Practice Makes Perfect

[Skye Taylor]

Skye had returned to school for the new term with a renewed sense of determination regarding her Quidditch career. After years serving as an alternate she was desperate to break into the starting line up, but without any open spots on the roster she would have to force her way into the team by being better than the current team. She woke up early the morning after the sorting feast and changed into her Quidditch robes, grabbed her broom and headed down to the Quidditch pitch. There was a slight chill in the air which was unusual for the time of year. The grounds were empty when Skye came out of the castle and walked across the lawn down towards the pitch. No doubt most students would still be asleep or getting ready go to down to breakfast, Skye had decided to skip breakfast in favor of getting in some flying and shooting practice before her classes started.

Like the rest of the grounds, the pitch was empty. Skye went into the equipment shed and took out a Quaffle. She swung her leg over her broom and took to the air. Skye had been able to fly over the holidays but she had not been able to get any shooting practice done, her father had drawn the line at Quidditch hoops in the garden. Taking her quaffle up into the air with her, Skye lined herself up with the hoops and she began to take shots.

 

[Jean Snow]

Rushing into the Great Hall only quickly enough to grab a banana, Jean was already on the grounds before any of his many siblings could stop him, if they were even in there yet. If they did, he knew he'd probably be forced to eat breakfast with them and he had no time for that today. The boy had plans to fly. Broom in hand and banana in the other, Jean jogged to the pitch as his warm-up. When he entered, he discovered he wasn't the only Gryffindor who'd had a similar idea. With a smile, Jean dropped his broom to the grass and settled himself down beside it to eat his tiny breakfast. As he did, he watched the girl begin to take shots. Jean recognized her right away from the team, but her name eluded him. He could barely keep his siblings' names straight though.

Dropping the peel on the ground, Jean rubbed his hands on his pants and then stood up with his broom. He took a quick lap fairly low to the ground so he wouldn't disturb the girl's practice but she did have the quake that he needed to take some shots himself, so he soon headed up near to where she was. Waiting for a lull, Jean greeted her, his French accent strong. " Can I practice with you?" He gave her a smile, wondering if she'd recognize him too. "Please?" he added.