"What are you doing?" His voice cracked as he watched her lean toward him.
"What, Potter?" A smirk caught her lips as she got even closer. "Gryffindor's chaser isn't used to being chased?"
°°°
Wisteria Rose Cresskle has always been a fan of games:...
"We're teammates, you and me. That's what we do. "
Ops! Esta imagem não segue as nossas directrizes de conteúdo. Para continuares a publicar, por favor, remova-a ou carrega uma imagem diferente.
~*~*~*~
tw: Irish slurs
Spitting out some blood, Wisteria Rose sent a thumbs up to her captain along with a determined smirk.
The day was clear and crisp as any autumn morning should be. All around the Hogwart's grounds, the leaves were changing and the sun was still daring to shine. This was most definitely Wisti's favorite weather, and—now that the smell of blood and sweat was mixing with the unique autumn scents—it was the perfect weather for a quidditch match.
For his part, James looked furious as he flew forward to take the free throw. It had been an obvious foul–she'd taken a beater's bat straight to the face without a bludger in sight–but Hufflepuff didn't seem to care in the least. Whoever said they were the 'nice house' were full of it. Clearly they were hoping to knock her down to an easier level to compete against, considering the player that was benched had been a second string beater to begin with. As soon as Madame Hooch sent out the fourth year, the first string player took their place.
"What the actual fu-" Sirius started over the announcing system before being quieted by Professor McGonagall. "Sorry professor, but did you see that? Cresskle took a bat to the face! She's bleeding and still staying in the game! Damn, is this going to be one hell of a season starter." This time, McGonagall didn't quiet him. The stands were going wild, just as angry as the team was to have one of their own treated in such a way as they cried out from a sea of red and gold. "Potter lines up, takes the shot, and it's good! 20-10, Gryffindor. Take that you Huffle-prats!"
Wisteria chuckled, enjoying the game despite the blood still running out of her nose. Hopefully they hadn't succeeded in throwing her off of her game too much. But she had little time to think about that before the Hufflepuff team was heading back up the pitch toward the goal post. Despite gearing up for the upcoming attack, she noticed a quick dart of yellow out of the corner of her eye. "Prewett, Loxley!" She yelled to Fabian, one of seventh year beaters, before shooting off to the farthest goal post.
"On it!" He called back. Wisteria barely had time to appreciate his excellent form as he swung a bludger into the back end of the opposing seeker's broom, spiraling him off course.
"And Prewett manages to knock Loxley off of the snitch, no doubt saving the team whilst maintaining that perfect hair. How does he do it?"
Wisti threw Marlene the quaffle and watched her take it quickly back up the pitch. But she was immediately tag-teamed by the Hufflepuff's and lost the ball. Straight for the goal the chasers came, eyes locked on Wisteria and her wide stance. However, she was only good at blocking quaffles. Just as the chaser made their throw, a bludger was launched into Wisteria's outstretched hand. A scream fell from her lips as her forearm seemed to bend in half. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this could be fixed with magic, but at the moment, all she could think of was the pulsing pain coming from her broken arm.
