It was Valentines Day Weekend. The stupidest holiday in the history of all holidays. If you asked Chloe how she felt about the holiday two months ago, she would have been head over heels in love with it. It was a day for love, and happiness, and everything good in the world. But now? Now it was a bad excuse to make out with your boyfriend. It was pointless. It was stupid. It sucked.

She had completely enveloped herself in Quidditch. Everything Quidditch helped get her mind off of stupid boys. She had sent an owl to a Quidditch player, Roger Davies, and tried to set up a meeting to talk about the team and plans for the future. She slumped in a booth, watching other couples sharing milkshakes and sharing kisses. It was disgusting. It was completely unnecessary. She hated it.

Chloe ordered a butterbeer, knowing that she was thirsty watching the stupid couples drinking away. She looked back at her schematics as she awaited the player's arrival.

Valentine’s Day.  Roger had never enjoyed this ‘holiday’, finding it rather irritating; for as long as he could remember all the women he knew went mad around this time of the year as though chocolates and stuffed bears were the ruling stick for how relevant a relationship was. The past few years he’d made it a point to not have a casual relationship between the months of November and February as to not give his fling the wrong impression.

Hogsmeade was a riot in activity, full of harried looking men struggling to find last minute gifts, throngs of various aged women giggling and student couples out of class for the day.  Feeling protected under the cover of distraction, barely anyone recognized Roger as he strolled toward The Three Broomsticks. Business with a promising, young quidditch player seemed much more worthy of his time than shopping for sweets. Chloe Harris had written to Roger a asking for a meeting. Perhaps it was because of her spot on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team or perhaps after looking into who she was he saw an echo of himself, but he agreed. 

Pulling open the door to the pub, Roger slid inside and glanced around. Red hair. He thought to himself, trying to remember if she said anything else regarding how to find her. If she had it was lost on him. In a much smaller space, eyes settled upon him with recognition, but no movement beyond a few mutterings of ‘Isn’t that…?’ came to him. Taking a gamble on a lone girl sitting in a booth with charts, graphs and an annoyed expression on her face, Roger walked over to her.

“Chloe Harris?”

Chloe looked up to see Roger, and she smiled. "Hi, I'm Chloe. Thanks for taking some time to sit down and talk to me." She said, with a smile. She was trying to contain her excitement. He was an actual Quidditch player! In the flesh! She wasn't seeing him from a crowd, or yelling his name from the stands, no. He was living and breathing, and paying attention to her.

She tried to play it cool, and tried to stop smiling. No need to scare him away with fangirling. He probably got enough of that as is. This definitely helped her get her mind off of the stupid couples everywhere. Quidditch was more important. If couples deserved a holiday, well, than Quidditch did too! In fact, Quidditch deserved two holidays!

"I hope I'm not intruding on any plans you've made for this weekend." She said finally, not knowing his relationship status.

A warm smile slid across his lips as the girl confirmed her identity. “Ah, I don’t have many plans this weekend; I sent an owl to my mum and then Monday I will take advantage of the half-off sweets. I’m sure the captain will disapprove,” Roger paused before offering a playful shrug as he took a seat in the booth. “But what is the point of life if you can’t enjoy some sweets?” The waitress returned, plopping a mug of butterbeer in front of Chloe and then looked to the new patron. Her eyes widened for just a moment and with a concentrated effort to remain neutral, she took Roger’s drink order, a hot tea with room for cream and sugar.

“So then,” his pale blue eyes looked over her schematics, taking in the charts, numbers and drawings. All players had their quirks that set them apart from others, and it was well known Roger’s skill with numbers, especially physics and geometry gave him a strong advantage on the pitch. “Did you come up with these yourself? They’re quite good. Do you use them often?” Battling the giddy feeling of nostalgia became difficult, as he suddenly felt sixteen again, pouring over charts before the big games.

Chloe took a sip as he ordered his drink, and she instantly felt childish. Here she was, drinking a butterbeer in front of possibly, ONE OF THE BEST QUIDDITCH PLAYERS EVER. God. She must have seemed so unprofessional. Who did she think she was? Drinking alcohol when he's drinking tea? She should have known he'd drink tea. But maybe she was reading too much into this? What if he was judging her? What if he thought she was unprofessional? What if he thought she wasn't serious about this meeting? Chloe slid the butterbeer a little farther away from her, but not out of reach.

He looked over her notes, and she felt her heart beat increase, hoping that he'd be impressed. She had been working on these for weeks, gearing up for the big game. She was going to kill it this time. Her team had never been better. They were going to win it. And then he complemented her plans. "I, I drew most of them, uh, I had a little help from the previous captain, but I mostly planned these out." She smiled nervously. "I try not to use them a lot, in order to stay unpredictable, but this game I really want to win, so I'm thinking of pulling out the big guns." She said, tapping her favorite schematic, the one that she had been pouring her blood, sweat and tears into.

