Edmund reclined in one of the extremely comfortable and worn armchairs in the Ravenclaw common room. It was a common scene within Hogwarts; he flicked through a textbook in front of a roaring fire, several parchments perched on the table next to him. He looked like the average, academically-dedicated Ravenclaw. It'd been a busy day; a rather heavy Quidditch practice had left his arms and legs aching, and even a hot shower hadn't sorted his fatigue out. Wearing his school uniform with his tie somewhat loosened, he sighed, reading up on Herbology and not enjoying it one bit.

Luckily enough, it was late evening, and there weren't any particularly fetching girls to distract his attention either. It was to be a night of well-needed studying and homework. Edmund was capable enough, but Quidditch and his social life had been coming first these days, much to his parents' annoyance. The Klint golden boy was to be an academic success like his brother Jasper, to pave the way for young Theodore and to ignore the example set by his hedonistically decadent sister Clarissa.

Looking around the common room, he pushed his usual wayfarer spectacles up his nose; despite their large size, they served Edmund well, and he quite liked the traditionally British look about them. It was a scholarly evening, which usually meant a boring evening.

Blake's eyes darted around the common room, silently concocting a story for what each person was doing or thinking at that particular moment. Since he was finished with all of his work, his mind was idle and he was looking for something to do. He considered running up to his dorm and grabbing his Wizard Chess set to see if anyone wanted to practice, but seeing the many furrowed brows of his housemates, he wondered if anyone would be truly inclined to oblige him.

Sighing, the third year brought a hand up and wove his fingers through is cowlicked dark hair. He set about molding it upwards it into what he liked to call a fro-hawk. No styling products were needed for his thick, curly mop. They had staying power all on their own.

Finally bored with his cosmetology antics, Blake slumped back into his chair and returned to "people watching", trying to catch sight of anyone else who might be in the same situation as he was. He was about to pass right over the figure of Edmund Klint when he remembered the afternoon's Quidditch practice/tryouts.

Blake had done well enough, but somehow he didn't think it was enough to displace either Bea or Edmund as a starting beater. Still, making the team at all as a third year was considered quite the accomplishment, and if he could manage to get pointers from one or both of them, he was sure to improve and eventually have a chance at the spotlight.

Realizing he had been staring at the older Ravenclaw for far too long and it might quite rude. Deciding he might as well converse with him, he leaned forward in his chair and quietly called to Edmund, "Hey. Good show in practice today. How long you been playing the game?"

Looking down at his textbook once more, he lazily underlined a 'key statement' and sighed, tempted to go for a sneaky cigarette out of his dorm window or to go get a late shower or bath. His mind-numbing thoughts of the evening were given a welcome interruption with a voice calling nearby in the common room.
"Hey. Good show in practice today. How long you been playing the game?" came a familiar voice, and Edmund looked up, his eyes focusing behind the large glasses placed on his face. Blake Knight. A third year, he'd never really crossed paths with the kid until Quidditch try-outs earlier that same morning.

"Oh, alright Blake," he spoke, giving him a vague but welcoming smile. "I've been playing for years now, but an injury from a bitch of a Beater on the Slytherin team kept me on the reserve bench for a year." Despite giving the young Mr Knight a grin, the thought of his injury still furiated Edmund, and he remembered being stuck in the Infirmary Wing with a bleeding jaw, black eyes and a bruised nose to match. Slytherins always played dirty.

"You didn't do too bad yourself in try-0uts today," Edmund returned, giving Blake a nod of respect. "You've got a lot of potential for a Beater. How long have you been playing?"

Leon slumped down from his dorm after a load of homework and his unnecessary paperwork he forced upon himself. Quidditch was making him ill already, but he just couldn't help but remain in high spirits. Leon accomplished this all on his own, the stunning tryouts and the good turnout of it all. It was nice knowing that people read what Leon wrote, and listened to him as he awkwardly called out orders to manipulate his players. Perhaps whoever set him into the position knew what they were doing.

Even IF the paperwork wasn't necessary, he needed to do it for his own sake. For his own health, really. Leon had to maintain orderly and organized tactics. If he didn't, he wouldn't be so successful in all of his classes and maintain such a high standard. He's basically been studying for the NEWTs since he was eleven. And he studied for his OWLs when he was still in the womb.

When Leon stretched and thumped down the staircase, into the common room, he pulled a sweater over his tired bones and made himself presentable for his fellow students. Leon believed that no one reasonable would wish to see him shirtless, which is another reason why Leon is so stupid when it comes to the ladies.

Familiar voices whispered to each other and Leon sent a few grins to his friends. But, one conversation made him stop from exiting the common room and getting something to eat before he dived back into his work. Two boys, one fairly young, talking about the Quidditch tryouts. As the older boy answered, Leon recognized Edmund's voice immediately. He wasn't hassling the younger students, was he? Trying to scare off Mr. Knight or terrorizing Sasha? Leon looked behind himself, hesitantly. It was Mr. Knight and Edmund, and both didn't look so happy to see each other. Well, at least Edmund didn't.

