Harry Potter All's Fair in Love and Quidditch

It was forty minutes into my third quidditch game of the season when I finally caught the snitch. The sun was shining down on the quidditch pitch, warming my back as I soared through the air, and the crowd roared all around me in the stands, filling my head with noise. My heart hummed in my chest as I maneuvered my way between the whizzing players and flying bludgers, keeping my eye out for the golden glint of the snitch. Across the pitch, I could see James Potter doing the same thing, scanning air. I was all warmed up and ready to go, tension filling my limbs like hot water from the tap. I was so ready to beat Potter and his arrogant, stupid team of Gryffindors that I could practically taste it. I had been waiting this entire game for the moment to come—where I could catch the snitch and win the game.

Suddenly, I noticed that Potter was on my side of the pitch now, about thirty feet behind me and to the left. All my attention snapped back to the snitch like a rubber band, the tension in my chest tightening, as I quickly scanned the surrounding area for it. To my relief and slight annoyance, I could not find it, which meant that Potter had probably decided to come over out of sheer curiosity instead of actual need. Sneaking a glance over my shoulder at him, I noted that he was actually looking down, at the players flying below us. I smiled, half smirking, half grinning. As captains, both Potter and I had to look out for the snitch, as well as the other players too. It was practically the only thing we had in common, besides a very intense and deep seated dislike for each other. There was just something so damn irritating about Potter—from the way he was always running a hand through his hair to the way we always seemed to be tied in quidditch.

I was still grinning when I caught sight of the snitch. I froze in mid air, heart nearly skipping a beat. The snitch was behind me, glinting invitingly in the sun, and much closer to Potter than it was to me. Frighteningly closer. For now, Potter seemed preoccupied with the players below, but it would not be long before he looked up. I needed to distract him and fast, if I wanted to even out our chances. Thinking quickly, I pushed my broom sharply downward and dived. Flying under Potter, I could see him glance at me out of the corner of my eye. To my relief, he dived too, following along behind me, assuming I had seen the snitch. He bought it, I thought, grinning as the rising noise from the crowd reached my ears. I could hear the announcer yelling about how Potter and I had just gone into a dive, about how we must have seen the snitch.

The grass was as green blur below me as Potter and I got closer and closer to the ground. Almost, I thought, glancing over my shoulder at Potter. Almost time to pull out of the dive, almost time. I just need to make sure he had committed utterly and totally. We were hurtling closer and closer, my heart slamming in my chest, the noise of the crowd and the announcer roaring in my ears. With one last look over my shoulder at Potter, I yanked my broom out the dive, pulling it up. I zoomed up in the air. Behind me, I could hear Potter turning around, too slowly. I could see the snitch above my head, getting closer and closer, growing bigger and bigger. Gritting my teeth, I edge forward. Think about all those people who say Hufflepuff can't win, I tell myself, leaning. Think about them. I still flying, I took my hand off my broom and reached out. My fingers brushed the snitch and then it was in my hand, fingers closing around it. I smile spread across my face. The crowd roared. I had caught the snitch.

Happiness filled me up as I flew towards the ground. The other players were heading to the ground, the Hufflepuff players going faster, the Gryffindors slower. I land on the ground, and Potter lands a few feet away. He looks irritated, and humiliated, which of course makes me even happier. I have this intense urge to do a victory dance right here on the field, but I resist it, because that would only give Potter a chance make cutting, acidic comments about my dancing skills or whatever. Git.

I find the rest of my team. They're yelling and cheering, and I get swallowed up in a couple of breath-squeezing hugs, namely from Connie Quinn, one of my best friends as well as one of my chasers. Everyone is in a pretty good mood, and I've almost forgotten about Potter and the rest of his annoying, arrogant team of Gryffindors. Almost forgotten about all the comments in the halls about how Hufflepuff's cannot win anything, when something said behind me catches my attention.

"Who knew Hufflepuffs could actually _win_ something." I hear a voice muttering. I spin around, furious, ready to confront whoever said that. I'm greeted by a group of Gryffindors, all looking generally displeased and angry, dismounting their brooms, and stomping mud off their shoes. There's few boys standing near me, but none of them are looking at me, and I cannot tell who it was who said it.

"What the hell was that?" I snap. The boys who are closest to me look up, including Potter, who is stomping mud off his shoes and looking annoyed. Immediately, he stops what he's doing, his attention narrowing in on me.

"Is there something, wrong, Polseno?" He says, taking as step towards me. Potter is taller than me, which has always annoyed me. He's got dark, almost black hair, and hazelnut eyes. Most of the girls in the school think that he's pretty hot, but I don't really care. He's a jerk and that's all that matters to me. Some where in the back of my head, I think that it obviously wasn't him who made the comment about Hufflepuffs, since I would have recognized his voice, but it doesn't really matter. I am angry, and its not like Potter doesn't deserve it.

