Edmund Klint and Fauna Blake were two very different people, and as such, their social interactions during the years at Hogwarts had been limited to say the least. Boys like the Ravenclaw never really understood the shy, quirky type; they often saw beauty in a one-million dollar smile that radiated confidence and allure. Of course, he'd always thought of Fauna as a pretty girl, but he struggled with those that didn't meet his heightened charismatic streak. It usually resulted in something awkward.

Current events however had caused Edmund to have a bit of a rethink. He'd spoken to everyone about the break-up: Leon remained eternally optimistic, Thatcher had said how time was a healer, and Clarissa had merely ranted on for ten-minutes straight concerning Lou and the worst hex imaginable. These exchanged had proven very fruitless, despite the good-hearted effort behind it all. This feeling of nausea in the pit of his stomach was unshakeable - Lou's face becoming a ghostly image on his perpetually blank sheets of homework parchment, on every stranger in the corridor, on his very eyelids. It was unbearable. Edmund was a stranger to this kind of feeling, usually leaving a hapless teenage girl in his footsteps: this time, he was the victim of heartbreak. Miss Carter had planted a very addictive substance within the Ravenclaw's chest, and he'd given up fighting this new crave. Proving to his ex-girlfriend how much he cared was central to the plan Edmund was laboriously concocting.

He could never ask Quinn for help on winning back the Gryffindor beauty. She was a good girl with the heart of a hippopotamus, but unfortunately for Edmund, she had a mouth that matched. Lou would be the first port of call after a run-in with the dreaded ex. After scoping a few names, he'd settled on Fauna; they were close enough, and he knew the girl was far too kind to ever rebuff his appeal. The upcoming Quidditch game had provided the best disguise, and the team rosters had been drastically rearranged in the prior months. Like all budding student 'professionals', Edmund wanted the best games possible. How could Fauna, as a Keeper, pass up on an offer one-to-one training with Ravenclaw's star beater? He was feeling positive about it already.

A few pre-class conversations had settled their agreement, and Edmund found himself stood at the head of the Quidditch Pitch, dressed in his regular training kit. He'd arrived a few minutes early, just to make sure. Athletically, he didn't expect all that much from Fauna, but maybe he could bring out a real sporting warrior. And maybe, just maybe, she'd agree to help him win Lou back.

Her house had gone barmy. That was the only explanation Fauna had for being drafted onto the Hufflepuff Quidditch team at the last minute. Be it the stress of future exams or the rumored kissing sickness, many of the Hufflepuffs had fallen ill. How could she say no when her ill, possibly addled housemates had asked her to play for just one match?

And the surprises didn't stop there. Edmund Klint, star Ravenclaw Quidditch player, had offered a training session. There were a few possible reasons for this, Fauna thought. One, he didn't want her to die an early, embarrassing death. Or two... nope, that was it. Fauna had no idea. He and Lou were no longer dating, so it wouldn't make sense for him to make friends with Lou's friends now. She and Edmund were friendly enough, but he had that element of 'cool' that Fauna never knew how to interact with gracefully.

It was a beautiful sunny day out, and Fauna squinted across the grounds as she neared the figure at the head of the pitch. She wore a light denim jacket, old trousers, and yellow sneakers, with her hair pulled back in a pony. She paused when she saw his outfit, wondering if she should dash to the lockers and find something better suited to Quidditch.

She started taking a few steps towards the lockers, then paused again when the boy seemed to look at her curiously. Fauna changed directions once more and trotted over to greet him.

"Hi," she smiled shyly. "Just found out there's a good chance I'll end up with the Beater spot." Terrifying. "Um, so it's really nice that you're helping me. I don't have a uniform though," she gestured towards what he was wearing. "Should I find one? Grace is letting me borrow her broom."

Fauna held it up with a loose grip, in case he wanted to inspect it or something. Chances were good she was holding it like a novice, too.

