Shivering Kittens (Ryder)

[silverstone]

A tiny yapping kitten sat inside a large glass box. It was a tabby, and so adorable that more than a few people had already queued before it to smile and laugh. Its tiny mouth opened a little each time it mewed, showing a row of miniature but razor-sharp teeth which circled a petite pink tongue. Its pale blue eyes, rare for cats, were flicking around everywhere as it screamed its heart out. All those weird two-legged things staring at him, laughing and turning those odd mouths up in the corners. The kitten was scared, so very scared, but everyone merely took its shrill cries for help as entertaining fun. Before it could huddle in a corner two hands reached under it firmly. It was cuddled into a warm material, supported firmly all around. Mischa held the tiny form close to her chest as she gently kissed its little striped forehead. “Have a good life Tiger.” She muttered in its right ear, before quickly setting it into a small white cage. “That’ll be thirty-nine pounds ninety-nine please, if you’re buying the blanket too.” Mischa informed the old man with his granddaughter who had chosen the frightened kitten. Mischa didn’t work in the pet shop- she was just filling in for her muggle friend. He’d done her a favour a while ago and today was her last day of filling in for him in the shop, after a week of doing so. She didn’t mind at all of course; she loved pets and all the tiny creatures who just wanted some love were always interesting to look after.

Once the old man and his girl had walked out of the door with stupid grins on their faces, and a shivering kitten inside a cage in their hands, Mischa finally got to turn round the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. Sure, Mischa didn’t mind working in the shop. But she’d much rather run into Diagon Alley and buy that new Quidditch book her dad had given her the money for. Pulling a long white coat over her black jeans and brown jumper, she took off her temporary name-tag from the woollen top and slipped it into her pocket. It had been a busy day; two canaries, three felines, five rabbits, a guinea pig and tons of treats had been sold. Mischa smelt of pets, her blonde hair carried signs of rogue canaries nestling there, and she had rabbit droppings on her new white boots. She longed to cast a spell to neaten it all up, but of course was not allowed. One more year left! Mischa muttered mentally. She couldn’t wait until school finished so she could do what she wanted. Whatever that was… Mischa had thought of going into Quidditch, but wondered if the busy work schedule would be too much for her. She’d heard somewhere that professional flyers barely had time to lead an outside-life, and no-way could she live with that. Her father wanted her to continue with the business he’d started, but she couldn’t live such a boring life. Nothing was interesting enough for her; nothing had enough action and movement. There was always the Auror role, but Mischa wondered if her father would ever let her after what had happened to her mother.

Shaking the thought from her mind and focusing on the way to the Leaky Cauldron, Mischa locked up the shop and brought down the blinds, wondering how long that little kitten would last. Usually people either couldn’t handle the rogue kittens and brought them back after a few days, or the adorable felines would get run over. The latter was usually the case in London, unfortunately. Thinking of her own little menace Mistletoe, Mischa walked to the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley not two minutes later.
Diagon Alley wasn’t too busy, as most people were having dinner around now. Heading straight to ’Quality Quidditch Supplies’ Mischa began to glance through the items curiously, trying to recall the title of the book her father had recommended.

[ryder]

With out the structure of Hogwarts, summer days had no regular rhythm to them. Some days he played quidditch with Luke, others he went to work with his father, and others he had all to himself. Today was one of those lone days where Luke had wandered off to work on his art, or whatever else stuck him while he was out, leaving Ryder alone in the house for most of the day. Personally he liked being alone every now and then; he found himself most productive on those days and having spent most of his life alone in a house with two other men, there was never enough to do. After he rose that morning he went for a run, just as he did every morning when the sun was first rising across the horizon. His run took him across the wizard town he had spent his entire life in, and totaled eight miles before he found himself back at his home, late in the morning. After he showered, and dressed in something other than a two-sizes-too-large t-shirt and running shorts, he made lunch, and prepared something he could fix later for dinner before moving on to cleaning. He learned long ago that if he did not clean, no one would, and while his room always stayed neat and orderly the rest of the house was another matter completely. Thankfully though, his efforts to clean the Dallan household were now vastly aided by the fact he could use magic outside of Hogwarts, and he soon sent his wand to work. Soon the floors were swept by brooms unaided by people, and a mop followed behind, the dishes were being scrubbed and the shelves were being dusted. Ryder continued on like this far into the afternoon until the house was finally clean enough to be considered habitable again. Content with how he spent the afternoon he glanced at the clock which ticked away on the Dallan’s mantle. He had just enough time for a quick trip to Diagon Alley before dinner.

