[Gravesend] Just when you think that you're in control [Skyla]

Quidditch conditions were perfect this morning.  The sun was hidden by a few stray clouds, which meant that Rob wouldn’t be in the unfortunate position of having it shine directly into his eyes.  The cloud cover wasn’t ominous enough to indicate rain, unusual for this time of the year.  A faint breeze came from the east, making the heat bearable even while being burdened under pads and other gear.  Rob gripped his broom and smirked as one of his teammates attempted to shoot the Quaffle past his guard.  Obviously they hadn’t paid attention to the brief shift in the wind, because the shot sailed slightly to the left, where he was waiting, stopping it easily.  Cloé, César, and Archie were all excellent Chasers, and on a normal day he would have been hard-put to stop three-quarters of their shots.

Today, though, Rob was on form.  It was one of those occasions that everything seemed to mesh up perfectly- his reactions, his predictions of where they would go.  Of course, they still got a few goals on him, mostly while undertaking a particularly insane formation.  The Cardozos were like a pair of matched blades, balancing each other perfectly.  Rob would have presumed they were using legilimency to communicate if he didn’t know about the close bond the two of them shared.  One of them would pass to empty air, only for the other to mysteriously appear and retrieve it, all without words being exchanged.  The kid, Archie, was also undoubtedly good, but he had a bit of work to do before he achieved their standard.  All the team really needed was an excellent seeker to sweep the league, in Rob’s opinion.  The current one was decent but a long shot away from what they needed to consistently win.

Harlan called a quick water break, and Rob flew down to the bottom of the posts where he had set aside his canteen.  Taking a few quick gulps, tossed it back and turned to ascend back to his position, when a stray movement caught his attention.  A woman was entering the stands, and obviously she had permission to be there, or else security wouldn’t have allowed her anywhere near the pitch.  Anyone coming in was suspect; they could be spies for rival teams, seeking to get additional information on their strategies.  This woman was not, and as Rob squinted, he thought he caught a glimpse of familiar long, dark hair.

A Bludger whistled past his ear, and Rob swore loudly, ducking a second before it came flying back at him.  Roxy flew past in hot pursuit, waggling her eyebrows at him.  Rob shook a fist  in her direction, but got the message.  He was supposed to be paying attention, even if the last woman he expected had strode into the pitch.  He would bet his broom that the woman peering up at them was Skyla.  Rob had sent her an invite to see his ‘horrendous profession live,’ as he so delicately put it, a few weeks back, a day or two after their night had come to an abrupt end.  He had sent the letter to her office address, so helpfully provided on the business card she handed him early in the evening before the encounter went sour.  After the first few practices where the witch hadn’t shown up, Rob had given up on seeing her except by chance.

Rob tore his thoughts away from the unexpected audience member, although it was hard to.  He was still entirely confused as to how the night had gone south so quickly- at one point, they had been chatting comfortably, and the next, he was blinking her drink out of his eyes.  He liked to blame his angry reactions on the alcohol they had both been drinking, but the truth was Rob had three times that amount the last time he went out with Harlan.  Something about Skyla pushed his buttons, and he was decidedly uncertain if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

The rest of the practice passed quickly, as he lost himself in the simple actions of flying and stopping goals.  At one point Rob executed a perfect Double Eight Loop, and glanced at the stands, unable to see if Skyla had been paying attention.  Did he care what she thought about him?  Rob wasn’t sure why, but he sought her approval.  When Harlan called an end to the practice, he quickly dismounted and headed for the locker room, wanting to get in and out of the shower as fast as possible.

After he cleaned himself up a bit, he fielded off questions about his haste from his teammates, and went back out to the pitch.  The clouds were thickening slightly, a sign that they would see rain that night.  Good conditions never really lasted long in this part of England.  Rob swept the area where the woman had been sitting with his eyes, and found her gone.  Was it even Skyla to begin with?  A noise behind him made him spin around, and an unconscious smirk quirked his mouth.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

Skyla had awoken early that morning and made what was, quite possibly, the rashest decision of her life. She was going to Quidditch practice. For someone like her, it was an idea so improbable that it had never even crossed her mind. When she first received Rob’s owl at work, the Monday morning after their strange Friday night run-in, she had read the note in astonished disbelief before crumpling up the parchment and shoving it into the top drawer of her desk. She had sent the accompanying owl away without a response. It only took her the one read-through to memorize exactly what was written in his bold, scrawling hand. Skyla, Allow me to extend an invitation to view my horrible profession live. Come to a practice at the Gravesend Griffins stadium. Regards, Rob Gilchrist. The note had listed the days and times they regularly practiced, but Skyla was too offended by the sarcasm and presumption of his note to give it any further thought. 

