The Fine Gentlemen and their Handsome Ladies

Had Romeo been up to much? In simple answers no, but he couldn't say no, how boring would that make him seen. Girls didn't attract to boring people. 'I've been fling everyday, getting ready for Quidditch when we go back to Hogwarts.' It was half true, he had been flying and chasing butterflies and bewitched objects his parents had made zoom around, although his love for playing seeker was fading. He was getting more muscular, putting on more mass and was no longer light and speedy.

'I think I may try out for chaser this year though, rather than being seeker. Something new and exciting. What do you think?' He asked her. Did girls go for chasers? On the other teams chaser was the starlight position, it was usually seeker. After all they were the ones who decided when the game was over, it was more glamerous than chaser. Hopefully switching to chaser wouldn't hinder his shot with the girls.

Just as Romeo was about to declare his yearning for a burger to take to their seats Grace had fluttered away and back again, accompanied with a Catapults button, taking it from her Romeo glanced down at it in the palm of his hands. 'Oh, why, jee thanks.' He said, although it wasn't offensive - he was grinning. How amusing, it appeared that Grace had a sense of humour and Romeo could see the pair getting on quiet well.

'I think I'll leave it in my pocket, then if you win, well I guess I'll wear that.' He told her, before putting his arm around her and guiding her into the stadium, flashing the tickets to the gentleman in the booth.

The stadium was already packed and the tickes that Mr Zabini had purchased were in a box - Blaise was well in with the Tornado's manager and recieved decent tickets and half price whenever he needed. 'It's a long way up.' Romeo said as he glanced up the staircase, still holding a warm hand on Grace's back.

After walking up a flight of stairs he paused. 'Wait, did you want to get some food to take with us? Maybe I could buy you a pair of omnioculars if you like?'

Quidditch was an insatiable thing. Much like football, the young girls of the Wizarding World learned quickly that to bond with their male counterparts successfully and, indeed, in doing so procure a husband or a lover or whatever it was they wanted then they had to like Quidditch - or at least pretend. Food was also a way straight to the heart of young men and a good compliment but of course the latter depended on how narcissistic he was while the former depended solely on the way his stomach grumbled. Baldric’s stomach grumbled but he sated that hunger with his wine.

In the light of the Millennium Stadium, Trisha was very pretty and it was this conclusion that Baldric came to as the music played on and the Veela began to mount their brooms. Quietly, his mind turned over the innuendo and let it pass, smiling almost dreamily at Trisha as he lifted his eyes up towards the ladies of the night that so easily captured his heart like every other man in the stadium and he couldn’t fault the blonde beside him for her glib remark.

Grinning, Baldric laughed and shook his head before throwing his arm around Trisha.

“You’re much prettier than them, I promise you.” He crowed in her ear over the noise before looking down at her and considering her logic with ease. It wasn’t something his father would’ve ever done. No, Oliver would’ve demanded Trisha support his choice of team because she was hisdate. Baldric rather felt like he was Trish’s date and he liked that. He liked the idea of merely accompanying her while she enjoyed the experience. That was nice.

“Smart girl,” he conceded before taking a couple of galleons out of his pocket. He held them out to her. “Match me and we’re on. Hang onto them, though. I’ll only go and put them down somewhere and you’ll never see hide nor hair.”

Nodding brightly, Baldric let go of Trish and reached up to muss her hair. “You’ll do, kid.” He exclaimed brightly before making his way back over to the couch. “Ravenclaw’s team might actually improve this year!”

(OOC: Sorry, messed up the order. Still, it's me on both counts so I don't think it really, really matters.)

Running about the Forbidden Forest, tracking a Centaur herd had been the highlight of Grace’s year, let alone her summer, but it wasn’t something she could easily tell Romeo without having to answer awkward questions that would, inevitably, lead to her having to admit that she had a, uh, furry little problem. Then he’d run for the hills and that was, honestly, the last thing she wanted. No, she quite liked Romeo and was content to listen to his relaying of what had happened since they’d met. She didn’t want to jeopardise that by bursting out that she was a Lycanthrope. No way.

“I’ve done a bit of flying too!” She announced happily. Though, granted, her flying consisted of a row with her mother, using bombarda to blow apart the garden shed and stealing her father’s brooms. Thankfully the concentration of magic in the area meant hers went undetected but she knew her mother wouldn’t let her forget it regardless of whether or not she was inherently to blame for the argument - Grace had still cast the spell. Docile like a Hufflepuff she might have been but a Werewolf’s temper was a Gryffindor’s and emotional moderation was not something they were careful of observing.

