[sep mp] c'mon now follow my lead [keela]

Quinn couldn’t remember there ever being such a big push for people not associated with quidditch to attend the quidditch gala. It was meant to celebrate them; it wasn’t supposed to be another party in wizarding society’s seemingly endless gala season. There was always a media presence, sure, but she had never been warned so heavily to be on her best behavior. She was captain now, after all, and her reputation was apparently still recovering from a series of poor interviews she had given -- insulting anyone who dared insult her -- before she had been banned from speaking directly to the press.

Her father had tried to explain Singapore (and Asia in general) to her, but once it became clear the Japanese Ministry was a big part of this and that Singapore was not a city in Japan, it was really no use -- Quinn was too confused to continue trying to understand. She honestly had no idea where she was, probably couldn’t care less. It was hard to care when the only reason she was there was to wear a dress and not embarrass either quidditch team she was associated with, rather than use any actual skill.

But none of those logistics things were that important anyway; as captain she had been given a couple of extra seats at her table; she at least had invited quidditch related people. Her brother Alex, a quidditch person because he attended Quinn’s matches and her cousin Keela, a quidditch person because she actually played. She was quite good, in fact -- her name had been in the papers a few times this year, first being put out there as the star of last term’s Hogwarts teams and then as rumors started going around about where she would sign.

She’d sign to the Falcons, of course. That was why Quinn had told her to be at her hotel room to get ready at two o’clock that afternoon, even though no one would be there for any cosmetic reasons until half past three. She had also insisted on being able to pick a dress for Keela, and she was even being generous and giving her three options. Of course, two options were horrible and Keela could really only pick Quinn’s first choice, but that was surely a coincidence.

If everything went according to plan -- and it would, if K knew what was good for her  -- then they’d be able to announce Keela’s acceptance of the offer at the gala; Quinn wasn’t about to let another big piece of knews (like her captainship) be overshadowed by anything else.

It was five past two when there was a knock at the door. Quinn quickly swallowed the mouthful of strawberry she had been eating -- rather than worry about Keela’s tardiness -- and moved to the door as quickly as possible. The suite was on the smaller side so it only took her a couple seconds before throwing open the door and ushering her cousin in after a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re late.” That wouldn’t do, not on the pitch at least.

“Merlin, I was going to offer you champagne but you look like you had plenty of that last night.” Quinn raised an eyebrow as she looked her cousin over, trying to excuse her for her tired appearance. She wasn’t a stranger to sleepless nights -- her seven-month old had her own fun sleeping schedule -- but at least she put some effort to address the bags under her eyes before having to make a public appearance. “C’mon,” she sighed again before pulling her towards the sofa. “I’m sure you’re just portkey queasy,” she said with a smirk as she poured them both a glass of champagne anyway.

It had been a long night, but well worth it. DJ’s owl had arrived on her windowsill just before one-thirty in the morning; before the clock struck quarter-of-two, she had Apparated herself and Alis across the Irish Sea to his front door in Llanfarian, Wales, where the pair of them had proceeded to spend the next few hours in an open field in the middle of a lightning storm. But they hadn’t been out with the intention of a romantic rendezvous. No, he had successfully achieved his first ever Animagus transformation – and she had been there to witness it. The rush of adrenaline and excitement she’d felt for her friend at his achievement had fueled her; when they’d reluctantly parted ways shortly before five o’clock, she still felt very much wide-awake.

The very first thing she’d done when she got home was strip off her sodden clothes and pack her bag for the upcoming day – and was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. She cast a longing look at her bed, and her pale blue gaze flicked to the clock on her nightstand. She still had a solid forty-five minutes. Maybe she’d just have a thirty-minute lie-down, she probably wouldn’t even fall asleep, it usually took her ages to anyways…

A knock at her bedroom door some time later jolted her awake, and she sat bolt upright as her mother’s voice floated through the closed door, heart hammering in her ribs. What time was it?
“K? You alright? Your Portkey leaves in five minutes.”
Oh, damn it. Her Portkey had been scheduled for 5:55am – Quinn wanted her there by two in the afternoon Singapore time, and Singapore was eight hours ahead of Dublin. The hotel must be close by.
“Thanks, Mum, I’ll be right down,” she called as calmly as she could manage as her mind raced. Thank Merlin she’d had the sense to change into fresh clothes and pack her bag as soon as she got home.

