[gravesend] cornerstone. [tara]

"Right, so,  why is that not a foul?" Will asked in a stage whisper as he leaned closer into his friend Matthew who was watching the match with rapt attention. Surely a player grabbing hold of the handle of another player's broom and dragging them backwards just wasn't cricket? There was a loud shush! from further down the line of seats, causing him to frown, before the entire row erupted into cheers as the oddly shaped ball sailed through one of the hoop...things.

In pack mentality, Will stood up and applauded as the players zoomed by the box. Three pints down, he placed his thumb and forefinger under his tongue and let out a loud and shrill whistle - he didn't know what was going on but he rather liked it. It was fast-paced, the Quaffle changing hands a hundred times a minute. Sleek and quick, it was impossible not to be mesmerised, so much so that he'd completely forgotten Harlan Bellamy was playing until a chant using his name echoed around the stadium.

A whistle blew and the occupants of the box got up, laughing and joking as they gathered their belongings, his friends draining their glasses, leaving Will perplexed. His dark eyes squinted down at the pitch, the red and black of the uniform clashing against the green of the pitch as his eyes travelled up to the swarm of matching supporters in the stands, writhing and wriggling, seemingly its own organism, before he turned his back and trailed in after the crowd.

Matthew had won some sort of competition for the Griffins - a VIP experience with food and drinks that he'd entered as a joke in the Prophet before Christmas. Along with Tom, James and Andy, the five of them had arrived and had a pretty good afternoon. It was a Boys Day, wives and girlfriends were getting together themselves, but his mates were tactful enough not to mention it in front of Will.

There were a few other people milling about the room as they all trickled in, none of whom Will recognised. By nature, he was a rugby man. He'd tried following football but there was a lot to learn (the offside rule made no sense and he was unfamiliar with the term "nutmeg") so he figured he might as well try and be a fully fledged wizarding sports fan.

As if on cue, his stomach gave a rumble as he wandered over to the grand buffet, plate in hand as he examined what was on offer. "The food's a bit naff," he joked as a pretty brunette was beside him, her face hidden by her shiny hair as he picked up the tongs and added a slice of quiche to his plate. "Not even a pork pie," he teased as he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth and chewed.


@Tara Kingsley

It was game day and as usual, she was in the VIP box that her family owned, though there were a few more people in her than usual. Her sister had whispered something in her ear about a fan contest, the perk being crowding up the VIP box but for the most part, Tara sat in the front row of seats with her roommate and focused on the game, yelling at the referees at an obvious missed call, cheering loudly as her team made a great play. Exhilarating, fun, just like it always was. But she was also starving. "I'm going to go see if they have any of those bacon-wrapped thingies I liked last time," she said with a wink to Kara, her eye staying on the pitch for a moment longer, thinking it say to grab some food since the away team had called for a time out and both teams were regrouping.

She weaved through the people in the box, saying hello to the few people she knew and liked, and avoiding the rest. She was a Kingsley, sure, but she was not into the schmoozing that people automatically to do with her simply because of her name. Blair and her mother were much better at that. Hell, even Niles was better than her at it. She didn't have the patience for it.

Coming up to the buffet, wearing her favorite red leather jacket, a Griffins tshirt, and light-wash jeans, she flicked her dark, glossy hair over her shoulder and glanced about the buffet, glancing up and over as the guy beside her commented on the food. She smirked. "Yeah, you'd think the owners would put a little more budget towards the food considering they won the cup last year, I mean really," she agreed, keeping her tone light. She brushed her hair behind her ear and grabbed a plate, reaching over him a bit to get one without apology. "How's that?" she asked, eying his plate, but already knowing the quiche was terrible.

She avoided that and grabbed a few of the mini sliders as she smiled at him. Handsome. And those eyes. She gave him a smile as she asked, "Enjoying the game so far?"

Will laughed, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling. "I didn't want to say but," trailing off, he pulled a face as though he agreed. He didn't recognise her but then again, why would he? This was the third actual Quidditch match he'd been to, outside of Hogwarts. He didn't really know what he was expecting, maybe lobster? But it wasn't like it was a full sit down meal.

