Ever since Christian had stopped playing Quidditch, Apollo had been all the more interested in it. His main claim in regards to that was the fact that it irritated his brother to no end, but it would be untrue for him to deny the fact that he had been working on improving the safety and workings of the brooms and equipment. To be quite honest, he had not managed too much yet. But in working with broomstick specialists and the like, things had been slowly getting better (or they appeared to be doing so anyway). So his behind-the-scenes attempts at helping people from experiencing his twin's pain was a rather redeeming factor for the Slytherin.
Still, it was kept from his Hufflepuff counterpart, if only to save face - not the best face, considering, but quite worth it, he felt. After all, there was a reason their parents had more or less chosen sides between the two of them. He would never have admitted it, of course, but there were times when the snarky snake wished he was actually Christian instead. And by "there were times," he really meant "all the time." So that was a bit of a problem. An internal conflict, if you will.
Nevertheless, his work continued, and Apollo was out on the Grounds to test out a new broom, Daphne's preference of the younger twin weighing heavily on his shoulders. It went decently well, he decided, stopping now and again to jot down notes - The attempted cushioning hinders the speed of the broom - but finally concluded that he had everything that was requested of him. So he picked up his journal and quill, stuffing them into his shoulder bag, then grabbed the broom, heading back through the courtyard.
First years, the little balls of annoyance that they were, had decided to run out of the castle right as Apollo was walking towards it, and one of them accidentally snagged their wand on the sling of his bag, pulling it off of his shoulder and onto the ground in front of the brunette who was sat there reading.
"Hell," he muttered under his breath, watching as the top fell open and his materials rolled out at her feet. Apollo frowned but moved to pick everything up. At least it wasn't snowing, he mused. It would have all been ruined.
When he glanced up, though, he caught sight of the book in the girl's hands. He had seen that one before, in the hands of a little Hufflepuff. It wasn't a wizarding novel, if he had to guess, though that was based on the fact that the Hufflepuff in question had been from a Muggle family. Still, from what he knew of it, the book was some stuffy romance novel, and those were not the sort that Apollo found reason to be interested in. "Pray tell," he began sarcastically, speaking loudly in hopes that he could catch her attention, "what on earth has convinced you to read such swotty, romantic gibberish?"