She quickly brushed her teeth, pulled a brush through her hair, and bolted downstairs. Aideen glanced up, and before she could comment on Keela’s oversleeping the blonde had kissed her quickly on the cheek and grabbed hold of the rusted kettle that they’d obtained from a Ministry Official earlier that week. Mere seconds later she felt a jerk somewhere behind her navel and she was whirling away from Dublin in a sickening blur of color, her bag bumping softly into her side.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Her feet slammed into the ground with such force that she staggered sideways, nearly colliding with a uniformed wizard she assumed was in charge of the Portkey site.

“Ooh, so sorry,” she gasped, willing her head to stop spinning. Her lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her; her stomach squirmed uncomfortably as she righted herself.

“No trouble, miss! Welcome to Singapore!” The man was beaming at her as he scribbled something on his clipboard. At least her Portkey had been properly set-up, thank Merlin. The last thing she needed was to end up on the wrong continent…
“Coming from… Dublin, I presume?”

“Thanks… and yes,” she replied, hoping the smile she’d offered in greeting wasn’t as pained as it felt. Her head was still swimming. “Er, would you please direct me to the Golden Orchard Hotel?”
He cheerfully obliged, and with a wave of thanks Keela set off, her bag swinging gently at her side. She couldn’t help but look everywhere at once as she walked, trying to take in all the sights. She’d never really been anywhere outside of the UK; and while she had done a bit of reading on Singapore, nothing would really compare to experiencing it. Somehow she’d managed to take a wrong turn and had to double back and double her pace, cursing under her breath as she finally entered the grandiose hotel.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The blonde caught a glimpse of herself in the lift’s mirrored walls and winced. She was looking rather peaky; even her omnipresent dark circles looked worse for the wear. Well, that was what makeup was for, right? Besides, she was certain her cousin would have some kind of pick-me-up tonic handy.

The door flew open almost as soon as she’d knocked and she was ushered inside, with her cousin rebuking her tardiness immediately after kissing her cheek. Keela raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, lovely to see you, too,” she replied acerbically. “Aw c’mon, it’s barely five minutes past and they only gave me five minutes to get here from the Portkey station. I see I’ve kept all these people” – she gestured dramatically around empty room – “waiting. How long does it take for hair and makeup, anyway? Merlin, the Gala’s not for another f-f-five hours.” Keela failed to stifle a huge yawn that was rude enough to attack her most unsuspectingly.

At Quinn’s implication that she was hungover, Keela narrowed her eyes at her cousin but cracked a smile. The Seeker was not at all fond of DJ, somehow still convinced that he had actually murdered Linnet despite Keela’s copious dissentions. The very last excuse on Keela would provide, in this case, was the truth: that she’d spent the night, in a manner of speaking, with him.

She allowed Quinn to lead her to the sofa, accepting the glass of champagne she’d been poured. Keela returned her cousin’s wry smile.
“Indeed, those damn Portkeys. To devising an anti-nausea charm for the bloody things.” The blonde raised her glass in a mock-toast. “And, of course, to your Captaincy!” A more genuine smile adorned her features now; only a hint of teasing remained. They’d exchanged letters shortly after it was announced a month-and-a-half ago, of course, and Keela had congratulated her in person when they’d attended the World Cup final together last month.

“Lovely to see you, too,” she added as an afterthought, shrugging as she dropped her arms from the hug. “Not my fault you planned your portkey poorly.” Quinn pursed her lips and propped a hand on her hip; she had been practicing the ‘disappointed mother’ look far before she had a child of her own. “Your hair and makeup, considering this--” she gestured just as dramatically at Keela, pointing out her hair and skin that would benefit from a giant glass of water “--we’ll be blessed if we get to the gala before it’s over.”

