stop the tape and rewind // dashiell

[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

The start of the day was always the most difficult for Abraxas simply because it required getting out of bed. When given the choice between his warm sheets and the cold air , he would always choose the sheets. Luckily for him, someone had already lit the radiator-chimney-thing in the middle of the dormitory and so the tower was warm enough for him to motivate himself out of his four-poster without too much trouble. Changing quickly from his pyjamas into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, he wandered down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He'd agreed to do some Quidditch practice with Dash today and there was no way he'd be able to do so on an empty stomach. Not that he was using that as an excuse to eat as much as he had room for.

Once he'd consumed enough to keep him going for the day, careful to stop before he reached uncomfortability, Abraxas returned to the Gryffindor dormitories. Dash's bed was empty and so he was naturally gutted he hadn't passed him on the way up. With his Quidditch robes sitting in the changing rooms, he had no choice but to change into them there rather than put them on now and walk to the pitch in them. To save himself from the cold, the Malfoy pulled on a hoodie, shoved his wand into the pocket of his jeans and made his way down to the pitch. If he'd bothered to look for his kit before going to breakfast then he could have saved himself the trip back up to the common room.

Abraxas was pleased to find that the cold hadn't completely overwhelmed Hogwarts yet. He couldn't see the tail end of the summer weather lasting much longer and it wouldn't be long before the snow started to become a regular sight. The possibility of the pitch already being booked for a practice hadn't crossed his mind and at all until he saw the timetable on the notice board as he entered the pitch. Luckily it was clear until the afternoon so he quickly scribbled Gryffindor into the morning slot. Abraxas grabbed his broom from the closet on his way into the changing rooms. Once he'd retrieved his Quidditch robes, he sat down to wait for Dashiell. Though they were still going to practice, as far as he was aware, there was always the chance that he'd managed to get himself into trouble between waking up to now and wouldn't be able to make it. As such, he would wait for him to arrive before he put on his robes to save him having to change back again in the incident that he would have had to practice alone.

[dashiell jameson peakes]

September was by far the most boring of all months. There were no exceptionally exciting events which took place, and most of the month was spent with winds picking up and children hoping that spooky, harvest festivals should begin soon enough. Today was no exception for September weather. There was no sunny sky fit for shorts and open-toed shoes. Instead, shiver-inducing breezes crept through the castle like they were poisonous tendrils of some distant beast, grasping for some hold on the place. Wherever they walked, the students seemed to have their summer robes on and argued idly as to whether it was cold or not. Two Slytherin students were even sitting so closely to one another that they were practically fornicating, surely to conserve heat.

Without a struggle, Dashiell had risen from his bed. It was rather frightening, in fact, the way he woke up grinning; the way he sprung up from the covers wasn't unkin to an old muggle Vampire movie. If he were thirsty for blood — rather than the delicious thoughts of both breakfast and also flying — then the image would have been complete. Never one to sleep in pajamas, Dash had fallen asleep in last night's day-wear. He had quickly shed these like they were burning and he was to take them off as quickly as possible, and slipped on new clothing. His pants were old, ratty jeans which would be able to stand the wear-and-tear which Quidditch did require. His shirt happened to be a striped polo of unflattering colours. Over the polo, a heavy sweatshirt. All of this was mutely orchaestrated, for Abraxas hadn't yet woken up, and Dashiell knew better than to wake another boy. He hated it, so Abraxas'd probably hate it also.

Once he was sufficiently clothed, the boy had scurried down to the Great Hall for food. It was a quick meal; Dash couldn't play on a full stomach, for it would make him sick. A couple breakfast tarts and a glass of water. If breakfast was still being served, he would come back after his practice in the Quidditch Pitch. Both Abraxas and he were good players, Dash thought, but it wouldn't hurt to stick to practicing. There would be no considering of a Slytherine victory. After he finished eating, Dashiell walked back up the numerous flights of stairs — and yet muggles could invent elevators?! — and re-entered the Gryffindor commons. Dash'd left his Quidditch gear and broom near a couch, along with gloves and goggles and the beater bat. He'd probably focus on flying tricks, however, for he was rather atrocious at those, in comparison to his ability for knocking someone off his or her broomstick.

