this, she thought bitterly, the rain making her clothes stick to her skin.

Now, Avalon was in great shape. Years of playing quidditch and just being generally athletic made sure of that. But the way she was being pushed to her physical limit was something that olympic athletes had to endure. She was almost thankful that the first match was the next day, even though she hadn't touched her broom in weeks, because at the very least, she wouldn't be forced to run until her legs gave out.

And as she reached the other end of the pitch, her legs did give out, and she collapsed on the turf, breathing heavily.

"Get up, Weasley." The head coach barked. "I don't recall telling you that you could be done."

Avalon fought back the urge to glare at the older woman. She also fought back the urge to puke from the strenuous exercise, but she couldn't let the coach know that.

So instead of complaining, she mentally thanked whatever god existed for the opportunity of a lifetime and got back on her feet.

She started to run again, invigorated not by a sudden burst of energy, but by spite. She was determined to prove the coach wrong, no matter what she had against her.

Eventually, once the sun had began to set and the rain still pelted at her skin, Coach Jones sighed and decided that Avalon had had enough.

"Alright, Weasley. I'm sick of looking at you. Go back to your room and get some rest—if you don't manage to piss me off by then, I'll let you run drills with a Snitch in the morning before the match."