As he made his way down the streets of Diagon Alley, he knew that it was perhaps a bit late to just be getting to the wizarding town. Many of the shops would be closing within the hour, but he had finally admitted that he was in need of a new pair of quidditch gloves, and he had a feeling that Luke would want to play tomorrow after taking today off. By the time he reached the door to the quidditch shop and stepped inside he could see that many of the normal crowd had made its way out, leaving on a few stragglers such as himself behind to finish their last minute shopping. He immediately made his way to the section which contained player apparel and searched the bin which contained various types and qualities of gloves. After a quick search the found the pair he had been looking for, D.Ditch Supper Grip, and started to make his way back through the shop so that he could pay and get back on his way. He was nearly there when a new display of books caught his eye, reminding him that a new book had been released earlier that week. Deciding that he had enough time for a bit of a distraction he made his way over to the part of the store devoted to books and he reached forward, picking one up. After glancing over the cover, he noticed that there was a girl, also looking over the many books spread across the display. Her face looked familiar to him. Gryffindor…he had seen her in the common room before. She wasn’t in his year…but maybe the one below. He wasn’t quite sure he could recall her name though. S, he was rather sure it started with an S….Silver…Silver something…Silverstone. “I heard its good” he commented, pausing a moment after before he looked over at her, and after another pause, extended his hand “Ryder Dallan.”

[silverstone]

Mischa picked up one book and gazed at its cover. It held the moving image of a woman on a Nimbus 2001, w tiny fluttering golden snitch caught in her clasped fist. Upon her face was the excitement and clear joy of winning a Quidditch match; one that Mischa never knew of. She adored quidditch but hadn’t bothered, until that her last year, to try out for the team. She finally did last year and wondered if she’d be chosen for the team in her 7th and final time at Hogwarts. Mischa knew she wouldn’t mind much if she wasn’t chosen. She preferred to let others do that kind of thing, take the glory. Mischa was better in her own world with only her brooms and her imagination to keep her company. She never looked for glory of winning anyway- for Mischa it was simply the thrill. She lived for the feeling of near-danger experiences, the feeling where you don’t have a back-up spell to save you. And most of the thrill she loved was from Quidditch; the speed, the hustle, the colour and the kick.

Placing The broom within back on the towering shelf Mischa glanced up as a voice spoke from beside her, startling her slightly. The shop was now almost empty and she knew it couldn’t be far from closing time, and probably the devoted Quidditch-lovers were left searching for precious finds in the shop. Mischa looked at the guy beside her, running what she knew of him through her head. He was familiar to her and she recalled his name just before he said it himself. Ryder Dallan. She took his image in; medium brown hair and matching eyes, slender but athletic looking build. His large t-shirt, and shorts looked comfortable and a small twitch of a smile crept to Mischa’s mouth, though she stopped it by giving her expression a welcoming smile. “Hello Ryder. Mischa Silverstone.” She shook his hand, her eyes twinkling at the formality of this comfortable looking guy in a large t-shirt and shorts shaking her hand so sincerely. She listened to his comment and nodded, taking his line to be referring to the book she’d just taken in her hands; Quaffle and I.

“This one? I used to have a copy before my dad’s owl stole it. It’s pretty good if you like Chaser though the others in the series are for Beater, Seeker and Keeper.” She indicated with a hand towards the others lying on the shelf, calling for someone to pick them up and by them. “There’s a new book in, though I can’t recall the name. Released on Tuesday, the new one by Jake Fleiner. You’ve heard of it? My father says it’s fabulous; he wrote a review on it but made me wait for an edition.” She said to the older Gryffindor, settling Quaffle and I back on the shelf and lifting another larger hardback from the same row, one with a higher price tag. Flicking through it she noticed several grammar mistakes, nothing-amazing photos, unheard of teams. She settled it back on the shelf with annoyance and continued looking for the new edition of the Fleiner series’.

[ryder]

Mischa, that was it. He repeated her name in his mind, nodding slightly to confirm it. He had always been good with names, often recalling those of people he had never actually spoken to, and certainly those of which he had. He was actually a bit surprised that Mischa's had not come to him earlier, he had seen her on the pitch before, and those names he could often roll off his tongue with out any thought. He blamed his pass time of afternoons spent on the Hogwart's quidditch pitch sidelines for that particular talent of his. The stands were his favorite place to be, especially when there was no match going on, and the wooden seats were deserted. It was then when you saw who really had talent, as the teams practiced thinking they were no longer being watched. An actual match was simply a contest to see who controlled their nerves best.

As Mischa described the book he had mentioned he picked up a copy himself and flipped through the pages. He had often seen it on his father's shelves, though he had never bothered to read it. He had simply been told it was good, and well worth a read. He had long concluded that his father was not the best judge of quidditch books though, according to him, a book counted as good if it was about quidditch, and bad if it was not. Much to his father's surprise, while Ryder was following in his quidditch loving footsteps, he did not have the same desire to read about the match. Ryder preferred to watch games to learn, not read about theories and ideas about the game. When he read, he read for other purposes.

He paused for a moment, thinking over the authors name Mischa had given him. He was familiar with it, and he had an idea he knew of the book she spoke of, he saw a copy of what his father had simply referred to as 'the new Fleiner' the day before when he went into the study. "Something about hoops is it not" he half asked and half stated as he started to skim across the shelves, helping her look for the title. Before the Hoops, Between the Hoops....he ran through possible titles in his mind After a moment he started running his fingers down the row of spines, looking for the authors name printed in that fine gold lettering. After a moment he paused, and pulled one down off the shelves. Aim For the Hoops and handed it to her. "Is that it?"