A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing

Title: Sheep In Wolf's Clothing

"But why can't I join the Quidditch team?" she pressed. "I got on the Gryffindor team, no problem!"

"Our team is a bit different. It's a little male dominated," Draco said carefully.

"I don't mind being dominated by males," AJ said with a suggestive wink. He shot her a dark look. They had a history and she knew better than to make any sexual innuendo.

Sudden realisation shot across her face, and she mumbled a quick "sorry" as she stared at the floor. They walked along the hall in silence for a few moments. It was a glorious September afternoon, and since it was Saturday, the Slytherins were having their first Quidditch practice for the year.

"Look," he finally piped up, "I appreciate that you are a good Quidditch player, a really good one. But flying ability isn't all you need to get on the Slytherin team."

"What?" she questioned incredulously. "Surely you should be using the best players you've got?"

"You should've noticed by now that Slytherin is an Old Boys' club..."

"Yes, I know. How very Etonian," she said disconcertedly. Draco didn't actually know what 'Etonian' meant; he could only assume it was a Muggle thing. He shrugged.

"Well, in any case, in addition to being able to play Quidditch, you have to pass initiation tests. One set by each member of the first team, and each test has to be different. For example, they can't all ask you to swallow a bucket full of slugs."

"But that has nothing to do with Quidditch!"

"Someone give the girl a trophy!" he said as he applauded her mockingly. She pursed her lips and glared at him. He shook his head regretfully. "Other than not setting the same tests, there are no limits to what they can require you to do. That," he said pointedly, "is why there are no girls on the Slytherin team." She contemplated this quietly.

"So what initiation tests did you have to do?"

"I didn't. I bought them all Nimbus 2001s and they required no other persuasion. Other than the threat of my father hexing them all to oblivion, of course." He smiled to himself at the thought.

"Well then, can't you use the same Malfoy prerogative to get me on the team? I mean, I'm a great chaser and you're the captain. You should just be able to....." She snapped her fingers, "and I'm on the team!"

He gave her a wan smile. "There are two problems with that..."

"And what are they?"

The two of them rounded the final corner that took them out onto the Quidditch field. Malfoy held a steady gaze into the distance as he said lightly:

"The chaser position has been filled and I'm no longer captain."

AJ gasped. "What? Why didn't you tell me? And who---" Her sentence trailed off as she followed Malfoy's line of sight and saw it.

Well, 'it' wasn't really an 'it'. 'It' was a 'him', but he was such a 'him' that warranted the title of 'it'.

It was Marcus Flint; former Thug of Hogwarts, former Slytherin chaser and Quidditch captain. He was sitting among the other Slytherin team members, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Then she noticed something on his robes. The captain's badge.

She forgot to exhale and could feel fear already rising in a lump in her throat, as her pulse pounded-out a drum n bass solo on the inside of her forehead.

"What's he doing here?" she squeaked. And she had every right to fear Flint. They had only met once before, and that was in her second year. They had been walking in opposite directions down a corridor and she had accidentally walked into him (she had been reading Teen Witch Weekly... not that she'd ever admit to having read it now). Crossing Marcus Flint's path had proved to be a costly mistake. He had grabbed her by her ankles and shaken her until her money pouch fell to the floor. After swiping it he flung her against a wall and punched her in the stomach, warning her never to go near him again. And so, upside down and hanging on the wall (her cloak luckily caught on an ornamental goblin) she had vowed never to be in the same vicinity as him, and up until today that stood true.

"He plays professional Quidditch. But one of the clauses of his contract is that he must have four NEWTs, and recently it was found that he cheated in Arithmancy and so he's been sent back for a year to redo it. Needless to say, he wants to keep in shape, so he's back on the team."

"But pro players can't be on Hogwarts teams, I'm sure of it!"

"He's not technically a pro player since his contract is invalid," Draco sighed, finally taking his eyes off Flint.

"But why is he captain? He can't just walk back onto the team and take the captain's badge!"

Draco turned to face her now. "AJ... I don't know if you've noticed, but people don't argue with Flint. And there's a very good reason for tha....." He made a strangled sort of noise and staggered forward. He turned to see he had just been clapped on the back by Flint himself.

"Malfoy, old boy! How are you?" He said jovially. Then he noticed AJ. "Oh look Malfoy, you got yourself a girlfriend!" He raised his eyebrows at her and Malfoy couldn't help but think those words sounded rather familiar, but then Flint's expression darkened. "Hang on..." he said, then without warning, he reached out and grabbed her by the collar of her robes, with such speed that she didn't have time to react before she was dangling in midair, choking.

"Flint!" exclaimed Malfoy; AJ made a gargling sound.