Leon stepped back and reluctantly walked closer to his fellow housemates. They seemed to be acting friendly enough, but perhaps Leon lingering over them would stop Edmund from reenacting his past Quidditch injury using Blake's face... Or Blake could turn out to be unusually brilliant and hex Edmund into an abomination. Leon approached the two boys and smiled, shyly, "Afternoon," He greeted them, sitting next to a chair close to Edmund's, "How do you guys feel? I didn't work you too hard, did I?" It was joke, considering Leon was just a big pillow.

Blake remembered a thought he had had earlier in the day when Edmund had first spoken about his injury. His curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "Oh right....that wouldn't have happened to be my brother who was the Beater in question would it?" The younger Ravenclaw cast his eyes downward, immediately expecting the worst case scenario.

He then flushed when Edmund complimented him on his play. He both craved it and shied away from it, making him all the more awkward. Clasping his hands together and staring at his fingertips, he responded, "Thanks. I guess I've been playing ever since I could ride a broom. And then living with Callum and Co. I kinda got an early initiation." Blake smirked and quietly added, "So like I said...I may not look like I can do much, but it's kinda been second nature."

Blake looked  up in surprise when Leon stepped up to them. "Um...hey, Captain." After a beat he looked from one elder boy to the other. "I feel fine." He resisted the urge to tack a "sir" onto it and plainly said, "Um...not hard at all. But I guess that is one advantage I have in being the youngest one trying out?"

The comment came out as a question rather than a statement. And then he was self conscious all over again.

"Well, to be honest Blake," Edmund replied, leaning back in his seat and placing his textbook on the cabinet next to him alongside his parchments. "I was knocked out for a good few hours, it could've been anyone." Giving Blake a smirk, he shrugged and sighed. It was a well-known fact that the Slytherin team played dirty, and Edmund had unfortunately felt the full brunt of this displeasing attribute. Tapping his quill on his leg for a moment before throwing it onto the ever-growing pile of work and stationary next to him, still a little bitter about his Quidditch-blocking injury.

"Earlier the better, Blake. I was taught to ride by my big brother and sister. My sister was Chaser for a very short period of time, and both my parents are well into their Quidditch," Edmund explained, remembering how his sister was banned from inter-house Quidditch after drinking a bottle of wine with her wayward friends and attempting to play the wizarding sport. It ended up in the Klint parents in absolute shame, Clarissa Klint becoming something of an infamous legend and a gigantic smirk painted on her pretty little face.

Edmund continued to listen to Blake and his quiet tone, paying attention to the third year Ravenclaw. He was always pleasant to the younger folk of Ravenclaw, which was probably part of the reason he was popular within the house; whilst being cocky, Edmund never thought much of unnecessary rudeness.
"Beaters come in all shapes and sizes," he added, nodding slowly. "I mean, I'm six one in height, but I'm built like a beanpole. Just because you don't have the typical frame of a Beater doesn't mean you can't knock the hell out of a bludger."

As Leon approached, Edmund gave his best mate a smirk and a nod, sitting up a little and resting both his hands on the arms of the luxuriously comfortable chair.
"Work hard?" Edmund questioned, a smirk painted on his carved face. "If that's your definition of working hard Monroe then they should've made me the captain." Edmund always joked around with Leon; his overt confidence was always taken in jest and he'd never fallen out with the new Ravenclaw captain in their friendship.

"Um...hey, Captain."

Leon gave Blake an awkward wave and smile. Captain? Oh boy. Leon already felt nervous. He hardly even expected to be called Captain on the field, let alone in the common room. He felt sort of to blame... Did he come off as the scary type? Or did Blake simply respect Leon? Hopefully, he just respected him, which was what Leon was aiming for.

"If that's your definition of working hard Monroe then they should've made me the captain."

Leon smiled at his friend. What a cocky ass. But, Leon was long used to Edmund's arrogant remarks. He shook his head and continued to grin lopsidedly, "If you were captain, Edmund, everyone would have killed themselves by now." He said, his voice quite soft and tired from all the work he had been doing lately. Leon couldn't really imagine Edmund as captain... Merely because he could be quite competitive and flaunting. He wouldn't say Edmund would be the next Dagan... But Edmund had the potential.

"Um...not hard at all. But I guess that is one advantage I have in being the youngest one trying out?"

Or possibly it was because Leon wasn't pressuring them hard enough. Leon took note of this and planned on being more assertive in their practices. He was glad to have sat down now... He could slowly drop questions to the two (Obviously different) boys. "Maybe... Perhaps it wasn't hard enough." Leon shrugged and continued to grin, "What are you two chatting on about, anyways?" Hopefully not Quidditch, because that was going to make things ten times more awkward.

After raising his brows, Blake shrugged. "Yeah, it could've been anyone. But chances are high that it was Callum. He lives for that stuff. I should know," he added matter of factly. "I have dealt with it for much of my life." He paused and then quirked a grin at the elder boy. "But, I'm glad you're back and you seem to be at full strength. At least, that's what it looked like at practice today."

