the only thing that stayed the same in rain jones' life was her mutual hatred for her rival, harry potter: the gryffindor quidditch captain.
but when snide remarks on the pitch turn to flushed glances, her whole world turns on its head, and nothing...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"...And make sure you keep an eye on Johnson, okay? We don't need her slipping away with the Quaffle...Malfoy, I swear to Merlin himself, if you don't stop admiring your reflection—"
"I am not!" he took a step away from the mirror, flushing as the team's gaze moved from Rain to him. It was mere minutes before the first game of the season between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Rain was standing on a bench in front of the team like a warlord in the house's locker room. "Shove off, Jones," Draco muttered, crossing his arms, and she rose a brow at him.
"That's Captain to you."
"Shove off, Captain."
"Is that a bug in your hair?"
"WHAT—!" he scurried back to the mirror, and leaned over the sink, combing through the blonde with his gloved hands. "Where? Where is it?" he continued searching as the team delved into laughter, and Blaise's lips twitched upwards.
"There isn't a bug, dumbass," Theodore cupped a hand over his mouth to amplify his voice, and Rain bit back another laugh, glancing at her watch.
"What's Nott doing here?" Draco scowled, taking a step back from the sink. "He isn't even on the team!"
"Moral support, bitch!"
"As much as I appreciate you essentially being our mascot, Theo, you better head out to the stands now," Rain patted his shoulder from where she stood on the bench; taller than him for once, and he suddenly stood straight.
"Aye, aye, captain," Theo saluted before leaving the locker room, and a breeze of the cold wind outside flew in as the door closed behind him. Rain turned back to the team, silencing their chatter with a loud whistle.
"Get over here, Malfoy, don't look so sulky," she said, and he did as told and moved closer to the team huddle, albeit begrudgingly. "Now, I want you all to be concentrating as hard as you can on the game itself—not the players, the game. We've already covered strategy, so manoeuvrers should already be established in your pretty little heads."
"Malfoy," Rain continued, and smirked as he gave her a 'what now?' look. "You're a sharp flyer. If you stay focused—and I mean really focused—on the snitch, you'll easily be able to catch it. Just, whatever you do, don't pull a Viktor Krum and catch it if Gryffindor is well ahead in points. Got it?"
"But Potter—"
"Leave him to me," she said, ignoring the look Blaise gave her. "I'll distract him for you, just focus on the snitch."
"You and Potter have had it in for eachother since I was a first year. What happened to concentrating on the game, not the players?" Thea MacIver, a talented third-year chaser, asked.
"Captain privileges, MacIver," Rain jumped down from the bench and grabbed her Firebolt, its sleek wood familiar in her hand, just as Madame Hooch announced, "Teams, make your way to the centre of the pitch."