Fauna appeared on the fringes of the Quidditch pitch, dressed in attire that was less than practical. He gave a sigh of resignation, but then remembered, since when had the Hufflepuff ever played the beautiful game? The words 'cut the girl some slack' bolted straight into his head; not every girl at Hogwarts was Athena Ainsley. He couldn't contain his smirk however, as she turned on her heel, only to redirect herself towards Edmund. The girl was incredibly bashful, and ultimately endearing. Everybody knew the school harpies gave Fauna a hard time, but an equal amount of students loved her for such awkwardness. In their seventh year, Fauna Blake had made quite a name for herself, for all the right reasons.

"Blake," the boy greeted with a boyish nod of the head. As soon as he heard the word beater, the Ravenclaw's ears pricked up; she'd come to the right person. He was the self-declared champion bludger whacker in the school, and with a dollop of bravado and two pinches of confidence, Edmund had a knack for telling anybody that would hear. "Well, what are the chances I'm a beater too?" He gave Fauna a warm grin, picking up his broom.

Brown eyes fell upon Grace's wizarding mount that she'd kindly (or maybe foolishly) lent to Fauna; it was a good model. He expected nothing less from the Gryffindor - they weren't friends, but he respected the girl. "Don't worry about getting changed, we'll do a little rally with the bludger and see how it goes from there. You're slight enough to dodge it, let's just make sure you can give it a good smack now and again, yeah?" There was a streak of optimism: he truly wanted Fauna to do well, and it would only be a bad reflection of his tuition if she mucked up on the pitch.

He handed Fauna a bat, and floated up on his broom almost instinctively. It was a second nature for Edmund to be on a broom, and his riding skills were rather elegant for a lad his age. "The secret to being a good beater," he replied, his voice a little louder to communicate clearly with the girl, "is to focus on nothing else but the bludger and the other team members. The quaffle, the snitch, the keeper, the crowds - it was nothing to do with you. All you and I care about is knocking those poor sods off their brooms."

Edmund certainly seemed to be keeping positive, smiling at her and offering encouragement. Fauna didn't want to disappoint him, so she smiled back and nodded, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before he discovered there was a reason Fauna Blake shouldn't go near a Quidditch pitch.

She'd learned from a young age that winning or losing a sport didn't matter. Surviving did! That meant no instigating things by whacking bludgers at people, no bravely diving after quaffles or the snitch; just duck and cover and try not to draw too much attention to herself. Off of the Quidditch field, her approach to life had clearly changed. On it, she was the same awkward and uncoordinated teenager that she'd always been.

Fauna held the bat in one hand and swerved up on the broom, a bit startled and uncomfortable by the weight distribution. Holding a bat was very different from holding a wand in the air, and she felt like one arm was drooping.

"Right." Fauna listened to his advice and tried a grin.

"Er, what I'm most worried about is aim," Fauna admitted, floating closer to him so she didn't have to shout. "If I do manage to hit a bludger, what if it goes flying off into the stands or towards someone on my team?" She paused, then frowned.

"And how often do people get knocked off their brooms, do you think?"

Edmund Klint had his work cut out for him!

Edmund sighed absent-mindedly as Fauna began to levitate on her broom also, the two a good few feet from the grassy earth below. The moment the Hufflepuff immediately began to struggle holding the bat, he knew how much of a challenge this was going to be: not that a challenge was necessarily a bad thing. It'd probably do Edmund some good putting other people first for a change, and if he wanted a real career in Quidditch then coaching others came with the territory. No, this was a good opportunity for many reasons, although it was Lou that seemed to be at the forefront of his mind.

Listening to her words intently, Edmund gave a grin; there was always a chance a bludger would go off-course. He'd smacked a handful of teammates in the face accidentally, and spectator injuries had been an infrequent yet notable event. The star player himself had lost two back teeth after that fateful game against Gryffindor - but it'd been worth it. The house of the golden lion got all the glory; it was time to give the crown to the silver eagles, and Edmund had every intention of instigating this coronation by winning the Cup.

