Chapter 3 - Slightly Afraid of Toil
Will never cared much for getting changed prior to Quidditch matches. He understood the reason behind the show of unity, as mandated by his team captain, but it always seemed like a very large, very visual reminder of his reserve status. There was only so much he could contribute to the House effort from the sidelines, and being in team garb only amplified his anxieties. They hadn't won the Quidditch cup for quite some time, let alone a succession of matches, and he didn't want to face another year of "Don't worry, we're only playing Hufflepuff..." and "After we flatten Hufflepuff..." The thought made him grouchy, as well as desirous to make good use of the Hair-loss Hex on the naysayers.
But a rather nice thing had happened not long before this Saturday morning, nice enough to distract him even from the importance of the impending match.
Perhaps this once, he was better off without the responsibility of defending his house on the pitch. Tension and excitement were seeping into the locker room from the outside air, but Will gave a small, lopsided grin as he strapped on his shinpads, remembering the evening prior.
He had just stopped by the dormitory to deposit his books after classes on Friday, wanting nothing more than to tuck in to dinner. He had been about to pass through the sparsely populated Common Room when the unexpected sight of Abby Loomis, alone and reading on a sofa, greeted his eyes. His friends' loud, annoying voices began to echo in his head, replaying their recent dinnertime conversation. He hadn't given Owen's idea much attention at the time - filing it away under the categories of "yeah, right", "no way", and "not bloody likely" - but now...