I shouldn't have agreed to this, Dion thought. Fauna had finally figured out that looking sad and lost was a good way to get him to agree to anything, and there was no way he was going to go back to the castle and tell her he couldn't play. They needed people to be able to even try and field a team this year - and with Pratt out, they didn't have a Keeper. That was the only spot he'd ever played and he'd - perhaps mistakenly - mentioned that to Fauna earlier this month.

That led to tonight: Alone on the dark pitch lit only by the built in glow of torches down at the ground, the sun below the horizon, and rain clouds opening up over his head. But it was nearly the only night he had free to practice, and the rain was keeping others away, which he hoped would continue. He didn't want anyone to see this. There was one little thing he hadn't mentioned to Fauna.

He hadn't played Quidditch since he was 7. And that had been rooftop Quidditch, where the goal posts had been the weathercock on the roof of Madame Malkin's.

But Hufflepuff needed him (more than it usually did, anyway, with their rabble of idiots who constantly needed herding into line) and his father was a coach for the sport. He knew Quidditch on a tactical level. He was already considering plans of attack. He could do this, and even if he couldn't, he ws going to at least appear to know what he was doing. The game would not be a humiliating failure on his part. He'd make that the case by sheer willpower if he had to. Hufflepuff might fail, but they'd fail together. Not because he slipped up.

He tried to keep that in mind as he got up from the ground, trying to get the sticky mud off his padding and his right side throbbing. That was the third time he'd fallen on his broom, and after the first very painful fall he's reduced his height considerably. He had mud on most of his clothes now, and in his hair even through the fabric of the cap he had on. The Nimbus 2001 he'd grabbed from the school storage was old and abused. It pulled to the left considerably, and he was finding it tended to roll easily. He shouldn't have grabbed it - but it had seemed to be in the best shape of the lot.

Still, he couldn't afford his own broom, so it'd have to do for now. The Quaffle hovered in the air about 15 feet above him. He'd enchanted it as best he could to make tries for the goals, but it wasn't working as well as he'd hoped. It kept going for him or trying to escape. He'd been hoping to introduce Bludgers tonight, to get used to dodging and catching, but that didn't seem likely to...no! Positive! He was Dion Fayette. He never failed at anything.

He found his broom several feet away and picked it up, giving it a dirty look. His failure was obviously its fault. Yes. That was the best way to think.

Kicking off, he headed back to the height of the Quaffle, eying it. It shot off towards the goals posts's...posts, and he shot after it, intercepting it, arm outstretched, throwing his weight to try and catch it as fast as possible. His fingers brushed the leather, almost got a grip -

The broom rolled abruptly, and with his balance off he fell - only staying on by the titan grip of his left hand. He hung by one hand and the Quaffle soared on and hit the post, falling with a thud.

He muttered something his mother wouldn't have liked, but his curse was lost in the rain.

Down below, Erin Harper tilted his head to the side to watch the debacle. He had been standing at the edge of the pitch for a few minutes now, careless of the rain that plastered his hair to his face and the mud smeared liberally over his trainers. He'd come down with the intention of practicing for the upcoming game, and because he'd been bored in his dorm, only to find that someone had already beaten him to it. Absently he shifted his grip on his broomstick, slung over his shoulder to avoid mud, and didn't shout out to the student down at the other end. The other boy hadn't seen him yet because Erin had been carefully staying all the way over here; he looked like a Fayette twin, and Erin couldn't figure out which one.
 
If it was Dax... well. That would be exciting. Erin thought that maybe their next meeting would end in another fight, but his opinion of fighting here was mixed. On one hand, slippery ground and blinding rain = bad tactical sense. On the other hand, it would make him extra hard to hang onto! As someone at least one country barn smaller than Dax Fayette, and for whom being held down probably meant a whole lot of punching, this was an important factor. Erin hadn't lost his temper yet, and therefore was quite clear-headed and capable of considering such factors.
 
He was also more than capable of dissecting flying styles, and someone this bad couldn't be Dax. He'd seen Dax on a broom before... so this must be Dion. Erin had spoken to Dion approximately once, when the Hufflepuff had warned him to watch out for his brother the day of their first fight, so Erin considered him to be mostly okay. This in mind, he strolled over, paying no mind to the rain. His robes smacked wetly against his legs with every step, but he'd flown in worse.
 
