WHO: Ingrid Catchlove & Ashlyn Cooper
WHAT: FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!
WHEN: May 24th Quidditch match
WHERE: Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch
"Good play!"
Ingrid took a couple of high-fives from Zoey and Miranda as they zoomed by each other and away from the Ravenclaw goalposts, where the very annoyed Meghan McCormack sat growling back at them for having gotten past her defenses. The truth was, they were
on today, and it was exhilirating to be doing well. It was the last match that the seventh years were going to play in, and at the moment Ingrid didn't even care if they beat Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff---this feeling was what it was all about. Even if she had wanted to, she could have never sat out on this game. She might have had to ignore her boyfriend's annoyed looks from the stands, but she was still enjoying every last second of this.
She circled around the goalposts and joined the other chasers, catching the quaffle just as easily as anything the split second she fell into formation. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, Ingrid tucked the red ball under her arm and pushed the speed on her broomstick, aiming to get one more goal in while the Ravenclaw keeper was still distracted from the last.
She gripped her broom handle and clutched the ball in her gloved hand, readying to throw it when out of nowhere, a rush of air swept past her and her left side exploded in pain. Ingrid dropped the quaffle from her hand and clutched onto her broom suddenly, determined not to fall as she hastily surveyed the air around her. That hadn't felt like a bludger, that had felt like a----
That was when she saw a blue and bronze-clad seeker watching her from several meters away.
Oh, that bitch was going to get it.
Ashlyn wasn't in the best of moods, to put it bluntly. Ever since Hufflepuff won, there had been more and more pressure placed on Ashlyn and the game--all they needed was one snitch. If they got those points, they'd win the cup hands down. She probably didn't seem like she wanted it as badly as everyone else, but she did. Maybe it was the satisfaction of beating Ingrid and all the ruddy Gryffindors that was motivating her, or perhaps it was the rumors of scouts out at the game, but the adrenaline was pumping and--Merlin, Ashlyn needed to let out some pent up frustration and anger.
She circled the air, keeping her eyes open for any sight of the shimmering snitch all while watching the game as it unfolded below her. She could feel Meghan's frustration as the Gryffindor chasers shot goal after goal and--ugh, it wasn't right. She wished she was a beater so she could just hammer a bludger at Ingrid--though any of them would do. Then again, she did have
herself. And she could probably do as much damage of scaring her as a bludger would. Besides, she could always say that she'd spotted the snitch, right? Tucking into her broom, Ashlyn sped up faster and faster, feeling the impact on her left as her shoulder pounded into Ingrid. She hadn't exactly planned for
that, but it was--an accident, right? Pulling up from the dive she turned around to glance back at Ingrid, catching her eye. Good, she wanted Ingrid to know it was her. She deserved it.
The moment that she saw that Ashlyn was looking straight back at her--looking at her like she was
gloating that she'd just nearly knocked her off her broom----Holy fuck, she couldn't even think straight, all Ingrid knew wanted to see that stupid bint fall out of the sky, and she wanted to see her fall
now. Her knuckles turned white with the intensity with which she gripped her broomstick handle, and she was pretty sure she could feel her blood boiling in her veins. She had known Ashlyn was low, fuck she had known that after she'd gone and kissed her fucking boyfriend, but to so obviously try and knock her off her broom in the middle of a match? She hadn't even
looked at Ashlyn in a fucking week, and now this? No---no, that shit just wasn't going to fly, she didn't care if she'd get kicked out of the match or not. It was Ashlyn Cooper, and Ingrid was
not going to let her just do that and get away with it.
Before she even processed what she was doing (and obviously far before any responsible, reasonable thought could enter her brain), she pushed forward on the broom and sent herself flying at the other girl. Oh, how she wished she was a beater right now and had a bat to knock the sense out of her, she had never wanted to cause another person pain so much.
She stopped just inches in front of Ashlyn, her hand out and sent stinging across her cheek before she had even halted her broom. "What the FUCK, Cooper!?" she screamed, livid.