"Well, don't worry about that so much," he said, his voice full of reassuring promise. "If it hits the crowd, it hits the crowd. They shouldn't be watching so a dangerous sport. Only go for an attack on the opposition if it's an open shot, if in doubt, I'd just focus on deflection from your own players." Edmund gave a nod of confirmation, untucking his wand from a tightened belt. "Always remember there's two beaters - the other is your teammate. There's nothing stopping you from hitting the bludger to them so they can finish the attack, alright?" He could sense her nerves already, and made a point of being 'ever-so-casual' - like Fauna playing Quidditch wasn't a massive deal, when in reality, it was a huge deal, and would probably result in some catastrophe that only she could cause.

Edmund gave a flick of his wand, an army of quaffles hovering up at each side of his broom. He took one, giving it a friendly pat as if it was an old friend. "You want to try hitting a few of these first? Just to get you into the habit of deflection?" Wide-eyed and still ever so enthusiastic, Edmund twisted the crimson ball in his nimble hands, hoping for some spark of magic.

Fauna listened carefully to his advice, taking the whole thing rather seriously. It made sense for her to focus on deflecting, and leave it to the other Hufflepuff Beater to knock the stuffing out of the Slytherins. Of course, this all depended on her aim and reaction time.

She nodded, "Maybe the other Beater will know what they're doing." Did that sound as pitiful as she thought it did? "Er, I mean, quaffles! Yeah, I can try," she agreed, glad that he was starting with the larger, light-weight quaffles instead of bludgers.

Fauna flew up about twenty feet away from Edmund, gripping the bat more tightly and trying to hold it higher in the air.

There came the quaffle! Fauna resisted her first instinct to duck and made a wild swing with the bat, missing the quaffle by a few inches. The momentum caused her to spin around on her broom a few times, ending with her clutching at the handle and sending Edmund a mortified look.

Okay. She could do this. When the second quaffle came at her, she swung the bat again, much more carefully this time. It looked like she was scooping ice cream in mid-air. The bat and the quaffle connected, and the quaffle flew forward... about ten feet.

Fauna's face flushed.

"How do you make it go far? Is there a spell?" Fauna called out hopefully, then smiled to show him that she was kidding. Sorta.

"On the day, you won't need to rely on the other beater too much,"  Edmund said, giving her a grin. "You'll pick it all up in no time." There was something genuine about the Ravenclaw's statement; they both knew that Fauna just wasn't the Quidditch type, but a tiny part of Edmund wanted her to succeed. She was the underdog, but it'd prove a lot to all of the sporting snobs - a group that seemed to be growing by the day. To see Fauna smash a bludger straight into the teeth of the Gryffindor captain... Well, that would simply be magic.

He launched the first quaffle, and well, it confirmed Edmund's reservations. She wasn't a natural by any stretch of the imagination. The smirk on his lips suppressed a boyish, guttural laugh, and luckily, he managed to dispel all thoughts of humour by the time the poor girl had stopped spinning on her broom. "It was a near-miss Fauna, it's your first try after all!" He raised his eyebrows, hoping to restore every available ounce of confidence; if he simply mocked her then that wouldn't benefit anyone. Besides, he wasn't ever blatantly cruel to people; a little teasing was always on the agenda, but Edmund knew what was mindless fun and what was purely malicious. A school pretty boy, yes, but a bully? Never.

The second quaffle was a little more successful, and Edmund gave a congratulatory shout. Sure, it wasn't exactly a colossal stroke of pure brutality, but it was definitely a start. "Good work! No magic I'm afraid, Hooch nearly slaughtered my sister once for using a strength-enhancing potion." Before continuing, he gave a light laugh at her half-joke, remembering the six-thousandth letter Clarissa had been sent home from Hogwarts that day. "Next time, try hitting it downwards, from over your shoulder..." The Ravenclaw gave a demonstration, repeating the movement with his own bat three times for his new apprentice to absorb. "I always find it easier to fly above the majority of players on the pitch; hitting the bludger downwards is a lot more powerful than trying to send it upwards. Do you get me?" He wasn't the most articulate of coaches, but the basics were there. At least, he hoped it was comprehensive enough as he launched the third crimson ball.

