Wild Child

2.6. Slugs and influencers

I was convinced I was going to be sick. Somehow I'd deluded myself into thinking I could play quidditch, I barely knew the rules. As I shivered dressed in a spare slytherin kit that stunk of sweat Draco Malfoy zipped around showing off his seeker skills.

George had decided that I was best as a chaser and Marcus Flit agreed so there I was in a gross spare Chaser robes that were way too big for me waiting for my first practice session of the year to officially begin. I hated to admit it but Draco was a pretty good seeker. He ducked and dived when he was meant to. It made my stomach feel tight. Everyone on the team had been playing quidditch their entire lives, I'd been playing for a summer.

Marcus Flint clapped Draco on the shoulder making me roll my eyes. Posh wanker.

"Potter, your go. Show everyone what you've got. " Marcus yelled, giving me a nasty grin. For some stupid, illogical, moronic reason every new member of the team had to do a ridiculous show and tell in front of everyone.

I bit the inside of my cheek. The slytherin team was mainly boys and the only other girls on the team were double my size. I tightened my grip on my nimbus 2001 and took off mud splattering into the grass as I levitated in the air.

I shot up in the air, my ponytail billowing behind me. They made me fly in laps for ten minutes, I guess it was to test if I was asthmatic and could handle flying around for an entire match— I also had to weave and dodge Bludgers which was pretty easy.

After half an hour they finally let me shoot. Miles Bletchley, the slytherin goalie was a few years older than me, he had thick brown hair, bright green eyes and pale skin. He was tall, athletic and muscular, the perfect combo for a goalkeeper.

"Alright, Potter? I'll go easy on ya, yeah?"  Miles shouted.

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."

I steadied my breath as I let go of my room, tossing the Quaffle between my hands. You can do this, Pips, let's go. I narrowed my eyes at the boy and shot towards him like a bullet. I hated the loss of control, the way I hurtled towards the boy made me feel sick.

I wound up my arm and threw the stupid ball into the goal. A tiny little weight lifted off my chest. Okay, just four more of those and I'd make it.

"Oi! What are you doing?" A sudden shout made me nearly topple off my broom.

Down below Oliver Wood was storming onto the pitch the Gryffindor team trudging behind him.

"Aww, what now?" Miles groaned, soaring towards the ground nodding at me to follow him.

I wobbled as I dismounted my broom, mud splattered up the leg of my baggy purple and yellow two tone pants.

"Flint!" Oliver Wood bellowed at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

"But I booked the pitch!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint, "but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need to train their teammates."

"You've got new teammates"' said Wood, distracted. 'Where?'

Draco dramatically emerged from behind 2 giant beaters while I tried to huddle behind them. I hadn't mentioned trying out for the team to Harry, I was pretty sure he wouldn't take it well.