Moving on would be a lovely option if only he believed she'd be back in top form by Monday. He supposed he'd seen it before, but that didn't mean he was just going to trust her word on it. This was a big bloody deal. He already had to worry about whipping the rest of those idiots into shape. It's a wonder they even made one of the British league teams, so far below par as they were. He really didn't want to have to worry about her as well. Still, he supposed there was little to do about it until Monday's practice.
"Oh, I think I have a team full of idiots to keep me occupied," he responded dryly. He didn't bother denying the other. They both knew very well that any denial was about as False as Filch's cheer. He also didn't comment on the likely hood that he'd be deprived of anything. That was the great thing about Quidditch. Always some groupie already half out of her clothing. It was a beautiful life, really.
He was aware that she played center often enough for Puddlemere, but this wasn't Puddlemere and he wasn't bloody Oliver Wood. More importantly, with everything coming to light recently, it was bound to give the media more room to latch on. "Alright, fine," he commented, his amusement evident. She had a point, but it didn't make it any less ridiculous. It didn't matter who had what position, it would fall short of his expectations. He'd been flying with Clint and Adrian for far too long for anything else to be true. Ade still had a longer reach. "You can have center on Monday, but you get to deal with the idiot when you do."
He liked that plan. He was bloody tired of doing it.