No Quidditch today

Antonin walked as fast as he could. The ringing in his ears began to feel like his ears and sides were being dug into and scratched through. His heart pounded against his chest and thumped against how quickly his feet were working to get him away, He couldn't hear much else, and everything and everyone he saw along the way were just in the way of his clearing. Antonin began to feel his thighs strain against the force he was placing on them. Soon enough, they became the keenest thing he felt on his body, and the pressure at his ears gave way to just a cold emptiness where before his blood was intensely racing at.

And then there was no one else. In sight, at least. Ant stopped to catch his breath. He unclenched his hands and watched the colour rush back to his fingertips. The letter fell at his feet. Returning his attention to it, Ant touched the letter again with the tip of his left shoe. It teetered slightly from the breeze running through the open grounds. There was no Quidditch today.

Sighted at Ammerschwihr. What is she doing there? Despite the apparent familiarity of the name, Ant struggled to recall where that was. He struggled to understand any of it. When his breath finally caught up, Ant sighed and lowered himself to reach for the letter. Quickly, he changed his mind and sat on the ground instead. The letter was creased from when he first clenched it with his fist. Slowly now, he tried to smooth out the parchment as he read it again.

The letter was addressed to the siblings. But he was glad that it got to him first. He wasn't sure what Constance was up to at the moment, but he was sure that she wouldn't respond too well to it. She was less forgiving about mother's disappearance. Or rather, she was not forgiving at all about mother's betrayal. Constance had decided, when it first happened, that testifying against one's husband - and the father of her children - at the Ministry, was the unpardonable sin. For that, Constance appeared glad that her mother decided to disappear soon after. Ant wasn't so quick in his judgement. In fact, he didn't know what his judgement was, and if there was going to be any at all.

She hadn't slept well.

Most nights didn't provide great sleep anymore, don't get her wrong. But she was young, she was in her seventh year - that was to be expected. But the long detentions snowballed into late night practices - and she wasn't about to give up her early morning practices just because she got in late.

It was strange though. She was sleeping less but her hunger to go, go, go hadn't so much as wavered. She felt exhausted, was falling asleep in the more boring classes, but the second class was out, she felt bolts of energy circulating through every part of her body, projecting her towards the pitch, or to the next step in some elaborate prank, or towards dueling club. Her mind was reminding her that she was tired, that she needed sleep, but her body wanted to move.

Saturdays were typically the best days for her little scrimmages. Over the years, most of her partners quit them, deciding to keep their progress close to the chest, hide whatever they were working on. She didn't get that. She wanted to get better, which meant eliminating all of her advantages so she had to rest on talent alone.

Rookwood was one of the few brave who was still willing to fly with her. She wanted to get better at evasive flying, as it wasn't her style at all, but the Ravenclaw chaser was well acquainted with.

She was in the air about ten minutes when she spotted the figure of Antonin walking across the grounds. She did a roll and a lap and when she returned to check... he was walking off in another direction.

Nope. She had slept three hours and still came to their practice. No way.

Jack's lips thinned into a line and she flattened over her broom, zipping up and over the walls of the pitch, barreling towards the Ravenclaw who was now sitting back. "Oi!" she said, leaning forward and acting as though she was going to ram into him. At the last second, she pulled up on the broom, 'skidding' to a stop just mere feet in front of him, hovering in the air.

She threw her hands up. "Uh, care to explain?"

Ant sat and contemplated the fresh knowledge that his missing mother had been spotted by one of the Thibaults. For all of their silent disapproval of the Rookwoods and the union between one of theirs to Augustus Rookwood, Ant and Constance was always well-received by their maternal family. For a brief phase in their childhood, it was even hoped that the children would be raised like Thibaults - agreeable, respectable, and cultured. Of course, these traits are very often subjective. Regardless, the Thibaults believe the Rookwoods possess none of these ideal qualities. That is, hopefully, apart from the children of Louisa Thibault.

Ant enjoyed behind held in good esteem by his maternal family. Constance couldn't care less. Although he knew that Constance could always be the love and company he could rely on, this was an exception. In contemplating about his mother, then, Ant would fall into an inexplicable loneliness.

