LYOVA RASMUSSEN - A Durmstrang Quidditch Captain.

Chapter 18 - APOLOGY

LYOVA RASMUSSEN POV - Durmstrang Quidditch Captain

"Lyova, wake up."

No, not again, Lyova thought, turning around. She opened her eyes for the split of a second, Lazarev coming into her vision.

"How did you even manage to walk up the stairs?" she mumbled groggily.

"A question for another day. Come on, Lev. It's Christmas Eve!" he said, tugging on her duvet.

Lyova moaned and slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The early sun shined through her window, and the snitch beside her bed fluttered silently in his glass.

"Common room in ten, no excuses," Lazarev said cheerfully before leaving.

Lyova threw her legs out of her bed and stretched. She looked out of the window and admired the snow that was falling. It reminded her of the cold Russian winters.

She quickly changed into her clothes. For today, her mother had sent her a new dress to wear. It was not a suggestion to wear - more of an expectation. Lyova pulled it over and tried to do what her mother used to do with her hair. Impossible. No matter how hard she tried to copy the wand moves, her hair didn't get as curly as she wanted it to.

Lyova cursed, pinning it up the best she could and went towards the door as her eyes fell on the newspaper on her nightstand.

It had been a few weeks since Sirius Black had broken into Hogwarts. The teachers hadn't found anything. Still, the thought that he'd managed to overcome the castle's protection so easily was frightening.

Since then, the daily prophet had regularly reported about Black, and her parents had sent various editions of the night owl, threatening to have her coming home.

Lyova hurried down the stairs to the common room. Her eyes widened as she saw a giant Christmas tree adorned with fairy lights and red Christmas baubles. Flying candles lit up the room, and the stone fireplace had a massive fire blazing it.

"Merry Christmas, Lev," Silva said, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Merry Christmas, Mislav," Lyova replied, hugging him back.

"So much to ten minutes," Orlov muttered, but a grin spread over his face.

"Opted for a dress today, Milady?" Lazarev snickered. Lyova scoffed. "You know my mother."

"We have something for you!" Orlov interrupted excitedly and pulled out a little box to give to Lyova.

"We agreed not to get any gifts," she complained, feeling guilty she hadn't gotten them anything.

"We know that," Krum said with a deep voice. "But it was about time you get yours." Lyova took the little box and unwrapped it under the eyes of her teammates.

Inside was an engraved ring. On the outside was the Durmstrangs sign and on the inside six words: За команду — за честь — за Durmstrang. For the team, for Russia, For Durmstrang.

Lyova eyes teared up, and she looked at her teammates, who grinned at her widely. She knew that most of them wore identical ones. It was an old team tradition. Whenever a new player had proved themself enough, they received the ring as a sign of loyalty and acceptance.

Lyova carefully put the ring out of the box and admired it before pulling it over her ring finger.

"You earned it, Lyova," Kazlauskas said, earning agreeing hums.

A single tear fell down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it away.

"No need to get sentimental," Orlov joked.