rocketeer, out of motion

A few rounds around the Pitch, some acceleration up higher into the sky, some speeding plunges back near the ground, and Byron soon grew bored. It was always fun to fly, but nothing beats having a team and a quaffle. People usually seemed to only spend their time at the Pitch when training season begins though. 

Of course, that was certain. He almost always flew alone before the call for training was sounded. Even Trent could not be persuaded to take his mind off his own life, to join him at the Pitch. Byron knew his friend had potential. After all, both of his parents played Quidditch for Gryffindor. Trent was just too lazy to work on it. Ever since the beginning of school, Byron had also spent less time alone with Roxi, who seemed bothered recently. It was strange, imagining that his best friend was beginning to experience internal turmoil, whatever it was. After all, she had always looked to be the most carefree one of all. Perhaps, then, he should really find out what was bothering her --- be the friend he was supposed to, not just the wallpaper he felt that had become, as of late.

The weather, in comparison to the first two weeks at Hogwarts, had lost it's warmth. He could feel the stark difference between then and now. Byron regretted his foolish decision to only wear a t-shirt. His jeans certainly kept him sufficiently warm. It was his upper body that began to tremble slightly at the chill in the air, especially since he was travelling at a rush on his broom, higher to where it was colder, and the cold air rushed through his body at every distance he flew. Byron tolerated as much as he could, until it got a little too difficult to bear, and then he hurried down. Grasping his Nimbus 2010 from under his weight, Byron nimbly landed his feet on the ground and hurried to the Broomshed, which promised the warmth that he was desperately requiring, what with the lack of a jacket of any sort.

Once in the warmth of the Broomshed, Byron propped his Nimbus just beside the door, and began to rub his hands together in an effort to return half of the sensation that they had lost earlier, because of the cold. Soon enough, he stopped doing so and crossed his arms at his chest, making sure that his hands were covering his chest through his t-shirt, in an attempt to warm that up too. The Broomshed was dark, and Byron assumed, without a single soul. He sighed, a little more aware than usual that he had been compelled to a lack of company recently. It seemed as if the clique that he usually relied on had become busy, or had their private lives without him. Still, Byron was not one to sulk over something so easily. He merely shrugged and began to sing to himself.

"Here we go ... come with me ... There's a world out there that we should see ..." He sang, as one would usually sing in the privacy of a shower.

Octavia had taken to spending more and more time at the Pitch after her encounter there with Peter. As if he would suddenly show up so she could talk to him again. Tavia didn't know what it was about him that made him so interesting. It was probably just the fact that he was a complete mystery. The silent hulk of the nerd who became a sexy quidditch god when no one was looking. Of course it would be easier if he was quidditch god all the time, but that would just take some of the fun out of it. Long story short, Tavia was driven into the slightly warmer broomshed by the sheer stupidity of her clothing choices. The skirt had seemed like a good idea when she put it on this morning, but now it was practically torturous. Goosebumps were present up and down her legs, leaving little prickles of hair sticking up.

She was sitting in the back, legs curled up to her chest, hands rubbing up and down her legs to try to warm them as the door opened, letting in a gust of chilly autumn air. Well that's just great. Tavia mused humorously. She stood to greet her new shed companion but not before he started singing. Tavia knew at once this was a private moment but that didn't stop her from interrupting it. "You're okay, but don't quit your day job." Tavia made her way across the small space in a few seconds and, coming up behind him, wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. Some strands of her bright red hair tickled the side of his face as she looked down upon the handsome boy.

"Hey Byron" she purred softly in his ear. Tavia knew Byron well enough, they were both in the Gryff gang and even before that they had known each other through the house. But when she thought of it they had maybe had only one or two conversations that weren't with a whole group of friends. But even from their limited interactions Tavia knew she liked Byron. She had always had a soft spot for quidditch boys, especially ones that were soft on the eyes like Byron. Tavia had seen him play a few times and he was good. Really good. It figured, as his last name of Bagman made him practically entitled to be on the house team. A name like Podmore on the other hand.. Well it didn't exactly hold much reputation around the wizarding community. One of the many reasons Tavia couldn't help but resent her do-gooder parents. That and the fact they made her give away her pet flobberworm.

While Byron had picked up the guitar at a young age, he had picked up the broom a lot younger. It was understandable, then, that he was a lot better at flying than with whatever music he had interested himself in. Still, he had spent his time growing up with both. He almost did not touch books until Hogwarts, with the exception of those that his mother had fed him to make sure her son did not become completely illiterate, thanks to her husband's lack of better judgement. True enough, Byron had struggled his way through classes at Hogwarts, relying on Roxi. Even then, it was
not as if the girl was amazing in them either. He merely picked someone a little better than him. 