She was close as she leaned across him for a plate and he cleared his throat, catching a whiff of her shampoo. "Hm?" He asked, momentarily distracted as he chewed his food. At the same moment, she asked what it was like and he forced himself to swallow. "Like egg flavoured jelly," he joked. It wasn't bad, it was just that he knew he made a better one himself. Plus, they seemed to be bonding over the mutual dislike of the food on offer.

"I shouldn't be rude," Will tacked on as he eyes the mini pizzas, his fingers picking one up. "I'm a guest, after all." He took a bite - much better.

Was he enjoying the game? He gave a lopsided grin. It was a bit weird to watch his ex's new boyfriend zoom around the pitch in front of thousands of adoring fans, all of which were screaming his name in unison. It was both disappointing and humbling to see how much Nice was clearly lowering her standards for Will. "It's good," he said quickly. "They're doing really well," he replied, as if he had any idea what was going on. He just about wrapped his head around the fact that balls in hoops equalled points. A loud cheer erupted from the box, meaning someone somewhere had scored but by the looks on his friends' faces, that meant the Griffins.

There was a fleeting fear that the team might come up here after their game for some refreshments before he remembered that Harlan Bellamy didn't know who he was and thus, was in no danger of getting boxed around the ears. "Are you here by yourself?" The writer asked, shifting gears, mildly surprised if that was the case. "I hope I'm not pulling you away from the game," he said with a smile as he used a fork to scoop up a slice of ham.

Tara grinned as he laughed, smiling wider at the rich sound. He didn't seem like the type to frequent Quidditch games, or at the very least didn't seem like the typical quid fan in the stands, and she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. But she did get the distinct feeling he would be fun, or at least fun to play with. She tried not to give it all away by hiding her smirk.

She scrunched her nose an shook her head, huffing a laugh as she steered her plate away from the jelly quiche. "Yeh, wouldn't recommend it," she agreed. "Those aren't too bad though," Tara added with a nod toward the mini pizzas. "It's fine," she breezed as she picked up one herself. "The owners aren't here to hear you," she told him with a sweet smile, laughing internally at her own joke. She wondered if he would cough on his pizza if he knew her family owned the team. That's what made it fun though.

Maybe even more fun than she initially thought. She blinked up at him a couple of times before she grinned, understanding in a moment that her guess had been spot on. They were losing 40 to 90 when she had stepped away so either he had been macking on his girlfriend (who was nowhere to be seen at the moment) and hadn't been paying attention to the game or he had no clue about the game and probably couldn't even tell a quaffle from a bludger. Tara was interested to see which it was. "Yes, very well," she said facetiously. "And what do you think of the offensive line today?" she asked, wondering if he'd try to spout some stats off at her to impress her like a lot of blokes did. Or maybe try to mansplain the game when she knew more than them.

She took a bite of the mini pizza and her brows pulled together. She really did need to speak to her father about the food situation, blimey. Tara gazed across the buffet and shuffled down a few steps before glancing back at him. "Oh no," she reassured him. "My roommate Kara is just there, but she's more concerned with which player is the hottest," she rolled her eyes, showing her disdain. Tara had a rule of no dating quidditch players and for good riddance. The past two times she had inadvertently broken her own rule, she had wanted to punch herself in the face.

Will gave a short sigh of relief as his shoulders relaxed. "Thank goodness," he joked. "I imagine I'll get a lifetime ban." If he were being honest, it wasn't a deal breaker - Quidditch just wasn't this thing. Absently, he looked around. "I don't even know who the owners are," he announced, as though there was a particular type of person that would fit the bill. The short balding guy in the three piece suit? Try hard. The lady looking confused as she followed the ball? Definitely not.

The offensive line, she'd said, and Will paused with the pizza mid-way to his mouth.

He hesitated, for maybe a second too long before he smiled. "It's good," Will answered vaguely as he snuck a peek over his shoulder as though inspiration would strike before snapping his eyes back on to her. "They're playing a bit safe, though," he added with a shrug as he decided to wing it. "They're strong," he went on blindly, pretty certain they were if they were the ones at the front.

"They could push forward a little bit," he concluded. "A united front," he nodded, impressed with himself but also realising this could be the completely wrong thing to say. "I'm sure they can wear down the opposition." He'd actually forgotten what the opposing team was called.

