Detained Chapter 11 -- Audition part b
Marcus strode into the little pub, eyes already searching for her. At the first glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, his heart sped up. By the time, he made it to the table he was hard.
He had been willing to take her anywhere she wanted to go, but her owl had said The Disconsolate Grouse. They’d eaten their first dinner together here, and had countless strategy sessions here since then. The first time she’d admitted enjoying having him around, they’d been here. They were here tonight. Good thing Katie wasn’t the sappy, sentimental sort or he’d end up having to eat in this dump all the time.
She smiled at him. “The private rooms were taken, but they said they wouldn’t seat any one else in this section if they could avoid it. I didn’t ask. I think they remember how last time you made that guy cry.”
“You know what I remember from our last time here, Bell?” Marcus asked, grinning. “You sending an anonymous tip to the MLE, saying that you suspected I was an ogre. Just so you could pay for our dinner while I was being interrogated.”
“You drove me to it, Mr. ‘If you take her money, I’ll rip your fingers off’.”
“That interrogation was the stupidest conversation I’ve ever had in my life,” Marcus snickered, shaking his head. “Are you an ogre, sir? Were you an ogre, previously? Done much marrow-sucking of late?”
She laughed. Her face lit up when she laughed. It always looked like her mind was skittering around whatever was funny, trying to view it from all angles and squeeze every last bit of pleasure out of it.
He enjoyed just gazing at her for a bit, as she looked back nervously. As the silence stretched out though, he began to feel uncomfortable. There was something almost disturbing about a silent Katie.
“Well…how did it go?” he asked gruffly.
“I made some mistakes,” she replied, biting her lip. “On the serpentines, I didn’t mix it up as much as we’d planned. I didn’t showcase my left-handed shot until the last flight. I probably should have studied some of those books you gave me more closely, because I hadn’t ever heard of a few of the drills they ran.”
“What kind of drills?” Marcus asked, tensely, leaning forward.
“Flying in tandem stuff mostly, where I was flying with or against multiple other players,” she replied, plucking at her napkin. “Oh! They ran the gauntlet with two Beaters, which was a surprise.”
“Did you fuck those drills up?” Marcus asked coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Was that the problem?”
“No!” Katie protested, quickly. “No…The first pass on some of them was a little rough, but I think I did OK. I adapted. After all,” she continued smiling “neither of their Beaters were half as good as you, so that wasn’t too bad.”
“Good,” he replied, nodding. “It shouldn’t have been too difficult for you to pick those up on the fly. I doubt they were watching those drills that closely, at any rate.”
“I made some mistakes, like I said…but overall it went OK. I was really well prepared, thanks to you.” Still playing with her napkin, she fell silent again.
“Did they make you an offer?” Marcus finally asked.
She nodded. He relaxed. With the way she had been acting, he was starting to wonder.
“They offered me a spot with their fourth-tier affiliate in Cornwall, or if I wanted more flexibility but less pay, with their off-hours league,” she said, quietly.
“They said they’d keep an eye on me, and if I flew well they’d probably move me up to the Reserves.”
What?
“You didn’t make the Reserves?”
“Well, no…but I hadn’t necessarily been expecting to. I got an offer though, a chance to play pro Quidditch,” she said, smiling tentatively. “All thanks to you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, dully. A chance to be a professional washout? Players who started that low in the ranks typically stayed there.
“I wouldn’t have made it that far without you.” She paused, and took a deep breath, her next words coming out in a rush. “I was wondering…I know your season will be starting and you’ll be busy, but maybe you’d want to go fly with me once in a while? Give you a chance to be sardonic at absolutely no cost to you. Or just maybe have dinner together some time, so you can relentlessly criticize me and I can explain precisely how heartless and cruel you are? I’ll do it in rhyming couplets, if you like. It will be great.” She shrugged, looking over at him from under her lashes.
He’d failed, his mind repeated as she burbled on. He’d failed her. He had nothing else to offer. Did she really think he was going to hang around like one of her little mates?
“What are your plans, Bell?” he muttered.
Her face fell at that, and she stared at her lap collecting herself. Yeah, he’d figured she’d known that this wasn’t good. After a moment, the chipper Katie was firmly back in place.
“I’ve been thinking…If I took the semi-pro position, it would only be weekends and evenings. Days would be free. I was thinking that I might attend the mediwizardry academy at St. Mungo’s.” She looked at him expectantly.
What?
“I think you need to apply for that, actually,” Marcus replied, trying to disguise his shock. “I don’t think showing up, saying ‘I’m Katie Bell and I’m remarkably clever’ is going to cut it.”
“I did apply,” she replied, sounding a little surprised. “I heard back from St. Mungo’s and a few other places last week.”
For a minute he couldn’t process it. Katie was supposed to want to be a Quidditch pro. She’d always wanted that, even when she was stomping around with pigtails and a pet newt.
Maybe that was just the side of herself she showed him. Maybe other people got to see the rest.
