Without Interruption ((Finn))

[Merrick Marr]

The sun had hardly risen in the sky before Merrick Marr, Slytherin 7th year, had pulled himself out of his four-poster bed and dressed. It was the weekend…finally. The first week back from the holiday break was always the hardest for him. It was so hard to get back into the swing of things after the ability to basically do whatever he wanted to do over break. Now he was dusting off his sweater and gearing himself up for a bit of solo Quidditch practice. It wasn’t very often he actually had the ability to go out and practice with just himself…at his own pace, so as his teammates weren’t riding him or him riding them. It was a glorious thought and it was one that had made this particular morning seem more…enjoyable.

Merrick ran his hand over his head, the spiky do was most pleasing and Merrick had to give the reflection a smirk before he moved back to his bed pulling out odds and ends of his old Quidditch supplies so that he wouldn’t have to bother Madam Hooch for the items. Besides it was so much quicker to have your own supplies, plus they were probably in better condition…less filthy. That was the downfall to Hogwarts…too many mudbloods and blood traitors for his liking. However, what right did he have to say he was allowed to use magic and who wasn’t. Really he wasn’t into being that sort of a leader…the kind that told his friends what to wear and what to say was different. He didn’t mind that as he already knew them and he didn’t care about trying to impress them or hold his tongue. Merrick would give them his piece of mind whether they asked for it or not…it actually could explain why some girls that had tried to be with him in the beginning found his lack of respect for them discouraging, when really it was just him unable to grasp the certainties of comforting someone in need.

The thought drifted away like Sunday’s newspaper articles as Merrick gathered his wits about him and headed out of the dormitory and common room. He was lugging a few Quidditch items with him, his broom waiting for him in the Slytherin Quidditch room he was sure. So he started in that direction first, not stopping until he had grabbed that firebolt from the shed. It was no time at all before he was already up in the air, circling around the grounds…feeling the wind rustle his hair and his body respond to the cool, calming air of a fresh morning breeze. However the silence was quickly dampened by the sound of a chest hitting pavement. His eyes flickered down to the ground, landing on the small Quidditch chest that held all the balls. He was rather surprised to see it…but even more so he was surprised to see the gentlemen with it.

Merrick was an immediate blur of color and fabric as he shot down out of the sky landing next to Finn Miles. “What do you think you are doing out here with that? This is the grounds…the pitch is highly more effective for training if you just go back that a-way so I can train out here on the grounds without interruption,” Merrick was no longer civil and wouldn’t be for a very long time as he blames Finn for his emotional state that one night. It was definitely something he didn’t want to think about…not at all. Yet here before him stood the one responsible and suddenly he began to wonder if Finn was there because his intentions were innocent or if he did it because he wanted to see Gryffindor win. The thought made him sour even more as his eyes narrowed at the man in front of him…his temper blazing.

[Finn Miles H7]

Ever since the end of the first Quidditch Skills Cup competition, Finn had been thinking about one thing and one thing only: Quidditch. Okay, so maybe he didn't have Quidditch on the brain 24/7, but he had been thinking about what Coach Chapman and Wyatt had both told him. Despite a rather embarrassing performance and finishing in last place they both took Finn off to the side after the challenge and talked about the possibility of him playing for the Wanderers in the future. Granted, both Wyatt and Coach Chapman had said that Beater wasn't the best position for Finn. Instead, both recommended that he should pursue the Seeker position. At least this worked out well with him having to fill in for Charles in the most recent Hufflepuff match. Finn had always thought that he'd like the Seeker position better, but something had told him to try Beater first. Apparently it was a bad gut feeling that he shouldn't have followed. Regardless, Coach Chapman told him that there weren't any opening on the team in the near future, but Finn still had a year and a half before he graduated anyways. Plus, even if he didn't get a spot on the Wanderers, Coach Chapman said that if Finn worked to improve, he was sure that he could help Finn find a spot on another team. It was slightly amusing to think that he might play against his brother someday, but Finn figured it'd be more rewarding to play alongside his brother instead.

Having tried the Quidditch pitch for some extra practise, Finn was annoyed to see that Gryffindor had booked it for their own team practise. He should have known though that Cass would be spending every available moment trying to get her team ready for their next match. Compromising, Finn took the spare set of Quidditch equipment and headed to one of the more open areas of the general grounds. It wasn't as private and not the ideal place to be flying around, but it would work. He wasn't planning to release the Snitch, and instead Finn decided that he'd use the Quaffle just to practise some of his flying maneuvers. Throwing it and then flying after it was a well-known quick and easy way to practise on your own. No matter what the position, you could always use flying practise.