She mentioned a room mate and he turned his head again, forgetting that he didn't know who this Kara actually was but he gave a laugh that echoed all the same. "Let me guess," Will went on mildly. "Tall, broad, blonde?" He asked, describing Harlan as he fought every urge in his body to roll his eyes. Or throw up. "Good luck to her," he announced with an easy smile. "I can't imagine it'd be easy to date one. What, with all the training and the away games." And the fact that Will assumed they were about as exciting as a cardboard box off the pitch. There was only so far a diet of chicken and rice could get a person.

Swiftly, he shifted his plate to his right hand as he remembered his manners, trying not to dislodge the food he seemed to be hoarding. "I'm Will," he said as he extended his hand for her to shake.

She gave him a grin and even scrunched her nose a bit as she smiled widely at him. "Don't worry, I know some people. If they throw you in the chokey, I'll pull some strings for you," she offered happily. This was the first time in a while that she had played this kind of joke and he seemed nice enough, but it was honestly so entertaining at the same time. Besides he seemed nice enough that he would be able to take a joke. And if not? It's not like she would ever see him again. "Hmmm," she pretended to muse and followed his gaze around the suite as if she too were trying to pick out the owners. She even tapped her chin for effect.

If she didn't know before, his reaction to her pointed question gave her everything she needed. This bloke didn't know diddly about quidditch and yet she smiled at him and let him chatter with buzz words about the offensive line, maybe word vomiting what he's heard others say, but Tara was pretty good at reading through bullshit. She didn't stop him until the very end when she couldn't quite hold back her laughter anymore, her eyes shining up at him as she pushed him lightly on the shoulder. "Come off it already," she told him through her laughs, her dark glossy hair falling around her shoulders, wondering if he'd take offense to calling him out. She hoped not, but honestly it had been such a good opportunity that she hadn't been able to resist.

But Tara found herself rolling her eyes in agreement as he described the Griffins captain to a tee. "I warned her off of him, but I don't think she's listening," she said with a one-shouldered shrug and took another inquiring look at him. "Do you know Bellamy?" she had to ask. There was something in his tone that made her think that he did. Then again, maybe he was just trying to seem like he knew anything at all about the game and its players like he had a few moments ago.

"Ohh, watch it," she said with a smile as she re-balanced the very full plate in his hand before she clasped her hand around his large one to shake firmly. "Tara, pleasure," she replied with a wide smile. "Want to come sit with me up front? I'll teach you a few things," she added with a wink before she nabbed her plate and walked back toward her seats in the very front of the suite with the best view, leaving the chair open beside her.

Will's eyes widened a fraction as she mentioned prison before he realised she was joking and he allowed himself to laugh. "I'll remember that," he added with an easy smile. He watched her out of the corners of his eye, as surreptitiously as he possibly could. She was funny. Pretty, witty, smart and infinitely out of his league. "So," he added quickly. "Should I need to call in that favour," he paused. "I should probably get your contact details?" Will pressed on with what he hoped was a charming smile. Asking people out was rough.

Any chances of that happening had probably gone up in smoke as she called him out. Will offered a sheepish grin, lifting the hand that wasn't holding his food up, palms out, in the universal symbol of surrender. "Busted," he chuckled through the painful waves of embarrassment that made the tips of his ears turn pink.

Gosh, she really was quite pretty and he instantly regretted bringing up Harlan - typical Will, raining on his own parade. "They never do," he answered vaguely and with a wan smile. To prevent him airing his dirty laundry, he took a quick bite of the mini burger to give him more time to think. "No," he replied quickly with a shake of his head. "He's more like a friend of a friend. Of a friend," he waved his free hand casually as he tried to distance himself from the star player.

He moved his hand to help the brunette steady the food (served him right for hoarding it like a hamster) and offered her a grin as she took his hand. "Cat-like reflexes," he remarked before he shook her hand. Tara. "It's all mine, honestly," Will smiled again.

He blinked quickly. Up front? "Yes," he blurted out quickly with an eager nod. "Please," he laughed. Tara could teach him whatever she wanted to and he followed her quickly, the noise of the crowd a shock to the system after the quiet of the other rooms. He smiled politely at the other people present as he shuffled by, still protecting his plate of food like it was...whatever trophy the teams were competing for before he frowned; these were incredibly good seats.