Blake then listened to Edmund tell him about his history with Quidditch and how he had learned from his older siblings. But Blake was pretty sure his siblings actually liked him and their tactics of instructing him were thousands of times more enjoyable than what the Knight boys did. Still, it was nice to hear how other, more normal families interacted.

It was nice to hear Edmund encourage him, even after they had competed for the same position on the house team. Part of Blake had expected that preference would go to the veterans on the team. And he truly wasn't sore about being given a reserve spot. He was hoping to make the most of it any way, even from on the bench. What Edmund said made a lot of sense. Blake was not ever going to be a bulky player like Callum. His strength was in his strategizing.

Blake carefully watched Leon after their greeting and found it interesting that he might be uncomfortable in some way. He always considered guys like Leon and Edmund to be very confident blokes who in a way, ruled the school. Afterall, they were upperclassmen. In many ways, that's what Blake aspired to be

Since he didn't know exactly what to say in response to what the older boys were saying, Blake returned to his parchment and doodled a bit. But when Leon suggested that the practice might not be hard enough, he simply tossed in, "Na, I think it was hard enough. No need to make it harder....at all."

"We all have our black sheep in the family," Edmund said, giving a knowing nod and smile to the younger Ravenclaw. He leaned back in his chair pausing for a moment, deciding whether to inform Blake about his sister's antics; well, if it was for reassurance, Edmund had no problem in divulging such stories. He didn't feel the shame that his brothers and parents did, in fact, he found her exploits rather amusing. "If it's any consolation, my big sister Clarissa was expelled for downing a bottle of wine before playing Quidditch. She lives for that sort of thing."

Edmund noted the exchange between Blake and Leon, and he appreciated how gracious Blake had been in being placed as a reserve. It was the type of humility and decorum that Edmund would never be able to muster, and so he admired those that were good enough to possess these traits.

"Nah, I think it was hard enough. No need to make it harder....at all." Edmund laughed lightly at Blake's politeness and gave the younf Ravenclaw a pat on the back.
"Knight, you're far too polite to old Leon here," Edmund replied, giving Leon a smirk in jest. "Don't be afraid of telling the young captain here that he's just simply not matching up." Edmund knew that Leon would be able to tell he was joking by his cocky yet comic tone; they were always exchanging mild insults of banter.

Edmund leaned back again, ruffling his hair slightly and looking around the common room; there was  a distinct lack of single and beautiful Ravenclaw girls present and in Edmund's memory, and he couldn't help but bring it into the conversation.
"Hate to come off the pressing issue of our Quidditch team, but have either of you two scoped out a date for the Halloween ball?" Edmund asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "I'm at somewhat of a loss."

"Na, I think it was hard enough. No need to make it harder....at all."

Leon watched, quietly, as Blake spoke. He wasn't sure if he should listen to the younger student. Edmund was much more... Complex. Perhaps he was only joking... Leon decided to listen to Blake. If everything got out of hand from Leon's kindness, he would simply step up with his more aggressive Quidditch self. Leon knew how to play. And he knew how to manipulate others. He only used this scary trait in Quidditch, however, since he himself was quite the nice young man. Leon just knew too much about humans and the way they think. Leon couldn't tell if that was a downside to him or not.

"Knight, you're far too polite to old Leon here, don't be afraid of telling the young captain here that he's just simply not matching up." 

He smiled at Edmund's joke, but mainly he was focusing on his words. He called Leon old, and then called him young in the same sentence. He decided not to question his friend, since he would simply seem like he was killing the comical mood that Edmund had set. "With comments like that, Edmund, I might just kick you off the team altogether," Leon chuckled and held his head up with his palm. Playful remark, of course. Leon wanted to give Blake hope... Even though Leon knew the odds were against the young boy. It would pain him to tell Blake that he probably wouldn't make the team. Perhaps he could be one of their chasers? Perhaps Leon was an awful guy.

"Hate to come off the pressing issue of our Quidditch team, but have either of you two scoped out a date for the Halloween ball?"

Completely relieved that Edmund changed the subject, Leon shook his head. "I was going to ask Kit Branwell... But I don't know," He shrugged and pretended he was really interested in the chair's fabric. Leon was always too nervous to ask girls anything. He was surprised with himself that he was even able to speak to Adrianna Hayes. Leon liked the more prissy girls, anyways. They entertained him and were always the prettiest out of the bunch. Like, Maeve... Or Neely. Leon could always go with some friends... Perhaps Grace Eddy would go with him, she was nice. Leon didn't know what he was doing yet.

"I... I don't know if I'll go. I might... But I don't want to go alone," he shrugged again and turned his stare over to his friend. If Edmund didn't have a date, then Leon would never have one. Edmund was much more of a lady's man... Leon was just nice and seemed to attract a lot of girls. Which Leon didn't mind, of course, he just didn't really know what to do. If only someone had asked him... That would make everything ten times easier. Why hadn't anyone asked him?

Leon began to doubt his clear "smart" and "sweet" abilities that made people like him so much. Perhaps he was only a friend to all those girls... Leon sighed. He didn't have time for women. He needed to focus more on school. That would get his mind off of everything.