Who: Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Clint Warrington When: August 16, 2001 Where: Three Broomsticks, Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch What:Pep talk with Warrington Rating: R-ish? Status: in progress
Adrian was settled in rather comfortably at the Three Broomsticks. He didn't know how he let Flint talk him into playing for a fledgling team, the bastard. He hadn't been back here in ages and nothing had changed. Finding a flat in this shit-hole of a town was going to take more work than he cared to admit. He'd get Davis to look for him. He really couldn't be bothered. Fucking Warrington couldn't keep his cock in his pants and now he was stuck flying with some bat-shit crazy Gryffindor who didn't look like she gave a shit about anything.
He all but growled at the thought. Idiot. Spinnet was a disaster and in need of a good slap. Bird needed to wake the fuck up if she was going to be the best and she easily could be. Adrian was all for drinking and whatnot but Spinnet took it to levels that reminded him too much of his parents. Fuck. Why the bloody fuck wasn't Flint playing? He and Warrington could've made a trifecta of fantastic chasers. Not to mention fucking Oliver Wood going into retirement. What the fuck was going on with the Quidditch world? He had no doubts Wood could've been pulled over to Hogsmeade, especially since he was shagging Bell or some crap. According to this newsletter anyways, he rolled his eyes, wondering how he'd managed to make the front.
"Idiots," he muttered. Wood would've been a fantastic Keeper to have on board but his dick was evidently caught somewhere else as well. Fucking women. They fucking ruined everything. He glanced at his watch. Flint was late.
He wasn't looking forward to their venture but beating the sense into Warrington was to good to pass up. "Wanker."
A pretty blond witch caught his eye and he enjoyed the view, leaning back against the wall. She had a nice little ass.