All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Fourth Year : November ( Part 1 )

"Oi, Black, ease up a bit!"

"Oh, piss off, Cardoc! If you weren't falling asleep on your broom, maybe-"

"Sirius!"

"Black!"

James cut him off at the same time that Harpreet Singh, Gryffindor's quidditch captain, shouted his name, glaring ferociously from his position in front of the goal posts.

"What?! If he can't dodge the bludgers on Sunday how d'you expect-"

"That's enough!"

Singh abandoned his spot by the rings to zip closer to Sirius, where he could glare more effectively.

"I want you flying laps until you've calmed down enough to work as a team. You're not the only one on the field-unless you get that through your head, we haven't got a chance against Ravenclaw. Now go!"

Sirius scowled, but knew better than to argue with Singh when he started shouting. The older student was known for being even-tempered, a quiet, stocky young man whose presence often had a soothing effect on those around him. This normally lent itself to captaining a quidditch team of rowdy Gryffindors, as Singh was uniquely equipped to reign in their nervous energy and fiery spirits.

Unfortunately, Sirius Black was not just any Gryffindor. Even Harpreet had his hands full trying to manage the boy's mood swings in the week leading up to their first match of the season-and Sirius's first ever match on the team. To the dismay of his teammates, Sirius often channelled the nerves he felt into the sort of frantic energy that had him, for example, whacking bludgers at lightning speed with complete disregard for everyone else's positions on the field.

Sirius surrendered his beaters' bat to Singh and made his way to the outer edge of the pitch, flying vigorously to try and work out some of the adrenaline that continued to buzz in his veins. He could feel his teammates' wariness as they watched him, wondering if he'd be ready for the match on Sunday-their apprehension only added to his own anxiety about whether he'd muck everything up. The flush on his cheeks was part exertion, part embarrassment, as he cursed himself for his lack of precision due to the nerves - and cursed Cardoc for his sluggish flying during practices, without which Sirius's erratic aim might have gone unnoticed.

By the time Singh called for a break, Sirius's hair was sweat-soaked and sticking to his forehead. He shoved it out of his eyes as he landed, breathing heavily and standing a little way away from the rest of the team. James landed next to him, panting.

"Alright, mate?"

Sirius grunted, and James sighed.

"Come on, don't pout."

Sirius grimaced. "I am not pouting!" He grumbled, affronted.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am n-oi, quit it!"

Now James was grinning, poking Sirius's side to punctuate each statement, and Sirius was struggling desperately to wrangle down the laughter bubbling up in his throat.

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"