"She's a spy!" Flint declared. "A Gryffindor in Slytherin uniform!"

"No she's not, Flint!"

AJ's hands were now on top of Flint's, desperately trying to undo his iron grip, which he consequentially tightened.

"Malfoy, I'm telling you, she's a Gryffindor! I beat her up in the potions corridor once."

"She was one, but she was re-sorted, Flint! Let her go, you're choking her!"

Flint looked quizzically from Malfoy to the girl and back again. Finally, he dropped her, and she landed on the grass with a soft 'thud'. She curled into a ball and gripped the grass, fighting for breath.

Flint watched her cough and splutter for a moment, as Malfoy helped her to her feet. He looked at her leaning on Malfoy's shoulder, her cheeks flushed.

"Why was she re-sorted?" he asked Draco, still eyeing the girl suspiciously.

"Erm... I'll explain it later." Malfoy gave Flint a meaningful look, and even Flint understood that it was a long story. He shrugged.

"Well, whatever. Your girlfriend can sit in the stands; I want to get these trials going. I've sent away all the would-be chasers but we've still got a goalkeeper position to fill." With that, Flint, remarkably quickly for a man of his size, turned, and strode back to his teammates.

Draco steered AJ towards the stands and sat her down. "You ok?" he asked, gently brushing a stray hair out of her face. AJ, obviously still in shock, nodded a 'yes' and with that Draco made his way back down to the pitch.

She eventually calmed down while watching the trials. Being further from Flint had helped to calm her, as had the extra security of having chairs to dive under, should Flint throw another strop. And he threw many. Although she didn't think all the goalkeepers were that terrible, Flint cursed and swore at their performance, and physically kicked a third year off the field. She thought he was being especially harsh since he had all his chasers, plus Draco and the entire reserve squad playing chaser, meaning no less than eleven people were attempting to score at any given time. The remaining two members of the squad, beaters Crabbe and Goyle, were hovering above the goal posts, thwacking the bludger at the applicant. It reminded her of the TV programme 'Gladiators'.

Finally, the last hopeful left the field, and AJ made her way down to the pitch, catching the last of Flint's tirade:

"Useless! Every bloody one of them! Oh, what I would give to have Bletchley back! We can't even use our reserve goalie, since he's the worst keeper ever to disgrace the Slytherin name!" He picked up a broomstick and flung it at a scared-looking fifth year, whom she presumed was the reserve goalie. "Reserves dismissed!" In the blink of an eye, all the reserve players scooted, the goalie limping as the broom had hit him square on the knee. "All of you, you have one week in which to find a new keeper, or you're all mince meat! Understand?" Flint stamped his foot, making all the first team, who were sitting on the grass, jump to their feet.

"Yes sir!" they chorused. Flint turned to leave.

Malfoy looked to Crabbe, Crabbe looked to Goyle, Goyle looked to Montague, Montague looked to Warrington, and Warrington looked to God, uttering a prayer under his breath. Then Malfoy looked up and caught AJ's eye.

"Trial her!" he said, pointing. "She played for Gryffindor." Flint stopped abruptly and paused before turning, and in that split second, AJ lifted her jaw back off the floor, and shook her head vigorously at Malfoy. There was no way she'd play Quidditch with Flint. Sure, she'd played against him, but that had been once a year and she wasn't his opposite number, so she rarely had contact with him. Being a Slytherin keeper would mean practicing against him every week. That panicky feeling rose in her throat again.

"Did you just say 'her'?" Flint said to Malfoy, not looking at AJ. Malfoy nodded. "You want to initiate a girl to the team?"

Malfoy nodded again, adding: "You've seen her play, Flint."

Flint turned to AJ. He walked toward her, lowering his head and squinting his eyes to get a better look at her. She had forgotten how huge Flint was. In fact, he was larger than their first encounter in her second year. At the time she had guessed he was 5'10, which was huge to a 5'2 second year, but now she stood at a respectable 5'6, and he was still massive - easily over six feet tall, possibly around 6'2. He was also ugly. Really, really ugly.

"Didn't you play chaser?" He stood so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her face. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster not to flinch. She nodded.

"And you want to play goalkeeper for Slytherin?" No! No I don't! Let me go, I want to live, I have a whole life ahead of me!! She nodded again, not wanting to know how Flint would react if she didn't want the place. He was looking her up and down, scrutinising her face and then her build. She didn't know where to look. She knew looking an angry dog in the eye would make it more likely to attack, but if he caught her staring at his huge teeth he'd probably knock hers out. She settled on a spot just between his heavy eyebrows. She gulped nervously, and he seemed to notice.