Even with the lack in some mental faculties, Byron made it up with physical skills and a good nature. Often, he was the one who brought the Gryffindor clique together, rounding them up and all. It was no wonder then that the fact that most of them looked sadder than usual, added with the fact that they did not explain why, left him feeling a little helpless. He wanted to help, but there were no doors nor windows opened for him.

The voice that interrupted his song surprised him. Byron made a slow turn to identify a familiar voice. It was, of course, not as familiar as that of his best friend, but familiar enough to suggest someone from the gang. Although not totally unexpected, Byron was curious to gradually recognise who the voice belonged to. After all, it was not like he knew that she had been spending her time much at the Pitch. Upon recognition, he grinned at the girl's comment.

"Tavia!" It was nice to meet someone from the gang, always, especially when he was just thinking about them. Byron had felt the girl's arms around his neck, of which he returned the favour by rubbing them affectionately with his hands. Soon
enough, he got himself out of that lose entanglement, to turn around and face her.

"You guys have all gone missing recently!" He exaggerated his observation. Of course he had been in classes with them. It was just outside of classes that bothered him.  Byron grinned, and then looked at Octavia curiously. "Now, what're you doing hiding out in this Broomshed? Troubled or ... attempting to be trouble?" He teased, and chuckled. 

Sometimes Tavia didn't think the other Gryffindors were as committed to the cause as her. Besides that one meeting on the train they had not really discussed anything. As of now Tavia thought that she might have to take the full force of Slythirin rage all by herself. She had thought of trying to organize a meeting herself but it was clear that even though she was the oldest she was no way in charge. Tavia knew she wasn't exactly leadership material and therefore didn't question it. Too scattered, too impulsive, and too busy to really care. The only reason she joined the gang in the first place was to sick some serious Slythirin ass.

"Oh, always the latter. You know me well enough for that." Tavia said teasingly. She sat herself down next to Byron on the bench. It had absorbed the cold from the air and was now flowing into the bare skin on her legs. She couldn't help but think how it would be a lot more pleasant if she just made a quick run for the castle and hunkered down by the fire in Gryffindor common room. But she had a least enough common sense to realize that now that she had company that would be beyond rude.

"Yourself? I'm assuming some extra quidditch time for you?" That was probably Tavia's favorite part of Byron so far. The fact that he lived, breathed, and died quidditch. It was such a lovely sport, and although sometimes violent it produced even lovelier boys. She was sure that Byron was a lovely boy all around and he shouldn’t just be judged by her quidditch cover. But that didn’t really stop her. Maybe they would get to know each other a little more while they were stuck in this little shed. Actually because friends, rather than the more appropriate current term of partners in crime.

Tavia honestly didn’t have that many good friends. Most of her relationships ended in fights. And not the verbal kind either. It would be really nice to make some new best friends out of the Gryff Gang. People after her own heart and all. Tavia was a social person, there just weren’t many people who dreamed of being social with her. She tended to drive people away with her overly outgoing ways. But since meeting Peter she had tried to change and be a bit more assessable. People skills could take you far in life. So she probably wasn’t going to go that far.

Byron was almost always the good one in the gang. He was less into the mischief that almost everyone in it seemed to be drawn to, but he was never the wet blanket either. Being less interested did not mean that he did not go along with whatever the rest of the gang would be up to. Still, it was like how every group needed that one person to stay in that getaway car, relying on it to be there for the escape after mischief was carried out. He was the responsible one. He was the sensible one. He took care of people, especially the people in his gang. Of course, it was perhaps the influence that the boy's mother had placed on him. She was somewhat successful in grooming her boy well, even as her husband was trying to corrupt his boy by introducing Byron to all of his wayward ways, simply because he deemed them fit enough to share with his favourite child.

Besides the decent success of his mother in cultivating a sensible son, Byron had also always been told to be responsible to his younger sister. It was then safe to say that Byron was accustomed to being the big brother almost all the time. This applied most to Roxi, of course, besides his family. After all, she was his best friend, and there was always something about her that he felt he needed to take care of, even without realising it much. Recently, though, he seemed to assume care over Trent a lot. That other boy was a wreck, period. Perhaps the person that Byron was least worried for was Octavia. He would probably attribute it to her age. It was not that he liked her any lesser. He simply trusted her with herself, more. But of course, age was an insufficient way to measure someone's sensibility.

