The Collision Theory | Remus Lupin

60. Get Your Head In The Game

The night goes as swimmingly as it can when you're patching up a werewolf who doesn't stop giggling because his best friend added a little too much pain relief tonic into his water.

It's dawn before I even know it, and I'm trudging towards the changing rooms under the stands of the quidditch pitch a few metres in front of a surprisingly bubbly James Potter. His breath turns to steam in the morning air as he chatters too quickly for any human to understand, "...And then Pete and I had to distract Moony while Sirius got the bird out of the room, it was pretty intense- Lin? Are you listening?"

"Oh, yeah," I nod quickly, "I would've totally freaked out."

"Who wouldn't?" He laughs, slowing down to join me as we near the pitch.

Taking our solitude to my advantage, I ask the burning question in my mind, "James, was their another... well, was there a dog in the house?"

He coughs, looking straight ahead, "Why'd you ask?"

"It's just that I saw one, seconds before Sirius opened the door," I sigh, "or I'm going mad."

"Going mad? Nonsense," and for a second I'm fooled into thinking that James Fleamont Potter is about to prove me right, "you were already entirely bonkers."

"Ha ha, hilarious," I roll my eyes, but whatever string of profanities I was about to insult James with is interrupted as the door to the changing rooms opens, revealing Maisie with her jumper half on, bat in one hand, and wand in the other, "what in Merlin's..."

"Just missed the five am fight," She grins, and James lets out a whine.

I frown as a loud thump sounds behind the girl, "You make it sounds like it's a regular thing."

"Scott and Buzz always fight for the good broom," James huffs, "and I bloody missed it. Again."

A loud screech echoes, filled by abrupt silence, only broken by Maisie, "Yep, one of them won."

"Okay," I nod, slightly confused, and follow James and Maisie into the changing room. Scott Angelo sits hugging a broom tightly with the widest of smirks, while Buzz sits on the other side of the room scowling.

Scott sends an over exaggerated wink the keeper's way, "Don't pout TayTay, I love you really."

Irene mutters something like get a room under her breath, causing Scott to go pink at the ears. Bronwin pinches the bridge of her nose, standing by the blackboard on the wall, "If we're all finished mucking around, can we get on with the tactics?"

*

The stomp of feet across the bleachers. Indistinct shouts and chants of voices. The suffocating feeling that comes with preparing for a match.

"Gloves?"

"Check."

"Broom?"

"Obviously." I sigh.

"Hair band?"

"Yeah- no," I bite my lip, and James takes one out of his pocket with an exasperated sigh, "thanks. Wait, why do you even have hair bands with you?"

"I'm on a team with three other girls, four now, " he shrugs, "I understand the pain of hair bands snapping. Oh, do you have-"

"I have everything Potter!"

"What about your bracelet?" This time it's not James, but a voice behind me, "Didn't forget that?"

"No, of course not." I turn around with a grin, lifting up my wrist. Remus stands, though just barely, wrapped in multiple layers of clothing and looking deadly sick, but he's still Remus. The Remus that makes me feel better.

"Are you ready?" He places both hands on my shoulders with the tone of an over enthusiastic captain, making me laugh, "Answer me, Novak!"

"No, but I'm gonna try."

"That's the spirit," he grins, "now go and catch that snitch."

"Go and get some rest."

"I'll be in the stands," he ignores my comment, kissing the top of my head before dashing back out of the changing room, "go kick some Slytherin butt!"

"That will be a foul, Lupin!"

"The don't get caught!"

I shake my head, still laughing as I pull my hair into a ponytail and grab a broom from the corner, following the rest of the team out of the changing room and towards the pitch.

"One last thing," James turns to me, straightening the collar of my Quidditch robes.

"Yes?"

"Get your head in the game." And with that, he ruffles my hair, messing it up so badly that strands fall out of the ponytail.

"Potter!"