✧✦✧

WHO WOULD HAVE GUESSED?

act one ━ chapter thirteen

. . . . . .

━ HERBERT FLEET ━
november 1993

"RINGO STARR THREW UP ON ME."

"Morgan, I don't care."

Maybe it was the jitters because Morgan had her first Quidditch practice today on the Gryffindor Quidditch team (because, somehow, that sentence was true) but Morgan's morning wasn't a particularly happy one.

Everyone was hung over, except her and Greg. Everyone was exhausted, except her. And everyone just wanted Morgan to stop talking, except her. Because she couldn't, because she was nervous and when she was nervous, she rambled.

"I don't feel sorry for any of you, I hope you know that," she said, pulling apart her croissant as each and every one of her friends pushed around a dry piece of toast on their plate. "If anything, these are just─"

"The consequences of our actions, we know," the four hung-over ones chorused. They quickly regretted finishing Morgan's statement in unison because the level of noise was far too much for their hammering heads to handle.

"I'm on Morgan's side here," Greg added as he chirpily shovelled a full breakfast into his perfectly okay stomach. "You guys suck."

"Can we have this pep talk when the world stops spinning please?" Casper groaned before his forehead slumped onto his depressing plate.

"Sure," Greg responded happily, "but just so you know, that gives us more time to prepare."

He and Morgan shared a pleased look, happy not only for their lack of headaches and disrupted bellies but also because the hangovers meant they could eat breakfast in peace.

That was until Herbert Fleet entered the Great Hall and Morgan remembered everything that was wrong with her life.

Her silence and longing gaze triggered Greg's curiosity but he wasn't best pleased when he looked over to see who the receiver of said gaze was. He snapped his finger in Morgan's face and the groans commenced again, but only briefly.

"I may not see the logic in this plan of yours, Em," Greg said to the now wide-awake Morgan, "but you've started it now so you better bloody finish it."

Morgan was taken aback by Greg's stern words. He didn't like getting involved in other people's business and he certainly didn't like giving his opinion when it was not asked for. Clearly, he felt very strongly about this and this, in turn, caused the same response to happen in Morgan.

"This practice better go well then."

❋❋❋

"YEAH, YOU SHOULD BE TERRIFIED."

"Shitting yourself, even."

Morgan made a mental note to herself to never speak to Fred or George Weasley before, during or after any Quidditch-related scenarios.

"We play dirty," Fred carried on.

"No mercy."

"But you're beaters?" Morgan questioned. "You're entire purpose is to protect me?"

"Not during practice it's not," George shook his head as he rolled up his sleeves.

"See you out there, Samuels!" Fred finished before the two of them trotted off onto the pitch, leaving Morgan somewhat dumbfounded in the corridor.

"Ignore them."

When she turned around, Oliver was heading Morgan's way, a content look on his face when their eyes locked.

"Doing my best to," Morgan replied before the two of them finished the journey onto the pitch side-by-side.

After giving her a rundown of which drills they would be doing in the team's first practice, Oliver turned to face her. "Now," he let out a long breath as if he was the one who needed to calm down. Morgan was nervous, sure, but Oliver looked practically petrified now that the setting up procrastination was done. "Don't get ahead of yourself. This is just a practice. Yes, it's the first one of the season so we should approach it with a certain level of severity. We have a goal to achieve and this is the time when we really assess those as─"

"Oliver?"

"Yes?"

Morgan had found that Oliver Wood tended to ramble a lot too. It wasn't just when it came to Quidditch ─ the boy always seemed to have a lot on his mind. Sometimes, he just needed a gentle hand on his shoulder, telling him to calm down.

Morgan, as the newest, probably worst, member of this Quidditch team, felt as though that gentle hand shouldn't be her's. This was because he's the captain and she didn't really know what she was talking about, but everyone else was already on the pitch and he was the one that had pulled her aside anyway.

"I'm okay," she told him reassuringly. His wince disappeared and the creases in his face softened at her words. "I know how important this practice will be and I'll be fine. I'm not getting ahead of myself. In fact, I don't really expect anything of myself today and neither should you. I'll do whatever you say, steer very clear of Fred and George, and do my best to show you why you chose me in the first place."

