layla 'double betrayla' fairbourne (boundless) wrote in disorderic, @ 2017-12-13 22:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | angelina johnson, layla fairbourne |
WHO: Angelina Johnson and Layla Fairbourne.
WHAT: Building a friendship that will last forever!
WHEN: 2010 and 2011.
WHERE: Hogwarts!
Quidditch season was absolutely Layla’s favourite time of year, and beyond that most favourite extracurricular activity. She’d been (poorly) waiting with the utmost anticipation throughout September as the school got underway, but it was finally here. It didn’t matter that it was a chilly, damp, autumn morning in Scotland. Nothing was going to lessen her excitement. “Those of you who think you’re chasers, over here!” Layla hollered through the wind and pointed with her broom a few paces away from the gaggle. The fourteen year old had been on the team two years at this point as a starting chaser, earning her stripes from a young age, and while she wasn’t captain she was expected to help out and weed out some of the obviously unprepared and unskilled candidates. With a scrutinizing eye she looked over those that had followed her, and then slung her broom over her shoulder. “So why the hell do you think you’re up to par to represent Gryffindor?” she challenged. Tough love it was, but she wanted to see some passion. Angelina, who was standing close to two second years in an attempt at blending in, furrowed her eyebrows. She glanced over at the other players and spotted the captain immediately. This girl, the blonde who was swearing at them, wasn’t the team captain. She crossed her arms over her chest, a school broom at the crook of one elbow. “You can’t talk to us like that,” Angelina piped up. “You’re not the captain.” Layla looked a touch bemused when her eyes settled on the defiant girl. “Sure I can,” she retorted, and then glanced over at the captain. “I’m helping the captain organize and weed out the chasers before we get started. Saves time at the start.” Her eyes settled on the broom. “Is that a school broom?” The look of abject skepticism quickly faded from Angelina’s face and her eyes darted to the head of her school broom. A flick of her wrist flipped it so the ‘Property of Hogwarts’ stamp was facing away from the other girl. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, scoffing. “Who would bring a school broom to a tryout?” Even if Layla hadn’t already known the answer the quick, timely movement by the younger girl would have been a dead giveaway in her mind. An eyebrow arched in skepticism. “You’re going to try out on a school Shooting Star? Really?” Her eyes narrowed then as another thought struck. “How old are you, anyway?” Come to think of it, Layla couldn’t quite place her. And that meant... “Are you a firstie?” “No,” Angelina said automatically, her face screwed up unconvincingly. “I’m a second year.” She glanced over at the second years, pleading with her eyes for them to back her up, but they stepped away, one bumping into the other in their haste. She clicked her tongue at them and turned back to Layla, squaring her shoulders. “I’m twelve. Thirteen in October. And this is my Shooting Star, thanks.” Layla rolled her eyes so heavily that they almost rolled out of her head. With a shrug of her shoulder her broom slide down so that she was holding it midway through the shaft, and then pointed it at the little liar while the others broke apart like Moses parting the Red Sea. “Brand your Shooting Stars with the Hogwarts logo too?” She stopped short of prodding the girl with her broom. “C’mon, kid. You can try out next year like everyone else, with your own broom.” Several emotions passed across Angelina’s face before she finally settled on petulance. “Whatever,” she snapped, whipping the school broom out of its perch in her elbow and throwing it to the ground. She started to stomp off, leaving the broom where it lay on the ground, but it wasn’t the broom’s fault that Hogwarts quidditch was a fascist organization. (She had, of course, no idea if fascist was an accurate term, but it had the right snap.) Before the blonde girl could say a word, Angelina stomped back, righteous indignation burning in her cheeks, and picked the broom up. “It isn’t fair to punish the broom for you not being able to spot talent.” She stomped away again, but the wind carried her parting words back to the cluster of hopeful Chasers. “And don’t call me kid, you old crone!” “Don’t forget your teddy bear!” Layla called after the girl stomping off. The fourteen year old, being so much more mature, could only laugh at the antics then as she turned back to the others. She couldn’t wait to tell Francine about this crazy firstie, but in the meantime she had some chasers to weed out. “Let’s get you lot into the air so you can show us what you bring to Gryffindor.” For what felt like hours, Angelina had been camped on the sofa closest to the bulletin board, waiting for the captain to post the new team list and chewing off most of her fingernails. And now they were finally pinning it to the cork. She didn’t move until the captain stepped away and the other hopefuls started rushing forward, wanting to make a good impression by not shoving aside what she hoped was her new captain. When she turned to find Alicia, Angelina found herself face to face with Layla instead. Her lip curled, briefly, before she settled on a smug smirk. Layla, whether she knew it or not, was her nemesis and Angelina felt she’d been thoroughly defeated. “Sup, teammate.” For her part Layla was only wandering up through the gaggle to see who her teammates would be. Her own position, in her own mind, was a given and completely