People who think they know everything... [donna]

... are a great annoyance to those of us who do. - Isaac Asimov
October 2003

Isaac had spent half the morning dodging Allison; she had it in her mind that they had to go to the Halloween crap in Hogsmeade together, and he didn't have the patience to deal with it right now. He hadn't slept, he was hungry, and he still had two more classes before the day was over. It would be an understatement to say he was grumpy. It wasn't just Allison or lessons that were getting on his nerves, though; it was the entire first month of school.

Everything was balls-up and not at all the way it was supposed to be. He was pretty sure Nola was going to tell everyone his mum cleaned her parent's house for a living, Allison would not leave him alone, and worst of all, the Quidditch try-out sign-up sheet was full of freaking underclassmen. It was disgusting. Isaac would rather quit the damn team than play with a bunch of twelve-year-olds. And the other houses didn't seem to be shaping up much differently. What happened to Quidditch being something the older kids did?

Grumbling to himself, the Slytherin left Defense Against the Dark Arts, ducked into the hall way, and kept an irritated eye out for the growing list of people he was avoiding. He could have made it to his next class without talking to a single person, and he would have been thrilled, but of course, that wasn't going to happen. Passing by a redhead he recognized from the pitch and a baby snake, Isaac heard what she was saying and stopped short of the doorway. "Are you fucking serious?" He turned around sharply, eyes jumping from snot-nosed Matthew Maverick up to Gryffindor Co-Captain Donna West; he scowled.

"Don't tell him that shit," Isaac's face scrunched up in displeasure as he spoke. He assumed Donna wasn't encouraging the second year out of the goodness of her heart. Suspicious and irritated, he gave Matthew a 'get lost' kind of look and waited for Donna to respond.

@Donna West

Was this kind of mean? Yes -- Donna could admit that. Sure, there were plenty of younger Slytherin students she thought had actual potential on the Quidditch pitch. The one that hung out with Benny and Tomie, whose dad owned the Griffins or whatever, was probably the best example, but there were third and fourth years with some talent as well, and of course age was not always a predictor of performance (just look at some of the idiots in her year, for proof) but -- was Matthew Maverick especially gifted in the field of Quidditch? Not by a long shot.

But he was just mediocre enough to have a chance, and thus he would be a great asset to the team. Not to Slytherin’s team, mind, but there was only one team Donna had any interest in benefitting.

I dunno, he said. I think I’d look stupid.

Donna had an odd fondness for bullies of Matty Maverick’s ilk -- that is, utterly pathetic to anybody older than him. It was rather how she had been, at least until she’d come to Hogwarts. She thought, perhaps incorrectly, that he could yet be taught, that he just needed a push in the right direction and maybe some knocks on the head. (Tomie had already provided one of these.) Of course, that wasn’t what she was trying to do today, but she still took a bit of philanthropic thrill in saying, “Of course you won’t look stupid -- plenty of people get nervy before games and tryouts and the like. Would you rather sit it out because you’re scared, or take a chance on getting on the team?”

This didn’t seem to convince him, so she added, “I’ve seen you fly, you know -- I reckon you’ve got nothing to worry about.” It was mostly true -- nerves were his worst problem, though his hair was his second worst, the way it whipped around his eyes in the wind. She’d have suggested he wear a headband if that weren’t counterintuitive to her efforts to stack the game in favour of Gryffindor.

But her efforts were thwarted -- Isaac Hackney had found her. “Oi,” she said hotly -- “Watch your language, there’s a kid here.” Matthew said something about a prior urgent engagement he’d just imagined and booked it; Donna folded her arms and straightened her spine. “Can’t a girl encourage her fellow athletes? Or does your demon heart ooze slime whenever you sense any generosity of the heart nearby?”

Rolling his eyes, Isaac found her scolding his language especially irritating. What did he care that Mathew Maverick heard him say a curse word? Isaac considered swearing a few more times, just for good measure, but soon enough, the little snake was slithering away, and Isaac nodded. At least Maverick was smart enough to know when to tuck tail and run. Hopefully, that sense of self-preservation would also keep him from trying out for the Quidditch team. If one more child joined the team, Isaac was going to quit; he had already decided.