When he found the spot he deemed good enough to settle for, Finn dropped the chest of Quidditch items onto the ground and unstrapped the leather clasps. Before he had even been able to open the box though, an unexpected voice startled him, causing him to jump back. Finn's head snapped to the side to see none other than Merrick Marr standing before him, sounding rather unpleasant at that. The first thing Finn noticed was that Merrick was no longer drunk like he was during their last encounter, and the second thing Finn picked up on was the very drastically different demanour with which Merrick spoke. Finn didn't let him bother him though. This was the Merrick he had expected to meet the first time anyways. "I don't disagree with you," he replied matter-of-factly. "And, I'd be at the pitch if Gryffindor hadn't already booked it for practise. You're not the only one looking to gain some extra skill." Finn pulled on his gloves, no intention of leaving the place with or without Merrick there. The sky was large enough for the two of them to have their own individual practise sessions without worrying too much about the other.

[Merrick Marr]

Merrick’s temper flared at the disrespectful words of the Hufflepuff that stood before him…continuing to go about the business of preparing himself for practice. Didn’t he get it at all? This was Merrick’s turf. He was here first and he had every intention of practicing alone…not with some geeky Hufflepuff watching his every move. Last thing he needed was for someone to start snagging his moves. Merrick flexed his fingers, his left hand closing tighter around his broom as he held his own quaffle under his other arm. He wasn’t about to let this Hufflepuff get the best of him…not after their last encounter.

A wave of embarrassment swam through Merrick. He wished he had not remembered that night…wished he couldn’t even remember that it had happened…instead he remembered it all, down to the last embarrassing moment. For all purposes of that night Merrick thought his reputation was ruined, but Miles had not said anything about it…hadn’t even mentioned to anyone that Merrick knew that he had even run into the drunk Slytherin. It was almost too much to bear, knowing that this was being held over him…that at any moment Miles could choose to tell the whole school about how drunk Merrick had been…and how he hadn’t even been able to stand. There was nothing more embarrassing to Merrick than people finding out the independent Merrick had needed help to stand and then had his whiskey taken away from him like he was some sort of child.

Another fresh wave of anger and that was all Merrick needed as he tossed his quaffle to Miles. “You and me…here and now. First to ten gets to stay,” Merrick said as he jerked his head up to the sky. “Those three trees are my goals and those are yours. Each goal is worth one. Got it or do I have to draw you a map?” Merrick’s voice was low…dangerous and intense. He had no use for Miles at that moment…in fact all he had for the Hufflepuff was anger. If he had stopped to really think about things he would have realized that it was not anger he felt, but self-reflection was never one of Merrick’s strong points. No…he was far more focused on the outside world, on the layers that he put up to keep people from really seeing him and right now this competition would help remind him of why he was there. That was, of course, assuming that Miles had the gall to actually go through with the challenge. If not then Merrick had already won and a sweet victory it would be.

[Finn Miles H7]

"You're on!" Finn had the words out almost before Merrick had even stopped talking. It wasn't like Finn to step up to a challenge. Normally, he'd walk away. Normally, he'd just give in and maintain peace. He didn't see it as a bad trait. It wasn't like he just let others walk all over him. Well, maybe he did, but he did it because he felt that it was just the easiest thing to do. Finn knew that if he needed to stand up for himself, he would, but often he just didn't see the need. So, perhaps it was his love of Quidditch, or maybe it was just the way Merrick had presented the challenge, but Finn had stepped up without hesitation. Frankly he wasn't even sure he could beat Merrick, but that wasn't what seemed to matter at the time. Finn knew that Merrick was stronger, but on the contrary, the strong and more muscular guys were generally those who had the most trouble with control and broom handling. Maybe it was a stereotype, but Finn was very comfortable with his own broom skills to confidently mount his broom and kick of the ground. His chest could still feel where the Quaffle had collided with him when Merrick threw it rather roughly his way. This would definitely be a physical matchup. Finn gritted his teeth in preparation.

"Zero, zero," he shouted across the open space between himself and Merrick. Using trees wasn't the most ideal of situations, but Finn would make do with what was given. Lucky for him, Merrick wasn't a natural Chaser since it wasn't a position that Finn was most experienced with either. At the same time, Finn had watched enough of Wyatt's games to know the basic moves and fakes. At least he wasn't going into this blindly.

Without any sort of notice, Finn flashed forward, flying straight toward Merrick. He didn't even bother to try to avoid the hulking Slytherin. Since there was just the two of them, the distance between the two ends of their temporary 'pitch' wasn't as far as a usual distance between goal hoops. Finn found himself in position to score after flying for just a second or so. Merrick looked ready to prevent any sort of shot that Finn might attempt though.