Gathering his gear up into his arms, Dashiell asked a first year student with black hair and countless freckles whether or not she'd seen Abraxas around. Shyly, she shook her head, and pretended to read a potions book on the table next to her. Dash knew by the cover that the book she'd picked up was left there by some older student. Its brown covering was belonging to the third years— not the first years. She'd told him what he wanted to know, and he'd headed through the castle (taking a shortcut at the cast-sculpture of his distant relative), and into the Courtyards. Impatience won him over, here, and he put on all equipment and gear he could here. Holding the rest in one hand, Dash mounted his broom and sped haphazardly toward the Quidditch Pitch. Distracted by the feeling of wind beneathe his broom, the Gryffindor ignored the fact that flying through the courtyards was more probably not acceptable behaviour. He made it to the Pitch without being bothered by a faculty member or a rogue prefect. Here, he plopped his extra stuff (actual Quidditch robes, bat, etc) on the other side of the pitch, and rose into the air. Circles, loops, and falls. Each imperfect, but none ending in broken bones. As he horsed around, Dashiell saw a flutter in the air, and left the bounds of the Pitch to follow it. Upon further investigation, it was nothing interesting or unusual. Simply an owl on its way to its tower.

When Dash had returned to the Pitch, Abraxas had made his way inside and appeared to be waiting. Dashiell swiftly flew down next to his friend, purposely flying as close to his head that his sharp eyes knew would be of no danger.

"You're way slow this mornin', Brax. How're you ever going to avoid the other team's bludgers like that?" It was a lie; Abraxas was undeniably the better flier of the two (the whole team seemed to be better fliers, although Dash had excellent hit records), but Dashiell thoroughly enjoyed their playful teasing. "Are you ready then? If we're lucky, we can get a good work-out before some loafs come around."

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[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

When Abraxas came to think of it, Dash hadn't been in his bed when he'd woken up, let alone when he came back from the Great Hall. Would it be crazy to think that he had risen before him and while Abraxas thought he was waiting for Dashiell, it was in fact the other way around. Probably not. Abraxas knew all too well that he had more trouble getting out of bed than most of those in his dormitory and it wasn't uncommon for him to be the last up. Figuring that he had in fact been the later of the two to arrived, the Malfoy pulled off his clothes in favour of his Quidditch robes. He personally found jeans comfortable for every day use but they weren't so practical on a broomstick. He didn't consider himself particularly larger than anyone else but he found himself a little restricted in the downstairs department when flying with jeans.

Grabbing his broom and walking through the tunnel that led from the changing rooms to the pitch, Abraxas glanced across the grass and saw nobody. Perhaps he had been the first there after all. Turning around to see if Dash had entered the changing rooms just as he'd left them, he felt a whoosh of air above his head that could be explained only as a passing broomstick. Why hadn't he thought to look up for his friend rather than at the ground level? It was a Quidditch pitch after all and people usually flew on it rather than walking around on the grass, especially those that enjoyed flying enough to join the house team. A wide smile formed on his face as he finally looked up to see his friend, fully prepared for the practice and windswept enough to suggest he'd been waiting for a fair while.

"You were just early?" Abraxas tried, knowing full well that he had simply been slow in getting there, as had been pointed out several times. No matter how many times he convinced himself he would try harder to get up, he could never manage to come through. "How about I focus on the Quaffle and leave the bludgers to you?" Though he knew it was Dash's job to stop anyone on the Gryffindor team getting smashed to pieces, he also knew that with four other players on the team, providing Annie took care of herself, he needed to at least try and avoid the bludgers. As much as he trusted his friend to keep him in tact, he couldn't rely on him too heavily. With Annie having fallen from her broom not too long ago, chances were the professors would discourage her from flying for a short while and that meant having a less experienced beater if she wasn't back on a broom before the first match of the year. If that were to happen, not only would Annie flip out but there'd be even more pressure on Dash.

"Course I'm ready," Abraxas replied, swinging a leg over his broom and kicking off from the ground. He felt so at home in the air, despite the potential dangers that came about as a consequence of being off the floor, and even more so when he was with his best friend. Abraxas had initially been worried before his first year that he wouldn't have any friends at Hogwarts. Cassie had been mixed in her response between reassuring him and teasing him but then she was his older sister, what was he to expect?

[dashiell jameson peakes]

"I got your back."

Dashiell wasn't a Hufflepuff, but like any student with a group of friends, Dash was strongly protective of his friends, particularly Abraxas. If he weren't there would have been no reason for the two to be an inseparable duo. Who, then, would Dashiell sit with at the Great Hall? More importantly, who would he turn to when his grades dropped so low? There was no Dashiell without Abraxas and the other boys. They seemed to be a joint operation, joined at the hip. Ying and Yang. "What do want to practice, anyway?" Dash had landed next to Abraxas when he'd neared him, but when his friend had pushed off and entered the air, Dash followed suit, although he remained close to the ground for the time being. "I can try to catch you! It'll be like tag." When Dashiell had been young, he'd often played tag with with a muggle boy named Alexander.