Grace nodded. “Chasers can afford to be a bit beefier.” She reached and poked his stomach with a playful smile before using the hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling a rush of embarrassment at her action.

“Seekers need to be streamline,” Grace shot her arms out in front of her, using charades to communicate her meaning before smiling a little. “You could even go for a Beater position if you’re any good with a bat.” She added after a moment’s thought.

Pouting a little, Grace frowned before holding up her Tornadoes flag. “If I have to wave this monstrosity of a flag then you have to wear my button, Mister,” she insisted.

Excitement in Grace’s stomach washed away the heat of Romeo’s hand on her skin, albeit through plenty of layers of clothing. Still, to her very core she felt him and though she twitched a little at his touch, Grace found herself bouncing along beside him with a happy, lolloping smile that was something her wolf counterpart would’ve mirrored as she chased after the Centaurs during their hunt. The chase was something the dog enjoyed with rampant enthusiasm. There was no lust for blood when there were Centaurs to chase. No, they were much more fun to run ragged and abandon in search of others.

They climbed the stairs, the ascent slowing them slightly and Grace paused, flush against the rail as Romeo came to a stop, her eyebrows rising questioningly.

She hadn’t thought about food if she’d been honest but at the mention of it, her stomach rumbled as though it hadn’t eaten in hours.

“Food would be good.” She admitted with a weak smile before gesturing to the stairs. “Back down or can we get some up on the deck?”

'I'm alright with a bat but, chaser is more my thing. I prefer the throwing, catching, scoring, screaming fans.' Romeo replied. He was tempted to do a 'woaah' sound, imitating the crowd as though he would be some kind of rockstar although Grace had already replied and touched his stomach. Hopefully his strong abs would impress her. Well, this was certainly going the way he wanted her to - already she'd initiated touch. 

Romeo laughed at her seeker impression - she was actually rather cute. 'Fiiinnee. Because it's you!' He added as he plucked the badge from his pocket and pinned it besides the Tornado's logo on his jersey. People would think he was mad! Either that or a glory hunter, which wasn't the coolest of things but if it led to a score for himself later down the line then he wasn't grumbling.

'We can go back down If you want but it could take forever to get back through the crowd.' Romeo explained. 'And I think there is a small stall outside the boxes where we will be.' He added before extending his hand for her take, a lose bag of galleons resting in his other pocket. 

(OOC: hey it's no problem! Have you noticed there is a character from each house?)

In all honesty, Trisha liked to imagine that she would get compliments now and then. The only thing she wasn't prepared for was the fact that she never knew how to handle them. So when Bae offered one in her ear she blushed and tried to fight the smile that crept onto her face. She could, without hesitation or feeling like she was lying to herself, accept that she had never had a guy this close to her, nonetheless complimenting her outright. His words, of course, sounded like a complete lie to her ears. It was silly to think that she would be considered prettier than Veelas who were, by definition, exceedingly pretty.

Watching the women put on their show, Tris decided it would be just as well if she avoided replying to his comment. The next words out of his mouth added up to another compliment, or near it at the least and she practically laughed. "Deal," She replied, turning to face the couch where she had placed her purse. She could put his Galleons and hers in a pocket so they wouldn't forget where they had kept them.

His hand came up to mess with her hair and she huffed at him, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. What was it with him always calling her 'kid'? It wasn't the first time she recalled it happening, though it probably wasn't even a big deal. In the back of her mind, though, she vaguely hoped it wasn't going to become a thing or a silly nickname.

Trisha followed him over to the couch to move the Galleons, and pulled the hair tie out of her hair, intending to re-do it. Looking up at him, however, she wondered if he had eaten. She hadn't, not before he had shown up at her house and told her they were going to the match.

"Would you.. would you want to grab something to eat?" She asked, "I know we talked about getting something after the other match, but I haven't eaten, so.." Lifting a shoulder as she ran a hand through her hair, Tris picked up her bag and hoped he would agree.

When he was younger, perhaps two or three years ago, Baldric had the fortune of meeting a handful of Veela that were practising for the show they’d put on at the Puddlemere United game. It was the European Championship and exceedingly important he got it right. His father had always been particularly simpering towards them - like all men, really - and so they were clucking and cooing over the young Baldric who, at thirteen or fourteen, was considered a baby much to his frustration as he found that at that point, he understood the desire his friends had seemingly developed: the need to get to know girls.