He arrived at the far end of the pitch just in time to see Dion roll and fall, dangling from his broom by one hand. His feet nearly reached the ground; Erin silently catalogued this situation as a better-to-let-go case, rather than a hang-on-for-dear-life one. The quaffle, happily unpursued, hit the goal post, dropped, and rolled to a stop at Erin's feet.
 
"Nice try," he called up, and only snickered a little.

He was in the middle of forcing the broom lower to the ground when Erin's voice spoke up. Dion let go and fell, only just keeping his balance on the soft sand of the goal post's base. He whipped around, scowl already in place, and when he saw the green of Erin's uniform his expression remained unchanged.

Snatching his broom as it fell, he indicated it with a shake of his hand. "It rolls the moment you lean to much," he said, as if that explained everything. It certainly explained the mud and sand on his clothes.

Trudging through the sand, he picked up the ball, whacking it against the goal post as it tried to fly away. That seemed to tame it and it certainly aided his temper somewhat.

"You here to practice?" Or just to laugh? "I thought Knight had you lot practicing day in and day out."

Erin took in the sight of Dion's filthy clothes, his baby blues flickering over to the broom when Dion specified. "Tough luck, mate," he said cheerfully, undaunted in the face of Dion's scowl. "School brooms suck arse." And flying was all about leaning. More than anything, this was just funny.

"I thought Knight had you lot practicing day in and day out."

Erin swung his broom upright, mounting it but keeping both feet planted square on the ground for the moment. "He does." He kicked off, rising easily above Dion's head. There he hovered, leaning forward on his stomach over the broomstick like he was about to dive - and ruining the impression by being both eight feet above the ground and then crossing his arms over the end of it, looking as comfortable lounging on the thin wood as he did a chair in the common room. He laced his feet over the end (careful of the bristles), rested his chin on his forearms, and looked down at Dion through rain-soaked hair.  "That's what I'm here for."

But Dion wasn't on the Hufflepuff team - Erin would've remembered. The school broom only confirmed it. "What're you doing out here?"

"So it seems." It made him doubly jealous of the students with money, in a way. They could have just asked for a Firebolt 2010 or...something expensive. Spoiled lucky twits. He'd be sure to be rich when he was older just so his kids wouldn't have to go through that.

"Don't tell me the rest of the team's going be turning up," he said with a sigh, really not in the mood fr a humiliation conga line to form. Holding the Quaffle against his hip, he frowned up at Erin again.

"Practicing. Finding out I grabbed the wrong broom." He whacked the Nimbus against the post for good measure, and secretly wondered if that'd fix it. If it did, he wouldn't mind smashing it against other things for a bit. "Pratt can't make it," he added, as if that explained everything.

He furrowed his brow. "You're Harper, aren't you? The one Dax got in that scrap over that dumb Asian with."

"Nah, they shouldn't be. Most of them don't want to fly in the rain if they can avoid it." Clearly, that was not a problem for Erin. He loved rain - sun - snow slightly less - being outdoors at all. And he'd had the same idea as Dion, clearly: with the rain, no one else was out. Sharing the pitch wiht one person was a better deal than usual, when he had to share it with the whole team. And if the team practicing wasn't his, he got kicked off. So unfair.

Erin eyed the broom as Dion gave it a good whack, silently deciding that the Hufflepuff ought to have grabbed one of the old Comets instead. They were slower, and older, but far more dependable. But he hadn't forgotten about the upcoming match - damned if he was going to help a Hufflepuff learn anything.

"You're Harper, aren't you? The one Dax got in that scrap over that dumb Asian with."

So Dion didn't actually know the name of the bloke he was warning about his homicidal brother? Well, that was just insulting.

"I did not get into a scrap with him over that dumb Asian," Erin said pointedly. "He's the one who got his knickers all in a twist 'cause I talked to the kid." It'd been a good fight though. Now, from a distance, and whatever he thought of Dax, Erin could recognize that. It almost had an air of wistful nostalgia upon the remembrence - Erin hadn't had so much fun since.

