tw: mentions of injuries

MALKA WAS BEING SHOVED LEFT AND RIGHT. She had gone to the Quidditch Pitch early so she could get secure a seat in the very back of the stands. She rather disliked being at the front and craning her neck up high to see the three hoops. Now, she was eye level with them. James Potter and Caoimhe Doyle shook hands with twin stony expressions.

"Let the match begin!" Madam Catterell blew a gold whistle, and the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw players, lined up at the middle of the field, shot up to snatch the Quaffle as quick as possible. Immediately.

"Ravenclaw in posession!" called a tall Hufflepuff boy from the announcers' stand. "Caoimhe Doyle with a triple-eight curve, dodges Salem Barberett, dives, Donnett at the flank! Will she score? She switches stances, swoops under- ooh!"

And with a whomp, a Bludger slammed straight into Caoimhe Doyle's side. She avoided it for the most part and stayed on her broom, but the Quaffle slipped out of her fingers and right into the hands of Gryffindor's Salem Barberett. Malka turned to see where the Bludger had come from, and to her astonishment, it had been a direct hit from Cass.

"Sorry, love!" Cass yelled, before flipping her Bat and diving with her broom again.

"Fortescue! Stop being so damn polite!" The Gryffindor Keeper yelled as Cassana ducked her head meekly before turning back up. Doyle looked around, winded, but seemed to regain herself and shoot back up.

"Barberett in posession, solid throw to Potter! That was a hard it on Doyle. Lachlan O'Neill is getting quite enraged," the Hufflepuff announced, and Malka looked towards Doyle's boyfriend, who's pale cheeks were red. O'Neill swerved as the Bludger hurtled to him, as he hit it in return with a loud thwack, straight towards Cass.

"O'Neill hits the Bludger to Fortescue, looking for revenge!" The boy, Felix Cabrera, yelled, and because of that, Cass was able to duck from the Bludger in the nick of time.

"It seems Hufflepuffs do come in handy sometimes," came the low voice to her right, and Malka whipped around to meet Reg's eyes.

"What are you doing out of your own house stands?" She inquired. Her jumper was blowing about due to the heavy winds.

"Here has a better view. And I don't believe I will be noticed," Reg said, as Salem Barbarett and James Potter worked together to outsmart the Ravenclaw Keeper and score ten points. Reg was wearing his usual black sweater and overcoat, with his forest green scarf.

"Well, alright, then," Malka said, blowing on her palms to keep herself warm in the February air. And to her surprise, Reg removed his woolen scarf from where it was wound about his neck, and, stepping intimately close to her, unfolded it so it would be wider, before draping the ends over each of her shoulders.

"I- thank you," Malka said, noting how steadfast his mind said his decision was, and that there was no point in arguing. It really was warm, as it was fully made of wool. And as Malka looked to her left, adjusting it to fit around her shoulders, she noticed a few gold threads woven into the deep green.

"Are you here for Miss Fortescue?" Reg asked as chaos reigned around them.

"Of course. And you?"

"Scoping out the enemy, I suppose,"

"Ah. I heard Cass talking about how you were trying to beat a record this year?" Malka raised an eyebrow slyly. 

"The Wronski Feint. Quite difficult to master, but I am close," Reg said modestly.

"Hmm. Isn't that the ranked most dangerous Seeker move?"

"Danger can be exciting," The hungry glint appeared again in Regulus's eyes, a new look. And one that sent little tremors down to Malka's stomach. 

"How very Gryffindor of you," Malka laughed.

Reg rolled his eyes. "Danger, especially in Quidditch, is also vital to maneuvers that will make the one who dabbles' side come victorious,"

"That sounds more like Slytherin," 

"Ten points to Gryffindor from James Potter!" Cabrera called again, and Regulus scoffed under his breath. Malka tensed, looking for a further reaction, but no. Potter pumped his fist in the air in celebration, before swooping down with his broom.

She sneaked a glance at the scoreboard. Trixie Koa (the other Ravenclaw Beater) had kept on targeting Potter and the other chasers enough so that Ravenclaw was only twenty points behind Gryffindor, and Gryffindor was almost hitting sixty points. 