Dashiell's mind temporary remembered the fact that he'd an essay due the following day, which had been ignored in exchange for sleep, talking, and eating. Certainly these things were more important than Transfigurations Class any day. These thoughts weren't enjoyable, and so he did the natural thing and repressed them. Dashiel followed fun, and class was not fun. Neither was the fact that Winter was approaching. While Quidditch still managed to surface through the cold and snow, but it didn't compare to the summer months. His hands were cold on the smooth, wooden surface of his broomstick. It wasn't the fanciest broom on the team, but it was a powerhouse for the price spent upon it. A dark cherry wood with faux-gold trimming and metals, there were chips and scratches which marked competitive games ending in less than graceful landings.

Whipping in an ugly elliptical shape, Peakes had gathered speed and rode the air like it was a rollercoaster. He wasn't a pretty flyer, although he pretended to be, but was exceedingly practical. Like a man, Dashiell's lack of finess was often surprising. Whatever got the job done was satisfactory enough. Laughing with a slightly maniacal nature, Dash flew in a straight line at Abraxas. It was his style, to ask a question, and then proceed to act upon it before getting an answer. Similarly, he had asked Abraxas whether or not he was interested in trying out for the Quidditch team, and then proceded to drop hints that it would be the best decision Abraxas could have made. Perhaps a bit pushy in that regard, Dashiell enjoyed saying that he knew best. In truth, he was simply adventurous and too fond of risk for his own good. Sneaking out of the commons after dark, planting stink bombs in that seventh year Slytherin's robes, and more.

"You're still too slow!" Dash taunted, eyes narrowed, and hair whipping behind him.

---

(Sorry about this one; I had a hard time getting it to flow! D:)

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[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

Abraxas couldn't have anticipated how close he'd grown to his friends. He always found himself feeling very lost for the first week or so of the summer holidays and blamed this completely on withdrawal symptoms. They usually organised to meet up once or twice over the course of the summer and this just about got him through until the following year. His mother frequently asked him what he would do without seeing them every day when he finished Hogwarts and Abraxas had been unable to come up with an answer to her question. What would he do? It wasn't even as though he'd decided on a career path to follow that he could be enthusiastic about and hide the fact he'd struggle to cope without his friends. Of course he'd still see them occasionally but never often enough.

"Err... I hadn't really thought about that," Ab replied honestly. He had a habit of planning an event without actually thinking about what it would consist of. When he'd first invited Dashiell to his house, he'd been so looking forward to it that he'd forgotten they'd need something to do. If they had both played the same position then it would have been easier to practice. The only thing that sprang to mind was him trying to score while Dash smashed bludgers at him. Luckily, his friend had been able to come up with a much safer idea, providing they didn't get too confident with the tagging and end up pushing the other off his broom.

What Abraxas had never been able to grasp was how even if the whole team were given the exact same broom, the girls would somehow always fly with more grace yet still have the same focus as the boys. Of course there were always exceptions but the two boys on the pitch didn't fall into that category. Ab wouldn't have called himself an unaesthetic flier but he certainly couldn't have pursued a career in broom acrobatics or something ridiculous like that. If it hadn't been for Dash's recommendation, Abraxas probably wouldn't have tried out for the team until at least his sixth year. Judging by how the beater was speeding towards him, he gathered that the decision had already been made for them to utilise Dash's suggestion. He swerved left slightly in an attempt to avoid him, assuming that the general aim was to not get caught. Unfortunately for him, he knew by the contact that it hadn't quite worked out as he'd planned. "I'm not slow I was just... unprepared?"

[dashiell jameson peakes]

"I'll give you that one!"

Dashiell laughed again, knowing that he'd not given Abraxas any time to get flying before the tingling tips of his dominant, left hand had managed to make a firm touch upon the other boy's lower side as he'd tried to swing out of his grasp. It'd been a short game in that round, but he grinned with his surprise-attack; he had obviously not expected for it to have worked out for him so well. When he'd played tag as a child, his smaller friends would run much quicker and it would be eons before Dash had managed to grasp one. All name-based irony was beside the fact. With it only being September, Dashiell was slightly out of practice. His mother found broomsticks to be too obviously witchy to have in their muggle-friendly hometown, and so he wasn't allowed to practice then. These impromptu games with Abraxas kept him agile- thinking on his toes. They might not appear to have anything to do with Quidditch, but flying as at the heart of the game, like scales to music. Without knowing the scales, one could never flow freely through concertos or concertinos.