"Yes, actually there is." I say. I know its just one stupid little comment, but I am so _tired _to stupid little comments. I am tired of having the school song say that Hufflepuffs are the leftovers, tired of the looks on my parent's friends faces when I tell them I am a Hufflepuff, tired of the jokes about Hufflepuff's talents. "What's wrong is that I am so _sick _you and the rest of the school talking about how Hufflepuff's are losers!"

"Excuse me?" Potter says, pushing forward. His voice is cool, tight. "Since when did I say that?"

"Since forever!" I snap, my hands balling themselves into fists. Behind me, I can hear some of my teammates murmuring and talking, but no one speaks up. The entire Gryffindor team is looking at Potter and I now. "You and the rest of school are always talking about us!"

"I never said anything about Hufflepuff." Potter says, looking angry. I roll my eyes at him. I am so tired of his games. Potter and I have been quidditch rivals for years. He has definitely said some things about Hufflpuff.

"Right. Of course, the great James Potter would never say anything so horrible. You're too high and mighty, aren't you?" I say sarcastically. I am being harsh and I know it, but I am so tired.

"Shut up, Polseno." Potter says, looking furious, flushed. His jaw tightens, and his eyes turn dangerous. "And besides, so what if I did? So what if I said something Hufflepuff? Tell me, Polseno, when is the last time Hufflepuff won something?"

His gaze holds me, challenging. I feel a slap in the face. "Take it back." I say. My voice rises. "Take it back, Potter!"

"No." He says. A crowd is starting to gather around us, and I am sure people in stands are watching us. "I meant it. When is the last time Hufflepuff won anything?"

"We're not losers." I snap, my voice rising. "Take it back, Potter."

"Well, then prove it to me." Potter says. "Prove to me that you are not one. _Make _me take it back." My anger rises. I move my hand to pull out my wand.

"You want proof, Potter? I say furiously, raising my wand, my anger reaching a boiling point. "How about this-Locomotor Mortis!" I send a jet of blue light towards him, but Potter whips out his wand and counters with a shield, bouncing my spell back towards me. I am forced to jump to avoid it.

"Nice try, Polseno." He smirks. "Immobulus!" A jet of red light comes from his wand but I managed to dodge it, ducking.

"Levicorpus!" I yell, and Potter ducks, the jinx going right over his head.

"Alarte Ascendare!" Potter yells, straightening up, and sending what looked like a pinecone in my direction.

"Reducto!" I yell, trying to blast it to pieces, but the spell fails and I am forced to duck as it sails over my head.

"Flipendo!" Potter says, taking me off guard, and the spell hits me right in the chest, knocking me to the ground. It knocks in the wind out of my chest, and for a second I struggle to breathe, pain shooting through my back. Potter appears above me, still holding his wand, and I attempt to push myself up, still gasping for breath. My head hurts. I cannot read the expression on his face, and for moment fear freezes my limbs, the conviction that he is going to send a spell straight at my face, when I cannot duck or run away, seizing me.

"Mr. Potter! Ms. Polseno!" A voice yells, and both Potter and I look away to see the Headmistress pushing her way through the crowd that has gathered around us. She looks so furious that the air around her practically simmers with anger. I push myself to my feet as she stalks up to us, chest still aching. "My office!" She snaps, looking at each of us in the face in turn. "Now!"

* * *

The headmistress marches Potter and I up to her office, muttering under her breath about sportsmanship and kids these days, and continuing to wear an expression on her face as if the thing that would make her happiest would be to take twenty points or so off someone's house. I sneak glances at Potter, my chest still aching a little bit from falling. I am still angry at him, angry enough to wish that I could have jinxed him where it would hurt, but at the same time I feel slightly nervous. And determined. I'm not exactly a regular at the Headmistress's office, but this is worth getting a detention or two over.

We finally arrive at the Headmistress's office, and she sits us down at the two chairs in front of her desk. I am so busy being angry at Potter and being worried about the Headmistress that I forget check out her office, even though I've always been curious about it. Her flickers between Potter and I, her mouth flattening into a thin line.

"Mr. Potter. Ms. Polseno." She pronounces our names carefully. Potter is sitting up straight, his face unreadable. "Never have I seen such a disgusting display of unsportsmanlike behavior! You two are quidditch captain, leaders for the school! You do not go around making childish duels. You do not insult your fellow quidditch players."

"But, headmistress—" I start, leaning forward. Her gaze snaps to me.

"Ms. Polseno." She says evenly. "Please do not interrupt! As I was saying, your behavior was unacceptable. Hogwarts does not tolerate the misuse of magic between students, and even if we did, we would most certainly not tolerate such behavior between students who are supposed to be role models, leaders!" She gives both Potter and I hard looks. I fidget, bitting down on the urge to say something. I cross and uncross my legs.