Morgan didn't quite know when this frame of mind had replaced her nerves (some time between talking to Fred and George and going through the practice schedule?) but she liked it.

And Oliver did too. A proud smile slipped onto his face after a moment of hesitation and it warmed Morgan to see (something she would need now that November had arrived, bringing harsher winds).

"You're doing that very well already."

Morgan would have loved to soak up this moment between them for a little while longer (primarily because she was still incredibly nervous about how this practice was going to go) but unfortunately, she and Oliver (and the entire team for that matter) were disturbed by a yelling coming from the entrance of the pitch, at the mouth of the corridor.

"Code Yellow-Sherbert! Code Yellow-Sherbert!" The voice that came echoing down the tunnel which connected the practice pitch to the rest of the grounds was one Morgan had become very familiar with. It meant that she had gotten used to taking any words that came out of Kira Fleet's mouth with a pinch of salt.

Despite Kira not being permitted to be on the pitch at this time (mere minutes before the Gryffindor team was due to start their practice), Morgan knew that Kira tended to show up at places she wasn't supposed to anyway so her appearance was not a shocking one.

And yet, Kira came bounding down the tunnel, (Oliver making a swift exit) and, when she spotted Morgan, barrelling towards the latter with a panicked expression on her face.

When she planted herself in front of an unphased Morgan (codes she didn't understand aren't typically seen as emergencies), Kira was panting and waving in the vicinity behind her.

"Is there an explanation for this Code Yellow-Sherbert or do I have to decode everything you say?" Morgan asked while Fred and George alongside Angelina Johnson had begun to gather around the huffing Hufflepuff.

"You mean to tell me you don't note everything I have ever said since first year for a later date?" Was Kira's modest query.

"Do you want the honest answer?" Was Morgan's bored response.

"The codes I told you about in third year that refer to a list of gossipworthy people that we always talk about? To avoid saying their actual names and risk them hearing us chat shit?" Kira paused a second as if to give Morgan a second to remember (this did not happen ─ Kira made up a lot of codes), before sighing and trying again: "It was colour-coded based on house? Fred and George were Code Red-Carrot?"

"We're right here," George pointed out with a meek finger to the air.

Kira brushed this off nonchalantly, "You were never particularly gossip-worthy anyway."

Morgan pinched the bridge of her nose. "Is there a conclusion to all of this?"

Sick of Morgan's lack of care for what she perceived as a very dire situation, Kira whisper-yelled: "It means my stupid brother and his Quiddith cronies are heading to the pitch right now!"

All the panic Kira radiated now made sense. This was the most vital part of Morgan's plan ─ the big reveal, the slap in the face, the beginning of Herbert's Quidditch end. Morgan had been planning what she would say when Herbert found out she was now an official member of the Gryffindor team for what seemed like forever and now it was happening she had no idea what to do, what to say, how to act. She was kind of banking on him finding out when she made her first glorious entrance onto the pitch for her first real match. This wasn't the most realistic plan considering she was a reserve but this didn't stop her from dreaming about it.

As Morgan began to run through all of the one-liners she, Kira, and Casper had brain-stormed late at night, another member of the Gryffindor team was taken aback by the presence of the entire Hufflepuff team who were now approaching.

Morgan doesn't know when Oliver joined the group again but this surprise appearance piqued his interest like a dog hearing a bell for dinner. "What the fuck?"

"I think the pitch was double-booked," Kira winced, fearing the wrath of a Quidditch-minded Oliver Wood.

Oliver, as captain, with the backup of the Weasley twins, approached the swarm of yellow which bought Kira and Morgan time to breathe and prepare for the sweet sweet moment the latter and the former's brother locked eyes for the very first time.

"Just play it cool," Kira told her.

"Ah yes, cool. My forte."

Kira snapped her fingers, "See! Sarcasm! The coolest tool at your disposal."

"I don't know how to be mean to your brother." A fact Morgan was ashamed to admit.