"Don't you touch me. Ever again," Ashlyn roared out, glaring angrily at the girl across from her. Ohhh, she was so infuriated by this she could just--no, that wouldn't be right. She wanted to just rip out all of Ingrid's hair, or push her off her broom or do
something to her. She was so caught up in her thoughts and watching Ingrid's movements that the game was essentially forgotten. It didn't matter that she'd spent the past two weeks practicing and practicing and practicing for this match--the match that would essentially decide the entire season. All she wanted was to beat the shit out of Ingrid, even if it meant Ravenclaw losing (fourteen goals and that wouldn't be an issue, not if Meghan kept Gryffindor from scoring out its nose), even if it meant her not catching the snitch just once.
"Oh,
fabulous fucking advice, Cooper," Ingrid shouted back, rolling her eyes. Her arms, which normally dropped into a stubborn position over her chest when she was in the middle of an argument, stayed in this instance one on her broom, the other at her side and in a fist, ready to just punch Ashlyn if she wanted to try and hit her again. "Why don't you fucking follow it and not try to knock me off my fucking broom in the middle of the match!" Ingrid didn't think she'd
ever felt this angry at a person before--how
dare this girl come in a fuck up her relationship, and then have the gall to try and start a physical fight with her? Fucking nancy Ravenclaw was in more shit than she realized, because Ingrid has no qualms at the moment about flat out kicking her ass into next week. "You had better back up and fly away before I make you sorry you ever crossed me, you stupid bitch."
Ashlyn hated knowing that she was such a hypocrite; even worse, she hated that Ingrid (and probably dozens of others) could so clearly see it as well. "Well
excuse me for thinking I saw the snitch. Obviously I'm not allowed to do my fucking
job.
Obviously I'm out to get you," She replied, her knuckles turning white as they gripped too tightly to her broom handle. "Then again, you probably
like accusing people of rubbish so I guess I won't have to lose any sleep over this tonight."
Back up and fly away? Hell no, Ashlyn wasn't going anywhere. She had the same rights as Ingrid to stay put and she wasn't about to back down. She laughed. "Oh, I'd sure like to see you try, Catchlove." She knew there was a good amount of danger involved with calling Ingrid on that, especially when she looked just as (if not more) angry as Ashlyn currently felt. It was taking all the self-restraint that Ashlyn had to not leap at Ingrid and just start
pummeling her. A fight sounded so good right now.
Oh, so she wanted a real fight, did she? Well if Ashlyn was trying to call her bluff, it wasn't going to work. Ingrid had never been one to go back on her promises, and that included promises of eternal pain to the girl who had now crossed her one too many times. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that Christian was probably (no, definitely) watching this and flipping a shit, and that she was about to do something that she was going to get really laid into for this after it was all over, but she was too furious to care about the repercussions. In one, swift movement, her fist connected hard with the other girl's nose---a pain burst through her knuckles, but that was something else that just didn't matter at the moment.
Somewhere off in the distance, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and in her peripheral vision Ingrid could see the referee and players from both sides flying to the site of the confrontation, but she wasn't paying much attention. "CATCHLOVE! COOPER! OUT OF THE GAME, NOW!" Hooch roared. Hands of a teammate grabbed her shoulders, but she wrestled away and lunged forward, now wrestling with the Ravenclaw in midair.
"I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!" she screamed at Ashlyn.
Blood was dripping down Ashlyn's face, but she didn't even take time to recoil and fuss over it. She wasn't going to give Ingrid that satisfaction. "You fucking SLAG!" Ashlyn screamed, launching herself at the blonde witch. Her fingers grabbed for whatever they could find but really, that hair of hers was so tempting. She felt an unexpected anger boil through her as her hand pulled at her hair; she wanted to pull all of it right out of her hair. There was a flurry of Ravenclaws behind Ashlyn, but she was ignoring all of them, especially Anneliese. If she started to think about how badly her captain had wanted this game, well--no, she didn't need to think about this right now. Not when she was so focused on doing damage to Ingrid before it happened to her.
She threw a coiled fist at Ingrid and made contact, but to be honest she wasn't entirely sure where that was at. "FUCK YOU, INGRID. FUCK YOU FOR BEING A FUCKING BITCH!" she screamed, her fist getting ready to hit the other girl once again. Thank Merlin this was the end of the year because Ashlyn wasn't entirely sure she could spend an entire school year around Ingrid without wanting to start off where this fight would eventually end.
