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── I'M GOING DOWN IN THE FLAMES, AND YOU'RE FEEDING THE FIRE
. . .
SUMMARY
The day that Beatrice Solace received the letter that she was to be the one to take over for Roger Davies because he had managed to mess up his sixth year Transfiguration exam that badly, she decided that she wasn't going to let anything stop her from turning things around and finally winning that damned trophy.
They had been so close the year before, and Beatrice was entirely convinced that they would have won the whole competition for the first time in several years, had it not been for the Basilisk-hunting-students-and-petrifying-them thing. Of course, she couldn't fault the teachers for bringing something as trivial as the Quidditch Cup to a close in a face of the school potentially being shut down... but it had made her all the more determined for the upcoming year.
Unlike her closest friends - a pair of certain Gryffindors who were beaters for their house's team - Beatrice would be the first to openly admit that when it came to Quidditch, her competitive streak tended to skyrocket to lengths she couldn't have expected. There were certain levels to it; Quidditch was easily at the very top of the scale, but somewhere not so far down from it was the considerably transparent and entirely made-up competition she posed with her classmates.
And that, of course, was where the Hufflepuffs came in. Well, certainly not the entire house, and not even the entire year, but there was one in particular that just managed to get too far under her skin. And of course, he was the new Hufflepuff captain and yes, she could admit that he was somewhat smart and yes, she could also admit that he was a good player, but she most certainly would not admit that she fell victim to his charm and good looks like everyone else did.
Cedric Diggory had been the focus of the imaginary competition she held each year, and now it had only been elevated further. There were higher stakes now, actual stakes, and whilst it certainly would be amazing to beat Wood and Flint as well, there was something about the idea of beating Cedric Diggory that made her all the more competitive.
But of course, there had to be something in the way.
And Beatrice would be damned if it was some stupid mass murderer that stopped Ravenclaw from winning this time.
. . .
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── CALL ME INSANE, I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR GAMES
. . .
" you've got me nervous to speak so i just won't say anything at all i've got an urge to release and you keep tellin' me to hold on you've got me nervous to move so i just won't give anything to you you got me turnin' all around to be who you need me to " ── nervous, the neighbourhood
. . .
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── ' WELL, IF IT ISN'T BEATRICE SOLACE '
' GLAD TO KNOW ── YOU CAN SEE DIGGORY, MAYBE THAT'LL HELP YOU TO CATCH THE SNITCH NEXT TIME '
