Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(111) Grief

The castle grounds were graced with the first few snowflakes of the winter on that chilly November morning. But despite the thin blanket of snow that covered the grass by afternoon, Florence still called in her team for practices, and, thankfully, they were kind enough to show up without any extra grumbling. 

She dragged her firebolt across the pitch, and over to where her team had gathered to give out instructions. Jeremy and Ivy were sprawled out on the snow covered grass, making snow angels while the others watched in amusement. Cho, on the other hand, did not seem too immersed in what her teammates were doing, but looked as if she was in her own little world. Florence made a mental note to ask her how she was feeling.

"Okay, guys, practices today won't be as long. I know everyone is dying to get back inside to warm up by the fireplace, because I feel the same way," she chuckled, "So...let's do a fifteen-minute lap around the pitch, then two mock games."

She blew on her whistle, everyone lining up their brooms to the side before taking on the jog. The wind seemed to be colder when they were in motion, and by the time fifteen minutes were over, Florence had to take them inside the locker room to warm up.

"Can't we wear our winter clothes instead of our gear for now?" Anthony Goldstein mumbled, rubbing his hands together, "I really need my mittens when touching my broom handle."

"Absolutely not." protested Roger, "Since you're new to this team, I'll have you know that we practiced perfectly fine last time without mittens."

"If your definition of perfectly fine is nearly getting hypothermia and frostbite, then yeah, that's what happened." Jeremy rolled his eyes, making Florence crack a smile, "He's right, Roger, the gear's much too thin to warm us all up."

He looked around the room, and the others seemed to have reached a consensus. "Fine," he huffed, "We can wear our winter clothes. Just keep the Quidditch pants on, though. If you wear anything else then you'll surely slip off of your broom."

"Um," said Florence, "You're forgetting that you're no longer calling the shots, Rog."

"Right. Sorry. It happens sometimes."

"I'll give five minutes to change, then everyone should be back out on the pitch." everyone nodded, before disbanding to head to their designated changing quarters.

Florence wasted no time in starting up the mock games as soon as the whole team emerged in warmer clothes, splitting the team up into two groups: Florence, Ivy and Owen, then Jeremy, Roger and Anthony in the other. She released the golden snitch for Cho to pursue before she blew her whistle, the beaters unlatching the Bludgers from their cases as she threw the Quaffle into the air.

Jeremy was quick to catch the ball, diving down to avoid the neat bludger that Owen had sent his way, before jetting towards the rings, Ivy drifting in guard.

He tossed it, hard, however Ivy had managed to slap it away with the tail of her broom, Florence grabbing it in mid-air, before streaking over to Roger, who was Keeper for his team. Cho had been flying around rather near her, Florence paying no heed to this as she was determined to make a goal.

That was until Cho completely crashed in to her, the two shaken off of their respective brooms upon collision. Florence had a one hand grip on her broom as she dangled atleast twenty feet from the ground, Cho managing to heave herself up.

Jeremy flew over to help his captain back on to the broom, Florence clutching her arm, which was throbbing with pain, and her face a little bit numb on the left side. She was certain that it was going to leave a bruise later on.