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Beth Titus

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OOC First Name
Beth
Wand
Ash Wand 14 1/4" Essence of Hair from the Tail of a Male Unicorn
The snow muffled her hearing as Beth met up with the rest of the team on the pitch. They muttered among themselves in chilly confusion. "What's the matter?" she asked with a frown, watching the lot of them shivering. She adjusted her eyes to the sky, snow reigning down into them. "Oh, come on," she hissed to one particularly fed up looking player, "we've played in worse. And besides," she added with unbitten enthusiasm for the day, "we've got a match scheduled for the afternoon. We could do with a little practice." The grumpiest of the players, one whom had withdrawn so far inside his clothing that scarcely a wisp of hair was to be seen aside from his protruding nose, seated atop his enormous scarf. "We can't play," he said glumly, shaking his head, "there's no point. The other team have cancelled. They've got a player stranded due to bad weather, so they've rescheduled.. On the Ministry's advice, of course." Beth furrowed her brow. Had the few days of early snow really caused that much concern? It wasn't like the other team couldn't just pull out a reserve, or that the weather should be any real obstacle, considering they wouldn't be touching the ground. No, the Ministry was just being oversensitive on this matter.

"Where is he?" Beth demanded, her eyes a firey hearth of frustration, "where's the guy? They always send a guy." She had come here to play Quidditch, to take on another team and hopefully beat them in a damn good match, but some stupid Ministry official had stopped it. Maybe not the guy, himself, she thought, squinting to see the outline of the official, present, though he should be able to assess this all for himself. There's no danger here.​
 
It was only his first day on the job, but already Aiden had been sentenced to death. Or rather, to inform and confirm that a match could not take place between two Quidditch teams, that day. "Just tell them exactly what I've told about the other team's trouble, and bring in the weather conditions to the conversation. Maybe that'll shut a couple of them up. I'm sure they won't be too bitter, Teetus." "Titus, Sir," Aiden had corrected him. "Whatever." His boss, an aging wizard of fifty-something with no time for anyone but himself, was already waring at his patience for the Ministry. In the end, he had been given no choice but to leave it at that, leaving as the doomed messenger, and arriving in time to meet the players as they arrived, and inform them of the unfortunate circumstances.

The team had been most understanding, thus far, none of them really wishing to have a game in the downpour of snow, which was slowly growing colder and more treacherous by the minute. However, his luck changed with the arrival of a woman about his age; her eyes seemed to burn into him, and as she raced towards him like a fireball, Aiden instinctively raised his clipboard. "Hello," he said, imagining how his old school friends would have howled with laughter at the scene, "you must be one of the team bea- chasers?" he dispensed quickly with any attempt at currying favour. "I must inform you that today's match is off, and will be rescheduled for a week today, instead."​
 
Beth, wielding her broom in one hand with a vice-like grip, moved solidly towards the official, glaring at him as she looked him over. He was just a kid. Just young. Probably new, going by the way he tried to fend off her stare with his clipboard. "Oh," she said sternly, "is that so?" she shook her head, cradling her broom in the crook of her arm, brushing the end against the icy grass. "And why is that? No, wait, don't tell me," she stopped him before even giving him a chance. If she wanted to get something done, here, she would have to be firm and unmoving about it. "Some stupid rubbish about the other team not being able to play because their star player- who's costing them enough! - cannot play because he has 'been stranded' by the weather. That's right, isn't it?" she snarled the words, aware that the rest of her team were now watching her bulldog attitude in play. They'd seen it before, of course, but only during matches. She was the most stubborn player out, and she knew it.​
 
"Well, yes," Aiden began his response growing evermore aware by the minute of just how unwelcome he was here, especially with this woman in the vicinity. "But.. But, also, there is just the small case of the weather, and the Ministry have deemed the weather conditions to poor for this match to be carried through in." he looked helplessly to the other players for support in this matter, though they seemed reluctant to get involved. Perhaps he had just stood his ground- well, the Ministry's, against the wrong person? It certainly seemed that way. "Look," he said, lowering his clipboard to resort to more desperate measures, "surely you can't want to play in this? The match will be held next week, when the other team are sorted and the weather has improved."​
 
"And why the heck not?" she glowered, lurching towards him, though holding back on thumping the guy, knowing it was not really his fault that things were as they were. "I love the weather, here, it's so much more interesting than the weather back home. It's often so cold, and the snow is snow beautiful. How could I not want to play in this?" She found her free hand venturing into her pocket, fixing on something solid, waiting. Waiting. "So," she started up again, expecting the answer he would inevitably give, almost hoping he would give it, just so she could complete the idea dancing through her mind. "Are you going to get the other team to change up for one of their substitutes and face us, and let us play, or not?" Behind her, the crate of Quidditch balls sat in the snow, opening its lid up, unbuckling the quaffle. Nobody seemed to notice. All eyes were on the official, waiting for his call on the situation. Meanwhile, the quaffle was set free, and it rolled from the case, hovering just centimetres above the snow, rolling slowly through the air towards Beth's feet.​
 