Ingrid's cheek stung and throbbed with the aftereffect of Ashlyn's fist having hit its mark, and she felt warmth slowly trickling down the side of her face. Her arms were covered in red scratch marks--although she'd made a good few of her own on the other girl, where those were concerned--and she was pretty sure she would have looked no worse off if she had just been thrown off her broom in the first place. But none of that mattered, nothing else mattered but finally teaching this bitch a lesson once and for all.
She threw up a forearm just in time to deflect the next punch that Ashlyn had ready to throw her way, but it hurt no less than it would have had she just let her face continue to take the beating. "GO TO HELL, COOPER, YOU'VE GOT NO FUCKING
RIGHT!
NO RIGHT TO CALL ME A SLAG!" Her voice was raised far over those of her teammates and Madam Hooch, all of whom were still yelling at them to stop.
Seeing that neither of the girls were about to do that, two of her fellow Gryffindors grabbed for her again, one clutching each arm. Ingrid threw her body furiously, trying to fight out of their restrictive holds once more, but the harder she resisted, the harder they held onto her. "LET ME GO! LET ME KICK HER ASS, SHE FUCKING DESERVES IT, THE FUCKING WHORE!"
"You're
hardly the one to judge whether or not I'm a slag," Ashlyn spat back, glaring at Ingrid as she fought against her own restrainers. Ugh, if Joey Jenkins didn't let go of her soon, she'd punch him too. "I'm surprised that Christian is letting you play today," she added, scowling at Ingrid as she struggled against her teammates. "Then again, I never pegged you as one to really put someone else before yourself." Under normal circumstances she probably wouldn't have thrown all that out there, but she was well past that. She
wanted Ingrid even angrier at her. Even more, she hoped that her suspicions were true and that somehow throwing out a meaningless string of words would hurt her much more than her fist did.
It was amazing, that just that simple sentence had gotten to Ingrid like no amount of physical pain could. She paled visibly and suddenly fell idle within her restraints, eyes widening just slightly at the girl across from her. It was---no, it was absolutely impossible. There was no way that Ashlyn could know. She hadn't said a
word outside of her dormmates and letters to Christian, she had been careful... she wasn't even showing, not even a bit! And yet from her words, it was evident that Ashlyn somehow
knew that she was---
Through her apparent shock, Ingrid did her best to muster up a glare. She couldn't admit to it, she had to cover. Ashlyn Cooper was the last person that she ever wanted to know she was pregnant, the absolute
last. "What the fuck are you even talking about, Cooper?" she hissed. "Did I punch you too hard in the he---"
"Girls! I said, out of the game!" She was interrupted by Madam Hooch, who was apparently taking advantage of the fact that they were finally no longer going at each other. For the first time, Ingrid looked at the furious referee, then sent a glare back to Ashlyn and shook off her teammates. "
Fine," she spat, turning her broom around. She lowered her broomstick, and took off towards the Gryffindor locker rooms the second her feet touched the grass, her body shaking--not from the fight, but from the Ravenclaw's last words to her. She needed to get away from Ashlyn Cooper as quickly as she could.
This was a bloody
disaster.
Ashlyn could see that she struck a nerve. Even though it didn't
sound like she had--well, maybe she hadn't? She was so anxious to have something to hold above Ingrid and this certainly was the mother of all blackmail subjects. She let out a loud sigh as Ingrid left; she didn't want to even tempt the other girl (or herself) by leaving too early. She could hear Anneliese's voice behind her and she certainly didn't sound happy about what had just unfolded. Everything was muted in Ashlyn's ears. She wanted to get out of there before anyone had the time to say something to her, whether it be Anneliese or Phoebe or even Sieffre--would he even
want to talk to her after this? As she sulked towards the Ravenclaw locker rooms, she had to stop herself from turning around to look as their reserve seeker got himself ready for the game. They'd need a miracle to pull a win out of this game. And there certainly wouldn't be any celebrating for her.
