AND THEY WERE WIZARDS. (Oh my god they were wizards)

To Fire

TW: Sexual assault, suicide

As expected, Tuesday's game brought roaring winds, pouring rain, and a sky so clouded it was hard to say whether the sun had even risen. Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus, Janus and Emile stood in the front of the stands, shielding themselves with whatever they could. It seemed useless to stand there trying to catch what was happening above on the pitch, yet concern for their friends (and the severe cold) kept them all frozen in place.

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY THINKING, HOLDING A GAME IN THIS WEATHER?" Remus screamed over the combined sound of the crowd and the weather.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, MAKING US COME?" Yelled Logan to a shivering Patton next to him.

"VIRGIL AND ROMAN ARE PLAYING," Patton replied stubbornly, "AND WE ARE GOING TO BE SUPPORTIVE!"

Roman sped across the pitch, fighting to keep sight of the Hufflepuff chaser in possession. The quaffle was the brightest thing in sight and Roman thought if he lost it, he may not find it again. The Hufflepuff was intercepted on their way to Wood's goal by Katie Bell, who stole the quaffle and threw it to Roman, who stowed it under his arm, flying in the opposite direction toward the Hufflepuff goal hoops. He had to assume he was going the right way, because he could barely see past the end of his broomstick through the haze of rain. Something small and black came into sight in the corner of his eye, growing larger. Roman's eyes widened as he realized it was a bludger, and he swerved, dodging it narrowly but making way for a Hufflepuff chaser to steal the quaffle from under his arm.
"Dammit," Roman said, too quietly for even himself to hear over the wind. He hadn't even thought about the bludgers. With such low visibility, this game was the most dangerous he'd ever played. He hoped Harry caught the snitch soon.

Virgil had to depend purely on reflex as he guarded over the Hufflepuff goal hoops, which wasn't working out well. He'd already let in the quaffle twice and blocked it once, kicking it away from the center hoop and straight into his teammate's possession. That was the last he'd seen of the Quaffle or any other player for a few minutes now. Virgil tried to take steady breaths. But he could feel himself quivering against his broom— from cold or nerves, he couldn't tell. Below in the stands, he could hear the continuous roar of the crowd. Did they see him from where they sat? If so, he was definitely all they could see, meaning their attention was on him alone. But he couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about what students in the stands could be saying about him right now. He couldn't think about how the odds were against him and if he performed poorly in his very first game, his entire house would remember it. Definitely a bad idea to think about that... so why was he still doing it?

The chasers were in the center of the field, finally close enough to each other that Roman could see them all, but now so damp that he could barely tell them apart. The quaffle was changing hands almost too fast to keep up with. Roman could hardly hold on to it for more than five seconds. every so often they scattered, a bludger pelting through their midst. Twice more he discovered that his team had scored, only by the increased noise from the crowd and the faint announcement from Lee Jordan. Play continued as lightning cracked across the sky. Roman took possession, lost it, then watched Wood miss the save by inches. The Hufflepuffs cheered beneath them as Roman narrowly dodged a bludger. Furious with himself for even letting go of the quaffle to allow for that goal, Roman zoomed after the Hufflepuff with the quaffle the next chance he got. He was going to score this time. Now with the red ball stowed securely under his arm, Roman made for the other side of the pitch at breakneck speed. He passed to Katie, dodging under a Hufflepuff chaser, and caught the quaffle again from her when he was level. With another burst of speed, the Hufflepuff goal hoop came into view for the first time. Though he could hardly make out his face, Roman knew the figure hovering in the center was Virgil. And suddenly he was back in time, drilling penalty shots in the soft sunset, just the two of them.