Reckless and Dangerous

Today had been one of the first days that Max had requested to have off. Daycare had fallen through and he had spent the whole day at home with Sunny. Not that staying home had prevented Max from working. As a matter of fact he had gotten through quite an impressive stack of paperwork as Sunny had ran around. But someone, even someone as addicted to his job as Max, was only able to do paperwork for so long before they got bored. When Max had reached his limit he had returned to his room and continued the unpacking. In the first months of living at 1342 Layabout Lane, Max had left most of his possessions in cardboard boxes, and was only now slowly beginning to be comfortable enough to really move in.

As he unpacked he rediscovered all the treasured photographs and trinkets that he had almost forgotten about. His shelves quickly filled with the smiling faces of his parents, sister, and friends from his Hogwarts days. Max became especially struck with nostalgia when he removed his beautiful broomstick from it's careful wrapping. The dark wood had a rich red tint and still gleamed slightly from the last time he had polished it. Back in his school days the broom had been his most cared for possession. Polished constantly and primed for both speed and altitude, Max had treated it with unparalleled love. But it had been years since the broom had seen the skies and it was only as he looked down upon it that Max realized how much he missed flying.

It only took minutes for Max to uncover the rest of his old Quidditch kit. In it was included the complete set of balls as well as makeshift goal posts and a first aid kit. With all of this tucked under his arm, Max trotted down the stairs, eager to get outside. "I'm going outside Sunny!" he shouted to the house, trusting her to call him if she caught anything on fire. The yard was quite large and perfect for Quidditch practice. Max had seen Jack out here quite a bit for that very reason yet it had never crossed his mind until this moment to join in himself. With the skill of a man out of practice, Max mounted his broom and lifted off with almost no trouble.

He soared upward, the feel of the broom as familiar as walking. As he became more comfortable he picked up speed, gradually picking up to what could only be described as reckless and dangerous. As Max did another lap of the house and yard he let out a loud whoop of excitement as he narrowly missed the branches of a large tree. The freshly green leaves hit his arms with surprising force and stung slightly but Max barely noticed. After several equally speedy joy laps he landed next to his Quidditch box and grabbed the quaffle, tossing it back and forth between his hands before taking off into the air again. This time he went slower, coasting about roof height before taking aim and tossing the quaffle towards the goal posts.

The ball soared through the air and for a precious moment Max was deeply impressed at himself for still being able to make a shot like that. Then it hit the edge of the goal, sending the quaffle off at an angle and over the house, towards the front entrance. Forgive him, it had been almost five years since he had last tried to play. Max flew around the house quickly (but with some disappointment) in order to retrieve it. He spotted the bright red ball in the middle of their front pathway, not even ten feet in front of Jack Dyllan. Max waved to her cheerfully, endlessly glad that the ball hadn't stuck her. He had a feeling he would be in for a beating if that had happened.

Jack was approaching home, resigned to be in a bit of a foul mood. The day had begun as normally as any other - and anyone who knew Jack knew that she hated normalcy. She had to make quick arrangements with Max, because Sunny's daycare had been closed down for the day due to a large, fallen tree blocking the entrance to the little school. Fortunately, Max seemed more than happy to keep himself from his cubicle, and the day had continued on without a hitch.

For about two minutes.

She checked in at Wheezes before practice to find that problems with Andy had arisen again - the poor boy must have been poisoned. Who would take the time to curse the same person over and over without just killing them? She had decided it was better to close up shop, as Kirsty was on vacation, and Gary apparated Andy to St. Mungo's, leaving Jack barely enough time to arrive at practice.

She must have seemed foolish to Coach, the only one arriving in her practice clothes, her Quidditch trunk in one hand, broom in another. It didn't take long to find out that he had cancelled practice for the day on account of a dragon flu taking out every single Chaser for the day. The owl must have arrived just as she left home, early, to check in at Wheezes.

With another disappointment, and the realization that today would be one without profit, Jack apparated to the outskirts of her new home village, quietly approaching, her feet kicking the shadows on the street and her eyes taking in only the mundane and dreadfully normal.

She slipped into the gate and paused, seeing one of the bushes was slumping as though it needed water. With a sigh, she stepped off the path and began to approach it, when a Quaffle suddenly rolled across her path. She looked up to see Max atop a broom, smiling widely.

"Max?! You - you play?" She knew he had said he had flied before, but somehow she took that as 'I've flown once or twice.' She set down her trunk and broom and grabbed the Quaffle. She prepared her arm and then hurled the ball at Max with as much force as she could, trying to see where his skill level was at.

The red quaffle rocketed through the air towards him yet Max felt a surprising lack of panic. His arm snapped out and grabbed the ball out of the air, the old motion as familiar as if he had never stopped playing. He could feel how rusty his skills were but the muscle memory from years of obsession was still firmly engrained into his subconscious. With every second he spent on the broom things began to come back to him. It was like riding a bike - you never really forgot.

Max stared down at the redhead, feeling much younger and happier than he had in quite awhile. He called down to her. "Yeah! C'mon, Get up here!" There was absolutely no contest who was the better Quidditch player between the two but rediscovering his old love had put him in a good enough mood that he didn't even consider the prospect of making a complete idiot out of himself. He just wanted someone to play with.

((There I go. Cutting down that length. I thought about going into a long rambling explanation but I stopped myself. Also, I think we have found a way to break Max out of his shell. ))

((I'm proud of you. XD I'm super excited for it!))