A few people were looking at them as he hesitated. He cleared his throat. "How did you manage to get these seats?" Will asked her in a whisper, suddenly aware of the people around them before he sat down. Front and centre. Like those boxes at Muggle football matches. The ones that the owners and managers sat in --

He turned to face her, his dark eyes wide as the penny dropped and his heart felt like it was going to fall out of his arse. "You're one of the owners," Will announced, aghast.

Tara grinned at him and gave a momentary pause, mostly just to mess with him, before she gave him a quick nod and a wink. "Sure, you can owl me anytime," she told him, liking his forwardness but mostly just thinking he was insanely handsome. Too bad Kara was too busy fawning over the players because she might have stumbled upon the best looking bloke in the box. And he was funny too.

She laughed, her nose scrunching a bit as she did, as he held up his hands in surrender and were his ears turning red? Adorable. Tara shook her head at him. "If you're going to try to mansplain your way through a sport to impress a girl, you should at least make sure she doesn't know more than you do first," she teased as they made their way to the front of the box. Sure, Bellamy was their captain but she wasn't really interested to know how he knew him.. or a friend of a friend of a friend. She picked up a hint of drama and she didn't care to know. As usual, she was more focused on the game. Lucky for him, he was learning from one of the best and lucky for her, he seemed willing to learn. She waved off his question airily as they shuffled past others to their seats. "A friend of a friend of a friend," she answered blithely with a smirk.

Smiling at her roommate as she sat down who gave her an interested look that Tara knew meant He's-cute!-I'll-need-all-the-details-later, she turned to Will and nodded toward the pitch. "Please for the love of Quidditch tell me you know at least the basic positions on a team?" she asked to start, wondering how elementary his knowledge was of the game before she saw his face drop and she frowned at him with confusion until she heard his announcement. "One of the owners? No, I'm not even thirty yet. How could someone like me own a quidditch team, honestly," she said with a roll of her eyes, a hint of annoyance in her voice, even as she didn't tell him the whole truth exactly.

No, she wasn't an owner, her family was and sure that was all semantics but she really liked the little game they were playing right now and didn't want him to ruin it. Besides, what did it matter if he knew about her family or not. She liked the idea of someone not knowing for once.

Tara didn't answer right away and Will's palms began to sweat. He tried not to panic, even as the burn of shame began to rise. At least no one had heard and he was always magnanimous in defeat but he let out a sigh of relief as he offered her a grin. "Yikes," he laughed, placing his free hand over his heart. "I nearly passed out then," he joked. It wasn't a yes but he didn't think it was a flat out no. Then again, hope springs eternal.

The brunette was straight to the point and Will didn't have anywhere to hide. Instead, he offered her a sheepish grin as he shrugged. "Can't blame a bloke for trying," he smiled. Tara didn't seem like she was upset but she must think he was a right pillock. And he really didn't want to talk about Harlan. Not now, anyway. She'd repeated his phrase back to him and he scratched his nose. Will couldn't believe he was actually bringing up the chaser in conversation of his own accord now.

"Of course," Will assured her with a nod. "Catchers," he explained as he pointed to the chasers. "Whackers," he went on, gesturing to the beaters. "Goalie," he nodded his head towards the keeper before finally at the seeker. "And the Spotter...thingy," he shrugged. Will paused before he laughed. "I'm kidding," he smiled. "I know what they're called and what they do." Did he know the players' names or what they looked like? Absolutely not. He wouldn't know one if they'd punched him. In fact, he thought Tara was going to punch him.

Will's face fell. "I'm so sorry," he gushed, wanting to reach out and touch her arm but he was still juggling a bloody plate of party food. He hesitated, shifting in his seat as he tried to figure out where to put it. "Honestly," he implored her. "I really didn't mean -- hi," he smiled at the person sitting next to him. "Could you just hold this for one second? Thank you." Not waiting for a reply, he handed the person his plate as he gave them a thumbs up and turned back to look at Tara.