"I don't think you've got what it takes." he said, baring those huge, ugly teeth at her. He straightened up so he once again towered over her. "You just don't have the build to be a keeper. You'd get knocked off your broom, when push comes to shove," and with that, he put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her. She staggered backward and was on the verge of landing on her rear when she managed to catch her balance, and staggered forward instead, back to where she had started, and nearly landing on Flint.

"Well what do you know, a Gryffindor with a spine!" A few of the players gave a nervous chuckle, knowing that they should laugh whenever Flint said anything vaguely amusing if they wanted to keep their bone structure intact.

"I'm not a Gryffindor!" AJ protested. She knew arguing with Flint was a bad idea, but she would not allow her loyalty to her new house be questioned. He raised his eyebrows.

"So you consider yourself a Slytherin now, eh Gryffindor?"

"I am a Slytherin!" she emphasised, straining not to raise her voice, which would just make him angry. Flint turned away from her for a moment, speaking in a low, gruff voice to Montague. Suddenly he turned and flung something at her, and she caught it reflexively. It was a broom.

"With reflexes like that, you should replace Malfoy." said Flint, sneering at Draco. Draco forced a smile. "What was your name, Gryffindor?"

"Angelica."

"Angelica? That's a weird name..." Flint looked at her incredulously.

"Her name is Jones." Malfoy interjected. "Angelica Jones."

Flint smiled. "Oh. You use first names. How sweet." He looked at her in disgust. "I'm only trialling you because we are desperate. And even if you are good enough, you have to pass initiation tests, one set by each member of the first team. Understand, Gryffindor?" She nodded. He looked her up and down one more time before sauntering off, making a noise that can only be described as a snort. The rest of the team followed him, but Malfoy lingered for a moment.

"I'm sorry for getting you into this, but if we don't find a keeper, he'll maul the entire team and we can't win with everyone in the infirmary." He looked hopefully at her. She didn't look impressed.

"There is no way in hell I'm playing under Marcus Flint's captaincy," she said in a hushed but strained voice. She glanced over to the Quidditch pitch, making sure he was well out of earshot - that boy had an uncanny ability to just turn up when you're not expecting him, and he moved fast.

"Please, AJ? Just try out."

"No!"

"Look, I'll rig it. I'll make Crabbe and Goyle miss you."

"No, Malfoy, I don't want to be on the team! I'd rather gouge my own eyes out!"

"Look, you have to at least do the trial, or Flint will have me hung, drawn and quartered for suggesting you."

"Fine, I'll try out, but I'll do badly."

"I'm sure you'll do fine."

"No, I'll be bad on purpose; I don't want to play for Marcus Flint!"

"But AJ... we need a good player. Potter's got a strong team this year and I really want to win..." And then he did it. Those blasted puppy-eyes.

"Don't do that, Malfoy. No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No!" Then Malfoy kept silent. It was too much. She had to relent. "Fine! I'll do it; but you're rigging this for me, and you have to intervene every time Flint tries to kick the shit out of me, understand?"

Malfoy grinned and nodded.

"I mean for the rest of the year!" That dampened the grin a little, but he was still gleaming.

"MALFOY!" Flint bellowed. Malfoy ran like an obedient puppy, yelling 'good luck' over his shoulder.

AJ trudged over to the goal posts. She was not going to like this one bit.

"Ready?" Flint growled. He was in front of the pack, with Crabbe and Goyle to each side. Crabbe gave her a thumbs-up behind Flint's back. "GO!"

He had taken her by surprise. Surely, 'steady' came between 'ready' and 'go'? She kicked off as hard as she could, but Flint had a head start on her. He threw the quaffle towards the left post, and she had to fly diagonally up and left, only just managing to bat it out. Unfortunately it flew straight to Montague, who threw it to the right post. She darted to the right but WHAM! A bludger hit her left. She was about to glower at Crabbe, when she realised the bludger, although it had probably given her internal haemorrhaging, had given her the velocity to bat Montague's quaffle away. Off it went, sailing across the field.

"Another ball!" bellowed Flint. Warrington dove on his broom and collected another. It started again. "Don't just hover there, Goyle, hit the bludger!" Goyle looked confusedly between Flint and Malfoy, and then half-heartedly hit the dark ball at AJ. She evaded it with ease, and caught Malfoy's quaffle. Then Montague threw the ball directly at the middle hoop, and although AJ caught it, the inertia hit her in the stomach and she flew backward, nearly landing in the goal. She swore and threw the quaffle so hard at him that it nearly unsettled him from his broom.

But quaffles weren't the only thing she caught that day. She spotted Flint looking at her, not in the usual stare that said 'any last requests?', nor the one that said 'don't walk home alone tonight'. He actually looked quite pleased. Could Marcus Flint actually think she was good enough?