Though Fauna always envied Edmund's carefree confidence, right now she appreciated his positive attitude and words of encouragement. Whether he believed them didn't matter; as long as he kept pretending she had a shot at surviving out there, she would keep trying.

And it was seriously impressive how he managed not to laugh!

Fauna gave the bat in her hand a resentful look when Edmund confirmed that strengthening potions weren't allowed. Damn. His advice was sound however, and she mimicked his movement, giving him the thumbs up to show she understood. If gravity was kind, it would work in her favor for once.

Fauna readied the bat as the quaffle flew at her, swinging over her shoulder and knocking the ball downwards. It went much farther than her last puny attempt! She tried a few more times, missing the next quaffle, but connecting with the third one, and actually smiling when she swung a fourth time...

Pow! She hit the quaffle, only the bat started slipping out of her fingers with it. Fauna scrambled to catch it, lurching on the broom, but the bat spun to the ground.

"Shite!"  There it bounced on the grass, mocking her.

Face the color of the quaffle now, she flew down and grabbed it, checking it over to make sure it was intact, and then flew back up, glancing at Edmund worriedly.

"Just, um, obliviate that from your memory!" Fauna let out a nervous laugh and shook her head. She'd better borrow someone's gloves for the game.

After giving her an easier, more effective method at tackling the bludger, Edmund was impressed by her first shot. It was a start, at least - quaffles were a lot less offensive than the brown, snarling boulders he regularly handled on the pitch. That sort of play took years of training, and even then, there was no such thing as a perfect beater; Edmund needed to gradually develop Fauna in the short time they had. The more optimistic, bombastic side of the Ravenclaw saw the girl pulling out all the stops, smacking every player off the pitch in a blaze of glory and skill, and the more realistic half realised that Edmund could forge a very average beater if they both tried hard enough.

The bat slipped, and Fauna sailed down to retrieve it, muttering an expletive that Edmund could only grin at. "You're being too hard on yourself!" he laughed encouragingly. "Don't feel bad, or stupid, or silly if you miss it; I still miss bludgers all day long and I'm hoping to be a professional." A beam of confidence seemed to radiate from the boy, and his own self-deprecation was purely for Fauna's benefit. She was a sweet girl, but way too self-critical. He saw that streak in many of the girls that fell victim to the Hogwarts Harpies: they even terrified most boys Edmund knew.

"Now, we'll introduce a bludger," he said slowly, as if toying with a very offensive word. "But don't worry, it's charmed, and I can control the speed and direction. You won't get knocked out by it, I promise." He could almost predict the sheer horror on her face, and purposefully aired the latter to calm her nerves. Before Edmund was to release the demon ball however, a loose hand fell on the back of his head, scratching it awkwardly. There was no easy way to go about initiating a conversation about the girl who wanted his dreams.

Perhaps it was better to just come out with it.

"Erm, have you, like, spoken to Lou?" His smile fell away, replaced by a half-anxious, half-hopeful glance. Surely she'd discussed the whole break-up with Fauna. "I mean, I guess you know she finished things?" It still pained him greatly to admit it. He was that guy, the guy he hated: the ex-boyfriend that still followed around his high school love with a heavy and tragic heart.

Yeah, Edmund definitely hated that guy.

A bludger. That did indeed sound like a bad word to Fauna, and alarm flitted across her face as she imagined the thing knocking her teeth out. Obviously, she needed to face the bludgers during the game, and should prepare for it sooner rather than later. It was just that quaffles seemed so much safer!

Fauna let out a sigh of relief at his reassurance. It seemed he had answers for every Quidditch conundrum, and none of her mistakes had dimmed his smile yet. So when he paused and began to look worried, Fauna glanced around, heart sinking, thinking that either the Slytherins had invaded the field for practice (which wasn't likely because she didn't see anyone), or that he doubted she'd be able to handle it.

Lucky for her, neither of those assumptions were true.

Fauna looked at him in surprise, completely taken aback by his simple question. "Um, sure I have," she answered, visibly confused. Fauna talked to Lou in classes, during meals, all the time!