"What I meant to ask was if you knew the owners," he said in a rush. "In which case, please don't throw me out," he pleaded with what he hoped was a charming smile. "I've just met you," he insisted. "I can't leave yet. Who else is supposed to explain to me how many points you get when a red thingy goes through the circle whatchamacallit?" His dark eyes implored her as he waited for a reaction.

Tara grinned at his joke and his dramatics. He was funny in an honest and open but a little dorky way. She liked it. Much different from the typical guys that were in the owner's suite and amusing if nothing else. But even as he started to explain, very badly of course, the different positions, Tara's smile fell. "You've got to be shitting me," Tara said, almost looking at him agape.

He almost got her though. She snorted and whacked him lightly against his arm, shaking her head as laughter rolled through her. "Points for creativity, but hell I was about to kick you out of the box," she told him before she huffed another laugh at him calling beaters 'whackers'. She retrieved her wand from where she had stowed it in her boot and waved her charm over the side of the chair, setting her plate down on the little tray table that had floated up from the side where it was stowed, before she glanced at him with a confused expression as he handed his plate to someone else. "What are you--" she stopped as she started in a rush, going on about the owners again. It was hard to stay frosty at him with his smile and his candor so instead she gave him an eye roll and charmed his tray table up from his chair, patting it once before she turned back to her own little plate of food.

"It's fine, no worries, but for Merlin's sake, have you lived under a rock your whole life? It's a quaffle and those are the goal hoops," Tara said in exasperation. "It's a good thing you're so handsome," she added before she took a bite of her slider and gave him a smile.

Will held off from confessing for a couple of seconds before he cracked a grin as Tara laughed. At her shove, he chuckled, thanking his lucky stars that she'd decided not to punch him. "Thank you," he smiled with a nod of acknowledgement, his smile turning lopsided. "Oh, I believe it," he agreed with wide eyes. He was sitting away from his friends by now but he could feel a dozen eyes on the back of his head and he daren't turn around, lest they torpedo the entire thing for him.

But Will's panic was rising. He didn't want to leave and he really didn't want to offend her. Up until this point, he was having a pretty nice afternoon. Opening his mouth to apologise once again, he quickly closed it as Tara magicked him up a table. He blinked. Swiftly, he turned in his seat to take the plate from the spectator he'd basically thrown it at some moments earlier before placing it on the table with a breath of relief.

"Pretty much," Will admitted with a sheepish smile, dark eyes flicking over her face without meaning to. He just preferred other sports (he loved tennis and competitive badminton was actually thrilling). It wasn't that he lacked passion, he just didn't get it.

Tara complimented him and he flushed, the tip of his nose turning pink as he laughed. "Thanks," he replied quickly. "But it's good to know that you only want me for my body," Will teased with a slow smile, turning away from Tara slightly, his eyes on the pitch. "So," he went on. "Teach me," he coaxed her, gesturing to the players whizzing about. "I promise I'm a quick learner." He supposed he could learn to like quidditch if it meant the possibility of seeing her again.

Only what him for his body? Well, hell, he wasn't wrong. "So far," Tara said with a smirk, her eyes on his lips as he smiled slowly and turned away. She did the same, her eyes straying to the pitch. "We can both agree that it's not for your quidditch know-how," she added, her tone light and teasing and honestly, she wasn't sure what it was because normally ineptitude when it came to Quidditch annoyed the shit out of her. For some reason, she was giving this bloke a chance and she found she didn't actually hate it so far.

Tara sighed heavily as if his request was equivalent to arranging the second coming, but it was all in jest because in the next second, she was explaining everything to him, just like she had for her roommate the first time she had come to a game. Merlin knew her roommate hadn't been as attentive as Will was to the game and the rules. Kara had only wanted to know who was hot and single.

But she explained everything, commenting on current plays they were making and the general strategy of why, a few tidbits on the history of the team, mistakes players were making as they happened, and stats of the players on the pitch and what they meant (this good, this bad, caveman terms he might understand), but as she talked in between bites of her sliders, she stopped and glanced at him, brows perked. "Keeping up?"

Will laughed, deep and genuine, at her admission. "I'm fine with it," he said gamely with a shrug, pausing to offer her an easy smile before he nodded along seriously. "Completely accurate," he agreed with Tara sagely. In all fairness, what kind of loser went to a game without a basic knowledge of what was happening? Oh right. This loser.