"How about you encourage the ankle-biters in your house, then?" Isaac spoke as he mimicked her defensive stance and crossed his arms over his chest. Isaac was annoyed that all of the underclassmen suddenly thought they could try out and be good at Quidditch. Sure, some of them were, and yes, Hufflepuff won the last term with basically a brand new team, but that didn't mean it was going to work for Slytherin. And it absolutely did not work for Isaac.

"Seems like Gryffindor could use all the help it can get," 

“Maybe I already do,” Donna shot back -- she would have said this even if she didn’t, but since she had already practically coached some of Maverick’s yearmates through what tryouts were like, her voice took on an additional, sour twinge of righteousness; she thrust her chin out stubbornly. “What, are you afraid they’re going to show you up? Is that it?”

It was quite unlikely -- Maverick was not likely to make the team anyway -- but if she was trying to tick Hackney off, it was possibly the fastest way to do so, and she sort of enjoyed ticking Hackney off. He was tall -- tall enough that she would’ve been scared of him if she had more sense, though she was moderately sure that he was above hitting girls -- and when he was mad, his face did extraordinarily funny things.

Besides -- he was a prick.

“Maybe to you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Some of us like to have fresh players to learn the game early so they don’t have to blatch their ways through every game. Unless -- pardon me -- did your team strategy change at all in the last fifty years?”

"Please," Isaac said dismissively; he wasn't afraid they were going to show him up; the Slytherin was worried they were going to suck. "They are going to break an arm five seconds in and spend the rest of the season bitching," He added dramatically, for good measure, but also because he believed it. Quidditch was a rough sport; it was dangerous and gritty, especially the way the old Slytherin team used to play it. Everything had changed since Lovecraft took over; it was another thing he was sour about, but Isaac had only been playing for one season, so what did he know? Isaac, different from the likes of Maverick, had waited until his fourth year to try-out for the team. Like it was supposed to be.

"Well you, and your idiot-loving team can bring in all the first years you want then," Isaac returned, rolling his eyes at her remark about the Slytherin tactics. Of all the teams, Slytherin was the most traditional; there was no use in denying it, but things were changing from the inside, and it was going south real quick. Isaac remembered what the players were like when he was younger. He'd watch in awe at the way that they played during matches. They were fierce, diabolical even, and master manipulators when it came to the rules. It wasn't like that anymore, and a rational part of his brain wondered if it was ever really like that, or if he had just built the team up in his mind until he was old enough to play.

It didn't matter.

Donna's schemes and the stupid smirk on her face were what mattered right now, and Isaac had had enough of both of them. "When you get an ickle killed, do not say I did not warn you,"  It probably wouldn't happen, Quidditch or not; magic typically kept them from being seriously injured. Then again, it was a Hogwarts sanctioned event, and it wouldn't be the first time the castle had tried to kill them all.

“Then what are you worried about?” Donna shot back -- she cocked her head, grinning. “You’re just sour that nobody in your house is any use on a pitch, and too lazy to teach anyone. Guess the days are over, when you could just recruit someone to get his daddy to buy everybody a new broom.” She hadn’t been at school during those days, strictly speaking, but her eldest brother’s Hogwarts career had barely overlapped with Draco Malfoys, which -- she figured -- made her something of an expert. More of an expert than Isaac Hackney.

Donna shrugged. “Well, don’t mind if I do,” she said. “You know, I am the co-captain, that gives me the ability to contribute to major team decisions, you see.” If she was right -- and she was sure she was -- at least a part of Hackney’s tantrum was about having been passed up for the role. Maybe even the captainship, though she doubted even he had that high an opinion of himself.

He was making the funniest face; at least she’d got under his skin. Serve him right, she thought, almost guiltily. “Get a grip, Hackney,” she said. “Nobody dies during Quidditch.” She remembered, as she said it, that the truth was less reassuring -- nobody’s died during Quidditch in a long time -- but she’d just have to bank on his not thinking of that. (Doubtless he knew it -- Donna could admit, grudgingly, that he was as devoted to the sport as she was.)

