Miles shook his head. People who were natural flyers should be on brooms. Although, to be honest, he'd rather they not be fighting against him or hexing him. He still owed Wood big-time for what he did to him at Upper Slaughter. His leg twinged at the thought. "Well, if you're ever in the market for a broom, or you just want to test one, I'm still making them." His offer was genuine, as he did like to watch the way her arse wriggled up on a broom. Some things would never change, he figured.
"Well let's hope the only bit of Gryffindorishness he actually manages to cling to is their bloody uncanny luck in winning Quidditch matches. Liam's expressed a keen desire to captain the Slytherin team. I am certainly fostering such lofty goals for the boy." So it might be another decade away, but Miles thought it was a fine goal to aim for, even for a six year old.
"Now now, Katie, how can you possibly say such things when you have absolutely no frame of reference, or even any practical experience for comparision?" He quirked his lips in amusement, his voice sounding rather suggestive. "You know what they say about keepers..."