The truth was that she was uneasy with how the encounter had gone, and did her best to put it from her mind. Skyla had not expected to really meet anyone that night, much less get into a ridiculous argument with a Quidditch player who was obviously trying much too hard to be charming. Still, the embarrassing fact remained that she had been unspeakably rude to him. Rob's actions did not warrant such an extreme reaction from her, that much she could admit. She couldn't punish him for events that were long past and in which he had not been involved. And so, when her fingers had brushed across the parchment in her desk drawer the day before as she was searching for a new quill, having chewed through the old one, she made the impulsive decision to attend today's practice. If she was fortunate, she could corner him after practice and give him the apology she owed him. Her pride flinched at the unpleasant task ahead, but she knew she would not feel wholly comfortable with herself until she at least tried to make amends.

She showered and dressed carefully that morning, choosing a casual, loose cotton dress and low-heeled sandals that would be sensible yet comfortable for the day ahead. She curled the ends of her dark hair around the tip of her wand as she readied herself. She wasn't sure what to expect, as Quidditch was largely a mystery to her. Skyla hadn't attended a game since she was a first year, more than half her lifetime ago. She knew the basics of the game, but that was it. Securing her light black cloak around herself for warmth in case she got chilly, she exited her flat, heading into the alley behind her building and Apparating to the Gravesend Griffins Quidditch stadium. When she found the entrance, she was stopped and questioned by the security wizards stationed there. They allowed her to enter after consulting some kind of list. Clearly, he had expected her to show up. 

Slowly, she made her way to one of the magical elevators that could take her up to the upper tiers. Stepping inside, she pushed the button for the highest level. It only took a moment for the elevator to zip upward and deposit her at her destination. Skyla strode purposefully out of the elevator and toward the seating area. As she emerged into the stands, she could see that she was not the only one there to view today’s practice session. A handful of other spectators were scattered at random throughout the section she had chosen. Moving away from the others, she took a seat where no one was in her immediate vicinity, preferring to be alone with her thoughts.

Looking up, she found herself getting drawn into the action. Since meeting Rob, she had done some digging into his background. She had come across a recent profile of the Griffins team, which had helped her to get acquainted with them, if superficially. She recognized the Cardozo siblings, her eyes glued to them as they executed their moves with precision and near-perfect coordination. Even to her untrained eyes, she could see that the team could be a force to be reckoned with, with Rob stopping most of the goals the Chasers pelted his way and the Beaters smacking around the bludgers with a sort of constrained recklessness. Against her will, she found herself impressed with their talent, and before she knew it, practice was over.

The team zoomed off the pitch, presumably to the locker rooms to change out of their gear. Skyla had no idea where that could be, so she filed out with the rest of the spectators, divesting herself of her cloak as she did so. The day was warm and she found that she no longer needed it. When they reached the ground level, she broke away from the others and headed in the opposite direction, back toward the pitch. As she walked out to the pitch, she could see Rob entering from a different door, his back to her. Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward him before she could change her mind. When she was within a few feet of him, he suddenly turned, and she felt herself freeze under his scrutiny.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

“Likewise,” Skyla responded when she found her voice. She took in his appearance, noting the smirk and feeling mildly aggravated by it. There was an awkward pause in which her mind went blank. What was it that she was going to say again? Merlin. It was a good thing her hands were occupied with holding her cloak, otherwise she might have started fidgeting with them. “About the other week,” she said hesitantly, not sure how to begin. His silence and expectant gaze was encouragement enough for her to finish what she started. “I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I’m sorry,” she said simply. Whether he would accept her apology remained to be seen. Even if she never saw him again after this encounter, at least she would be secure in the knowledge that she had done all that she could. 

There was definitely a contrast to Skyla’s appearance today versus what Rob had seen previously.  The dress she was wearing flapped slightly with the breeze, and he attempted to not stare at her legs.  Rob liked the change more than he would have thought, appreciating the way her outfit seemed to soften her hard exterior.  Looking at Skyla, he didn’t see a woman who would storm out of a bar in the wee hours of the morning after drinking, but instead someone who might invite him over for tea, or some such innocent thing.  Narrowing his eyes, he told himself to focus, uncrossing his arms from the stance he had assumed automatically.

“I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I’m sorry."

Rob ran his hand over his head, pondering what to do in the moment.  He wanted to accept her apology at face value, but something in him also wanted to make her work for it.  All he had done that evening was get annoyed at her former house, which he had already admitted to himself was an error.  He didn’t consider any of his other actions worth apologizing over.  “I suppose there must have been a reason behind it.” Disregarding the fact that both of us were dangerously close to being drunk as hell that night. He was still irritated over the drink she had thrown.  Now, if Rob had attempted to kiss her or something similar, he could understand drastic actions on her part.  But looking back at that night, he was sure she had been interested in him, until the disastrous ending.  Regardless, he didn’t really want to start another argument here- some of his friends might take offense to things she would say, and Rob wanted to handle the situation without aid.

Glancing behind Skyla, he saw a familiar face spying on them with eagerness.  Rolling his eyes, Rob drew his wand and jabbed it in the direction of the locker room, snapping the door shut in Cloé’s face.  I’ll explain later… he thought, wincing at the thought of the chaser’s revenge, which would surely be forthcoming.  “Sorry, “ Rob muttered, “My teammates can get a bit nosy. Shall we?”  Rob gestured to a bench a short distance away near the edge of the pitch.  Striding the few steps over, he sat and rolled his shoulders, sending a small series of crackles snapping audibly through the air.  He usually liked to take a moment to stretch out after a practice, but Skyla’s unforeseen appearance had put that plan aside.

