It was hours before the final match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Suspense was in their air, and Dagan found himself strangely nervous. Upon examining his broom earlier that morning, Dagan decided it could use a good shine. Now, normally Dagan didn't give a rat's ass what his broom looked like, but this exercise's purpose was more to calm him down and get him thinking about the game plan while alone. Nobody ever visited the broom closets, he would surely be left alone.

Upon opening the closet, a cloud of dust exploded into Dagan's face and air as if it were a trap. "Bah!" He said, spitting the dust out of his mouth and ruffling his hair. "Oh... luck." He said as the cloud finally cleared for him to see that all the broom polish had been exhausted. "Damn, damn damn." He muttered to himself as he spit out more debris. Looking down, he saw that his uniform which he had donned just an hour ago had lost its clean look and was now covered in the same foul dust that was now all over his body. Seeing as Dagan was terrible at magic, finding his only average talent in Dueling (mostly because Gavin and Alex enjoyed sparring) he decided that he'd need to ask Del to magic off the dirt to make his uniform pristine later.

The game was in two hours.

Perhaps a shower would help, both in cleanliness and the mental preparation he wanted for the match. Dagan liked the idea and quickly declothed and found himself in the shower, finally relaxed. After nearly a half hour, six times his usual time spent in the shower Dagan emerged cleaner than he'd been in years (just kidding). Wrapping a towel around his waist after taking a quick look in the mirror in order to compliment his extraordinarily good physique and looks internally (Oh yes, he sure had an ego), he returned to the locker room in search of his uniform which had gone missing. "Bloody hell..." He muttered, looking everywhere he could for the missing garments. "Prolly a damned Slytherin... me captain's patch probably did it too." He said talking to himself as he hung his head low, his hair nestled in with the broom twigs as it lay on his lap.

Vienna stared unwaveringly at the timepiece on the mantle. There was precisely two hours, thirty-eight minutes, and fifteen seconds before the match. She sighed and fidgeted with the bottle of broom polish in her hands. Waiting had never been her strong point. She tilted her head back against the cushion and gazed up into the ceiling. Vienna closed her eyes and began reciting Quidditch manoeuvres in her mind. Her attempt at distraction failed miserably. Barely half a minute later, she found herself staring into the clock again.

This would not do.

She jumped up from her leather seat and slung her duffle bag over her shoulders. Vienna bolted out of the Common Room and made her way towards the Pitch. A Ravenclaw decked out in full house regalia heckled her on the stairs, Vienna sneered but did not indulge the boy with a response. Let the fool have his moment. Three-quarters of the school was against her today, one more would not make a difference.

As she passed by the Pitch, Vienna slowed down to admire the green and silver flags fluttering high above the stands. She took consolation in the fact that the regal Slytherin emblem made Rowena’s birdie look cheap and second-rate in comparison. They would not lose to Ravenclaw. Not today. Not next year. Not ever.

Vienna circled around the stadium twice before disappearing into a side entrance that led to the locker rooms. Usually, they were divided by sex but today, they were partitioned off by house. The two rooms looked identical and Vienna was not sure which one belonged to Slytherin. She took a gamble and opened the door on the right. The waters were running and she noticed a Ravenclaw’s dirty uniform sitting on the bench.  Vienna was not a snoop, but if given the chance, who was she to refuse?

Vienna tip-toed into the room and glanced around. A shameless opportunist if there ever was one, Vienna eyed the Ravenclaw uniform on the bench and smirked. There was a captain’s patch in the heap and it belonged to none other than the great Dagan Maddox.

Spectacular.

She dropped off her duffle bag by the wall and flexed her fingers. Vienna grinned and began picking up his clothes. She took extra care to make sure her fingers would not come into contact with his undergarments. The smell nearly killed her. Goodness gracious, she shuddered, would it hurt him to take a shower more often?

Vienna dashed out quietly with his garments under her arms and hid them in the lavatory of the Slytherin locker room. She could burn them, or obliterate them, or even flush them down the loo. The possibilities were endless. Before she could come to a decision, she remembered that her duffle bag was still in the Ravenclaw change room. What a juvenile mistake! Vienna swore under breath and ran back to the other room.

This time, she was not so lucky. Clad in nothing but a towel and sitting on the bench with his head hung low was the Maddox boy himself. Vienna grimaced. All she wanted to do was to get her belongings and run and never come back. This was going to be a little difficult, but surely, she could talk her way out of this with her silver tongue. Up until today, she had always thought Dagan Maddox was one of those dumb and brutish Ravenclaws, if they existed at all.

“Maddox,” She acknowledged her opponent’s presence with a haughty glare and inched a little closer to her bag, “I see you have once again failed to drown yourself in the showers. A shame, really.”