Aiden sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said in an apologetic manner, "but I cannot let this match go forwards, not simply because of this weather.. I am well aware how bad conditions can be before you Quidditch players will refuse to play," he answered honestly, "it would not only mean seeking approval from the Ministry, including a review of the present situation, but also convincing the other team to turn up and play without their star player." He received several sympathetic, and disappointed glances from the other players as they up-took conversation, again, traipsing back in the direction of the changing rooms. Aiden watched them wild mild bewilderment as to why they had shot him the sympathetic glances, and not the woman before him. And then, it became clear, the way her from seemed to almost melt away. "I can't stop you practicing, though." he quickly added.​
 
"Oh, well then, that's alright." Beth drawled sarcastically, still twitching her wand as she held it against the back of her leg. The quaffle rolled closer and closer. She was no longer frowning, for all her concentration had been drawn to the wand she waved subtly, beckoning the ball to her feet. "Perhaps you can be kind enough to give the Ministry a message from me?" Beth gave her wand a sudden jerk, sparking the quaffle to rise up over her head, and spiral towards the officials face, just stopping short of his head to pause as he braced himself for impact, before lightly tapping against his noggin. It was no harder a tap than a light one to the shoulder, but it still made him flinch. "'Do. Not. Cancel. Any. More. Matches. Ever.' Got that?" Beth waved her wand, and the quaffle dropped lifelessly to the ground at the official's side. She gave him a good hard look, before turning on her heel triumphantly, for though she had not won the battle, in her mind, she had won the war, and heading off to join the others in the changing rooms, summoning the quaffle to her arms, where she caught it, and placed it back amongst its fellow Quidditch balls.​
 
Aiden squeezed his eyes tightly shut, hoping to protect them from the oncoming ball, knowing he had no time to throw his clipboard aside and stop it, or beat it away. Fortunately, it only tapped against his head. Multiple times. Annoying though that was, it was definitely better than the injury he had anticipated, and he made careful and definite notes of this message on his clipboard. He could get her in trouble for that. No, he couldn't, another side of him purred, reminding him of the stern warning he'd been given prior to taking the job, about how dangerous some of the players could be. And besides, she hadn't really hurt him, or properly attacked him, or anything. That, and she was sort of pretty, even if she was a spitfire. He watched her leaving him out in the snow, and he headed over to one of the many seats in the small stands, to rest for a good moment or two before his journey back. He guessed it was fortunate that this was to be only a small, home match, and not a world cup one, or he would have had many a witch and wizard very actually attacking him.

Ten minutes of sitting and watching the snow landing and turning to ice later, the team wandered back out from the changing rooms, all looking a little warmer in heavy clothes, wandering off towards the muggle village not far off, no doubt in search of a pub, or something. Someplace warm, Aiden thought to himself as he shivered, that's where you should be. And you would be, if you weren't working. He flipped out his pocket watch from his jacket pocket, noting the time. He was due a lunch break, according to what his boss had told him where breaks were concerned. And at that moment, he glanced up to see that woman, the fiery one, coming towards him. "Come to apologise?" he called out in good humour.​
 
That was mean, Beth told herself as she entered the changing room, about to take off her Quidditch team robes, though she faltered. You should go and say sorry to him. "Why?" she unintentionally voiced the thought, though her team seemed too busy shivering and getting ready to head off, to notice this. It was unjustified. Now, look, don't get stubborn with me, okay? I know what you're thinking, but no. No, it was not right to do as you did. You get changed, go out there, and apologise to him. With an inverted sigh, Beth did as she was told, slipping easily out of her Quidditch uniform and into her plain clothes, consisting mostly of woolen socks and scarves. Eventually, she walked out with the rest of the team, her head held high and proud, finding that he was still out there, sat upon one of the seats. Beth headed over to him, reaching him and seating herself beside him. But when he joked about an apology, she decided not to respond as originally planned. "You were lucky I couldn't focus enough to undo the restraints on the bludgers," she said with a devilish look, and a smile. It hung in the air quite merrily.​
 
Maybe she wasn't as bad as he had first thought? In fact, when she began smiling, her whole face seemed to light up and appear quite friendly, and far less hostile than in first appearance. Aiden smiled back, showing his shining pearl teeth. In the very least she had a sense of humour. "You weren't a Gryffindor, by any chance?" he asked smoothly, watching her expression closely to see every little movement, wondering how many faces he had unknowingly analysed throughout the entirety of his lifetime, and how many more would go unnoticed by his consciousness. He shifted in his seat, tilting his body to face her and read further into the amusing little ticks displaying on her face as her mind worked its cogs.​
 
Beth gave the official a sideways from, a little uncertain of what exactly he meant by that question. It did not make her feel at all uncomfortable, and, in fact, she now felt completely at ease beside him, though nowhere near closer to making that apology he was due from her for the tiny red mark that had momentarily spawned on his head. For a few seconds, she reflected longingly on Hogwarts in New Zealand, on her old school house of Ravenclaw, on the friends she had left behind in Australia, too. "No, I wasn't. Why do you ask?"​
 
Aiden gave her a grin. "Because you act like one." He could tell from her accent that she was not from around these areas, or, at least, she had not lived there in a very long time. Unless he was very much mistaken, her accent was Australian. He had met an Aussie or two, before, often during his visits to London as a child. Then again, London was tourist destination number one for those visiting England the first time. Now, where were his manners? "I'm Aiden Titus," he said semi-formally, more relaxed now that she wasn't trying to kill him with a quaffle, "it's probably obvious, but it's my first day on the job."​
 
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