Sidling back up in the air to where Abraxas had been floating he spoke wryly, "I think that means that you're it." Without allowing for the same trick he'd initiated to be turned upon himself, Dashiell dashed around Abraxas twice. "I'm right here! Come on, get me. You know you want to!" All in good fun, he even rocked into Abraxas's broom like they were fixed into bumper cars rather broom. With that done, he dropped. Literally, the boy's broom dropped like a weight, with himself on it. When he neared the ground, he pulled back up on the handle, and rode concentric shapes around the Pitch. The chances were strong that he'd get caught relatively easily, but his goal was to make it as hard as possible on Abraxas.

A ray of sun happened to peek through the guard of clouds, as they raced around. It seemed that it would disappear just as quickly as it appeared. Despite the odds, however, the sun struggled through the grey and granted the boys a moment. As if exploiting this moment, a dark coloured flock of butterflies floated around the grass, searching and probing for a clover blossom amongst the green. It was amazing that the faint creatures still hung about in such numbers, what with the seasons changing. Suddenly, a swarm of horklumps came into that far end of the Pitch — uncomfortably near Dashiell's extra items — and slowly stalked the delicate-winged creatures before launching themselves. Like bears, they shoved the flying creatures into their mouths, wingdust covering their lips. The predator became the prey when a couple of pidgeons dove in intertwining flight, grabbing the horklumps in their beaks. They flew away in a series of cooing and pursuit. The butterflies had managed to flee the scene whilst the pidgeons were otherwise occupied. The Gameskeeper would need to inspect the Pitch for pests before the next match.

Dashiell got easily excited about things, and now he delighted in the thrill of the chase. Being "it" was just dandy, but there was something wonderfully daring about being chased. It made him think of darting through a forest, with some fantastic, predatory animal out after him. A joke, when it was considered that the creature flying after him was far less dangerous, as far as he knew. He'd been sleeping in the bed next to him for the last five years. Dash looked over his shoulder as he flew in a straight path from one end of the Pitch to another.

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[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

Had that really worked? Abraxas was very surprised that his rather childish excuse for being caught had actually pulled through. That said, he was also it so had he really won there? It appeared he'd been mistaken in thinking that he got another go, at least until he managed to catch Dash, when he was in fact being given another opportunity to be quick. Ab didn't care that he was chasing, he was a chaser after all. He was more accustomed to trying to catch a Quaffle but if he just pictured his friend as a scarlet leather ball, he could probably manage. So Dashiell was a bit larger than a Quaffle, slightly faster than a Quaffle and much more talented at dodging than a Quaffle. Oh well, he'd try his best. It wasn't an impossible task.

Abraxas' stomach jumped as Dashiell bumped into him. Though he trusted his friend wouldn't shove him to his doom, he hadn't been expecting it and so for a split second had feared he'd be tumbling towards the grass. By the time he turned to look at Dash to make a swipe for him, he'd already flown off to whizz around the pitch. How kind of him to make it even more difficult for him. On the ground, he imagined the game would be far easier as there wasn't the added complication of being able to move vertically as well as horizontally. Nevertheless, Malfoy gave chase. He spotted nature going about its business below him but only allowed it partial attention in order to continue his currently futile attempts to tag Dash. It was strangely beautiful to see the small food chain. "Just like Dash." Woah woah woah, where in Merlin's name had that come from!?

Ab had noticed he was looking at the boys on the Quidditch team a little more than he was comfortable with while they changed out of their sweaty Quidditch robes. He had come to the conclusion that he wasn't used to seeing so many males with so few clothes on and so the unfamiliarity was unsettling him. It was just a phase, right? Once he'd got used to being on the team, having only joined the year before, it would all pass and his eyes would return to females. Yes, that's how it would work out. He wasn't interested in boys like that at all, especially not his best friend. That would just be weird and there wasn't any room for additional weird in their friendship circle.

When Abraxas' thought process returned to the task at hand, Dash was making a beeline across the pitch. Presuming this would probably be his best opportunity to catch him as there were no bends in a straight line, Ab gained a little height and made a wild swoop in his direction. His left hand released its grip on the handle of his broom and reached towards Dashiell. Was that fabric he felt? Or was it just the air rushing through his fingers? Perhaps he'd just slapped a pigeon? Abraxas slowed slightly and looked at his friend in search of an answer. If he carried on flying, he had clearly missed. If he'd got him then he would presumably also slow down or else immediately come after him.

[dashiell jameson peakes]

"Damn!"