But at least she wasn't booting him out and Will would take all that he could get. He settled in his seat as he watched Tara point everything out, systematically chomping on a slider (delicious) before he moved onto his salad (wilted). Occasionally, he nodded in understanding as she explained, rather well, in layman's terms. Everything made sense, but he still thought cricket was more exhilarating. At least in Edgbaston, he could start drinking at 10AM. She seemed really clued in. And passionate. He liked that.

As Tara was engrossed in explaining and pointing things out, Will let his gaze stray to her face. He ignored the crowd noise as one of the teams had scored, the fans whooping and hollering in celebration as a polite round of applause rippled throughout the VIP box.

Soon enough, her gaze was back on him and Will grinned. "Sorry," he laughed, head tilted. "I was too distracted," he smiled before he looked away, neatly finishing his sandwich as he reclined in his seat, his long legs crossed at the ankles, the picture of ease. Will liked the way Tara's mouth looked as she said the word goal and he couldn't concentrate on anything else.

Will was charming in a dopey kind of way and explaining the basics of the game to him wasn't quite as exasperating as she thought it might be. Perhaps it was because of the way he was looking at her. She liked it. Or well thought she did until he admitted to being distracted. She rolled her eyes at him as she laughed, shaking her head. "Hopeless, you're hopeless," she declared even as she noticed his dimples as he smiled, looking the very picture of ease. Or perhaps ignorance, given he was here in the owner's box without a clue as to how the game was played or who her family was. Kind of funny when she thought about it.

And so when a final cheer went up and the box exploded with applause and hollers of delight, Tara realized she missed the winning grab of the snitch because she had been looking at Will. She rolled her eyes at her own behavior as she took up, pushing her half-eaten plate of food at him, as she looked for the seeker in Griffins red and black. "I missed it," she grumbled a complaint, glancing over and seeing her roommate trying to push up her boobs out of her shirt in case the players took a victory lap past the box. Merlin.
 
She slid her hands into her back pockets as she turned towards him. Normally she would go to the lounge downstairs where they served light appetizers and drinks for friends and family of the team, front office employees, and coaching staff, where she was mostly there to raz on her friends like Roxy or bother her brother Niles, but today she had a different idea considering she had a different audience. "This is your first game here right? Want to see something?" she asked with a tilt of her head towards the door out of the box.

It hadn't really occurred to her who he had come to the game with or that she, who didn't like surprises, was purposefully not divulging what she was up to, but he was amusing or maybe just distracting and in a good sort of way that she wasn't ready to stop playing just yet.

Oh, this was good. Tara hadn't punched him or thrown her drink at him. Yet, anyway. Will was so far out of his comfort zone, that he was practically in orbit around it. He didn't usually do this, which might be the reason he needed to. She'd called him hopeless and he laughed. "Handsome," he chided. "You forgot handsome."

The noise of the crowds made him jump, his eyes wide and heart pounding. "What?" Will asked dumbly as the fans erupted, everyone off their seats in the box and the stadium. He squinted - were those fireworks? - goodness.

Tara's plate came flying towards him and he just managed to grab hers and his own before she stood, leaving him seated and struggling to stand. Clumsily, Will got to his feet, plates on the floor as he applauded along politely. She'd missed it. The pivotal moment of the game. All because she was talking to him. Guilt washed over him and he bit his lower lip, dark eyes flicking over to her face as he weighed up his options; apologise or leave.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised over the din and he was fraught with genuine distress. Did Quidditch have action replays? It would be reported in the paper, he knew that for sure, but it was like gigs; one simply needed to experience it in person.

He heaved a weary sign, convinced Tara was angry enough to cut their conversation short but he looked at her sharply. "Yes," Will said slowly, wondering if he'd get hazed and this was a Griffins' initiation. "Yes," he said again, much more quickly as he grabbed his jacket, effectively abandoning his friends and his food. At this moment in time, Tara could ask him to follow her into a volcano and he would.

With a hand on the small of her back, he walked with her away from the crowd. He turned his head to the supporters celebrating and he hesitated. "You're sure you don't want to celebrate with everyone else?" He asked her, his voice loud and close to her ear. He'd already cost her the Snitch and he couldn't afford to make things worse.