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Chapter Six

Sometimes we fall into bad habits, these can be found annoying to ourselves and others. What’s more frustrating? Breaking a habit that doesn’t need to be broken, especially if your doing it for someone else. If you want change, change. Because letting someone change you is like letting a four year old loose with the Mona Lisa with a permanent marker. Stupid, reckless and degrading.

~*~

I assume that I'm a pretty predictable person, so I guess we all can predict I'm avoiding Louis. But first, I hit him; my arm swung around and slapped him right on the left cheek. Then, I yelled at him for probably stealing that sort of tacky line from Hugo because Hugo always uses those 'suave', rather tacky and just plain weird pick up lines in conversations, especially with his girlfriend. As you can expect, she spends a great deal of time telling him off and whacking or pushing him. I like her. She takes no nonsense.

Guess what?

Arisa isn't talking to me either and neither is Lorcan. To be fair on Lorcan, we don't speak that much to begin with. Especially when it comes to quidditch, he always zones out when we play.

So guess who I've been hanging out with?

Since my so-called friends no longer like me or talk to me, Izzy, and wait for it, McLaggen. Oh yeah, I've been hanging out with my ex. No, I'm not crazy, well a bit, but you know. It's not that bad. Okay, it sucks.

But everything this year appears to suck. My first real relationship ended, even if I wasn't sure it was a relationship, I've raked four months of detention with my old friends who no longer speak to me and I'm not talking to my best friend who is pissed at me for not liking him back or hitting him. I'm not too sure which one Louis is angry about. I think it’s the fact I hit him.

And don’t forget the whopper my mother landed on me. She’s you know, you know, preg-, oh know that word that rhymes with stagnant. There’s no need to de-virginize (this brings me to the fact there is a lexical gap in the english language as there is no word for someone who is not a virgin) any ears with that word.

So on this fine Sunday, I hope things get better. I mean, they honestly can’t get that worse. I like the rain. So, take that awkward director of my life, who will want to make it rain as soon as I say ‘the day can’t get much worse’. For one, I hope McLaggen isn't a tyrannical ruthless captain like Lily or Terrence. We actually won every single game under their confusing joint captaincy. Oh my gosh, don't you just love the word cap-tin-see. Three syllables of awesome.

Off topic, once again.

Hopefully, Lorcan and Louis will talk to me. I mean c'mon, I'm bloody irresistible. This wavy hair and cute pout are hackin' adorable. You can't ignore me; it must be like a cardinal sin or something. What is a cardinal sin anyway?

Izzy joins me on my journey to the quidditch pitch. She walks ahead of me, leading me to the pitch, you'd think as the quidditch player I'd know how to get there. You know how Velma in Scooby Doo is always losing her glasses? I just get myself lost. It's rather notsome (negative for awesome, look it up).

Practice starts and I'm immediately grouped with Lorcan and Louis, I mean we are the chasers. It is to be expected. Aaron introduces us to the new beaters and seeker, a tiny third year.

Aaron is completely chilled and lax compared to Lily, the fire breathing quidditch captain or Terrence, the army official. He makes us warm up, run around a bit and then fly for a bit. It's funny, he's making this up as we go along. Nobody cares, it's such a relief he's not torturing us that none of us are bothered. Aaron then notices we're being absolute arses and were just throwing the quaffle randomly, so he tells the beaters to start aiming the bludgers at us.

So, he’s a tad mental, but aren’t all quidditch captains?

Dodging bludgers while trying to score is okay, it's my job as a chaser. It's bloody difficult if your team beaters, who are supposed to be protecting you, keep sending them in your way.

Let's just say, you could hear a lot of interesting profanities on the pitch. Lily would have told us to wash our mouths out with soap. Aaron however, gladly joins us.

I duck quickly, swerving my broom as a bludger swishes past my hair. Louis looks to me, contemplating on passing me the quaffle but goes against it. As a poet, I believe that is symbolism for a dying friendship. Well that sucks.

I propel (another smexy verb, pro-pelle) myself forward on my broom to avoid the beaters. I turn around to see what's going on, only to see Lorcan hovering with a bludger approaching him from behind. Quick: shout or let him get hit? Being a morally upright gryffie, I shout telling him to move which calls him off-guard and as the bludger scrapes past him, he falls. Lorcan plummets to the ground quickly and we all follow him down.

He lands awkwardly on his side, I crouch on the ground next to him.

"Y'all right mate?" Louis asks.

"Of course he's not okay," I snap as Lorcan moans on the ground.

Aaron senses the tension between the two of us and says, "we should take him to the hospital wing."

"That's not necessary," Lorcan says, obviously grappling with the pain and trying to be, err, macho. To be honest, he sounds really airy. There's a word I don't particularly like, macho, rhymes with nacho.

As everyone discusses what to do with Lorcan and he disagrees, claiming he's fine. I stare at his neck. I'm not a vampire. In fourth year, I was playing with a butter knife, I was silly back in the day and sort of cut Lorcan's neck.

And I can't see the scar right now, but I'm sure it's on this side of his neck.

They continue to argue, Lorcan adamantly declaring he's fine as he awkwardly stands up. Then he says, "I swear on the existence of Nargles, that I'm fine."

Lorcan wouldn't say that. Lysander would. Lysander doesn't have a scar on his neck. Lorcan does.

I scrutinize my thoughts for a bit; they've actually swapped, but for how long and why?

"Louis," I say and he turns to me, "where is Lorcan?" I ask.

"He's right there, in front of you Patch, don't be stupid," he says crudely.