It was firm and tense. It wasn't angrily said, just the sound of own defeated in a competition. It may have been only a light touch — almost shockingly delicate — but Dashiell had indeed been tagged. He'd been looking backward when it had happened and what he saw was what he saw. Honestly, he could probably have gotten away with pretending he'd not been tagged; there was a faded line of athletic sportsmanship which was occasionally crossed by the less moral of Keepers and Seekers. Nevertheless, there was nothing riding on these games that the boys played, and Dashiell would have felt dirty if he'd lied about something so honest and trivial. So, the Gryffindor student oscillated his broom so that their roles were reversed. How lucky that both of them were so flexible that they could be versatile as to whether each was chasing or being chased. Maybe it wasn't the typical practice routine, but Abraxas seemed to be enjoying himself enough, and Dashiell followed fun like hunting dogs followed their noses.

Time passed so easily at Hogwarts. It seemed almost as if some enchantment had been placed on the castle which promoted the passing of time. It seemed to Dashiell that only yesterday he was eleven. Only yesterday had Abraxas and he met one another. A short time afterward, the rest of the group would form itself, with Davies, Goldstein, and Longbottom quickly becoming the next leg. Even though these changes added to their dynamic, Abraxas and Dashiell remained the closest of the bunch. Without telepathy, however, there was no chance that Dash would have ever even guessed that Abraxas would have had feelings that surpassed brotherly love. Slightly naive in that fashion, Dashiell had figured that the Slytherins who had made poisonous comments about their friendship had only been out to cause fights. Whatever Abraxas was feeling, Dashiell was far too blunt to pick up on any subtle changes in his best friend's behaviour.

Again, Dashiell was the hunter. His feet had bounced across the ground when he'd sat up straight on his broom again, which only stood to define how closely to the ground he'd been flying. He'd taken a break at this time, for he wasn't yet used to flying around for extended periods of time since the end of his fourth year. This pause in activity lasted two minutes at the greatest. Then, Dashiell put his hands tightly on the broom. For a children's game, it gained new meaning and importance. Before, it was just a silly suggested way for them to spend their time. Now, however, Dash's eyes were narrowed in focus. He was quite ready to meet the next level. "Ready?" There was a pause before Dash launched himself back into the middle space between the earth and the heavens. He wished his gloves weren't being unused in a heap with his bag, as he tucked himself as low as he could. Maybe Abraxas might be able to evade better than him, or maybe not, but Dashiell was persistent like a turtle crossing a highway. If he did not at first succeed, he would stubbornly refuse to give up and try again. He breathed heavily as he came after Abraxas. "Here I come, Brax..." It was whispered mischieviously.

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[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

Dash's little outburst, although not an angry one, told Abraxas that he had indeed tagged him, unless for some bizarre reason he had wanted to be tagged and Ab had indeed missed him. His victory was short-lived as his friend quickly turned back into the chaser. He took this as his cue to start flying again, determined not to be caught as quickly as he had last time. It would make it even more difficult to convince people he wasn't slow, including himself. He knew that he was difficult to get out of bed and so acknowledged he was slow in that respect but he'd never really taken account of his speed in anything else, although he had noticed he ate rather quickly.

He had decided way back in his third year that he would definitely be staying to do NEWTs, simply to spend another two years with his friends, providing they also opted to continue their studies. He'd worried for quite some time about their last day at Hogwarts. Abraxas wasn't the type to display his insecurities but he'd put all his money on him crying on that day. After seven years of seeing those that mattered most to him every day and then suddenly only seeing them on special occasions was bound to upset him. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd met Dashiell in Diagon Alley and had his conversation cut short by Rose pulling him away to ensure all of the shopping was done in time to meet Uncle Hugo at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He'd never let anyone or anything pull him away from time with his friends since.

Brax noticed Dash had paused and so he also slowed down although keeping his height. He was thankful for the break as he knew he'd have to go flat out to avoid getting tagged. Unlike his friend, he'd been able to practice in the grounds of Malfoy Manor over the summer and as his sister also played chaser, it was usually beneficial to both siblings to play. After a short while, Dash had launched himself back into the game with a new determination on his face. As much as he wanted dash to win, knowing it would give him some satisfaction due to the aforementioned determination, he knew that he wouldn't appreciate if it was made easier for him to do so. Abraxas was the same in this respect, wanting to achieve things through his own ability rather than the opposition letting him win because it wasn't really winning at all.

[dashiell jameson peakes]

There was respect from Dashiell to Abraxas as he noticed that Abraxas wasn't holding back any punches. Even though they had been too far from one another to speak or shout, somehow the two simply knew what the other was thinking. Or maybe it was simply coincidence. Feeling highly that without such connectiveness, a team couldn't act as one, Dashiell was very pleased when Abraxas rushed back into a fleeting flight style. Dashiell flew off in a straight line to where he had thought that Abraxas might have been in a few seconds. Unfortunately, Dash's great senses of depth and movement seemed to fail now. He'd only come a little further than a half to where Abraxas had been. Clearly his friend was flying much quicker than he'd first expected. Wiping a drip of cold sweat from his forehead — it seemed they'd been outside forever — Dashiell took another small break before starting in again. He'd tagged Abraxas so easily last time mostly because he'd surprised him. Now he was unsure as to whether or not he would be able to catch him in his current shape.