secure from outside challengers. She’d just gotten to the front when one of the younger kids, Angela she thought, spun on her heel to confront her. “You make the reserves?” she countered instantly. She continued dismissively, peering up and over some shoulders to get a glimpse of the sheet of parchment: “Good for you.” Angelina turned to look at the list with Layla, waiting a beat so that her words might coincide with Layla finding her name on the list. And not with the reserves. “Actually, I’m your new starting chaser,” she said. She stepped back, glancing down briefly to avoid trodding on someone’s foot. “I told you you should’ve let me try out.” The words came just as Layla’s eyes caught the name ‘Angelina Johnson’ written directly under her own on the starting roster. Her head whipped around to face the younger girl who apparently wasn’t actually a liar. “No, you should at least have hit puberty first, that’s the rule.” Okay, it wasn’t quite the rule, but you know. Layla shoved her way through the crowd towards where her teammate had stepped back to. Although often abrasive and still a little surprise, Layla knew that teammates could never be at odds with one another. “But congrats, ki— Johnson. Good on you,” she said earnestly, forcing a smile despite her confusion. She reached out to ruffle up Angelina’s hair. Angelina ducked away from Layla’s hand, raising an arm protectively over her hair. “Cheers and all, but don’t do that again unless you want to lose a hand, Fairbourne.” Her other hand was on her hip, but after a beat of pursing her lips at Layla, she held it out to her. “We should probably call a truce.” “You’re about as intimidating as a de-clawed kneazle,” Layla snarked, but nonetheless her hand shifted from the air where there’d been a head, and then clapped into Angelina’s awaiting palm. “Sure, truce. Let’s just give our enemies hell.” “Johnson!” Layla called, loud enough to be heard over the partying students, and the music pumping through the Gryffindor common room, but still hushed enough that not every bit of attention focused on her. When her target in question, her rookie chaser teammate, looked over at her she jerked her head towards the stairwell that lead to the dormitories. She made her way there herself, and climbed up to her own dorm room. Without waiting for Angelina to arrive, she kicked open her trunk that was laid at the foot of her four-poster bed and began to rummage for a certain bottle she’d smuggled back. Every good quidditch victory deserved something special, and this particular victory was Angelina’s first. It needed to be more memorable. “Where’d you — oh, there you are,” Angelina said, as she poked her head in Layla’s dorm room. Her eyes immediately darted around the room. It wasn’t often that she found herself in one of the older girls’ dorms. But her eyes finally fell on the bottle in Layla’s hands and she crept inside, closing the door behind her. “What’s that?” “It’s victory,” Layla commented as she rose to face her teammate with a mischievous grin — the kind that usually preceded people getting into deep trouble — upon her face. She uncorked the bottle, and then took a swig. Despite the rough and tumble fifteen year old she presented herself as, she shuddered at the taste. Smoke curled from her nostrils as she handed the bottle over to Angelina, and spoke, hoarsely: “You just won your first Quidditch game, Ang. You deserve a victory drink.” A pleased smile played at Angelina’s lips, one she struggled to restrain as she reached for the bottle. “Yeah,” she agreed, forcing a bravado on her tone, “I do!” She still gave the bottle a cautious sniff before bringing it to her mouth. The smart thing to do would’ve been to take a sip, but she took a swig herself and immediately regretted it. Smoke poured out of Angelina’s mouth and nose and it felt a little like it was pouring out of her eyes, too, though it wasn’t. She tried her hardest not to cough, but the burn built up in her throat and she held the bottle carefully aloft so she could cough both of her lungs up. And Layla threw back her head and laughed even as smoke still spiraled its way from her ears. “It takes a little practice to get used to.” That was her way of being conciliatory it seemed, and she gave the younger girl an earnest smile as she reached out to take the bottle back. “The way we were on the pitch I know we’re going to be celebrating often so it should only take you to the end of the season, I figure.” It would take Angelina until the end of the next drink as far as she was concerned. She jerked the bottle out of Layla’s reach and squared her shoulders. Now that she knew what she was in for, it was bound to take a smaller bite out of her. She screwed up her face and took a more modest swig from the bottle before shoving it in Layla’s hand. It still burned and she exhaled with a low groan, but she managed to grin after. Blinking in surprise as the bottle was jerked away, Layla arched an eyebrow momentarily and watched the show. “Well, well well…” Layla said approvingly after getting the bottle pushed to her. “Aren’t you full of surprises. Not bad, Ang.” She took another swig from the bottle, and then tucked it into her robes pocket, emboldened by the liquor consumed and the sense of euphoria from their victory. “Let’s get back before anyone misses us — we are very important stars after all.” Angelina was already starting to feel a little unsteady on her feet, but she linked arms with Layla and laughed, too loud for such a small room. “Too right we are!” The stairs were going to be a problem, but she propelled them forward anyway. They had a win to bask in, after all. |