And suddenly, from what appeared to be nowhere, Ant felt a sudden rush of energy racing towards him and snapped his attention towards it. In that split second, he crushed the parchment into a ball and had it safely in his fist.

Looking at him, quite evidently displeased, was the familiar face of Jack Dyllan. Then he remembered.

"It's today?!" Quickly, he jammed the parchment deep into his left pocket. Slightly disoriented from the switch he was compelled to make in his frame of mind, Ant found himself at a brief loss of words as he faced Jack and felt a pressing moment of expectation from her stance that he could not respond to. He was in no mood for Quidditch today. But that wasn't going to bode well, especially not when he remembered he was the one who suggested practicing today.

''I -" He took a moment to breathe, then summoned his broom. Unsuccessfully.

''I got caught up, Jack. I'm sorry." Ant bit his lip and anxiously contemplated his next step. What made matters worse was that he, or Jack, had taken what felt like a rather long time, to finally be talking again. It was a strained but concessional conversation between the two - both desiring the friendship but unsure about how to do that - that ended with an agreement to practice together again.

"It's - family has been tougher than usual today." Not entirely willing to discuss the matter with another, apart from Constance, but also not confident about what else could explain his tardiness, Ant blurted out his reason quietly, then shrugged as if he was fending off questions about that.

"Wait here while I grab my broom?" He offered, half hoping that he didn't have to.

Jack didn't have time for excuses, for distractions. She felt the year ticking away, graduation striding towards them with unforgiving purpose. In a different world, with a different reality, this year would be exciting, fun, full of making memories of friendships and adventures. But she had to be thinking about what came next. With her family, her financial circumstances, her Big Stupid Plans... yeah, she didn't get to just forget.

So she didn't relent, staring at him from her perch on her broom, hovering about six feet off the ground, staring down at the Ravenclaw boy.

"Right, yeah, you look really busy," she said, indicating the general area he was sitting in. As far as she could tell, he was enjoying a leisurely afternoon at the lake. It wasn't the waiting that bothered her. She just... geez, if he wasn't going to come, he should have just said something.

If she had more sleep, if she hadn't been feeling the pressure more keenly lately, if she perhaps were a gentler person that Jack Oh-No-She-Has-A-Firework Dyllan... maybe she would have handled this situation better. But she was tired, she was forgotten, and she was already feeling so far behind.

"Family is always tough. A head's up isn't though."

She turned her broom and headed back for the pitch.

...already feeling pretty bad about it.

Any shred of unwillingness left, as soon as Jack turned to go. He hated the dull pangs of guilt that he felt at the moment, but decided this really was a friendship he wouldn't want gone.

"Hold up! I'll grab one from the shed!''

Ant ran towards the Broom Shed, almost tripping along in a disoriented state of hurry. He looked down and noticed, to his horror, that he was still wearing bedroom slippers. Slapping a hand over his forehead, Ant continued to make his way to the shed.

"I'm here!'' With speed, he zipped past the lone form of Jack before coming to a halt. Yet before he could offer a sheepish smile that reflected his guilt, Ant felt his left slipper come lose. He watched its fall to the ground. Embarrassed, he kicked the other one off and hoped that it wouldn't be noticed. The right slipper left his feet, but didn't fall quick enough. Instead, it was hurled into the air, and found Jack's elbow. Ant heard the sound it made, before he saw it fall to the ground too. His face was positively red now.

''I - sorry." He bit his lip. "I didn't get the time to change earlier."

Ant looked down to check his clothes now. Did I sleep in my clothes yesterday? Still, he was relieved to see that he wasn't at least wearing his PJs. The breeze was, however, beginning to feel chilly at his feet. Wiggling his toes a little from having them exposed and awkward, Ant began to focus on the slight swaying of the random broom he had taken from the shed. He noticed a bit of dust that had collected over the school break and pressed his lips together tightly as he surveyed it.

Then he remembered his companion. It sure didn't take long for rumours to swirl through Hogwarts again as soon as everyone returned for the new school term. It definitely didn't take long for talk of Jack Dyllan's erratic behaviour to move through the hallways of Hogwarts. Just yesterday, Constance shared what was said about Jack in the Slytherin common room. She never really fancied her brother's friends if they were Gryffindors. Recent events were just another reason for her to justify that.