However, Dashiell zoomed after Abraxas yet again. It wasn't anything too new. He was used to keeping an eye out for his Quidditch teammates. In fact, that wasnt altogether correct. While he did his best to cover each of them equally from stray bludgers whacked about by the other Houses, he wasn't entirely fair in his focus distribution. He'd definitely spent slightly more time rushing toward Abraxas at the last second because he'd caught a bludger with a mission out of the corner of his eye. Of course, that was just friendship coming into play, right? After all, people have even died from bludgers to the head. No one wanted their best friend to die. He did what he could, although he was sure that he'd slacked a couple times or so. Even though Dashiell had switched up his style and was now zigzagging and swishing eratically,

This didn't prove helpful for Dash, overall. He had a closer call than before, but along with his unpredictable flying came an inability to keep his best friend in the sight of his darker eyes. On what he decided was his last attempt, he'd even came so close as to say he'd felt the air rush as Abraxas had flew just out of reach. It was clear that he'd have to keep at practicing before he'd be at his prime again. Sweaty, exhausted, and defeated, Dashiell panted as he called out in short gasps, "Okay. I cannot.... fly anymore today. I need... a break." He corkscrewed to the ground, shortly away from the grassy graves of a few horklump feet, and sprawled out on the ground like an old rug.

[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

Though Abraxas always wanted to move quickly in a match, he'd never moved as quickly as he was now. It had only been over the summer that he'd discovered speed wasn't all about the broom when Cassie had been flying much faster than him with the same broom. She had naturally made him feel a little stupid while explaining that sitting upright all the time would just slow him down. While he'd usually crouched somewhat, he'd never gone as close to his broom as he could. Now that he was putting that into practice, he found himself moving rather faster and it seemed Dash too had miscalculated his speed. Nevertheless, he continued trying to tag him and Brax kept up his as yet successful attempts to evade him.

He could tell that Dashiell was starting to get a little tired. As he hadn't had much practice over the summer, this was understandable. From what Abraxas gathered, his position also required him to move quickly but usually for shorter durations whereas Ab was used to needing to move into a position to catch the Quaffle if it were passed to him without being intercepted on a more permanent basis but he could move slightly slower while waiting for the ball. Despite the different positions, most members of the team were tired by the matches but a warm shower usually remedied this. In Abraxas' case, food was always a helping hand too.

The Gryffindor smiled as his friend returned to the ground, simply because there was a strange satisfaction in him showing he was only human. It made absolutely no sense to him at all as to why he should smile at such a thing but he did. There was also a slight disappointment that they'd stopped as he had enjoyed spending the time with him but ceasing to fly didn't mean they had to spend the rest of the day in isolation of each other. Abraxas tilted the handle of his broom down in order to fly back towards the ground, pulling up at such a point that he would slow down and level off in time to meet the ground. He slid off his broom and put it down on the grass before taking a seat next to Dash. "So what do you want to do now, seeing as I've tired you out." When he came to think of it, Ab was glad they had stopped when they had for his heavy breathing hinted that he'd probably also have been exhausted if they'd played for much longer.

[dashiell jameson peakes]

Luckily Abraxas had plopped himself down next to him. If he'd heckled Dashiell enough, Abraxas might have been able to taunt Dash into getting back onto his broomstick and zomming around a bit longer before probably having a lung collapse or until he fell off. Probably for the best, that Abraxas followed his suit. As his chest rose and fell with a slightly degenerating pace, his eyes lightly closed as he could hear the blood pulsing through the blood vessels in his inner ear. After a few seconds of heavy breathing with palms upward toward the sky — which had decided that the boys had been blessed enough with the sunshine and returned to a rather brooding grey colour — Dashiell spoke, with his eyes still closed, but mouth curved into a jester-like grin.

"What? 'Now that you've tired me out?' I hope no one overheard that one. You really must stop flirting with me. I know I'm pretty, but..." A loud laugh at the end clearly denoted the dash of joking nature which Dashiell used. He rose into a sitting position and looked over at Abraxas with a smirk, "No, but really. I dun't know about you, but I really need a shower. Then again, I've got to practice some flipping charms. They keep exploding in my face, so maybe I should wait to do so... Or I could just not practice them. It's not like they're going to work any better then, you know." Dashiell's face was scrunched up in a "considering" expression as he tried to weight the prospect of taking more showers than he'd recently experienced in his life.