He grunted, which was his way of saying 'good'. "Sounds about right," he said, which mostly referred to the girls. He couldn't see Kitty Li or Strelnikov letting themselves get dirty and soaking wet if they could avoid it. The other boys, he wasn't so sure. But he was also fairly sure most of the Slytherins were confident the game was in the bag. They had good reason to think that. For now, at least.

"That's what I meant," Dion said, getting on the broom again and letting it drift to Erin's height, leaning against the goal post with his legs wrapped around the broom tightly, his arms crossed.

"Whatever you said to Toko was probably right, anyway. Dax has issues with the kid." He released the Quaffle, which floated out of his his hands and hovered there, as if unsure what to do with Erin on the pitch. "The little sneak's hiding something. I just wish I knew what." Dax wouldn't believe him, of course. But Dion couldn't shake the feeling there was more to Toko than there seemed to the casual observer.

"Sounds like you fought pretty damn well, honestly," he added, with a twitch of the lips that hinted at a wry smile. "Dax insists he won whenever he's asked, which usually implied he didn't."

Erin blinked, very slowly, his eyes tracking Dion as the other boy mounted his broom and rose to an equal height. "You're not wrong," he said finally, flatly. "I can't tell you what, though." So Dion was smarter than his brother. Big surprise. Erin had been dropping hints like mad and Dax just let them all slide off his shoulders. Well, dropping hints that Toko had something to hide, anyways.

"Sounds like you fought pretty damn well, honestly. Dax insists he won whenever he's asked, which usually implied he didn't."

Erin sat up straight to loose a grin at what was clearly his new best friend, fingers curling around the handle of his broomstick. "Yeah?" he asked, sounding pleased. "Well, it was a good fight." He resisted the urge to beam and add, I knocked out a *tooth*, like an idiot. Dax was his brother; Dion probably already knew.

Dion's mismatched eyes shot to Erin, narrowed. "Is it anything dangerous?" he asked, seriously. He didn't think it was, but he wasn't stupid enough to completely rule it out. The walls have eyes and ears; any of the students could have criminal connections, and a shy little twerp like Toko was a good cover. "Or is it something stupidly pointless but upsetting?" He added, with a sigh. Probably that. It wouldn't be something that'd actually ward Dax off, he was sure.

"Sounded it. Knocked a tooth right out of his mouth. I think he's happy about it, to be honest. Most people just collapse after one punch. You made him actually work." He smiled fully. "He might start another one, just to warn you. He usually goes for the stomach when he attacks in the halls. If you dodge that you've got a pretty good opening." He'd fought Dax enough to know. Dax was the only person he full out brawled with, mostly from being familiar with the other boy. "He swallowed the tooth, y'know. While you were fighting. Went right down his throat."

He leaned slightly out of habit, and the broom rotated abruptly. It was only due to the fact he had his legs locked together tightly that he stayed on, completing the rotation and returning upright. He caught the goal post to steady himself, shaking his head to clear it. "Broken piece of-" he started, looked at Erin, and then calmly acted like that hadn't just happened.

The corners of Erin's mouth turned up while his brows drew down, making him look simultaneously amused and annoyed. "Definitely of the 'pointless but upsetting' variety," he said, pushing dripping hair out of his face with one hand. Just keep him away from the girls' spare clothing. He didn't bother to warn Dion about warning Dax; clearly, Dax must've taken to the little twit. Maybe he was even his boyfriend by now. Erin had mocked Dax for it during their fight, but it would explain the whole 'defending the fair maiden's dignity' angle. He'd come at Erin like a man with a grudge. Bit of an overreaction, for a friend.

Dion smiled at him; Erin returned it. So Dax had enjoyed it too... not that either one of them would admit to it. Erin was used to taking on bigger opponents, as he'd been a skinny-arse kid until last year when his growth spurt'd come in. He fought like a demon, and once his blood was up he never backed down - he was used to scaring off the bigger students with his maddening energy and his inability to stay on the ground, no matter how many times he was hit. Most fights ended pretty quickly. The one with Dax had hadn't.

Dion's words put a warm glow in his heart, they really did.

"I know," Erin said happily. "He complained about it at Nagde's."

Suddenly Dion's broom rolled; Erin watched blankly as in under a minute the Hufflepuff wrestled it back under control. Then he looked at Dion, calmly astride the broom as though nothing had happened, and burst into snickers again.