"And so that is why," The headmistress says. "I have decided to give the two of you two months of detention, effectively immediately. You will both attend detention together, two times a week, no exceptions." I open my mouth, unable to stop myself.

"Two months?" I stare at her, incredulous. "But it was just one duel! We weren't breaking that many rules!"

"Regardless if you are breaking the rules or not, this kind of animosity is unacceptable, Ms. Polseno." The headmistress says, giving me a look that shuts me up. "You and Mr. Potter have demonstrated in the past that you have a great deal of trouble working together, and this needs to stop. Now. You will get no more warnings." Unconsciously, I glance at Potter, who has been silent for most of this discussion. His face is still an iron gate, pulled up tight and locked down. "I also assume that you would rather get detentions than be prohibited to play, yes?"

The headmistress asks, almost threateningly.

"Yes." Both Potter and I say at the same time, hurriedly. There is no way I want to get kicked out of quidditch. I'd rather serve a million detentions with Potter than have that happen. I'm even willing to shut up and stop arguing with her about the fairness of this all. The headmistress smiles a slightly evil smile at us, and I wonder, for the first time, if she is enjoying this.

"Good," she says. "You will also be partners in all your classes together, so you can learn the true meaning of the word cooperation and teamwork." I try not to make a face. That's almost worst than detentions. "Anymore protests?" The headmistress asks, giving us a severe look. Neither of us speak.

"Alright," she nods. "You're dismissed."

* * *

By the time I arrive at the Hufflepuff common room, I am hot, sweaty and sorely wishing that Hogwarts had elevators. It is now four o'clock, an hour after our quidditch game ended, and I still have not changed out of my quidditch robes or taken a shower. After telling the password to our portrait, a rubber ducky, I enter the common room, scanning for the rest of my team. Our common room is warm and cozy, a mish mash of different types of chairs and rugs. As the school song says, we are all different types of people, not just smart or brave or clever. It's not that part of the school that I mind. The part that I mind is where they say that we're leftover and loyal and hardworking. I don't like living in a box.

Lemony blond hair catches my eye, and I see Connie Quinn, one of my best friends and chaser for the quidditch team, draped across an armchair near the fire, curled up like a question mark over her homework. She notices me and waves me over.

"Helena! What happened?" She asks, as I slide into the chair next to her. She has a long piece of parchment curled over lap. It's always amused me how Connie can be cheerful while doing homework.

"Potter happened." I say darkly, dropping my quidditch bag and gear onto the floor.

"I know, I know, I saw that!" Connie says impatiently, looking eager for information. "I mean what happened with the headmistress? Did you get in trouble?" I sigh.

"Yep, I got in trouble. Potter and I have to do two months of detention! Two months! Can you believe it?" I look at Connie plaintively, hoping for some support.

"Well…" Connie says, pensively curling a strand of hair around her quill. I sigh, bracing myself for an onslaught of logic. Connie happens to be one of the strangest people I know—bubbly and girly and giggly while still managing to make more sense than all the Ravenclaws put together. That just shows you how much sense the house system makes. Connie is smart enough for Ravenclaw, but she is in Hufflepuff. Either that or it could be her hair. The sorting hat seems to be incapable of putting blond people in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. "You guys _did _have a big giant argument in front of the school. And you dueled, too."

"Just one duel!" I protest. "Besides, he practically called Hufflepuffs losers and then asked me to prove to him that we were not. He's the one who deserves to be punished."

"I guess you're right." Connie says, releasing her hair and shrugging. "He did say some pretty awful stuff. And I can't believe he knocked you down!"

"Well, what did you expect, from Potter?" I say, broodingly. I'm starting to plot all the ways I could get him back for this. I cannot let Potter win. Not this time. Anger rises up inside of me.

"I don't know." Connie looks pensive. "I always thought he was kind of nice before. I mean, he's so attractive! You know all that hair of his? And his eyes? I mean, he's really dreamy. Really, really."

"He is not that attractive!" I protest, feeling irritated. Half the girls in our schools seem to think that Potter is the hottest guy around, which has always annoyed me. Whenever I look at him, all I can see are all those insults and acid remarks that we have said to each other. "And besides, it doesn't matter what he looks like. He's an arse and that's all that matters. Don't you remember what he said today?"

"I remember, of course." Connie says. "I just never realized he was that bad before. I mean, he didn't seem that awful when I was flirting with at the Christmas party!"

"You flirted with him at the Christmas party?" I stare at her. Connie widens her eyes, looking innocent.