"Yeah, I think I might skip Charms. It's not like I'm going to use those spells in my future anyway." Here, Dashiell rolled his eyes at the prospect of himself spending the rest of his life being so mundane as to use the silencing charm each day. Shuddering at that prospect and at the forgotten rays of sun, he raised himself into a standing position. "Unless you had something really fun planned? I'm game for whatever you had in mind." Hogwarts was undoubtedly an amazing place. Anyone who lived there should seem to find numerous things to keep them busy; even still, Dashiell occasionally heaved a sigh, exasperated with the feeling that he'd done everything which was possible to do.

[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

It felt like someone had thrown a rock into his stomach when Dash told him to stop flirting with him. His cheeks flamed red, which he hoped he would be able to blame on the exercise, and he laughed in an attempt to react normally and cover up his awkward reception of the comment. "Sorry, I can't help myself," he replied, hoping that Dashiell wouldn't pick up on him acting differently. Abraxas hadn't been flirting, had he? He couldn't have been, Dash was a guy and Ab wasn't interested in guys like that. He knew he'd been wondering lately whether he was but he'd already worked out that it was just a phase. He'd been acting in a perfectly normal fashion and hadn't been flirting with his friend in the slightest. Dash had just been joking and there was no need for him to get so nervous about it possibly being serious.

"Yeah, I should probably shower too. I don't particularly want to walk around smelling like Pucey does." While most people would be able to make the connection between the stench of sweat and his Quidditch robes, he didn't personally count it as an excuse. For one, changing out of the robes would help to a certain extent and there were showers in the changing rooms for a reason. Quite frankly, the Quidditch players of the school should smell the least. "We could practice together later? I'm not exactly the worst in the class but it wouldn't hurt to get better." Practicing charms wasn't quite Abraxas' idea of fun but if it meant spending time with Dash and proving useful then he'd be happy to go with it. While he'd always welcome a more exciting idea, there were far more boring things that they could do with their time.

"Nope, a shower and Charms sounds better than anything I could come up with, seeing as you've rejected my flirting," he replied, having calmed down his nerves at the first mention of such an activity enough to joke about it. In their first few years, the five of them had managed to find plenty of things to do. They'd since repeated many of them and so although they knew the castle held many secrets, it seemed like they were starting to run out. The aforementioned secrets were very well hidden and it was for that reason that they were secrets. They were lucky to find something new and exciting when they went out looking for a new adventure and they always seemed to come close to getting caught whenever they were onto something. Rather than risk getting into trouble over something that could turn out to be boring, they usually left it for the next time they decided to sneak out. Coming from three different houses, it was a little harder to meet as a group than if, for example, just Malfoy and Peakes were to go looking for something to do when they should have been sleeping.

[dashiell jameson peakes]

"I'll forgive you this time. We both know that I'm irresistable. It was bound to happen at one time or another, right?" Dashiell elbowed Abraxas teasingly, completely unawares of Abraxas's aforepresented awkwardness. After all, Dashiell could be quite unobservant when it mattered, and yet would find the simplest mistakes made by professors. It was a bit of an irony, really. Almost as if a romantically inclined middle-aged woman was authoressing his life, Dashiell filled the part of the "one ignorant of the other". Perhaps if he had digged deep enough in his doubts and comedy, he might have found the thought that his best friend could want to become... more than what they were. As far as Dashiell knew, they were as close as could be possible. He'd have thought to have been attracted to Abraxas just as soon as he'd thought to pursue a job as an auror. It just never crossed his mind. One who was in an attic did not look for ascending stairs.

"Pucey... sweats more than a pig." Maybe it wasn't the best thing to say, since Dash should have been nicer — Ha! — and pigs had sweat glands that were relatively ineffective. Of course, the Gryffindor student didn't know that. He'd only seen a pig two different times: both of which were when he'd be dragged to his miserably country Aunt's house. Her husband had passed away and she'd seemed to steadily grow less and less sane. The family had even put her in a mental ward for a small time, to prevent her from giving her money to the man who had installed her satellite dish. "Not even the girls would fall for your flirting, if you smelt like him! And ehhh. You don't have to do Charms with me. We can just go mess around with the greenhouses or something." Bobbing his head carelessly at his lack of interest in his academics, Dashiell looked to see if Abraxas was following him as he walked toward the Quidditch changing and showering rooms.