I roll my eyes, "that isn't Lorcan, its Lysander."

"God damn, Patch, you're being really stupid now!"

That hurt.

"I'm not stupid," I say coolly, oh yeah, I'll have the moral high ground in this argument, not my fault that the feelings aren't mutual.

"Look at his neck," I hiss to Louis, so he's the only one who hears. The ruckus starts to settle; Aaron takes charge (about time) and helps Lorcan up.

"Practise is over," Aaron declares.

I walk with Louis awkwardly away from the pitch.

"You were right," he says softly, and for a moment I completely forget what he’s talking about.

"I know," I say, irony tilting on my voice. I hate it; absolutely hate it when people call me stupid. I'm not stupid, maybe free-spirited sand a bit silly, but not stupid.

"Let's go find Lorcan, who should be posing as Lysander," Louis says.

We haven't even changed out of our quidditch robes but I follow him.

"We should go to the Ravenclaw common room," he suggests. He walks a couple of strides ahead of me.

I fumble not knowing to do with my hands, someone is always holding my hand or I'm linking arms with someone as I walk across the castle. Especially when I'm with Louis, he always held (I just used the perfect tense, as in he doesn't and won't anymore) my hand.

We arrive at the door of the Ravenclaw common room, luckily we see Henry Glass on his way in. Henry Glass is an easy-going, rather popular 'claw and with a little bit of talking would let us in.

"Hey Glass," I say cutely.

"Finnegan, what's up?" he asks. I turn round to Louis, who rolls his eyes.

"We were wondering if Lysander was in the common room, we have to let him know that Lorcan had an accident," I say, twirling from side to side. I know, je suis tres tres mignonne. I am the epitome of cuteness.

Henry answers the riddle that Louis and I wouldn't have figured out in an age.

And lo and behold, guess who's (pretend) reading muggle literature comfortably in a chair in the 'claw common room?

"Lysander," I say, sweet as sugar, "Lorcan's had an accident during practice, he's in the hospital wing."

Louis stands behind me, watching and waiting carefully.

"Oh dear," he says airily, I have to admit it’s good acting.

"Lorcan, cut the crap, we know it's you," Louis says.

Get it? We did the good cop, bad cop routine. We're like Mystery Inc.; we're going to solve the case of the switching quidditch players.

Lorcan/Lysander is silent for a moment.

He's so guilty. But why swap? It doesn't make sense, what benefit does Lorcan or Lysander get from switching? Or maybe it's for a laugh. Or maybe the swap for every quidditch practice?

"Yeah, it's me," he admits, standing up. I guess we're going to the hospital wing now.

Well, this Sunday is certainly turning out to be an interesting one.

The walk to the hospital wing is one obese awkward silence, with shuffling feet and twisted hands by sides.

Louis, the daredevil, shatters the silence and asks, "why swap?"

Lorcan doesn't respond. What a clunky, chunky moment.

"I think I know," I say in a sing song voice.

"I bet you don't," Lorcan says darkly. Well, it sounded ominous and moody.

“You can't play quidditch-,” I start and Louis cuts me off.

He's trying to ruin my eureka moment, where I solve the mystery and get the glory. Some people can't let go of their 'feelings'. Pathetic.

“Patch.”

“It's Sophie,” I say adamantly and continue, “you're awful at playing quidditch.” I giggle.

“Patch,” Louis says through clenched teeth.

I keep going, I'm sick of people saying I'm stupid. I'm going to show everyone that I can think and I can, in fact solve a mystery.

“I mean, you were bloody awful, that is, up until fourth year, when you tried out, but it wasn't you who tried out,” I say and we appear to have stopped walking in the middle of a corridor where people seem to pass.

“Shut up,” Lorcan hisses.

I bet you Moldyshort hissed like that.

Do the kids from Mystery Inc. ever stop their explanation despite the horrible claims of the criminal? No. Will I stop? No.

"So, you figure that Lysander, who is an amazing player, can pretend to be you and play for the Gryffindor team since he's not actually interested in quidditch," I say, thinking. I've figured out the how, but I haven't snagged the all-important, 'why'.

"Merde. Patch, shut up," Louis says.

I brush him off.

"So, why?" I ask, I feel like Sherlock Holmes, like I've got the answers in my palm and I'm plucking it up for dramatic effect.

"You know full well why," he says.

"I don't," I say and Louis shakes his head.

"You two are so bloody up yourselves, you only pay attention to people if they're entertaining or they’ve got something that you're interested in," he spits.

"You haven't even bothered finding out what the hell is wrong with Arisa," he pauses, "don't take this as compliment, but you two are perfect for each other," he slurs.

Lorcan spins round and then storms away, leaving us in the (metaphorical) rain.

"Can't you just keep your mouth shut?" Louis asks, storming off in the same direction as Lorcan. I'll assume that I'm not supposed to follow.

On this fine Sunday, I have learnt that knowledge does not make you intelligent, a basic instinct called common sense does. I think I lost mine, because I don't even know the way back to the bloody common room.





Disclaimer: I still don't own scooby doo, harry potter or anything else pop culture that's referenced in this chapter.

A/N:Thank you all for your lovely reviews on the last chapter, you all seem to understand this story way more than I do. :)

Check out my other stories, Eating Carrot Tops which is a prequel to this and sort of the same style of insanity!

merde= shit

Thank you all

Not to whineee, but c'mon review, over 125 people have favourited the story and the number of reviews is sort of disheartening if that many people like it. 

So thoughts on the swap? on Louis/Patch? Do you want a chapter in Louis/Arisa/Lorcan's p.o.v?

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