Obviously, he understood that the attraction he felt towards the Veela was carnal and largely inappropriate but, even so, it jolted him awake to the idea of girls. That didn’t, however, suddenly turn him into someone who played the field, so to speak. No, that was still Luke’s forte and to a degree Baird and Nathan had more luck than he did. He was sure even Daemon could wrangle a date out of more than his fair share if he let a smile go on his lips and gestured elaborately enough. Jackson, also, was probably in the figurative money. Baldric was somewhat left out on that front, too caught up in his sport.

It seemed appropriate, then, that the girl he finally got a date from was into Quidditch too. It was something that, when Baird and Nathan found out about, would make them scoff and roll their eyes, muttering their own versions of “typical” and “I should’ve known it” under their breaths. It was progress, Baldric decided, and while he liked Trish’s company, he was abjectly concerned that he wasn’t doing certain things right. He wondered idly if he’d held any doors open for her. That was polite, wasn’t it? It was something girl’s liked.

“Food?” Baldric asked dumbly, his cheeks flushing as he realised it was something he’d missed. A mistake, if you will - one of the one’s he’d feared.

Licking his lips, Baldric nodded quickly and walked over to where he’d abandoned his wallet on the sideboard. He held it up with a smile and tucked it into his trousers before slipping his hand onto the small of Trish’s back.

“Let’s go and get you fed, shall we?” He said with a smile. “No use being starving bloody hungry throughout the match. Sometimes, they can last days.”

With that, Baldric slowly led Trish out of the booth and into the wide hallway that was still bustling with activity despite the fact that most people had settled into their seats. Baldric slipped in and out of the crowd with practised ease, his hands sliding off of Trish’s back and groping instead for her hand. He curled her fingers into his palm and kept her close behind him, knowing from experience how disorientating it was to lose your way and then try and make it back to the booth. He’d spent many times wandering lost when he was younger - to the point where his mother often left him with the wives of the other Quidditch players while she went to buy refreshments or food.

Finally, they reached the little nook where food was being sold and joined the line dutifully, Baldric hastening, shyly, to drop Trish’s hand.

“What do you want in particular?” He asked. “Burger? Hot Dog? Some sort of kebab? Sweets are a given.”

(OOC: I KNOW! It's amazing! I noticed a few posts in but I didn't say anything. Haha. Okay, so ... there's a touch of godmodding in Baldric's post and I apologise. I just thought I'd better move them along a bit. There may be a bit in this one but not too much, I don't think.)

“Would you ever go pro?” Grace asked with a slight smile.

It seemed to be a reflex now, when anyone expressed their desire to play Quidditch in a new position or just a love of Quidditch and playing the sport in general. It was something that clearly bothered her: her inability to go professional. Yet, despite that, she wanted to see others do it for her. She wanted them to enjoy the sport and everything professional playing brought with it. One day, perhaps, the laws would change. Perhaps the stigma would lesson and somehow, she would be able to play for the Catapults. Until then, she knew she’d be between jobs - as was the way of things for Werewolves.

Grace grinned when Romeo gave in and waved her flag in response. It was fair that way. They could both complain about the tacky Quidditch paraphernalia and the betrayal of their so-loved teams.  Grace just hoped the Catapults could nick the game. That way, she could rub it in Romeo’s face. Not meanly, just... well, it was the way of the sport, wasn’t it?

“Let’s go then!” Grace exclaimed before turning and hurrying up the stairs, taking two at a time.

When she reached the main branch of the corridor running behind the booths, a wave of nostalgia waved over her. At the very end, a statue of Phineus Lestat was pressed up against the wall. He was in his Cannons uniform, leaning against his Cleansweep. His goggles were pinning down his sandy hair and a slight smile tugged at his lips. Of course, it had to be this floor, didn’t it? The set of booths that her father favoured when he wasn’t playing and wanted to ‘scope out the competition’ as he used to joke to her. She’d always be there with him. Always, always. She never missed a game if she could help it.

Sod’s law, really, wasn’t it?

Inhaling a shaky breath, Grace raised a smile for Romeo before beginning to peel through the river of people that thrummed through the corridor. The queue started further back than she would’ve liked but as she joined, Grace found she recognised the people in front of her. Two blondes - one actually blonde while the other was sort of ... mousy. Baldric. Baldric Wood. And Trisha!

“Hello!” Grace exclaimed with an impish smile directed at Trisha. She reached up and pinched Baldric’s arm, evoking a yelp from him, and smirked before looking back at Trish. “How’re you? I haven’t seen you since you were at Nate’s! You do remember me, right? I’m Grace.”

In moments of confusion, Trisha often found herself looking back to her musings throughout the years. When Baldric seemed to flush at her suggestion of getting something to eat, she wondered if she'd done something wrong. Though she wasn't likely to tell him, it was her first semblance of a date, and she wasn't sure it was going very well. What was odd, she decided, was that both she and Bae seemed uncomfortable. Perhaps this was because she was so entirely awkward.