"Morgan, he dumped you and broke your heart," Kira deadpanned. "Now, I'd be more than willing to kick his balls but I fear I'm not the one that should be fighting this battle. You're thriving without him, remember? So show that arsehole."

After five more minutes of Kira and Morgan going back and forth with possible responses Herbert could give, all while the latter cowered behind a relatively tall Kira, Fred and George returned to report the news that the Hufflepuff team had put in their request for the pitch first and that the Gryffindor team were the ones that were going to have to relocate but only to the game pitch.

"Now, Morgan," Kira said. "You're going to walk right past that bitch with your head held high." It was the last encouraging words Morgan was going to get before the big moment.

Morgan was initially scared that Herbert (who was distracted by setting up) wouldn't see her amongst the crowd of the Gryffindor team leaving the pitch. But thankfully, someone did.

"Morgan Samuels on a Quidditch pitch unironically?"

Malcolm Preece came bounding towards her with a puppy-like grin on his face. Malcolm was always Morgan's favourite of her ex-boyfriend's friends. He was always nice to her and seemed to be the only one who had made an effort during and after the relationship.

"I'm a changed woman, Malcolm," she said boastfully, hoping Malcolm's presence would draw in Herbert.

"I'm very glad to see this, Morgan," Malcolm chuckled. "Does Herb─"

"Morgan?"

There was something deliciously satisfying when Herbert Fleet first saw Morgan Samuels in her Quidditch uniform. For something she had never considered ever doing in her life, she wore that Gryffindor badge with pride and even swished the bottom fabric of the cloak with a little flare as he approached.

Malcolm took a step aside, revealing the baffled boy on the other side. "Morgan," he said again, fumbling around with his words, his mouth opening and closing while he waved his arms about frantically. "Since when did you . . ." More motioning in her general vicinity, but no further verbal interaction came from his end.

"Play Quidditch?" She provided for him. "I've played all my life, Herbert." Not a full lie but for all the times Jason gave her bruises in their back garden when he used to force her to play she at least deserved this little white lie. "I've just never done anything with it."

Malcolm was now backing away, highly amused by the interaction but he knew it was probably not his place to be there while it happened.

Meanwhile, Morgan was über proud of herself for keeping her confidence intact. In fact, she was pretty good at acting nonplussed and pretending that her love for Quidditch was ─ while she was incredibly skilled ─ nothing to fuss about.

Sure, Morgan couldn't ignore the little voice in the back of her head that was telling her she was actually enjoying the sport. Part of her couldn't ignore that training with Oliver and finding a new hobby that gave her a thrill and didn't involve academic validation at the end of it was thoroughly enjoyable and that maybe this insane plan of hers might end up being a very convoluted way into finding something that made her time at Hogwarts more fulfilling.

It certainly started as a way for Morgan to get back at her ex-boyfriend ─ and she will see that revenge to the end ─ but it may not fully develop that way.

Herbert looked like he was having difficulty swallowing. Morgan felt a surge of satisfaction once again. "Right," he mumbled. "Well. Okay." Words were failing him and she just loved it. It felt like the tables were turning. Even if very slowly.

After a moment of Herbert forgetting the English language, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, confusion still prickling at his brows, and he chuckled awkwardly as if to fill the silence and distract her from his only recently extinct speechlessness. "Who would have guessed, huh?"

Morgan managed a small smile back. "Clearly not you." And just like that, as if it was never easy to do the same thing with their recently-ended relationship, Morgan walked away.

❋❋❋

SOMETHING THAT WASN'T AS DELICIOUSLY SATISFYING AS SEEING HER EX'S shock at her being the new Gryffindor Quidditch prodigy (not true at all) was realising how hard it was to play on an official team with real players who were actually relying on you to do something useful.

But due to the rapid pace of their flying and the number of drills that Oliver wanted to cram into this hour-and-a-half practice (with many pep talks included in the mix), the time flew by (pun very much intended) and it was over before Morgan felt like she could breathe. She was alive and sort of well but alive nonetheless.