"Get a different broom, you moron. They're not all like that."

Not dangerous, then. He made a note to try to find a way to get the secret out of Erin. If he was lucky, it'd put Dax off. Or they'd just grow apart after graduation. So long as the little twerp was out of the picture, Dion didn't care.

He looked sullenly at the broom. "I'm working under the assumption that if I can Keep on this thing, I can Keep on the others," he said, deciding to admit it. "Though this thing isn't helping that," he added, punching the enchanted Quaffle. It sailed over Erin's head and off over the pitch, out of sight in the rain. Magic items were so over dramatic sometimes.

"I got suckered in by the fact it was newer," he grumbled. Since this was clearly the broom's fault. But Erin was probably right. He wasn't that far off the ground, so he just vaulted off, landing with a muffled 'oof'.

He looked back up at Erin, his arms crossed. "If you want to fight Dax, try to keep it out of the halls, though." He paused, then smirked abruptly. "The Courtyard'd be better. If you two fight in the hall and I find you, I'll have to stop you, and that'd get ugly." Part of him - the part that was stressed, and found his early morning katas weren't enough anymore, wouldn't mind that. But he'd loose his badge, he was sure.

Erin raised his eyebrows, but refrained from comment. If Fayette wanted to wrestle with an unruly broom, he certainly wasn't going to stop him. He followed the arc of the Quaffle out into the rain instead.

Eventually he transferred his gaze back to Dion though, head tilting in something a little more intent than curiosity. Actually a fight with both twins sounded... sort of brilliant. Although maybe he should work on being able to beat down Dax all by himself first before he went about picking a fight with both of them.

He raised a hand and laid it across his chest in promise, as if he were about to swear an oath, but the thing that came out of his mouth instead was, "You fight?"

Dion, who'd caught the Nimbus as it fell, looked up again. "Fight? Yes," he said, simply. "Not like you and Dax, though. I don't start them." He turned and headed towards the locker room and closet area under the stadium, his pace a steady one.

Odd one, Harper. He did seem a lot like Dax; loving a good fight. Possibly even looking back on the battle over Toko with a fondess, despite being beaten fairly heavily during it...

Hm.

"You couldn't take down Dax, could you," he added, as he leaned in the doorway to the locker rooms. "Until you can do that I wouldn't try fightin' me." Was he goading him? Oh, yes. A bit. "Difference is, Dax likes fighting in the sense he makes it last. He won't try to take his opponent down in a simgle punch or kick. I do."

Dion took off for the changing rooms, and without even really thinking about it Erin trailed along. His broomstick scuttled after Dion's retreating form.

He regretted it immediately, of course, when Dion turned and threw this gesture of neutrality back at him. Erin bristled like a cat thrown into a bathtub. "I can take him down!" But then Dion went on and he settled, crossing his arms over his broomstick again. His eyes narrowed in speculation. "I didn't mean that," he said, in a much calmer tone of voice. Then he smirked. "Although you're making it near irresistible."

He'd meant only that he didn't know, that for someone who'd fought anyone in the school who looked at him funny he'd never heard of Dion fighting anyone. Not that he'd paid much attention to the Fayettes before Dax had charged him, but... he hadn't known. He recognized the stance Dion took now, the easy way he leaned against the locker room door: pride. And, unconsciously, Erin responded. The smirk widened. Dion wasn't the only one who could goad.

Dion laughed, an actually friendly laugh, as he rose from the doorway and headed to the broom closets, tossing the dark broom in fairly unceremoniously.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you could take him down," he said. "I just mean it wouldn't be easy. You're a small guy," he said, as he started sorting through the brooms, weighing a Cleansweep in his hands before he put it back and pick ed up the one next to it, frowning as he checked the bristles.

"And I know your reputation. You're small, but to survive you've learned to make up for it with speed - you'd have had to. You don't have the frame to take massive punches, so you dodge them or redirect them. Dax has a huge frame and he punches like a truck. You two cancel each other out. If he punches you once, you feel it. He doesn't necessarily feel one of your punches, but if you can land ten before he gets you once..."

He looked up from the brooms, his smile both genuine and proud. "Dax hasn't learned how to get speed out of a frame like ours, unfortunately. He's a brawler. He's not very patient, annoyingly."