She averted her eyes from Flint's gaze and saw the quaffle curving behind her. She shot backward and it hit her arm, and after a quick scramble in midair she managed to get a hold of it. In the mean time, one of the players had moved directly below her, and he shot upward, nearly knocking her off the broom.

"Hey!" she yelled. "Foul!" She clambered back onto her broom to see that she had been dislodged by Flint himself. He bared those nasty teeth at her again, and she was so distracted that she nearly missed the quaffle that he sent flying at the goalpost to her left. She leapt out at it, nearly leaving her broom behind, and just managed to paw it away.

AJ knew to catch where possible, because after years of watching Football Italia, she had seen a million balls being punched out by goalkeepers, and a million strikers slotting in the rebound. She doubted Flint had ever seen Football Italia, or even knew what football was, but he knew how to take a rebound.

He grabbed the quaffle and took an over-arm shot, pushing all his weight behind the ball, and it flew forward with terrifying speed. There was no way she could catch it - it'd break her arms, but she realised a moment too late that the ball wasn't heading for the goal. It was aimed at her. She didn't have a chance to brace herself as the ball hit her chest and sent her flying backward off her broom. She crashed into the goalpost with a yelp and then slid all the way down, her broom crashing on her leg a moment later.

"Ohhh..." she groaned as the team reached the ground and dismounted. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle rushed to her side.

"Is she alive?" said one stupid voice.

"I think she's breathing..." a stupid face squinting at her said.

"Get out of the way!" exclaimed Malfoy, pushing Crabbe aside. "AJ, are you all right?"

Am I all right? Do I look all right? I just slid a hundred feet down a Quidditch goal post. Do you think I'm all right?? "I've been better." she finally answered.

She slowly stood up, Malfoy lending a hand, and The Goons following close behind. She had to go to the infirmary. Flint's ball may have only winded her, but she had landed heavily on her tailbone and from the pain she could tell that her back had been sliced open. Her robes were also torn and probably irreparable. Damn you, Marcus Flint!

As Malfoy helped her across the field, she caught sight of Flint. He was standing around with Montague and Warrington. When he caught her eye he elbowed Montague and the two of them laughed, Warrington joining in hesitantly.

"Oh that is it!" she exclaimed. Her inner rage surfaced and she couldn't hold it back. Flint, seeing her anger, started bellowing with laughter and turned to walk off with Montague. Then she saw it. By her left, on the floor, was the quaffle. Without thinking, she picked it up and launched it at Flint's back, with such tenacity that he almost fell forward with the force.

"AJ, no!" Malfoy started, grabbing her arm, but Flint had already turned around and was advancing on her, a scowl on his lips and an evil glint in his eye. She shrugged her friend off.

"Keep out of this, Malfoy." She charged forward to meet Flint, and neither stopped til they were nose-to-nose. Well, nose to chest. She lifted her head to look him in the eye.

"You did that on purpose," she said, sounding a lot calmer than she felt. Her initial anger had slowly begun to ebb away, replaced by the fear of Flint.

"Fuck what happened in the air. You did not just throw that quaffle at me," he sneered.

"Yes I bloody did. And you deserved it!" she shouted scathingly. "I'm going to have to spend ages in the infirmary because of you!"

"You'll be spending even longer if you don't apologise right now!"

"Fuck you!" Then came a burning pain across her cheek. His punch was so hard that she landed on her back. She winced as her cuts hit the grass.

"I'm going to make you regret the day you were born, Gryffindor," he growled, yanking her off the floor by her neck. He turned to his team. "Get out of here."

"Flint..." Malfoy started, but with his spare hand, Flint punched him square on the chin, sending him flying into Goyle, who held him up. Montague and Warrington had made themselves scarce, while Crabbe and Goyle dragged Malfoy off the pitch. "Flint! Flint! She doesn't mean it; she's just being an idiot...!"

Flint turned his attention back to the girl who was now struggling in his grasp. He chuckled to himself watching her writhe, but she suddenly kicked him in the rib and managed to pry his hand off after biting it. Then she ran for it. He shook his head menacingly. There was no point running from Marcus Flint.

He took two bounds and launched himself at her, and with a cry she landed on her front, Flint landing heavily on top of her.

"Ow! Get off me! This isn't fair!" she objected, wriggling under him. He grasped her arms, pinning one by her side and pulling the other behind her back.

"Life isn't fair, sweetheart," he growled in her ear, putting his weight on top of the arm that was behind her back. She screamed in pain, and he heard a satisfying snap as her arm broke. With a whimper she went quiet, passing out on the field. He stood up, admiring the scratches over her back, and as he made his way to the changing rooms he saw Malfoy dart out onto the field to help her.

Filthy Gryffindor.