One good thing at any rate, he reflected. He hadn’t failed. She’d just never wanted any of it in the first place. It felt like ice water was flowing through his veins, but it felt good. He felt clear, for the first time in a long time.
“St. Mungo’s?” he asked, coolly. She nodded. He gave her a knowing smirk.
”Your dad’s on staff there, right?” he asked, coolly.
“He’s not on the admissions committee,” Katie said, quickly. A tad defensive there, Bell?
“Didn’t say he was. That’s nice though. You wanting to be just like your dad,” he sneered.
“It’s not that...” she began, then fell silent.
“Hedging your bets, then?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, softly.
“Well, you spend a little time this summer, on someone else’s sickle, I might add, dabbling in Quidditch,” he drawled. “It doesn’t work out, no problem. You’ve got this whole other little life in your back pocket. Who helped you with that one?”
“That’s not fair,” Katie said, quietly. She leaned forward, forcing him to meet her gaze.
“Accurate, though.” He shrugged.
“No, it’s not,” she said, firmly. “I wanted…want to be a Quidditch player. I talked to the dean at St. Mungo’s and they’ll let me defer the rest of my education, if my Quidditch career takes off. But…I don’t always get what I want, though.”
He didn’t answer her. He didn’t have anything much to say.
Katie sat there, lip trembling. Marcus sat there, trying to convince himself that this whole nightmare was real.
This hadn’t been how any of this was going to go. At the very least, she was supposed to make the second Reserves. She must have really blown the try-outs. There was no way all those other witches were better on a broomstick. He’d seen her fly. He’d taught her after all. This evening was supposed to start with a starry-eyed and grateful Katie, and end with her writhing and pleading. Fuck.
“I’m…” she paused. “I’m not like you, Marcus.”
“Then who in Hades are you like, Bell? Figured that out, yet?” he asked, flatly. His anger was still there, along with the frustration and the clarity, but mainly he ached.
She was silent for a long moment, staring down at her hands. When she did speak, her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time.” She stood up abruptly, avoiding his gaze. Her voice dropped even lower, quivering a bit. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”
Katie.
She tried to quickly walk away, but his Chaser reflexes came to his aid as he grabbed her wrist.
“That’s never been the problem, here, Katie.” His voice was rough, and tired. Gods, he sounded old. “We’ll try again. I’ll pay more attention this time. You’ll work harder.” She didn’t respond. “Do you hear me, Katie?”
She nodded once, jerkily, and pulled her wrist away. This time he let her go.
He had been willing to take her anywhere she wanted to go, but her owl had said The Disconsolate Grouse. They’d eaten their first dinner together here, and had countless strategy sessions here since then. The first time she’d admitted enjoying having him around, they’d been here. They were here tonight. Good thing Katie wasn’t the sappy, sentimental sort or he’d end up having to eat in this dump all the time.
She smiled at him. “The private rooms were taken, but they said they wouldn’t seat any one else in this section if they could avoid it. I didn’t ask. I think they remember how last time you made that guy cry.”
“You know what I remember from our last time here, Bell?” Marcus asked, grinning. “You sending an anonymous tip to the MLE, saying that you suspected I was an ogre. Just so you could pay for our dinner while I was being interrogated.”
“You drove me to it, Mr. ‘If you take her money, I’ll rip your fingers off’.”
“That interrogation was the stupidest conversation I’ve ever had in my life,” Marcus snickered, shaking his head. “Are you an ogre, sir? Were you an ogre, previously? Done much marrow-sucking of late?”
She laughed. Her face lit up when she laughed. It always looked like her mind was skittering around whatever was funny, trying to view it from all angles and squeeze every last bit of pleasure out of it.
He enjoyed just gazing at her for a bit, as she looked back nervously. As the silence stretched out though, he began to feel uncomfortable. There was something almost disturbing about a silent Katie.
“Well…how did it go?” he asked gruffly.
“I made some mistakes,” she replied, biting her lip. “On the serpentines, I didn’t mix it up as much as we’d planned. I didn’t showcase my left-handed shot until the last flight. I probably should have studied some of those books you gave me more closely, because I hadn’t ever heard of a few of the drills they ran.”
“What kind of drills?” Marcus asked, tensely, leaning forward.
“Flying in tandem stuff mostly, where I was flying with or against multiple other players,” she replied, plucking at her napkin. “Oh! They ran the gauntlet with two Beaters, which was a surprise.”
“Did you fuck those drills up?” Marcus asked coolly, leaning back in his chair. “Was that the problem?”
“No!” Katie protested, quickly. “No…The first pass on some of them was a little rough, but I think I did OK. I adapted. After all,” she continued smiling “neither of their Beaters were half as good as you, so that wasn’t too bad.”
“Good,” he replied, nodding. “It shouldn’t have been too difficult for you to pick those up on the fly. I doubt they were watching those drills that closely, at any rate.”
