|Printable Version of Topic
Click here to view this topic in its original format
|Wizarding Realm > Communal Common Room > maybe i'm lookin' for something i can't have|
|Posted by: Amita Amirmoez Jul 9 2018, 02:27 PM|
| Amita would be the first to admit that defeat stung, especially that she had been defeated by Felton Quigley of all people. What stung was losing and then pervasive injury afterward, more so than the defeat. Gryffinpuff had basically slaughtered everyone in their path anyway, and it generally went that there was one team that stomped all the others, and this just happened to be the season that Amita wasn't on it. That was fine, the Slytherin could accept that, that was just how the sporting life worked. The frustration of nursing a broken collarbone and just recently healed broken ribs was so much bigger than that. Even the fact that her broom was basically trashed now and she had to buy a wholeass, brand new model was less frustrating than the fact that her broom crash had trashed her body.
All things considered, she was pretty okay. Just slumping around in a constant cloud of seething rage because she was unable to use her dominant hand and needed help for nearly everything. The serpent had given up on wearing makeup to hide the slow-healing bruises on her face. She crashed. She was in hospital for a couple days. It wasn't a secret. At least she could breathe without needing to be high on pain potions, lest she try to just push through it and permanently cripple herself. All the Slytherin wanted was to not have to rely on someone else to carry her things, or take notes for her.
Landry. She was talking about Landry.
That was another kettle of fish that she wasn’t ready to address, but since it was boiling over, she sort of had to, didn’t she? Something about blurting out I know my boyfriend is attractive, but do you mind within the Southern boy’s hearing range, and all that. They hadn’t talked about it. She didn’t want to, and she was pretty sure he was getting to the point where he knew better, but in the same right… they didn’t need to talk about it. Much as she liked to try and fight it for his benefit, sometimes the path of least resistance was the way.
Sometimes, it was nice to have someone take your bag from your shoulder and snatch your hand from your side like a Snitch, holding it fiercely like some sort of prize. He was hers, and she was hers, but she was also his, the tender slip of his callused fingers through her slender ones. Today was no different in that, the sight of his adoring little smile bringing one to her own lips.
“I know I only have one good shoulder, but that doesn’t mean you can injure yours by carrying both of our textbooks,” she informed him, as seriously as she did every time he took her bag without permission or ceremony to be a gentleman. “You’re gonna be out of a job soon, once I can start carrying my crap again on my own.”