A severely unpleasant voice awoke Dagan from his daze as he looked up hazily. "What a terribly dull insult Vienna. Terribly dull." He said, standing from his position as he ensured his broom would be okay lying on the bench all alone. Dagan treated it with the utmost care. Turning his back on it wasn't easy in the light that his clothes had just mysteriously vanished.

"Interesting I should find you here, AT THE SCENE OF THE CRIME!" Dagan shouted, arching an eyebrow at the enemy Quidditch player. Interesting his uniform should disappear and then Vienna of all of the ruddy, obnoxious, snotty girls there were in the school. Too much of a coincidence. If Dagan had the marks, he sure would've made a spectacular Auror. "Where the hell're my clothes?" He asked angrily, "I'm sure you'd prefer me to stay like this forever, as would every Hogwarts girl, but I have Captain-related preparations to make for the game."

"That aside, Slytherin is going to get smashed today. Obliterated. You severely lack any measure of acceptable leadership, skill, or presence." Dagan sneered. "Although you all look very pretty in your emerald robes. So pretty." He added with a devilish grin.

Ravenclaws, Vienna sneered in distaste, prima donnas, every last one of them. If he must accuse her of such unholy crimes, surely he could afford to do so while in a state of decency. Watching a barely towelled Dagan Maddox throw a hissy fit at her was psychologically scarring in so many ways. It took all the discipline Vienna could muster to keep her eyes from…wandering. She would hate to have the next words coming out of his mouth to be, “My face is up here, jerk!”

With infinite patience and perfect composure, Vienna listened to his rant. Clearly, he was overreacting and delusional. Contrary to what he might believe, she felt nothing towards him. He could strut around as naked as a newborn babe and she wouldn’t bat a single eyelash to appease his ego. Vienna’s preference in the male sex was limited to those in her own House. Though to Dagan’s credit, the Hufflepuff girls have always thought him a “fine specimen of Ravenclaw hunk”. Needless to say, they lacked good taste.

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” Vienna scoffed, “And no, I didn't take your clothes. You’re filthy and I wouldn’t touch you unless I must. And even then, I still wouldn’t.” She took another small step towards her bag and scooped it up from the ground. “As for your fanciful delusions…” She chuckled coldly, “Don’t kid yourself, Maddox. If anyone is going to be obliterated today, it’ll be your team. And try not to eye Mal too much during the game. I know we’re all ‘very pretty in our emerald robes’, but she’s just not that into you. Really…”

"Flatter myself? Me? Never!" He said sardonically, glaring at the girl with the kind of distaste a captain of an opposing team could hold. "I might have to break that pretty face with a bludger today, Pascal. Or maybe your baby cousins? You Slytherin lot are all alike... thieves and scoundrels. Not the scholarly type, the reformed and HIGH CLASS of RAVENCLAW!" Dagan shouted, putting emphasis on his house name. He was in a very competitive mood. Quidditch did that to him, any day a match was.

"Unless you must, even then you wouldn't?" Dagan sneered, "Good job contradicting yourself, kid." He condescended. "Every girl, every girl in this whole damn school wants this!" He shouted, being in the shouty kind of mood he was, making wild hand gestures. "Besides, I don't know what you're like really. You may covet people's clothes. I'd expect that from your kind..." He said sadistically, chuckling a little.

"Mal? Really? Mal? I have no reason for such hooliganism. She isn't a good beater, she's a ruddy captain, and she isn't even good looking. Ugliest harpy in your entire band of miscreants." He laughed, scoffing. "Malynda... ha. You're a funny one aren't ye Vienna? Real funny. Now give me my clothes, you deranged lunatic."

Vienna was ready to sock him in the face. Her eyes met his and flashed dangerously. How dare he defile the Pascal name with his filthy mouth. She crossed her arms and gave a haughty scoff. Her lips twisted into a hateful sneer. What she wouldn’t give to knock him off his broom today. Vienna’s patience slipped with every word that came out of him. He was an egotistical, ill-mannered, condescending, repulsive, delusional jerk and then some. 

“Scholarly, reformed, high-class?” Vienna arched an eyebrow and chuckled, “A bit steep coming from you, don’t you think?”

At his outrageous assertion of rampant self-love, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Only those lacking in good taste would find him mildly attractive. She marched up to him until their faces were only a few inches apart. He towered slightly over her and she was forced to look up. Vienna placed her hand over her heart and swooned. The mocking disdain in her eyes made a charade of the performance.

“Oh yes,” Vienna ran a finger across his chest and whispered in a sing-song voice, “I love you. I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.”

She laughed and withdrew her hands. If he wanted his clothes back, he would have to ask a lot nicely. She leaned in and murmured in a breathless voice, “Say…pretty please.”