“I made some mistakes, like I said…but overall it went OK. I was really well prepared, thanks to you.” Still playing with her napkin, she fell silent again.
“Did they make you an offer?” Marcus finally asked.
She nodded. He relaxed. With the way she had been acting, he was starting to wonder.
“They offered me a spot with their fourth-tier affiliate in Cornwall, or if I wanted more flexibility but less pay, with their off-hours league,” she said, quietly.
“They said they’d keep an eye on me, and if I flew well they’d probably move me up to the Reserves.”
What?
“You didn’t make the Reserves?”
“Well, no…but I hadn’t necessarily been expecting to. I got an offer though, a chance to play pro Quidditch,” she said, smiling tentatively. “All thanks to you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” he asked, dully. A chance to be a professional washout? Players who started that low in the ranks typically stayed there.
“I wouldn’t have made it that far without you.” She paused, and took a deep breath, her next words coming out in a rush. “I was wondering…I know your season will be starting and you’ll be busy, but maybe you’d want to go fly with me once in a while? Give you a chance to be sardonic at absolutely no cost to you. Or just maybe have dinner together some time, so you can relentlessly criticize me and I can explain precisely how heartless and cruel you are? I’ll do it in rhyming couplets, if you like. It will be great.” She shrugged, looking over at him from under her lashes.
He’d failed, his mind repeated as she burbled on. He’d failed her. He had nothing else to offer. Did she really think he was going to hang around like one of her little mates?
“What are your plans, Bell?” he muttered.
Her face fell at that, and she stared at her lap collecting herself. Yeah, he’d figured she’d known that this wasn’t good. After a moment, the chipper Katie was firmly back in place.
“I’ve been thinking…If I took the semi-pro position, it would only be weekends and evenings. Days would be free. I was thinking that I might attend the mediwizardry academy at St. Mungo’s.” She looked at him expectantly.
What?
“I think you need to apply for that, actually,” Marcus replied, trying to disguise his shock. “I don’t think showing up, saying ‘I’m Katie Bell and I’m remarkably clever’ is going to cut it.”
“I did apply,” she replied, sounding a little surprised. “I heard back from St. Mungo’s and a few other places last week.”
For a minute he couldn’t process it. Katie was supposed to want to be a Quidditch pro. She’d always wanted that, even when she was stomping around with pigtails and a pet newt.
Maybe that was just the side of herself she showed him. Maybe other people got to see the rest.
One good thing at any rate, he reflected. He hadn’t failed. She’d just never wanted any of it in the first place. It felt like ice water was flowing through his veins, but it felt good. He felt clear, for the first time in a long time.
“St. Mungo’s?” he asked, coolly. She nodded. He gave her a knowing smirk.
”Your dad’s on staff there, right?” he asked, coolly.
“He’s not on the admissions committee,” Katie said, quickly. A tad defensive there, Bell?
“Didn’t say he was. That’s nice though. You wanting to be just like your dad,” he sneered.
“It’s not that...” she began, then fell silent.
“Hedging your bets, then?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, softly.
“Well, you spend a little time this summer, on someone else’s sickle, I might add, dabbling in Quidditch,” he drawled. “It doesn’t work out, no problem. You’ve got this whole other little life in your back pocket. Who helped you with that one?”
“That’s not fair,” Katie said, quietly. She leaned forward, forcing him to meet her gaze.
“Accurate, though.” He shrugged.
“No, it’s not,” she said, firmly. “I wanted…want to be a Quidditch player. I talked to the dean at St. Mungo’s and they’ll let me defer the rest of my education, if my Quidditch career takes off. But…I don’t always get what I want, though.”
He didn’t answer her. He didn’t have anything much to say.
Katie sat there, lip trembling. Marcus sat there, trying to convince himself that this whole nightmare was real.
This hadn’t been how any of this was going to go. At the very least, she was supposed to make the second Reserves. She must have really blown the try-outs. There was no way all those other witches were better on a broomstick. He’d seen her fly. He’d taught her after all. This evening was supposed to start with a starry-eyed and grateful Katie, and end with her writhing and pleading. Fuck.
“I’m…” she paused. “I’m not like you, Marcus.”
“Then who in Hades are you like, Bell? Figured that out, yet?” he asked, flatly. His anger was still there, along with the frustration and the clarity, but mainly he ached.
She was silent for a long moment, staring down at her hands. When she did speak, her voice was so low he had to strain to hear her.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time.” She stood up abruptly, avoiding his gaze. Her voice dropped even lower, quivering a bit. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”
Katie.
She tried to quickly walk away, but his Chaser reflexes came to his aid as he grabbed her wrist.
“That’s never been the problem, here, Katie.” His voice was rough, and tired. Gods, he sounded old. “We’ll try again. I’ll pay more attention this time. You’ll work harder.” She didn’t respond. “Do you hear me, Katie?”
She nodded once, jerkily, and pulled her wrist away. This time he let her go.