She rolled her eyes, but her expression softened quickly as her cousin smiled. She pulled her to the sofa and shoved a glass of champagne into K’s hand as she sat down next to her. “To damn portkeys,” she conceded, tapping her glass against the other, her questioning look gone as soon as Keela mentioned her captaincy. Quinn grinned and sipped at her champagne, still not tired of toasting to her own success. She had worked hard for it, after all. It was deserved and far overdue.

“She’s stretching out a little,” Quinn said with a shrug, commenting on how her daughter was growing and her little baby fat rolls were starting to disperse properly. “Of course, now her forehead is enormous.” She waved one hand in the air like she had no idea how that would be possible. It was Oliver’s doing, of course; he had just been clever enough to hide his own enormous forehead behind a mess of fringe. “She’s with my parents now,” she added with a sigh. “Guess we’re postponing her first gala to next season.” Lula’s father had more issues than Quinn with Lula having any sort of press attention, and taking her to the gala had started as a joke, but now Quinn was more and more determined to win.

Quinn shifted, turning to face her cousin and pulling her legs up under her so she could lean sideways against the back of the couch. She supposed she ought to ask after Keela’s family, but she had seen most of them recently enough that she couldn’t make herself truly care about their wellbeing. There were so many more important things to discuss, anyway. Quinn didn’t know where to start.

“I got you some things,” she said after draining half her glass. She sat up and moved across the suite, her drink in tow. She unzipped one of the dress bags to ensure she had the right one and zipped it back up, quickly, careful to make sure Keela hadn’t seen anything. It was difficult maneuvering the dress bag, longer than Quinn was tall, especially with her glass in hand, but she managed to make it work, draping it over the back of the sofa next to Keela. “You can either look at your dress--” she had decided to only show her the one considering Keela had already wasted enough time being late “--or open this.” Quinn grabbed a small ring box off the vanity and tossed it to her.

It was a ring like she was wearing now, one that K had admired before, should remember that one of the first things Quinn did was gift one to all the women on her team. She didn’t care if they decided to wear it; she had decided it made her feel better just knowing the gift had been made. Anyway, as Keela was about to become a Falcon herself, it was only right to give her one as well.

Keela snorted a Quinn’s apparent disdain for the size of her daughter’s forehead. Typical.
“I’m sure she’ll grow into it just swimmingly.” She raised her eyebrows at her cousin over the rim of her glass as she took another sip. “Probably for the best,” she commented as Quinn mentioned leaving her with the grandparents. “People are bloody gross and she’s still little. If someone so much as sneezed in her vicinity I’d have to knock them into next week.” She grinned impishly.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their champagne, before Q got up and drifted across the room.
“Oh?” Keela replied, an eyebrow habitually lifting as she tracked her cousin with her eyes. Presents? Her curiosity was piqued by the dress bag, and when Quinn draped it over the back of the sofa she reached for the zipper – until the ‘or’ caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see a projectile in the shape of a small jewelry box headed straight for her. Reaching out with her free left hand, she swiped it easily out of the air. She glanced briefly up at her cousin, who was watching her expectantly. What on earth…?

Curiously, she slid her thumbnail into the crease and flicked the box open – and felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Nestled inside was a ring that Quinn wore, that all the Falcons women wore, that the eighteen-year-old had admired on more than one occasion. It wasn’t often that Keela Brighid Doyle was rendered speechless: but apparently now was one of those moments. Mouth slightly agape, her eyes flicked from the ring to her cousin and back again. Her brain was filled with an odd sort of buzzing noise, rendering her completely incapable of normal thought.

