The Scars to Prove It

“This is our last chance — my last chance — to win the Quidditch Cup.”

The twins stared with half open eyes at the burly seventeen year old. The field was dark, but not because it was late. The Gryffindors were forced to wake up at four this morning in order to be in the chilly locker rooms at five.

“I’ll be leaving at the end of this year. I’ll never get another shot at it.

“Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now. Okay, so we’ve had the worst luck in the world — injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year…” George yawned, his head quietly sinking onto Fred’s shoulder. Even Farren didn’t have it in her to nudge him awake. “But we also know that we’ve got the best — ruddy — team — in — the — school.”

The few who were awake began to cheer. It was rather pitiful at first, but then the others began to stir and caught on quickly enough. Once Oliver seemed satisfied, he motioned for silence.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s go over some plays. I worked on these all summer and . . .”

Oliver’s voice threatened to be drowned out by the groans of the team, but he soldiered on. Farren’s head dropped onto Fred’s other shoulder and her eyes fluttered shut. They were going to be there for a while. She figured she might as well get a little more sleep, even if Fred’s bony shoulder wasn’t as comfortable as her warm bed in Gryffindor Tower. Even though they weren't still "together," or whatever the bloody hell was going on last year, Oliver's voice was soothing enough for her to drift off to.

Farren must have drifted off, because what seemed like a few seconds had passed and Fred was nudging her awake.

"Don't want lover-boy knowing you slept through his gospels," he said, looking away from her. Farren shrugged and wiped the sleep out of her eyes.

As the team filed out of the locker room, Oliver pulled Farren back and watched the rest of the team leave. Farren thought she saw Fred giving them a dirty look, but she probably imagined it. It was, after all four in the morning. She was probably hallucinating half of what she was seeing.

"How are you?" he asked, with a tinge of the currently ever-present tone: pity.

"Tired, no thanks to you. If I had a Galleon for every time you've-"

"That's not what I mean."

He looked down at her, and Farren had to fight the urge to raise herself to his height. Or stand on a bench. "I'm fine, Oliver. I'm not a fragile little flower."

He chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "If there's anything I've learned..."

Farren smiled, happy to accept this faked normality. Anything to keep away from the land of sympathy. "I figure the team's waiting for you, Tosspot."

"That's Coach to you," he replied with a smirk.

"Sure thing, Coach Tosspot,” Farren shot back as they made their way out to the pitch.

"That's the best you've got, Farren?" George called from the pitch.

"Keep in mind that it's five thrity in the morning! Or am I the only one who's normally sleeping?"

"Definitely not," called Angelina from above them. "But the sooner we run through the drills, the sooner we can be done."

"Yeah," said Harry, "we might even make breakfast this time."

The entire team laughed and Oliver nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe if you all got your arses on your brooms and got up in the air instead of chatting, we'd be done a bit sooner."

There was the usual chorus of moans and groans, but this time it was but this time everyone was considerably more lighthearted with the prospect of actually playing once more.

Practice went on for a few hours; drills interspersed with some fun games and breaks. When they were done, the team hit the showers with laughs and the joy that comes from a great practice.



Naturally, Farren's great mood was trampled by the greeting of the ever-present Career Counselling flyer -- and today was her lucky day. She was last on the list, and it just so happened to be the very last day.

"Carina," Farren whined, "I don't want to go. Can't I just skip?"

Carina rolled her eyes over to her friend. "Of course not. We all suffered through it, and you especially should. Maybe she'll knock some sense into you so you'll realize that you can't be a Muggle American model."

"Bloody why not? I'd be a great model."

"Who wants to be a model?" asked Fred, coming into the common room from the boys dormitories after a loud crash.

"Stay out of it, Fred, you'll only encourage her," Carina groaned, but Fred perked up immediately.

"You could be a lingerie model!" he cried enthusiastically. The smile on Farren's face quickly faded to a look of disdain.

