85. Chapter 85

It starts on the Quidditch pitch, but it doesn’t end there.

It starts on the Quidditch pitch, when Alex sends a bludger straight at Maggie’s elbow because she’ll be damned if she lets Slytherin fall prey to this arrogant new Gryffindor Chaser, who seems to be able to get every shot past their damn Keeper.

She sends a bludger straight at her elbow, but the damn girl rolls completely over on her broom and shoots upside down and still makes the shot.

The Gryffindors roar and Alex swears and Madame Vasquez shouts a warning at her and she swears again, but softer this time, but that’s not even the most infuriating part.

No, the most infuriating part is the grin on the Gryffindor fifth year’s face, the way she hangs there in the air like a flipping sloth, just toes and fingers keeping her on her broom, gorgeous, perfect – no, no, irritating, stupid – hair spilling down toward the ground, the Gryffindors (and, hell, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, too) cheering on her antics.

The most infuriating part is that shit-eating grin, the way her eyes find Alex’s across the pitch, the way her grin broadens and her dimples shine when their eyes lock; the way she gives Alex a hearty wink, nearly sending the Beater spiraling off her broom in a confusion of heat and rage and heat, god, that heat.

So it starts on the Quidditch pitch, but it doesn’t end there.

It continues in the corridors, in the Great Hall, in DADA. Because suddenly she’s aware of this Maggie Sawyer girl everywhere; suddenly it’s like she’s in her blood, like she’s under her skin, and she’s trying not to think about touching her skin…

And it must be the universe putting them together, or at least that’s the way it seems to Alex, because Professor J’onzz pairs them up the next week in DADA, setting them to demonstrate whether they’ve been practicing stunning spells since last session in front of the entire class.

“You got this, Sawyer,” that irritatingly muscular Olsen boy whispers to Maggie as she steps forward, lopsided grin on, chin up, and Alex realizes with a jolt how tiny the girl is on the ground.

That shock of heat, that shock of energy, surges down deep below Alex’s stomach again when Maggie holds her eyes as they bow to each other, as she mutters “good luck, Danvers,” before they pace back, before they spin back around, before they raise their arms and set their wands and take a breath.

Alex has never lost a duel.

But Maggie’s voice is burning through her veins, her eyes penetrating her every shield, and she hesitates for a moment too long.

It’s Maggie Sawyer’s hands that are on hers when she wakes, when she hears a trembling voice muttering “Ennervate”, when she slips back into consciousness, a serious crick in her back and a mortal wound in her pride.

“Back off, Sawyer,” she growls and Maggie jumps up out of her concerned crouch like she’s been burned.

But she recovers her vague smile as time for class runs out, as Professor J’onzz gives them their assignment for next session, as everyone starts filing out and Maggie just holds Alex’s eyes steadily with hers.

“See you around, Danvers,” she says, and god, Alex hopes so.