“Wow,” she croaked after a moment. “I— thanks, Q.” Fingers trembling only slightly, she withdrew the ring and slid it onto her right hand. She had to be the only one not on the team to have a ring. Unless…
The thought felt like a cattle-prod in her stunned brain, and suddenly all of her thoughts and emotions came back with the force of a tidal wave. The ring was only for the women of the team. Which meant…

Keela’s pale blue eyes found her cousin’s, hardly daring to believe it, still slack-jawed. And then suddenly her freckled features broke into a grin so broad it actually hurt her face, and Keela – who typically expressed all the sentimentality of a brick wall – closed the distance between them in two strides and hugged her cousin. The dress lay forgotten; for the next few seconds, at least.

Quinn did her best to hide her smile behind the rim of her glass, finishing what must have been a very light-handed pour in another two swallows, as her cousin opened the box. But as Keela looked at her she lowered her glass, grin on full display, eyebrows raised. She wasn’t saying anything -- neither of them were -- and Quinn stayed silent for another few seconds as she waited for the comprehension to wash over her.

Thanks? Quinn smiled a bit more, shrugging, not wanting to have to come right out and say it, but if Keela didn’t understand what that meant -- that’s what Quinn got for trying to have a dramatic reveal -- then she really had no choice. They needed to make the announcement at the gala tonight, after all. Quinn needed good press, and Keela was going to help her get it.

The possibility that K wouldn’t want to sign with the Falcons had crossed her mind for less than a second.

Finally Keela’s grin matched her own and Quinn nodded quickly, arms outstretched as soon as K moved toward her. Her excited “Ah!” was loud, long, and probably unnecessary, but she didn’t know what other words were really appropriate, anyway. She couldn’t very well go back to commenting on how tired Keela looked so suddenly -- there’d be time for that later, she supposed.

She held her cousin tight for a few more seconds before pulling back, arms still around her as best as possible. “Assuming that’s a yes, anyway.” Quinn laughed and stepped away to pour herself a refill. “You’ll have to meet with some of the boring folks to talk salary and all that, but--” she looked up and smiled again. “You can start tomorrow.” She glanced down at her glass with a grimace before looking back to Keela. “Day after tomorrow.”

Quinn’s exclamation nearly blew out her eardrum as the pair embraced, but the blonde couldn’t care less at the moment. Her mind reeled, she could hardly believe it – she was going to be a professional Quidditch player. And a Falcon! Even after Quinn loosened her grip and stepped away to refill her glass, Keela still couldn’t quite breathe properly.

“Assuming that’s a yes, anyway.”
Keela snorted, following her cousin with her eyes. “What, that wasn’t obvious enough for you? Yes, it’s a definite yes.” She grinned back, her heart still thudding entirely too quickly to be healthy, and fluttered her fingers dismissively at the word ‘boring’. That would be transient; and then she could cut to the chase.

She raised her eyebrows at her cousin’s grimace. Did she really look that rough? She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, considering she’d spent the majority of the night traipsing about in a Welsh clearing.
“Great, because this time difference is going to take some getting-used-to.”

Following Quinn’s lead, Keela finished the rest of her glass and set it down briefly to slip on her ring. It fit perfectly – either Quinn had sneakily gotten a measurement of her ring size, or it was charmed. Or, she supposed, it had been a very good guess.

Hands still trembling slightly with adrenaline (and quietly marveling at the new sensation on her right fourth finger), Keela refilled her glass, vaguely cognizant of the fact that she hadn’t eaten yet. She was no lightweight, but all the same… it wouldn’t quite do to make an idiot of herself in front of the entire international Quidditch community. Her stomach flipped anxiously at the thought.

Letting her breath out in a soft whoosh, the blonde eyed the dress bag still draped innocently over the back of the sofa. She moved toward it, setting her glass down again to unzip the bag – and for the second time in five minutes, her breath caught in her chest. After a moment she managed a long, low whistle and glanced up, grinning.
“It’s really brilliant, thanks. And in Falcons’ colors, too!”
She reached out to touch the sheer lace overlay that started at the waist seam, marveling at how impossibly soft and lightweight it felt. She was, undeniably, still in shock.

“Right, so – what’s the game plan? When do we need to start getting ready?”

