When Fate Has A Say

"I didn't think that embarrassing myself publicly was in that contract anywhere," Alicia Spinnet muttered to Katie Bell darkly as the girls walked off of the Quidditch pitch, bright robes spattered with mud. Behind them, the score was still being announced: Falmouth Falcons, 270, Chudley Cannons, 60.

Katie rolled her eyes. "If you look at the team that we happen to be on, then I think that the embarrassment is supposed to be understood."

Behind them, McGaffin, the Seeker, laughed. "First game is always the hardest, girls. Besides, that's one of the best scores that we've had in a while. You did well."

"Maybe my paycheck will reflect that," Katie retorted. "Perhaps I can get a bonus? A raise?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "After all, looking stupid should get some kind of payment."

"Calm down, Katie," Alicia murmured. "This is better pay than what I got when I was a Quidditch instructor, that's for sure. And besides, we might get drafted by another team..."

Katie scoffed. "With scores like that? I doubt it. If we had Angelina here, then we'd be doing so much better. Smith doesn't understand anything strategic. He botches it all." She sighed deeply. "But no, she had to run off and get married. Why couldn't she wait a few years?"

"Breath, Katie, breathe. You've got a date with Oliver tonight, right? You don't want to be all wound up." Alicia gave a sly grin to Katie. "Being upset isn't supposed to be good for having..."

The blonde chaser jabbed Alicia sharply in the ribs with her elbow. "Shut up." Her face reddened, and a grin twitched at the corner of her lips. "What Oliver and I do in our spare time is absolutely none of your business."

"You're right. Your sex life is none of my business."

"Alicia!" Katie squealed, slapping her again. "You're just jealous because your best friend ran off and fell in love with Davies, or whatever his name was, and left you out in the cold."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Please. I was more jealous of Fleur whenever she and George got married. And you know that there was no jealousy there at all. You're in the negative zone."

The two chasers entered the locker room, which was almost stifling hot compared with the cold outside. Changing out of their orange and black robes, they kept up the bickering, trying to hide their disappointment.

"Are you sure that you don't want to come with me and Oliver?" Katie asked, running a brush through her hair. "You could always grab Smith and we could all go out together." She nodded her head towards the attractive (if dim-witted) Chaser. "It'd be fun."

"No thanks," Alicia replied, smiling sadly. It had always been like this- she was the third wheel. At first it had been Angelina and Fred, then Angelina and Davies (after Fred and Cho had started dating), and now it was Katie and Oliver. "I was going to go home and have some hot chocolate and watch TV. Just don't make too much noise when you get back to the flat."

Katie raised her eyebrows. "Who said that I'll be coming to our flat tonight? I might be visiting Oliver's..."

"As I said before, your sex life is none of my business. Thank God."

# # #

Alicia groaned slightly as she opened the door to the flat- it was a mess. She kept on cleaning it, but somehow Katie would manage to make it messy within a week. "I don't care," she said to Circe, her gray cat, who wound about her legs and purred. "I'm going to go take a nice, long bath and go to bed."

She picked up the Daily Prophet, and her eyes flew to a picture of Harry speeding down a Quidditch field on his Thunderbolt, pale blue Quidditch robes streaming out behind him. 'Harry Potter Accepts Offer from the Appleby Arrows.'

"At least one of us got famous," Alicia mused. Although she, Katie, and Oliver all played for professional teams, none of them were particularly noticed. "And two of us do well." Oliver's team, the Tutshill Tornados, was decent, if not especially famed.

She couldn't help but think back to the Quidditch match in her sixth year, the year that they'd won the cup- the year that Harry had almost died. The sight of him, crumpled on the ground, was branded in her memory. "Or on your heart," she murmured to herself.

As soon as that thought came to Alicia, she felt like slapping herself. Harry had been a crush at Hogwarts. No, not even a real crush, she reminded herself. He was over two years younger than her, and the only reason that she had felt any feeling for him was because she'd almost lost him. He was like a little brother, nothing more.

"Keep telling yourself that," she muttered angrily as she headed to the kitchen. "Accio apple."

She slumped down into a hard-backed chair, glancing at the calendar. Two weeks until Katie's twenty-second birthday... She was going to have to get her something. And the question was not what, but how. Even with the pay from the Cannons, she wasn't anywhere near to living in luxury. She would have loved to buy Katie something like an expensive dinner for her and Oliver, but that wouldn't work. Maybe some sort of homemade gourmet food... Alicia laughed. Her main talents were fish sticks and corn dogs. That wasn't exactly gourmet.

Maybe one of those Chudley Cannon T-shirts that no one ever seemed to buy. It would be cheap, and maybe Katie would get a kick out of it. After all, Alicia was sure that their pictures would be in the paper the next day, saying something about "Yet Another Embarrassing Defeat for the Cannons".

And it would be there, right next to an article on how amazing the Arrow's new seeker was setting new records. It would be there with a picture of the attractive dark-haired young man flying down the field.

Alicia sighed, and set the uneaten apple on the table. Why wouldn't Harry get out of her mind? She was so exhausted- she didn't need this on top of it. "I'm ready to die," she said to Circe, who merely purred louder.

Groaning, she changed out of her robes into a large T-shirt, and collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to even turn out the light.

And when she awoke the next morning, she would not admit to anyone, even herself, that she had dreamed about Harry.