"A lingerie model? Really, Weasley? Could you be any more chauvinist?"

Oliver walked in the common room and noticed Farren's discomfort. "Who is a chauvinist?"

Farren turned to him, her face brightening slightly. "No one. I'm about to go to my meeting with McGonagall."

"Would you mind company? I'm on my way to the library."

"Not at all, Oliver."

They climbed through the portrait hole together and Carina glanced at Fred. He looked dumbstruck.

"What just happened?"
"You're hopeless, Fred"



"Why are you even going to the Library? It's your last year, it's not like you've got any work until finals. And you've got every Quidditch book to heart."

Oliver gave her a sideways glance -- was she shorter today? -- and grinned. "You caught me," he said, his Scottish accent making him twice as flirtatious. "I only wanted to talk to you."

Farren flushed despite herself. She was helpless to resist the accent. "Have a particular topic in mind?" She asked, trying to keep him from noticing her blush.

"To talk about? Anything, really. Honestly, just some time alone with you off the pitch is nice."

Smiling, Farren said, "Well, tell me about your meeting with McGonagall. Maybe I can borrow an idea."

Oliver laughed. "My meeting didn't go so well. Apparently playing for Puddlemere United isn't 'a valid career choice.'"

"At least it's in the Wizarding community," Farren mumbled.

"What was that?" Oliver laughed his deep, sweet laugh. "You might need to start thinking of a better idea right about now."

"Yeah, well help me."

It was quite a distance from the Tower to the Transfiguration room -- just enough time for the two to concoct a plausible, but never actually happening, sort of plan for Farren's future.

"See you in the common room later, yeah?" she asked, just as he walked her to the door.

"Yeah, something like that. Good luck!"



About an hour later, Farren collapsed on the common room couch with a huff.

Carina, without even looking up from her Herbology book, asked "How did the meeting go?"

Farren heard the smirk in her voice. "Shut up, Rina. You know perfectly well how it went. We had a perfectly good lie... and then I managed to forget it all."

"His accent that distracting?"

"You've heard it!"

"I suppose..." Carina gave Farren a bit of a belittling look before burying herself in her book.

Farren sighed and tried to smother herself with a throw pillow. "I know it's pathetic, but I can't really bring myself to care. He's handsome and strong and his accent is to die for. I know that it isn't going to go anywhere, it can't possibly, he's graduating this year. But can you blame me for trying?"

Just as Carina opened her mouth to reply, she heard a derisive snort from behind her.

"Talking about lover boy again, are we?" asked Fred.

George crept up behind Carina. "Do we intervene or pop popcorn?"

Carina glared at George. "Restrain your twin before he does something stupid."

But George is hopeless, and if Lee hadn't walked in who knows what truths would have been spilled. "Ignore Fred, he's just mad that he nearly fell off his broom trying to impress some Ravenclaw ladies."

Fred looked at Lee in complete bewilderment, but it at least avoided a situation. "Sounds like you ought to go clean yourself up," Carina said firmly, eyeballing the stairs. Fred, defeated, left for his dormitory.

"What the bloody hell crawled up his arse?" Farren asked, trying for sarcastic but still sounding a little hurt. She and Fred were supposed to be friends, and she could take a little good-natured teasing, but that didn't feel good-natured. In fact, nothing seemed to be good-natured since they stepped onto the Express. The more she thought about it, the more she got the feeling that her friends were all keeping something from her, something about Fred maybe? Biting her lip harshly, she turned to see what Carina was reading.

"Our first year Herbology textbook? Really? Even I could explain everything in that." She gave a small, very forced, laugh.

Carina eyed Farren, but knew not to talk about anything here or now.

"Cedric and I are meeting this weekend to plan our first tutoring session with the first years, and I realized that I couldn't... quite... remember how exactly the book phrased..." Her voice drifted off as her skimming finger found something of importance to shift her attention to.

"Oh yeah," George said with an absent mind. "It's our first Hogsmede weekend of the year."