Jack stared openly as Max caught the Quaffle with relative ease. Her jaw unhinged a bit as she openly exaggerated her expression. "Ma-ax!" she shouted. "Why the hell have you been hiding your adequacy at Quidditch from me!" She smirked and reached over, kicking open her trunk, pulling out her gloves. She attached them but left the helmet, her practice Bludger, and bat inside the trunk. She always liked to practice other positions to make sure she was well-rounded.

She didn't hesitate to obey his command. She grabbed her broom and quickly mounted, rising into the air and getting her adrenaline to pan out by doing a few tight loops and corkscrews, before sharply wheeling around to face Max, the goals right behind her. "Let's see some of that Chasing."

Max did another joy lap as Jack got herself up in the air and into position. Max cupped the quaffle under his arm and made eye contact with the redhead who had put herself between him and the goal. A sly smile crossed Max's face and then he suddenly took off. The wind whistled past his ears and he let out another shout of happiness. While apperation and floo power were much quicker technically, nothing gave quite the rush that broom speed did. Max knew he should be nervous to so blatantly go up against a professional Quidditch player but he couldn't find it in him. The fact that he had already embarrassed himself in almost every way possible in front of Jack took away all the pressure to be impressive.

Max flew strait at her. Closer and closer. Only at the last second did he swing his broom away, sending him off in a different direction in a barrel roll. Amazingly (through more by luck than anything else) Max managed to cling on to both his broom and the quaffle. When he realized he had managed both to stay on and avoid his defense momentarily Max felt quite proud of himself. He redirected towards the goals, having gone off in a strange direction.

Jack steadied her broom, managing to get it to stay suspended without moving at all right before the goals. Most people would be bouncing between all three right now, but she liked to begin her practice getting her broom perfectly in balance - it made balance come easily for the rest of the time she was in the sky. And besides, Quidditch was not all reflex, but heavily routed in observation and prediction. Jack liked to remain still and stare down her opponent.

Jack stared straight at Max as he approached. It was a game of chicken he wanted, huh? Most people responded to this by flattening themselves on their broom so they could dodge as quickly as possible. Jack, however, sat up straight on her broom. It provided the disadvantage of a slower dodge, but was more intimidating and, if he threw the Quaffle, gave her better chance to defend the goals. She won the game of chicken; he moved just as she had tensed, preparing to dive upwards. She spun, however, to release the rush of adrenaline and then called out, "I think you were supposed to release the Quaffle somewhere in there." She smirked, as she was obviously teasing.

"I'll try that next time" Max called back, a bit sarcastically. But his smile seemed to be glued to his face and he was genuinely enjoying himself, rusty skills or not. Max felt free to take his time when he had the ball. He soared upward and in a long circle around the yard, soaking in the freedom of flying. As his lap circled around back towards the goals he raised his arm and threw the quaffle towards the three goals (and, consequently, Jack).

It was far from his best shot but he was still trying to get a feel for everything again. "It's not really fair, Jack." Max called over to her. "You've been practicing!" Sitting here now Max wished he had kept himself in practice over the years. Not just to be better but also Quidditch was just.. fun.

((Wow I'm too tired for this. Pardon that reply.))

((Nooo worries))

Jack was glad to see that Max indeed did have a sense of humor. Either it had been hiding, or she had been too busy to take notice. This explained Sunny's adoration for him - speaking of which, she had come to investigate and was now marching out into the backyard with her toy broomstick, mounting and riding it a mere foot or two off of the ground, looking up at the two adults who were pretty much the whole of her young social life.

Max threw the Quaffle and she bobbed upwards, fastening her arms around it as she caught it against her abdomen. It was a powerful shot, surprisingly, that was for sure. Her broom was pushed backwards briefly by the force and she grinned at him. "Excuses!" she responded, always glad to goad an opponent. She hurled it back at him, hoping to add a twist on it.

Max laughed jovially, more happy than anything just to have a partner to play with. Before he could even roll his eyes the ball was thrown back at him with unexpected speed. It spun in the air, curving at a tricky angle. He jerked the broom slightly to the right and reached out his hand so he was just able to grab the quaffle. Muscle reflex had been kicking in more often than not and Max was grateful for this.

He looked down and saw Sunny floating below him. He grinned at her training broom but elt bad that it hovered so close to the ground. He had suffered through a similar broom for most of his childhood and never wished to relive it. Max wondered if the little girl could catch too but decided it was a bad idea to toss her the ball. So instead he tucked it under his arm and flew at Jack for a second time.

Max faked left and then threw right, the ball soaring towards Jack and the goal.

He barely caught the Quaffle, which caused Jack to grin. Half of her was glad her throw had been so tricky for him, but she was also pleased to see he was good enough to catch it. Because, even if she wasn't a Chaser, she had trained herself for every position. He must have been good in school to still have the ability to catch like that. "Didn't think you had it in you, Morrison!" she called at him, always glad to be competitive.

He again sped at her and she remained still, even with his obvious veer to the left. She tensed her muscles to turn and when he faked, managed to turn her broom quickly, wheeling it around so she could use it like a bat. The broom collided with the Quaffle, batting it right back at him, the Quaffle turning over and over as it approached him. That trick shot had taken her awhile to perfect, and she was now very glad that she had taken the time to learn it.