August | Hermione Granger x OFC

Chapter Seventy-Seven

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On Sunday morning it was revealed via the Daily Prophet that Dolores Umbridge had been appointed the position of High Inquisitor.

Not great.

On Sunday afternoon the first Ravenclaw Quidditch practice took place.

Also not great.

They started out by having the first team play the reserves, just to get a feel for each other, get to know each other's playing styles, and so on. And Robyn would've found it fun if Astrid hadn't been more or less on top of her the whole time.

It was frustrating as anything and really put her off the game, and Roger kept yelling at her to do better.

Even worse, Chester almost never passed the Quaffle to her as he didn't like her anymore for whatever reason. But one of the few times he did, she caught it with her eye instead of her hands (courtesy of Astrid who had roughly bumped into her at the last second). The exact same eye that was still bruised – though covered up (thank you, Lana) – after Fred and George's stupid telescope.

Lastly, it was raining.

Yeah, not great.

"Hey, Robyn," said Astrid just as they were all finished getting changed out of their damp Quidditch robes.

"Astrid," she responded plainly, very much not in the mood to entertain anyone, especially not her.

In an effort to shut Astrid out, she waved to Lisa Turpin who was just leaving the changing room.

"Well?" said Astrid, crossing her arms with an annoying look on her face.

Robyn finally gave her the attention she desired. "What?"

"I said, is there a reason you've got such a crap old broom? I mean, really, with a last name like Rosier, I just thought you'd have something a little better quality, you know?"

Robyn frowned, not having thought about her broom or how good it was. She was just grateful Nadir had thought to give her a gift at all. She didn't care about the cost, she cared about the intention. And it wasn't even old. 

"The Cleansweep Eleven literally came out this past summer. It's not old," she defended.

"Maybe, but it's still not as good as the Nimbus 2001, which I saw your brother on during Slytherin's practice. So how come you don't have one? Are you the least favourite, or something?"

Robyn narrowed her eyes. Astrid had no idea just how much of a sore spot that was. "Can you, like, go away? Thanks."

Astrid held up her hands defensively. "Just saying. I have the Nimbus 2001, too, I'm sure you've noticed—"

"And yet I can still outfly you. Isn't that interesting?" retorted Robyn, rubbing her chin as if she were thoughtful.

(She wasn't. She knew she was better than Astrid. Call her conceited all you want).

But Astrid was unaffected for the most part. She hummed, unbothered, and eyed Robyn up and down just as she had before. "We'll see."

And she was gone.

Willow approached Robyn in seconds.

"What is up with you two? The sexual tension is—"

"Stop right there," commanded Robyn, holding up her hand. "Absolutely not. No." Willow opened her mouth to protest, but Robyn spoke over her once more, "No."