"How are you, Jack?'' Ant wasn't sure what he thought of the rumours, but he wasn't too fussed about House politics, as long as one wasn't too dull a person.

Jack sped towards the pitch, her head up and shoulders squared so there was no question about her anger. She knew that her treatment of Antonin wasn't fair, that she couldn't hold people to same standards as she held herself, at least not when it came to Quidditch. It superseded classes, friendships, and family, almost especially.

She wouldn't be surprised if she had just burnt the already rickety rope bridge that remained between her and the Rookwood boy. She was becoming quite the pro at alienating people that were usually on her side. Give her a few weeks and she'd have no friendships left - even the friendships she had now weren't exactly amiable.

But Antonin caught up to her, cutting her path off. For a moment, she considered plowing into him, but she supposed that would be hostile, and not really worth it. She stopped, and all traces of regret or guilt were gone from her stern face. The expression only deepened as she blocked a flying slipper, full irritation now pulling her eyebrows inward and down over her eyes.

"I'm late, actually," she said, her words clipped. "Your head obviously isn't here for practice so you go do... whatever you have to do. But I have to practice."

He frowned. The broom that he was on swayed just a few inches closer to his rather unhappy companion. Antonin stared at Jack and considered her with confusion, mixed with a pinch of his own guilt and a freshly stirring frustration that added to the anxieties previously caused by the letter he received in the morning. He couldn't work out why Jack seemed so combative. And here he thought they were going to finally sort out the increasing distance between them.

It hadn't been the best start to a school year (and this was to be his last). In fact, Ant thought, every year just seems to get worse. He recalled the joy and excitement he felt, as a first year, and how much he loved being at Hogwarts; and how the only thing he looked forward to when the holidays arrived was just how much more time he was going to get to spend with Constance.

Now, years later, he felt the strain of change and just how much time had changed things for him and what seemed to be everyone else around him. Ant didn't feel strongly for many things. But among the things that he did, change was one of them. He hated it. He had always been a deep learner, obsessive even, but not a quick one. Change demanded that he quickly adapted to it. And that, he thought, was his weakness.

"What's wrong?" He blurted, almost demanding, in a vague fashion. And with that, Ant wasn't even sure if he was demanding an end to the difficult conversation he was attempting to make, or demanding an explanation to the silly rumours he considered about Jack (now that she was being difficult). Either way, his impatience was left unchecked.

"I'm here. Let's just practice, okay?'' And with that, Ant directed his broom swiftly past Jack, made a turn, and returned back to where she was. It felt too hard. He was clueless.

Jack's name was attached to many things, to Quidditch, to Dueling Club, to her House. It was synonymous with Fearlessness and had redefined Trouble. It followed the word Muggleborn and more often followed the word Ruffian. A slew of words followed in her wake, words like Loud, Irresponsible, and Aggressive. There were good words to - words like Just and Fierce.

But Emotional Intelligence were not words in this list.

She did a great job masking them, trading certain feelings out for ones that she was comfortable being associated with. Disappointment and Sadness were not emotions she felt comfortable wearing. Anger and Pride came much more easily. And the more she traded in those feelings, the more distant she became to her initial reaction. At one point she had been genuine and allowed her feelings to flourish in the forms they arrived in, but she had learned very quickly how that could be used against her. She thought it might have just been her mother, but the students here were quick to remind her that honesty wasn't always the best policy.

His question demanded honesty, it was short and rude - sort of like how she was being?! Her lips parted in surprise before buckling in frustration, working back words she would probably regret and trying to banish away quick judgment to get control of the situation.

"Nothing, I just don't like when people break plans," she said, relaxing her face and only coming off slightly accusatory. She opened her mouth to double down but he was speeding off.

She clamped her mouth shut and leaned over her broom, speeding after. She did a roll as she caught up to him, leveling out and calling, "Need some warm up laps? Otherwise I was thinking you could play some offensive maneuvers so I can practice evasions."