The rooms smelt faintly of men and sweat, but given what they were used for, this wasn't highly surprising. Of course the girls who played had their own showering area, but that wasn't to be unexpected. There was not to be any unwanted fornicating in the showers. The hanging sconces lit up at their presence, illuminating the area surprisingly well. The lockers were all secure, but yet someone seemed to have been in a hurry, for they'd left a pair of ratty shorts on the bench. Running his hand across the rough stone wall as he found his locker again, Dashiell hummed lightly to himself. After unlocking the compartment, he took out a towel. He cursed at himself for not having brought a spare change of clothes, or for not having changed into Quidditch-appropriate clothing before he'd hopped up on his broom. He'd brought it, but hadn't used it. Now, he'd the option of putting on his Quidditch robes to wear until he returned to his Common Room, or wearing his dirtier clothing. Defeated, he declothed, covering himself with a swift adornation of his crimson towel, and waddled toward the showers. He might have been sweaty earlier, but not he wasn't moving and the floor was a bit chilly. Waddling, rather naked, Dashiell shivered slightly. "It's colder in here than I thought. I feel like I should be able to see my breath!" He laughed — possibly because he was experiencing the endorphins produced by their games — and stood in one of the shower-stalls.

He'd dropped his towel and his slightly damp clothing outside of the stall before he'd walked in to hastily turn the water on. If there was something to be known about the showering habits Dashiell partook of, it was that he liked them scaldingly hot. Maybe they'd start out just at being warm, but after ten minutes or so, he'd succeed in steaming the rest of the room up to where it vaguely resembled a sauna he'd experienced on a winter trip to Finland. His Great Uncle Kyle had a summer house there, after falling for some blonde bombshell of a witch, and demanded that Dashiell used the sauna in his house, after hearing that the boy hadn't been in one before. Another fact of Dashiell's showering was that he wasn't one of those "quick" showerers. He enjoyed spending time in the hot water, feeling it run off his skin, feeling his hair grow wet, feeling his muscles relax simultaneously. Unmindful of himself, he let out a satisfied grunt as the steam started to rain on him.

[abraxas scorpius malfoy]

Abraxas clambered to his feet as Dashiell stood up, grabbing his broom as he did to save coming back for it or else leaning down to get it. "Right," he agreed awkwardly. In all honesty, he didn't believe it was bound to happen seeing as none of the other boys in their friendship circle had found him attractive, at least not in such a way that they would be inclined to flirt with him. Ab read a little too into his next comment. What did he mean 'not even the girls'? Did he think boys were on his agenda then? Had his rather futile attempts to mask his recent uncertainty been in vain? Surely he'd have spoken to him about it, even if only to confirm or let him know what people were saying behind his back. What if other people knew! No, they couldn't do, he didn't even know himself yet so how could they have figured such a complex thing out? And why was Abraxas thinking about his issue as if it were more than a phase? He'd already established that it would pass over so he didn't need to worry about it.

He also noticed the pair of shorts, assuming they belonged to the Potter boy that his sister hated so passionately. If he didn't know better, he'd have said she fancied him. But he did know better, even if that meant acknowledging the slimy little Slytherin she'd picked out for herself. Ab glanced over at Dash just as he pulled off his top, the exposed flesh prompting him to look away quickly before he stared. At first, he'd been extremely uncomfortable with the idea of showering with his teammates. While he was by no means small, his downstairs wasn't particularly massive and he'd worried they'd ridicule him for it, having always expected Quidditch players for some reason to be more well endowed. It turned out he'd had nothing to worry about as the showers were separate while he'd been under the impression it would just be one big communal one. Once he'd piled his sweaty Quidditch robes up on one of the benches, Abraxas grabbed a towel from his locker and held it front of his genitalia as he walked towards the shower. He'd have wrapped it around his waist as Dash had done but seeing as he'd be taking it off again in just a few moments, he didn't see much reason to do so.

He hadn't noticed the cold until Dash mentioned it though as he wasn't wearing anything, it was obvious that he would feel it more. Abraxas stepped into the stall beside Dashiell's and hung the towel up on the hook just outside it. He was glad the showers weren't the ones where you had to keep pushing a button on the wall to keep the water going. It made it far more difficult to just enjoy it when you didn't really know when the water was going to cut off. "Dash... is it normal to wonder if you're as straight as you thought you were?" Abraxas wasn't quite sure why he'd chosen now to speak to his friend about his 'problem' but if he couldn't talk to Dash about it then who could he talk to? While the two of them were showering probably wasn't the best of times to decide to bring it up but at least he knew nobody would overhear the discussion. A lump formed in his throat at the prospect that he'd just weird Dash out and he wouldn't want to speak to him again, or at least not for a few weeks. He couldn't bear the prospect of losing his best friend, even if that meant pretending he'd never said anything.