Blaming his surprise and flustered actions on herself, she allowed him to lead her out of the box and through the crowds of people. It was only when his hand left her back that she became aware of its presence until that point. Rather than feeling afraid of the throngs of people, Trisha was immediately worried that she would not know how to find her way back to the box should she lose him.

One of her hands reached for his arm just as he took her hand, effectively keeping her close behind him as they wove through the people, coming upon what appeared to be the Wizarding World's equivalent of a concessions stand. He released her almost immediately, so Tris looked at her feet as she took a step away, figuring that if he'd wanted her nearby he wouldn't have let go. Indeed, she had somehow managed to ruin the whole outing in the first half hour or so.

"Well, I-"

Trisha had intended to reply that she would prefer whatever was the least likely to make a mess - she was naturally neat and certainly didn't want to make a mess in Bae's box. Her train of thought was cut off, though, when she turned her head to see a girl coming up beside them, looking extremely excited. Bae let out a noise of surprise when she reached for his arm, making Tris hide a smile.

"Yes, I remember," Trisha replied lightly, smiling at the girl in question. Momentarily, she considered extending an arm to give Grace a side hug, but wasn't sure if that would go over well. Tris wasn't naturally very used to physical contact with anyone. Her family didn't tend to throw around endearments, or even hugs unless it was some sort of goodbye.

'I haven't really thought about it.' Romeo lied. 'I guess I would, yeah.' He said, smiling at her. The truth was Romeo had only gotten into Quidditch because it was a path to possible fame. Fame and girls. Romeo didn't care what he was going to do as long as he was famous. Although not something overly tedious like writing. No. Romeo wasn't a writer.

Together Romeo and Grace made their way through the ocean of bodies that blocked their path to the box. It was rather pleasant being together but not talking whilst they pushed passed merry excited fans. Eventually they arrived at the top and... Great. A familiar figure was ahead and to Romeo's displeasure it appeared Grace knew the pair as she walked over and introduced herself.

'Romeo.' Romeo added, after Grace announced her name. Not that he needed to, Baldric knew who he was and he was pretty sure that spirit girl would too seeing as they were in the same year.

However, the one thing that bothered Romeo more than anything was, even though spirit girl was weird she was prettier than Grace. How had Baldric done it? No. Romeo didn't care he just knew that it wouldn't stay that way for long. Romeo Zabini wasn't going to fall to Baldric Wood.

Now he had to refigure out his plan for the date. Chances are Grace could want to stay with the other couple seeing as she was so friendly towards them, hopefully Zabini would be able to drag her away to their own box at some point. Then he would be constantly wondering whether Baldric was going to score more with Tris. Tris was beautiful, unlike Grace. Sure Grace was pretty and attractive - she was a girl after all - but Tris would different. Maybe it was the blonde, pure looks?

Seeing Grace was the last thing that Baldric expected. She’d been more forthcoming with him than anyone about what had happened with her father and then, in the wake of his death, with her mother. He knew that the box wouldn’t ever be opened up for the Llewellyn’s again and he’d often offered to take Grace to Quidditch matches. His father had even approached her mother with an offer of giving her permanent entry to their box. Jasmine had been quick to say no and Baldric had long wondered whether that was out of the fear of the memories Quidditch held for her or out of selfishness.

Nevertheless, Baldric raised a smile to his lips and leaned down to wrap Grace up in his long arms, tugging her closet to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. She gave a little squeak of protest and Baldric chuckled before releasing her, reaching down to muss up the ginger swaths of hair exploding from her scalp. She was one of the Hufflepuff redheads who Baldric held a special affection for and who Grace was there with was a question that was answered poorly - to the point where Baldric only just managed to keep the disdain from his face. It had to be him, didn’t it?

“Dear lord,” Baldric crowed smugly. “So it was Gracie you bought that abomination of a jersey for, huh?” He smirked before shaking his head, muttering “pathetic” under his breath.

Sobering himself at Grace’s befuddled look, Baldric shrugged a shoulder and slung his arm around Trish’s waist.

“Trish is gonna join the Ravenclaw team.” He smiled. “Thought I’d better show her the real game before she fiddles with the Hogwartian nonsense.”

Baldric’s eyes were fixed challengingly on Romeo, his ego bolstered by the fact that he was on the Puddlemere Youth Team and due to go up to the big time in the latter half of his sixth year. That meant he was inherently superior to Romeo, in Baldric’s mind, at least, and that more than satisfied the rivalling Gryffindor.