"We'll focus on group formations next time," Oliver said his closing statement to a sweaty, panting Gryffindor team in the changing rooms. "Which by the way, as you should all know, is in four days time." Morgan was coming to learn that everything the captain said was usually followed by a series of groans. She soon moved past this when Oliver locked eyes with her, smiled and said: "A big well done to our new recruits. This season looks promising guys."

Morgan struggled to break eye contact even when Fred and George were slapping her profusely on the back and chanting garbage about her still being the worst Quidditch player in her family and how they couldn't relate.

Once dismissed, the team quickly dispersed some heading to the showers, others grabbing their stuff and leaving the humid changing rooms. Oliver had to erase the chalkboard and so Morgan decided to retrieve her bag and wait for him by the door.

This didn't excuse her from another Fred and George interaction.

"Just so you know, Samuels," George started.

"We were going easy on you today," Fred carried on.

"You know, cause you're new?"

"And you're just so considerate like that aren't you boys?"

"Precisely," they grinned, making their resemblance so uncanny, that Morgan forgot which one was which.

"Anyway," George maybe said, "expect a bloodbath in four days time."

"It's only fair."

After a ruffle of her hair, the twins were gone. But at least Morgan received some praise from her other team members, and she too passed some on to her fellow newbie on his way out.

After a few moments, Oliver was done ─ the chalkboard clean, his bag over his shoulder, his Quidditch uniform partially shed.

"Before you say anything," Morgan said once he spotted her waiting by the exit, "I'm well aware I need to work on my hand-eye coordination and it was most definitely not my intention to try and kill Alicia with her own broom earlier." An eventful first practice to say the least, but it would have been boring should it have gone any other way.

Oliver surrendered his arms, "The only feedback I was going to give was just that you need to believe in yourself a little more. You have the capabilities to score goals ─ you just need to remind yourself of that."

"Well then," Morgan sighed, slapping her arms against the sides of her legs, "if you're just going to sing my praises then I'll be off."

But before she could do just that, Oliver took a step closer and called out to her before she could travel any further down the corridor.

"Hey, Em?"

"Em huh?" Morgan skipped backwards to where Oliver was now only a few feet away. She poked at his shoulder. "I didn't realise we had reached that level of our relationship."

"Thought I'd try it out," he shrugged. "How do we feel?"

It was torture for Oliver as he waited for Morgan to make her mind up, her mouth scrunched in thought. He silently prayed for her not to admonish his spur-of-the-moment use of a nickname.

Finally, she said, "Good, if I can call you Scotty."

His momentary relief was shot down almost immediately. He stared down at her, bored, waiting for her to say she was joking. She did not, alas, do such a thing.

"You're not serious."

"Oh, but I so am."

"Do you think my Scottish heritage is a novelty or something, Samuels?"

"One hundred percent," she replied shamelessly as the two of them headed out for their long walk up the steps to the castle. Oliver was her first and only Scottish friend, which was unusual considering where they were, but she was honoured to have him nonetheless. "You should be flattered."

Oliver was still not impressed. "I take it back, I don't want to call you, Em."

"Jokes on you, I have free will ─ I don't need your permission to call you Scotty, Scotty."

Despite the context, Oliver couldn't help but relish the way she was so proud of herself. It was so adorable, he had almost forgotten what else he wanted to say to her. But then he remembered that the pride she felt for herself didn't stand alone.

"Despite your neglect of my preferences," Oliver said, suppressing the urge to smirk, "I was going to ask if it would be weird to say I'm proud of you?"

Oliver's little wince was so cute, Morgan thought. She hadn't done anything particularly spectacular, just survived. She supposed that was a win in itself, considering half the team were hanging out of their arses with alcohol still sloshing around in their stomachs and pumping through their blood. They couldn't do a lot in their state so maybe that made her look miles better than she was. Still, it was the first practice of many, and Morgan was one step closer to taking Herbert Fleet down (in Quidditch terms).

"From an outsider's perspective? Probably."

Optimism bloomed in his eyes. "But from your perspective?"

Morgan's smile was so warm, Oliver forgot it was November. "Not weird at all."