Byron rubbed his knees before grinning at the girl, watching her sit herself next to him, glad to have company. He nodded in response to her answer. "Well, there's only me now, so don't start the trouble with me. I'd rather you let me in on what we're going to do, and then we'll attempt that trouble together." Byron nodded, before bringing a hand up to toy with his dog-tag, which had gone cold from the contact with the wind, and of which Byron had taken out from under his shirt so that it would not be in direct contact with the skin at his chest. Byron let the small metal piece run through his fingers as he spun it from finger to finger, doing so absent-mindedly, before he answered Tavia. "Always, always." He nodded. "It's so quiet at the Pitch at this time of the year. I got bored. And cold. And I thought, hey, maybe I need to amuse myself with some trouble. And then I came in. And then you found me." He grinned. "There, trouble found me." Byron chuckled slightly at the deliberately cheesy joke he just cracked.

Things I Know About Byron: #3 He's funny
Tavia giggled at Byrons joke, not quite realizing just how cheesy it was. Yes, she certainly always had been trouble. From coloring on the walls to refusing to fit in to fights of the playground, Octavia had never been the daughter the Podmores had longed for. For as long as she could remember it had always been 'Celeste this, Celeste that', where Tavia had been carefully shoved to the back of the family. Her photo had quite literally been taken off the wall. Sometimes Tavia tried to trick herself into thinking she didn't care than she was the least favorite child. That this was exactly who she wanted to be. But in all honestly even the toughest kids still want approval from the ones they care about. To replace her deadbeat family Tavia had found the Gryffindor Gang. And with them came Byron. 

"Well I'm glad you got caught out here with me. I can think of all sorts of trouble that we could get into. Slythirins beware and all that jazz. It's been a little too long since I've sent a good hex." The corners of Tavias mouth curled into a sly smile. As a muggle getting into trouble had been fun and easy. Just throw a punch or taunt just the wrong way. But if there was one good thing about magic it was the expanded opportunities for troublemaking. The one time Tavia had actually opened a book at Hogwarts she had found a plethora of every type of hex, cruse, and jinx available. The next few nights Tavia couldn't be found without her nose in the book. The one time she had been truly engaged in magical learning had resulted in the hospitalization of over 15 Slythirins to date. From everything from severe skin discoloration to growing extra limbs, hexes were the one area of academics that Tavia excelled in. Not that skin to skin fighting got old either.

"But maybe that's not the kind of trouble you had in mind." Like any self respecting teenager Tavia had shifted her mind to a less wholesome way of viewing the world. It did not escape her notice that they were completely and utterly alone with no sign of being interrupted anytime soon. This fact was made all the more remarkable by the knowledge that no one ever seemed to have a single moment alone at this school. Nothing had felt right since meeting Peter. Maybe Byron would be just what she needed to snap back to her normal lovely self. If that didn't work than she would just have to take out a few Slythies. That seemed to be the only way to feel better nowadays.

Byron listened to Tavia when she talked about the Slytherins. Only too eager to add what he had pondered upon for a few days now. "Y'know. I was wondering how peaceful everything seems. I mean, it's the kind of peace that doesn't sit too well with me. It's as if something's been going on. I don't know what. But it's been covered up pretty well." And then he explained why he had said that. "The Slytherins have been up to nothing. But that, to me, could mean they're probably up to no good, and it's been taking awhile to brew some master plan to get at us, or get at the school population." There it was. Byron was a lot more suspicious than his usual behaviour would let up. That is, besides allowing the Slytherins to form such a high esteem in his mind, by the fact that he even expected that they were planning something that he had to worry about. "Of course, I'm sure somehow we'll find some way to stop them or something ..." Byron said in an almost unbelieving voice, not convinced now even by his own words. "It's just been odd. This school, this term." Byron shrugged, and then let the frown between his eyebrows fall. He shook his head, threw on a grin, and looked at Tavia.

"The trouble I have in mind?" He asked, wide-eyed and eager. Byron was a lot less aware about certain things. He was good with the Quidditch, decent in the squabbles between houses; but the ignorance towards girls was sometimes painfully obvious. He liked them, of course. Unlike Trent who seemed to be sulking all the time, Byron liked talking, to girls and boys alike. He was a lot more open to the typical excitement over talking to attractive girls in school. He just was not too quick to catch on if they returned the favour. Byron, not wanting to disappoint Tavia, wrecked his head for a good trouble that he could have in mind. If it did not involve the Slytherins ...

"We're going to set the quaffles on those weird-looking guards around Hogwarts?" He thought wistfully, before he continued. "I've always wondered if there was a way that we could all sneak into the prefects' bathroom. Don't think it's possible, but won't that be fun?!" Byron tapped his fingers at his knees. "Too bad the lake's too cold." He drummed his fingers now. "I don't know what trouble I might have in mind, but I'll do whatever you do, Tavia." Byron quipped in an almost child-like manner. Of course, he might retain such qualities given his age, but he still had that secret he had been dying from keeping in. Still, even he could not tell Roxi. He wished he did not have to shoulder that burden. It was awful, the guilt.