Had Roger been able to read Chloe's mind, he would have laughed in a good-natured sort of way and told her to relax; he drank, and quite often. Not as often as he did in his twenties, but a good weekend pub-crawl with his mates was never far from Roger's schedule. Thinking nothing about their drink choices, he smiled softly, tracing the schematic closest to him. The dotted lines, various shapes and lines wriggled under his fingertips like miniscule worms. A smile slid across his features.

"Its smart to not rely so heavily on premeditated moves and plays. I know us Ravenclaws take comfort in seeing things laid out fully in ink, but staying open and lose to alter to the other team's opposition is the best game play. Success is not always determined by the best game plans." The waitress returned with Roger's tea, and he nodded in thanks. She awkwardly for a few moments, then walked to another table in her section. It was now Roger realized many eyes were on them, most subtle, and a few students not so subtly staring; he was used to this, but unsure of how the increased attention affected Chloe. Busying himself by preparing the tea exactly how he liked, Roger took a short sip, his eyes sweeping the room once more and then looked back down to the game plans.

"I do like your work, though. What inspires you to plan the way you do?" The beauty of humans were how each person operated just a little bit differently; for Roger, he operated based on numbers, numbers that spoke to him in a language few others seemed to understand. The captain of the Prides operated on her unique understanding of psychology and tailored her game plans based on various scenarios against every player on the opposite team. The waitress returned once more.

"Care for anything to nibble on, dears? We have delicious raspberry and chocolate parfaits, or popcorn dusted with pink icing."

Roger pulled a slight face; the food sounded appetizing, but the valentine theme ruined the effect. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned to Chloe.

"Are you hungry? My treat."

He liked her work. He LIKED her WORK! She smiled, and looked at her lap, trying to hide the blush. "They're, they're not much." She said. He actually liked them! That was amazing! A captain of a professional team liked her work! This was like a dream, to have her work noticed by someone, someone famous in a possible career for her! She looked up, took another sip of her butterbeer.

He asked her how she tended to plan things. It wasn't like she had been awaiting this moment her entire life! "Well, I try to deeply watch the opposing teams and my team during our games and more often, the other games. I watch them closely, and try to notice what's instinct and what's just planned movement. From there, I try to plan where they'll go when their drawn plans fail. For example," She tapped one of the shapes, and Alvis's picture popped up. "When plans go south, Alvis just goes for the middle hoop, and focuses less on the bludgers and more on the quaffle. However, when things are looking up, he'll watch the game, and look for bludgers and quaffles. Because of that, I will know to push a beater slightly closer to our hoops to watch for bludgers around Alvis." She tapped again, and the map resumed to be typical, showing the X's and O's moving around, showing the paths.

"So, I guess you can say, I base plans off my team's faults and the other team's faults. When I figure one out, I'll work it into the next plan. But, as teams change, plans do too. That's why I go to every game, and always have my planning pad." She said, tapping the pad next to her. It was full of smaller drawings of the larger ones. Those were just rough copies. She only copied and enchanted the really good ones.

Chloe's heart was a flutter as he asked her if she wanted something. "Oh, me? No. Thank you." She smiled. "I try to avoid sweets before a big game like this." She said with a smile, and a nervous giggle. The waitress scoffed at her attitude, and then turned to Roger.

Observing Chloe, Roger smiled fondly, much like an uncle surveying his favorite niece. He found it endearing just how hard she worked at maintaining a professional appearance. If she didn't make it as a professional player she certainly would have the skills somewhere in the league, perhaps as a game analyst.

"Well, I try to deeply watch the opposing teams and my team during our games and more often, the other games. I watch them closely, and try to notice what's instinct and what's just planned movement. From there, I try to plan where they'll go when their drawn plans fail.

Gazing down at her parchment, which had come alive with miniature pictures of the players, Roger nodded his head thoughtfully, listening to her plan. "Banking on the faults of your players is very smart, actually, but you do also employ plays that highlight their talents, right? Also," tapping at Alvis' shape, Roger frowned slightly. "Having him fly to where the Quaffle is fine, but  by the time he gets there, the quaffle has a greater chance of interception. You could use what you know of the other team to calculate their average distance and arc of throw and have your chasers fly to where the quaffle is going to be. It is a very risky move, but it does work if you have an intimate understanding of your team opponent's team, which you seem to do." While speaking, his fingers tapped and traced the parchment, causing the shapes to wriggle and move like mini responsive worms. Suddenly, Roger wished he had brought his own game pad.

Opening his mouth to continue the huffy waitress stalked back, interrupting. When Chloe turned down the offer of sweets Roger beamed at her.

"You're a smart girl. As much as I love sweets I learned early on your diet, especially leading up to a game, really can make all the difference. Now then... where were we? Oh! Yes. Can I borrow your pad?"