Noon, Quidditch Pitch.

Gryffindor Sunday morning practices were not a favourite with the team but for the most part, they were well-attended. By lunchtime however, most of Raine's players had retired... either to the Hall or their cozy beds. She obviously wasn't one of them and neither was their resident Head Boy.

"Are you done for the day?" The captain hovered by the hoops at the north end of the field, quaffle in the crook of her hand. She raised a quizzical brow at her senior housemate, who'd not descended to the green.

Her curls were pinned back and a house scarf tightened around the lower part of her face. It was beginning to grow cold at Hogwarts; a frigid ascension into the Winter season. Quidditch players always noticed first- Raine's nose was red with such notice. Hardly a deterrent from being outdoors.

Quidditch. That morning when Walt had stepped out onto the pitch, broom in hand, and inhaled the crisp, autumn air-he had been happy. He enjoyed being a part of the team, and liked helping the younger years and newer playes learn their positions. Even if Walton hadn't been on the team, he still would have made it a point to help out. It was just part of who he was.

It was time for lunch- and Sunday morning practice seemed to be winding down. He was flying lazy circles in the air near the hoops, watching Raine. She still had the quaffle in hand as she asked whether or not he was done for the day.

Walton shrugged. "I could stand some more," he said, flying closer. "But looks like you are awfully cold. You should get some of those peppermints from Hogsmeade- the kind that warm you up." Walt's stash was gone. He'd been sharing them with younger years who complained that the Astronomy tower was too drafty to be comfortable. Walton remembered being eleven and shivering in the tower until he'd gotten used to the fact that Winter was cold and so was Astronomy. But he'd found that he liked the class, so he was still taking it, even in his seventh year.

"Want to race or something?" he asked. "Bit hard to do if you're trying to keep hold of a quaffle. Tell you what, Almasy, I'll give you a five second head start and I'll fly one handed. That way you have a chance." Walt tossed her grin, and flew a quick circle around her. "Or I could fly with my feet?" he suggested.

Raine smiled underneath her scarf as her housemate implied that she was feeling cold- which she was, of course, but no colder than morning swims in the lake. She took the comment as a challenge.

"I'm built for cold, Russian blood and all that." Her throat tickled and threatened a cough that would have ruined the effect of the sentence- she suppressed it, swallowing. Perhaps not enough Russian blood in her frigid veins.

The prefect narrowed her gaze at Walton's more candid challenge, hovering to keep a track as he flew around her- goading.

"I can drop the quaffle but don't think I'm above taking a head start..." she indicated the pitch with her free hand. "Small players, we fly faster. Three galleons says I can beat you without the handicap." Her purse wasn't light for change but she could do with letting off some steam; and no better way than nearly flying into the stands.

"I'm built for comfort and for speed," he countered with a grin. He had no idea what he was really built for. Walton's ethnicity was a mystery even to himself. He had grown up with his adoptive parents in London. And as far as his dad was conerned, Walton had been built to be the next Indiana Jones. Becoming a wizard had dented that plan.

Small players did fly faster. But it also mattered about your broom- and Walton had a top of the line model. It had been his birthday present last January from his parents. "Three galleons?" he scoffed. He didn't have tons of coins at his disposal, but he had to play up the confidence, didn't he?

"Name the rules of the race then, Almasy. I'll leave it up to you- to make as easy as you need. You being more delicate and all. Probably a bit tired, from all that prefecting and captaining. I'm sure you need to lower the stakes... If you wanted to give me three galleons, you could just do it without embarrassing yourself," Walton teased. "I'd take the coins without argument. Cross my heart."

Raine tossed the quaffle into the air, letting it drop to the green as she hovered higher and to match the pace at which her housemate was floating. With her hands free of the ball she could balance better on the broom. Placing bets had become a rather prevalent habit between the houses since the Tournament had begun- so much so that such gambling stretched further than odds on their champions.

"The rules..." she trailed off with a grim smile, eyes wandering the extent of the pitch. There was little sense in playing it safe; they were seasoned flyers after all. The prefect glanced back at Walton. "Two rounds off the green, on the perimeter."

Plenty of obstacles to duck, avoid or slam right into. The only players who usually flew around the pitch were Seekers, as a rule, to catch the Snitch- it was dangerous but exhilarating.

"First one to pass the announcer's stand twice," Raine nodded in the direction of the stands where Connor and Professor Cosmos narrated the games, "Wins the race. Does that work or is it too delicate for you?" she smirked, competitive streak showing.

The perimeter? Now that sounded fun. He grinned. "Sounds fair enough to me. One more question before we start, though," he said, continuing to lounge on his broom. "Am I supposed to let you win? I mean, you're the captain fo the team. I'd hate for an embarassing loss to put me off the team."

Walton leaned forward then, gripping his broom tighter, getting ready for the actual race. "How are we going to start? Count down? Or are you just going to yell out GO and leave me dumbfounded as I kick start to catch up?" He didn't really care which way she chose. This was more for fun to him than it was truly competitive.

"Any other rules? About playing dirty? Maximum altitude? You mean just off the green or we can't touch the green at all? Bit vague there, Almasy. Trying to use it to your advantage? Make up rules as you go along?" Walton was just teasing her now. Hopefully Raine wouldn't take it to heart. She wasn't the sort of person he'd peg for a cheater.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team consisted, to the disdain of many a referee, mostly of hotheads. Walton's teasing was expected and Raine smirked at the mention of him letting her win. It had been some time since she'd raced anyone- as a result of being their current Keeper - but she was confident in her speed.

"No higher than the stands, glide as low as you want. An inch on to the green and those galleons are mine," she smiled at her senior, chin tilted back in a show of slight arrogance. "I'll count us down. Keep those ears open, old man..."

They hovered over to the announcements stand, moving over from filtered grey sunlight into the cool shadow of the awnings above. Here on the perimeter of the pitch, the path was crisscrossed by wooden beams and made complicated with the occasional streamer leftover from the last game. An obstacle course of sorts.

The redhead glanced curiously at Walton as they took their places alongside one another, fingers curled loosely around her broom and shoulders pulled back as she brought herself lower to the hilt. This was a reprieve. To fly and race and not think about newspaper articles or mad murderers.

"Are you ready?" she didn't wait for a response. "On one. In three, two... one!"

And they were off.

Walton was a good quidditch player, and he was good on a broom. But Raine was better. Which made sense- she was the quidditch captain, after all. And as much as he liked quidditch, he never took it quite as seriously as some of the other quidditch players. Even so, he was a little surprised at how fast Raine was. He might have under estimated her a little.

She won the race between the two of them with ease. And Walton didn't mind, not really. After the race the two of them continued to throw a quaffle around. It was good to get out some of his pent up energy. Walton was a little stressed since he had started as head boy. It wasn't easy, and he was having a hard time adjusting to it.

Eventually, though, fatigue set in and he flew back down to the grass of the pitch. "I think I'm done for the day, Raine," he told her. "But I had fun. Even if you did obliterate me in that race. Guess I should practice more often if I want to be a bit better on a broom." Of course, beating the quidditch captain was probably not going to happen... Raine was the quidditch captain for a reason.

"I guess I won't be challenging you to a race again anytime soon," he said with a grin, throwing his broom over his shoulder. "See you around, Almasy. Don't spend all night out on the pitch." With that, Walton headed back up to the castle.