A definite yes. They breezed past the tedious, boring things; Quinn wouldn’t be present for salary negotiations but Keela was in a good spot, starting in this League rather than riding the bench in a league abroad, waiting around for a promotion. She wanted to start Keela as soon as she could, but she needed to see her fly with the team first; more boring details they could discuss after the party was over.

She raised an eyebrow. Time difference, indeed. She wasn’t usually one to be shy about questioning excuses, but it was a happy occasion, more or less. She supposed she could wait to start calling her cousin on her bullshit (in an official capacity) once she had signed all the paperwork. “Champagne’s supposed to be the best thing for the time thing,” she said with a knowing nod toward K’s glass.

Quinn resumed her seat on the sofa, pulling a pillow to her lap and folding her legs up under her, not in a hurry to do much of anything else. She watched with a smile as Keela went for the garment bag, positive that she’d like what Quinn had found for her, nodding before she had even started to express her thanks. “Coincidence,” she lied; she had spent hours looking for (and finding) the perfect dress, the perfect cut, the perfect colors. Keela was going to have the perfect quidditch debut, so help her.

“Depends.” Quinn arched an eyebrow and looked Keela over again. “Have you showered lately?” She didn’t look that bad but she couldn’t resist. “Hair and makeup in an hour or so, and I don’t think they’re supposed to help you with that.” She grinned, sipped her champagne. “I’m planning to tell people about you joining the team tonight. So you know,” she added, explaining away the need for professionals to help their look.

“Are you hungry? Let’s get room service.”

“Depends… Have you showered lately?”

The question was a perfectly reasonable one – but at the hint of mocking in her cousin’s tone, coupled with the sass about K looking worse for the wear that she’d delivered just a few moments before, Keela made an unintelligible but nonetheless indignant noise. Quick as a flash, she seized one of the small decorative pillows from the sofa (the oblong shape that looked like wrapped candies) and swatted playfully at Quinn’s leg: the nearest bit she could reach.

“I was planning to take one today anyways,” she admitted nonetheless. It was true, considering her sojourn in a thunderstorm in the middle of a Welsh field just a few hours previously. “Won’t take but ten minutes.”

“I’m planning to tell people about you joining the team tonight.”

Given the circumstances that had just unfolded, this was in no way a surprise – but Quinn’s verbalization suddenly made it feel very real, and it felt as though a small boulder had dropped abruptly into Keela’s stomach. She nodded mutely before taking another sip of champagne to settle herself.

“Room service sounds excellent,” she sighed dreamily, moving to hang her dress on an ornate hook next to the vanity so it would have less of an opportunity to wrinkle. “What’s on the menu?”
‘Hungry’ was a bit of an understatement, in all honesty… ‘ravenous’ was more like it. She’d been upping the intensity of her workouts over the past few weeks especially to improve her signing chances; while she’d always maintained the ability to put away a respectable amount of food, she was increasingly operating at ‘rapidly-growing-teenaged-boy’ level of consumption to keep pace.

She was vaguely aware that there were other important questions that she should probably ask to ensure things went as smoothly as possible that evening. From the way Q had phrased it thus far, it seemed as though she’d have plenty of guidance throughout the night (and well before it even began, really), but her nerves were beginning to ramp up now that the initial pleasant surprise was ebbing.

She floundered a moment for something somewhat constructive to say, before settling on: “Anyone I need to, er… watch out for? In either extreme: ‘avoid at all costs’ or ‘definitely make sure to meet this person’. Y’know.”

Quinn stuck her tongue out, blowing a raspberry as she swatted the pillow away. “Good.” She had another sip of her champagne -- she was glad she had gone for the expensive one, given how much she’d had and would be having to continue celebrating -- and nodded. “Good,” she said again.