Oh. Finished things. Now she understood. "Uh..." What was her role, here?

"Yeah?" Fauna's voice rose up in a question, even though Lou really had told her about it. She slouched on the broom and let her arm hang loosely now that the imminent threat of bludgers had been delayed.

"She told me. She's doing alright," Fauna offered, studying the anxious look on his face and wondering if that was what he wanted to know. "Er, are you doing alright?"

He didn't look like it at the moment, but she hoped he lied and said yes, because she wasn't sure what she could do or say to make him feel better. Her loyalty was to Lou, anyway. Poor Edmund should know that.

Quidditch practice was sidelined as swiftly and regrettably as Lou Carter had finished Edmund Klint. He paused, biting on his bottom lip; did he really have any right to be asking Fauna for help? Why would she want to aid someone who was seemingly irrelevant in her entire Hogwarts career? Fauna was Lou's friend, not his. It was all starting to seem like a very bad idea.

"I didn't mean to lead you here under false pretences..." the Ravenclaw mumbled, his bouts of crippling indecisive awkwardness a rare event for people that believed he was all fantastic bone structure and cocksure confidence. "I do really want to help you train." The comment was genuine enough; Edmund always did gain some sort of pleasure from coaching others, whether it was an up-and-comer like Blake Knight or an unwilling sportswoman like Fauna, but the thought of getting Lou back always simmered in the back of his mind.

"I aren't looking for a shoulder to cry on," Edmund elaborated, his voice becoming a lot more clearer as he returned her curiously shy gaze. "But I'm going to try win her back, and I figured that I can't do it alone." He granted Fauna a grin, clumsy yet honest, and a light laugh escaped Edmund's lips at the thought of Lou taking her ex-boyfriend back: he was an ex for a reason. "I've sort-of got an idea, but, I'm a little unsure of it, and I kind-of need your help? I racked my brains for everybody else, and you seem like the most reliable of Lou's friends." Edmund immediately halted, widening his eyes as if he'd said something out-of-line: "n-not that Quinn and G-Grace are unreliable, just, y'know, you seem more trustworthy?" Edmund was ready for Fauna to pass him a spade, so he could dig an even bigger hole.

Another awkward sigh fell from the Ravenclaw's boyish smirk: this as useless. It was better to just be honest.

"A bit of Quidditch training in exchange for some guidance on getting her back?" he finally asked, tapping the handle of his broom anxiously with a shaking index finger. "I, erm..." Another cringeworthy pause. "I think I love her, Fauna?"

Edmund Klint's carefully constructed persona of being a smooth operator collapsed right in front of Fauna's eyes: getting involved with Carter had been his undoing, and he couldn't help but admire that.

Oh, hell. Smooth-talking boys with the capacity to suddenly turn vulnerable were Fauna's downfall. Perhaps she should be annoyed that one of the reasons he'd offered to help her practice was to talk about Lou, but in all honesty, Fauna didn't mind much. It made sense. Facing this was better than other awkward possibilities.

Still, it took her a while to process that the cool, charming Edmund Klint was acting so kerfluffled. She blinked at him as she listened to his explanation, and sent him an amused, but conflicted glance when he said she was the most trustworthy. Trustworthy, in her mind, now meant easily fooled, easily sympathetic towards other people's problems. This had gotten her into huge trouble before, lost her a few friends, made her blind to issues she should have seen earlier. Edmund Klint was not Devlin Matthews, and luckily he was after Lou's heart instead of her own, but he was reminding her of her own ex-boyfriend with his anxious way of pleading his case and his conveniently endearing sighs.

Of course, his approach was working. To an extent.

Fauna shook her head and sighed too, drifting closer to him on the broom so they could hear each other better. He loved Lou, or he thought he did. That statement was impossible to brush off.

"I'm not making any promises," she told him in a firm voice, which contrasted with her already concerned expression. "But I'll hear you out."

She paused, studying his face.

"I've heard Lou's side of the story. I mean, that you two grew apart, and there was some, um... tension between you and George and Waker or something?" Fauna wondered, wanting to know if they were on the same page here.