"Well, like I said, he did not seem that bad then! Besides, I was only doing it because I was trying to get away from Jack Pollack." I stare at her, feeling a bit betrayed, and she looks back pleadingly. "Come on, Helena, quit being such a nargle. It's not like anything happened. I know better _now_."

"I hope you do." I say, but I settle back in the armchair. I still feel a bit odd though. I have spent so much time watching Potter, glaring at him, sending acidic insults at him and hoping they hurt, but I cannot imagine him flirting with anyone. To me, he is just the boy to beat in quidditch, not one to try flirt with. When I imagine him, I see him on the quidditch pitch, scowling with an eyebrow raised and cocky expression on his face, as he tries to beat me for the snitch.

"Oh, I definitely do now." Connie says reassuringly. "I would never flirt with someone who says awful things about Hufflepuff_. _I wouldn't betray our house like that, even if he was the last guy on earth." She says stoutly.

"Good." I say, leaning back and watching the flames dance in the fireplace. "Speaking of Potter, this isn't over. I'm going to make sure I can prove to him that we aren't losers. I can't let him win, not now."

"Cool." Connie smiles at me as if I have just announced a plan to go to Honeydukes, instead of a plan to declare war on Potter. "I'll help."

"You better." I say, half joking and half serious. "You better be not be going off to flirt with Potter or whatever you were doing with him. This is war."

"Sounds exciting." Connie eyes gleam. "War. Ooh, maybe we can sneak into the Gryffindor boy's dormitory or something!"

"What would that have to do with beating Potter?" I ask, confused. Connie shrugs.

"I've always wanted to sneak into the boy's dormitory." I give her a look, surprised.

"But," I lower my voice slightly. "But, I thought you said that you saw the dormitory when you made out with Cole Alexander at the Ravenclaw party?"

"Oh, yes, that." Connie makes a face as if just remembering. "That was only once, and besides, sneaking into the guy's dormitory to get revenge and sneaking into the guy's dormitory to make out with Cole Alexander are two very different things. I'm still trying to forget that experience."

"Okay, well, I still don't get how revenge is related to dormitories." I roll my eyes at her. "I'll think about, though."

"Helena!" A voice calls out, and I turn my head to see Rose Weasley, one of my best friends, and also one of the chasers for the Hufflepuff quidditch team, walking across the common room. She is a member of the infamous Potter-Weasley clan, which means that she unfortunately she shares genes with Potter. Her red hair swigs out around her face as she hurries to where Connie and I are sitting. "What on earth happened with you and James?" She says, dropping into a chair across from me.

"He called us losers." I tell her. Rose may be related to Potter, but ever since I've known her, Rose has always been trying to get away from her infamous and over-opinionated family. In her efforts to annoy her parents, Rose has streaked her hair with pink, refused to join a single club, and managed to get a T in Care of Magical Creatures for four years in a row, much to the annoyance of her mother. "Can you believe it?"

Rose frowns. "Helena, he didn't really say that, did he?" I stare at her. She doesn't usually defend Potter like that. Rose widens her eyes, looking back. "Come on, Helena, did he ever actually say that we were losers?"

"He asked me to prove that we ones, so yeah." I tell her, feeling irritated. How can you defend some one like Potter, who's so arrogant and unruffleable that insults just bounce off him like sand?

"Yeah, well—" Rose uncertain for a second then takes a deep breath. "He only said that after you kind of insulted him and Gryffindors." Now I'm really staring at Rose.

"Are you defending him?" I ask incredulously. Rose has never really shown that much affection for Potter, despite the fact that they're cousins. Whenever I have started ranting about him in the past, she has always rolled her eyes and laughed at Connie's ever persisting comments about how hot he is.

"Well, he's not really that bad, Helena." Rose defends him. "I mean, I'm sure there is an excuse for why he was acting so awful."

"So you do admit that he was acting horrible?" I ask persistently. I know I should stop—Rose and I are friends and it feels wrong and awkward to be arguing with her—but I some part of me won't let me.

Rose sends me a look, opening her mouth to respond.

"Okay, guys," Connie breaks in, sounding nervous. "Let just stop all of this, okay? I mean, Potter doesn't really matter, does he? The only thing that he is good at is being really hot, so…" She trails off, looking from Connie to me, then back again, biting her lip.

"He is not that hot." I say finally, breaking the tension. Connie grins in relief, and Rose smiles slightly, a smile that just cracks the surface.

"Yes, he is." Connie says half-heartedly, not even bothering to sound that angry. She just looks just relieved that Rose and I have stopped arguing. I smile slightly, even though I cannot stop thinking about what Rose said about Potter. I watch Rose as she leans over the check her bag, tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear, wondering where she was earlier. She turns to ask Connie something about homework, and they start talking about a group project, but my mind is still a million miles away. I still don't understand why Rose would defend Potter.


End file.

Harry Potter