"Guess the days are over, when you could just recruit someone to get his daddy to buy everybody a new broom.” Isaac considered telling Donna all about the pipsqueak protege second year, @Wyatt Hawkins Jr, trying out for the Slytherin team. Any Quidditch fan would know he was the son of too-rich for his own good former all-star Griffins player Wyatt Hawkins Sr. If anyone could afford to buy the team a new lineup of brooms, it would be Jr. However, Isaac decided against it because he was still stuck on the "second years shouldn't get to play" beat. Instead, Isaac shrugged at her comment about being the co-captain, the smugness returning to his face.

"I guess gone are the days when the Gryffindor team was full of lush witches then, too," He countered, smiling at Donna as he looked her up and down dramatically and sighed. "Remember that fit blond girl that was the captain a few years ago?" @Freya Trickett was a total babe. If more girls looked like her on the teams, maybe the teenager wouldn't have quit.

While it was true that no one had died for a long time, it wasn't like the sport was any less violent than it had been for centuries. "True, but hopefully that changes this year," Isaac wasn't evil, he didn't really want them to die, but he could do with a few less snot nose baby pricks crowding the pitch.

Isaac gave her a glance up and down -- Donna was about to take it as an unwilling compliment when he actually spoke; she flushed red immediately, defensively, her arms dropping to her sides, fists clenching, but she calmed herself down with two deep breaths. “Yeah, right,” she said, trying for a light tone and failing miserably -- her voice had trembled just a little with disgust -- “You wouldn’t know lush if it kicked your arse.”

Of course, she couldn’t kick Isaac’s arse. He was about five inches taller than her and she’d worked out a long time ago that men had gotten the jackpot of musculature and strength. The best she could ever do was play dirty -- which she didn’t want to do. Yet. Although, she mused, it’d be good for Isaac to know she wasn’t afraid to. She had older brothers -- not to mention an older sister -- she knew exactly where to hit.

But if she struck first, it wouldn’t be self defense, so she refrained, relaxed her hands and folded her arms again. “Very sportsmanlike of you, that,” she sniffed, “Death threats. I ought to go to your Head of House.” This was playing dirty too, but she didn’t particularly care.

Sneering at Donna's words, Isaac couldn't help but respond to them, "I would not mind if they tried though," Lifting his eyebrows, he taunted her, the idea of a lush witch kicking him in the arse making him chuckle again. The Slytherin would have been better off up and leaving this conversation, it would have made for a rather dramatic exit too if he just turned his back and walked away, but he felt planted in this spot. Donna egged him on, and he pushed right back.

The way that Donna folded her arms like she was calm and collected and on some higher plane irked Isaac. Like most of his housemates, the snake had learned a long time ago that Gryffindors were just like this. They always picked on the Slytherins, bullied them, and tried to keep them down, but Snakes were resilient, and most of all, they were far more patient.

"Oh, come off it West," Isaac believed she would run off and tell on him, but secretly he hoped she'd run to her head of house instead. At least that way, there was a fifty-fifty shot that the professor would forget all about it before docking any points. "'fight your own battles' is one of the many heroic tenets of the Proud Gryffindor House, is it not?" Isaac laughed rudely, he could make fun of the red and gold until Hogwarts crumbled to dust, and he was just getting started.

"Or maybe it was 'act tough and tell a teacher,' sometimes I forget."

What a prick. Donna hated boys. Donna hated Isaac Hackney, especially. She clenched a fist where it was tucked under her arm, half out of sight, and gave him a deeply revolted scowl. “Oh, you want me to fight my own battles?” she said, and dug her wand out promptly, holding it too tightly, though she didn’t point it just yet. “I was trying to be nice -- let you bow out nice and easy -- but if you’d rather --”

She wished her voice was just a little lower -- it was already a little full for a girl’s, gave her a very nice laugh and an acceptable tone for mimicking Professor Binns’s dry croak, but it went sort of shrill when she was angry, and she was sort of angry. It pitched sharply up again -- “That’s the heroic tenet of a Prefect, not a Gryffindor,” she said, “Not that you’d know -- bet they’d give the giant squid a badge before you.”