"There," Reg murmured into Malka's ear, causing goosebumps to cascade over her flesh as she looked where his eyes pointed. And indeed where he looked, the Golden Snitch was hovering by the topmost goalpost on the Gryffindor side, right about where Sirius Black just hit a Bludger. Malka gasped.

"Wait- the Snitch!" And with Cabrera's call, there was a murmur among the crowd as heads turned. The two Seekers, Bea Beverly of Ravenclaw and Camino Guarnera of Gryffindor, were caught in a downwards spiral as necks craned to watch them. Both their hands were reached out, and Malka felt herself almost tip over on her tiptoes in anticipation.

The game could very well end there. Beverly was faster, with her newer broom, but Guarnera used subtle elbowing tactics to slow her down.

"Guarnera is going to catch it," Reg muttered to her, sounded rotten disappointed. And just as he predicted, a moment later, Guarnera did catch the Snitch.

"Gryffindor wins!" Cabrera yelled in celebration, as a mass of red crowded onto the pitch. Cass did a little twirl on her broom in celebration, making Malka giggle. The Ravenclaw players went too, slowly and sullenly. Those were the semifinals, now they had to play Hufflepuff, who had lost against Slytherin in the other semifinals three weeks ago. There was no chance at the Cup this year for Ravenclaw.

"Would you like your scarf back?" Malka turned from where she'd previously been watching Cass land. 

"No, keep it. The color suits you," he replied.

Malka didn't think green suited her at all. And the scarf was obviously expensive. But Regulus's mind was blank, indicating no strong emotions and thatthat he had no real connection to it, so Malka hesitantly accepted. "Thank you,"

"It is no matter. I must bid you good day, Malka," Reg said, turning to her with a soft twitch upwards of his lips. 

"You as well, Regulus," Malka responded, and Reg bowed his head before he made his way out of the stands.

Malka did too, in a different direction. The soft cropped grass of the Quidditch Pitch was firm underneath her feet as she ran towards Cass.

"Mal! Oh, that was amazing. And it's good that no one's angry at me," Cass said, after a sweaty hug from Malka.

"I told you so," Malka shrugged. But before Cass could reply, she saw something behind Malka.

"Oh...hold on," Cass said, her eyes growing wider as Malka also turned around to see Alecto Carrow and Lucinda Talkalot heading towards them.

"Shame Beverly was too slow. At least you got one good hit on Caoimhe Doyle," Talkalot sneered to Cass.

"I- thanks," Cass said, and Malka noticed it was a different tone than when she normally spoke to the other two. "It was two hits, actually?"

"What?"

"I hit Doyle twice," Cass said, a vein of pride coming in.

"Whatever," Talkalot said. Malka watched the interaction uncomfortably.

"What're you doing here, Arslan? Can't you see we're having a conversation?" then Carrow noticed Malka.

"You know what- I was just leaving," Malka said. Her mother always taught her to pick her battles. And this was not one she wanted to fight right now.

"Good. See you, half-breed," Carrow snickered, and Malka felt the prickles of rage in her mind, but she started walking away from the other three girls, quietly seething.

But she heard stomping footsteps behind her, and she saw that Cass had walked next to her. 

"And what're you doing, Fortescue?" Talkalot said, the plain surprise on her pretty face as Malka and Cass stood side-by-side.

"I'm leaving you. For her," Cass said, with the most insane smile Malka had ever seen on her face as she grabbed her hand.

Carrow let out an incredulous breath. "She's a nobody. And a halfblood,"

"Yeah? Well, I suppose that makes me a blood traitor, then," Cass said smugly, as she turned both of them around and stalked away from Carrow and Talkalot forever.

Cass's cheeks were flushed with exercise, but her smile was wide. A strange bubbly sensation rose up in Malka's chest, as she beamed. Cassana Fortescue was heading in the right direction, and Malka couldn't be more happy.

"You know, you're only a blood traitor if you consort with Muggleborns," Malka whispered under her breath with a smile.

"Oh. Well, neither of them knew that," Cass said with a small giggle as they put their heads together, still walking from the Pitch.

Malka smiled. "I'm proud of you, Cass,"

"Aw. Thanks, love. Wanna go eat some chocolate up in the room?" she replied, and the two girls laughed together all the way back.

-

this chapter was so satisfying to write