Her obvious nervousness was what decided the issue.  All he had done was send an (admittedly) sarcastic letter, which Skyla could have chosen to ignore.  She had been the bigger person and chosen to come here, obviously out of her element, seeking to mend things.  Perhaps he had made just as much of a big impression on her as she had on him?  “I’ll accept on one condition, “ he said, holding up a finger for her to see.  “I’d like an explanation first.”  Why was Quidditch so apparently intolerable to her?  Rob had known people who didn’t care for the sport, but Skyla’s expression had bordered on murderous that night.  Surely there had to be a reason.  If she didn’t want to give him one, this…. thing probably wouldn’t work out. Rob wanted to be able to understand and defend his job without having to dig out all the details.

“But I should apologize to you, as well.  I shouldn’t have automatically judged you for being a Slytherin.  There’s been Gryffindors I’ve known who turned out to be…” he shrugged, attempting to come up with an appropriate term.  “Not the most decent type of folk.”  Rob’s expression darkened as his thoughts flashed to his father, a prime example.  He shook off the memories and turned to Skyla.   “I guess we could wipe the slate clean, if you want?”  Rob raised an eyebrow at the witch, grinning slightly.  “Rob Gilchrist.  I’m a quidditch player.  I’m also a former Gryffindor who likes to antagonize women at pubs.  My mum would probably disapprove.” He stuck out a hand tentatively towards Skyla, unsure if she would take it.  She had already shown a remarkable predilection for doing the unexpected.

Skyla let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding when Rob finally responded. He didn’t seem angry, which she took to be a good sign. They were both being calm and rational, a far cry from their behavior a couple of weeks ago, though the situations could not have been more different. Then, they were both under the influence of alcohol, it was evening, and she had already been agitated by her work day. Now, they were both stone cold sober, it was daytime, and she was fresh from a good night’s sleep, which had done wonders to improve her mood. His admission of being a Quidditch player that night was like using incendio on a wad of crumpled parchment: It ignited her temper instantly, causing her to react with a vehemence that she did not know was in her - she, who strove to remain levelheaded above all.

She was about to reply when she was distracted by him pulling out his wand. Turning slightly, she caught a glimpse of the locker room door slamming shut. She looked back at Rob, raising a questioning eyebrow as he explained about his nosy teammates. Lovely. As he made his way over toward the nearby bench, she followed, settling herself beside him. Skyla took a moment to arrange herself, smoothing her skirt and laying her cloak on the bench next to her. Here, they were in closer proximity than they were at the pub, which was both unsettling and exhilarating at the same time. She felt the urge to scoot a few inches along the bench, away from him, but she didn’t want to look rude, not when she was trying to get back into his good graces.

“I’d like an explanation first.”

Bugger. She should have seen that coming. He deserved an explanation, as little as she liked having to give one. Folding her hands in her lap, she considered her words before speaking. “I had some… bad experiences with Quidditch players, when I was young. Back in Hogwarts. Since then, I’ve avoided them as much as possible,” she told him with a small shrug. It had worked quite well for her, up until now. She hoped that he would accept the explanation she had given and not prod for any more details. Rob was still a relative stranger, and she did not want to have to open up to him, divulging painful experiences that she had done her best to move past.

At his suggestion that they start over, she nodded in agreement. She hid her relief, instead focusing on his smile. It was more attractive than she remembered from that night in the pub. Her nervousness began to abate and she began to feel more at ease as Rob spoke. “Apology accepted.” She hoped that this meant they could put the memory of that unpleasant evening behind them. “I’m Skyla Davenport. I’m a Ministry worker and former Slytherin prefect who apparently likes to antagonize men at pubs. I’m certain that my mother would disapprove,” she told him with a faint smile as she slid her right hand into his. Her light blue eyes looked directly into his brown eyes, just as she did in all meetings with new people. She shook his hand with confidence, her grip firm. This was an area with which she was familiar, as her job involved these sorts of meetings quite often, and she had had years to perfect her handshake. This particular handshake was emotionally charged in a way that others weren’t, though. She tried not to dwell on the size of his hand and how hers felt within his grasp.

“Pleasure to meet you, Rob Gilchrist,” she said. As Skyla withdrew her hand from his, she allowed her fingernails to lightly skim the palm of his hand. She was teasing him, but she kept her features carefully neutral, settling her hand in her lap once more. Her cheeks tinged pink, however, belying her otherwise calm expression. She finally looked away, unable to keep eye contact with him in that moment. By looking away first, she felt like she was losing some kind of battle of wills, but she found that she didn’t care. “You and your teammates flew well today,” she told him, partially to break the tension, and partially because she was not one to withhold a compliment when one was due. Surprisingly, she was being completely sincere.