Donna sort of regretted this, now that she’d gone headfirst into it. She didn’t have anybody here backing her up -- granted, neither did he, as Maverick had taken off ages ago -- and she was starting to doubt he was going to back down. She adjusted her grip on her wand -- she had been holding it so tightly it had probably left marks in her palm -- and said, “I noticed you didn’t get captain, at least -- but I reckon they’d give that to Matty Maverick before you, too.”

For a split second, Isaac thought the older witch was about to hex him. And while he hadn't stepped back or flinched, the way his eyes darted to her wand and back gave him away. Donna was probably far better at that sort of magic that Isaac was, and with the speed that she had produced her wand, there was very little chance he'd have been able to do anything about it anyway. So when some nasty hex didn't come hurling his way, Isaac tried to hide his confusion (and relief).

"No, no, I believe you, your tough shit, not to be trifled with, I get it," Isaac rebuffed, holding his hands out in front of him like a barrier, but even as he asked her not to hex him, he was giving her more and more reasons to do just that. Her wand was still out, but Isaac became more confident that she wouldn't use it as the seconds (and sarcastic comments) ticked on.

"Like I would want one," There were plenty of students in his year that had been gunning for the Prefects badge since day one, but Isaac wasn't one of them. "Not worth the gold it is plated with, if you ask me," No one had asked him, but Isaac had opinions anyway. "Though, I suppose the free pass to harass and threaten students  two years younger than you is a pretty good perk." Isaac nodded toward her wand as he spoke, the cunning smirk on his face implying just how easily he could sell this situation as something that it wasn't. That somehow, Donna was the aggressor, and he was just the younger student minding his own business.

She brought up Maverick again, and Isaac's smile turned sour. "At least he would get Captain, not Co-Captain," Isaac fired back as he continued to search for holes in her armor. "What exactly does the second in command do? Make snacks?"

Unfortunately, it seemed accurate that Hackney hadn’t been going for a Prefect’s badge. “I’m only one year older than you, Hackney,” she said irritably, “And zip it -- you’ve been pushing first years around all year, don’t think none of the rest of us notice that.” She lowered her wand, though; maybe she was pushing it. After all -- Hackney may have come over and confronted her, but she hadn’t been doing something especially scrupulous at the time.

She might have pushed too far already, actually -- he was not backing down. And though Donna wasn’t deciding any strategy, she thought making snacks was a rather unfair assessment of her position as co-captain. “At least making snacks is a little more productive than stalking around the corridors,” she said, rolling her eyes, but -- Merlin’s eyes -- she was getting good and sick of Isaac Hackney and he wasn’t much fun to make fun of on his own. She stowed her wand and folded her arms.

“I’ve got better things to do than this,” she said dismissively, “I’m sure if you try really hard you can think of some too. See you on the pitch -- oh, wait, I guess I probably won’t, will I?”

She didn’t want to give him the last word, so she sniffed and turned away as soon as she’d said it, but took great pains to walk away slowly, like she didn’t care at all what he said or thought though -- as she turned the corridor -- she couldn’t help a glance back anyway.

What a prick -- she sort of wished she would see him on the pitch.



OUT

While he would absolutely, never in a million years, ever admit it, there was a part of Isaac that did regret quitting the Quidditch team. He was glad to be rid of the responsibility and more than relieved not to have to deal with snot-nosed first years on the regular, but he did miss playing. He might have even missed wearing the green and silver, not that he was full of house pride or anything, of course. Donna was right, he had made a mistake by quitting, and now he was wasting time, but he wouldn't be admitting to that either.

"Yeah, sure," The teenager replied, rolling his eyes at her dismissive tone, not believing she had better things to do. Isaac had opened his mouth to say something insulting back, but she cut him short, and he clenched his jaw so tightly that the muscles buckled visibly. And then, to top it all off, Donna turned around and walked away. Isaac shoved his hands into his pockets; he couldn't let her have the last word.

"Yeah, well, I hope you fall off your broomstick!" He called out after her, and though he caught her eye just before she turned the corner, Isaac was pretty sure she had gotten the better of that argument.

Gryffindors were the worst.

[out]