She shrugged; she’d only perused the room service menu enough to order what they had now. “No idea but considering your training won’t properly start until tomorrow…” She stretched to reach the menu laying on the table next to her. “Er--” she had been planning to say ‘you can order pudding’ but the sweets weren’t anything she was familiar with, besides the words ‘cake’ and ‘ice cream’ and after another second she remembered where they were: not Ireland. “My treat, whatever you want,” she said instead, handing the menu over.

“Oh, loads. Both kinds.” Quinn laughed and waved her hand through the air between them. “But you’ll just be with me so you won’t need to like, memorize anyone in advance.” It’d work out just fine, as long as Keela stayed close. Quinn’s actual date had his own quidditch-schmoozing he needed to attend to so she didn’t let herself feel too bad for practically pre-ditching him for the evening.

She sat up suddenly and untangled her legs, standing up and hurrying over to the desk by the window to grab a quill and wave it in her cousin’s direction. “Can you tell your mam now? Mine’s been dying to tell--” because of course Quinn’s mother knew; Quinn told her practically everything, second only to Alex. And her boyfriend, she guessed. She relaxed her arm after another second, blinking away the fuzziness that was creeping into her cheeks. “How long will it take an owl to get to Dublin?” She still didn’t have a good grasp on their geography, nor if they’d make it back to Ireland with their morning portkey before a bird would.

“Ooh thanks, Q,” she replied, accepting the menu. She opened it and scanned it reflexively – but as hungry as she was, her attention was easily redirected. The impending press conference suddenly had her feeling uncharacteristically nervous, and so she zeroed in on Quinn’s clarification. Following her lead shouldn’t be terribly difficult, at least.

Keela tracked her cousin’s abrupt flight across the room curiously, but laughed at the brandished writing implement.
“‘Course,” she agreed readily.

“How long will it take an owl to get to Dublin?”

“Probably an age. We’re halfway around the world, yeah?”
Keela’s brow creased gently as she considered alternatives.
“Is there a Floo connection nearby? Can just stick my head in and get the word out that way.” Her freckled face split into a grin. “Unless you can’t actually Floo that great of distance…? D’ye know? Would put a damper on things if I got stuck somewhere in limbo right before all this.”

“Are we?” She didn’t think she needed to explain to Keela that she still didn’t understand where they were; she just knew enough to know she was in the right place for the gala. She wrinkled her nose after accidentally brushing the end of the quill against it.

She glanced around the room--no fireplace up here--and she shrugged. “Bound to be one somewhere.” But again, Quinn didn’t know anything about the limitations of the Floo network. She grinned when Keela did. “Merlin…” She pulled a face before shaking her head. “Let’s not do that, then.”

Quinn dumped the parchment and quill with a small flourish. “I’m sure Mam will tell her before the papers do?” It was likely; honestly, it was likely her aunt knew and was just a better secret keeper than any of the other Regan women. She grinned again, another wave of giddiness--or maybe she was already tiddly--coming over her. Keela had just agreed to play for her team. This was going to be a good season.

There was a knock at the door and Quinn clapped her hands together. “That’ll be the stylist!” She gave her cousin another once over. “Grab a shower, she can do my hair first.”

[[ out ]]

Quinn wrinkled her nose, and Keela stuck out her tongue at her. It was hard to believe that, barely five hours ago, she’d been standing in a Welsh moor in the middle of a thunderstorm – it already felt like that had been sometime last week.

“Eh, they’ll find out soon – one way or another. Bet your mam has already told by now,” she teased. Indeed, the blonde had no doubt that Aunt Estella could circulate information at a rate that put the Prophet’s staff to shame.

She turned toward the door when she heard the knock then looked back at her cousin, lopsided-grinning at Quinn’s reaction. K saluted her and got to her feet – before realizing that the menu was still in her hand, and she hadn’t ordered anything yet.
“Oh, do me a solid and order the third thing down for me?” Keela tossed the menu like a frisbee in her cousin’s direction (it was pretty substantial, sturdier than just a flimsy piece of paper). “Thanks, love you.”

Still hardly daring to believe this was actually happening, she blew a kiss and slipped into the bathroom.

[[ out! ]]