Seeing a moment where Merrick was shifting his weigh from one side to another, Finn took the opportunity to make a move. He barrel-rolled to his left, coming back up on Merrick's left side where he felt the sudden collision with what felt like a brick wall. Finn's body was turned enough to the right though that his back took most of the impact and shielded his front side as well as the Quaffle from Merrick's clutches. At that precise instance, Finn used his right arm to fire the Quaffle toward the highest and largest tree while pushing against Merrick's solid chest with his left forearm. Part of him felt that he might regret using such physical defenses so early in their match to ten, but Finn wasn't going to let Merrick have the upper hand from the get go.

"One to naught," he said, smirking as the Quaffle hit the tree and fell to the ground.

[Merrick Marr]

The confirmation from Miles didn’t even take a minute after Merrick finished. That was something he hadn’t been counting on. He really didn’t want Miles to stand up to him…showed so much disrespect for his position. Didn’t he know who he was…who his father was? William Marr had been one of the greatest Irish chasers ever…so why on earth was this amateur standing up to him. He’d been trained by his father…the best of the best. Of course that didn’t make him the best, but he wasn’t about to say that…he wanted Miles to be frightened…to feel that he could never win, because in Merrick’s eyes he wasn’t about to let Miles beat him.

“Let’s see what you got,” Merrick muttered to himself as he bolted up into the sky, his blue eyes locked on the figure of Miles across the way from him. He wasn’t about to let things get out of hand, especially not in the beginning. However, that didn’t really seem to be possible as Miles started his way. Merrick didn’t take any precaution as he bolted to try to steal the quaffle from Miles. It wasn’t as successful as he hoped as he collided hard with Miles, his arms flying out to grab at the quaffle, but Miles anticipated the move and had already chucked the quaffle, the sound of it hitting bark making Merrick growl in annoyance as he fought to push away from the Hufflepuff, his form swooping around to grab up the quaffle.

“Rejoice now, that’s the only point you’re getting…” Merrick growled as he pulled up. He moved quickly through the sky, his form hulking and with broom skills that probably shocked Miles. Even though he was a larger player there was still something fluid and graceful about his movements through the sky. It wasn’t fluidity that gave him his first score; it was actually his hulking form that knocked Miles away enough for him to throw the quaffle hard enough to break some of the bark off the tree. “One to One…” he smirked.

It was a solemn win as the game continued. The two players equally matched, Miles being the faster of the two, but Merrick the more brutal and physical opponent. So when another the score became 7-6 to Miles, Merrick was a ball of burning rage. This was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to already have gotten the Hufflepuff out of the sky. Anger was burning through him and it was that anger that caused him to score yet another goal, evening the score once again. His body was burning from the physical exertion that he was putting it through, but he continued on…not caring, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the younger student. Quidditch was his life…and he had every intention of winning, even if it meant he had to play a dirty game…because he would.

[Finn Miles H7]

Finn continued to fly with an inevitably bruised biceps as well as a sore calf muscle where Merrick had pinched his leg between the two brooms during one of the fights for possession of the Quaffle. Much to Finn's surprise, the match had been almost perfectly equal. When one would score, the other would match it, and it seemed that each seemed to make the same amount of mistakes though they were few and far between. It was clear that both players were in this for something more. Finn wasn't exactly sure what it was, but the importance of this match seemed to be hanging over him like a rain cloud.

His most recent 'goal' had put him back up by one point. Perhaps a lucky stop and he could increase his lead by two. Up to that point, nobody had held more than a point lead over the other. The end was near though, and Finn knew he needed to dig deep and play hard. Another rough blow from Merrick though left Finn defenseless as he watched in dismay as the score was even again at seven. Gatherin the Quaffle, Finn rubbed his side where Merrick had shouldered his way past. He didn't want to show any sign of weakness though, and he held back his pain through his breath which was clenched in his chest. "Sevens," he managed, his brown eyes boring into Merrick's, their equal desire to win laced in their stares.

Finn's body didn't cooperate with his will to win, and he failed to score this time. That gave Merrick the advantage, putting him up 8-7. Three more goals put the score at 9-9, but Merrick once again had control of the Quaffle. Finn knew that he had let Merrick past him one too many times and now the entire match could be decided on this possession. Finn was wearing thing with his strength to hold Merrick back, and it seemed that defeat was inevitable. He had come so close though to lose in the final point by just one. He bit down on his teeth, his grip on his broom equally tense. As Merrick approached, Finn held his breath and tightened all of his muscles so that he'd be more of a barrier for Merrick's force.

[Merrick Marr]

This is it…I’m going to win, Merrick thought to himself, though he immediately squelched the thought. He didn’t need to be getting arrogant…his father always told him to get arrogant about Quidditch was the first step to losing in Quidditch. He had to play like his very life depended on it and in a way he felt it did. This match was something far more than practice rights. It held some deeper meaning that he didn’t really know, but he could feel it like he could feel the cold breeze on his face as he rushed through the sky. This was a defining moment. He was ahead…he had possession and Miles looked like he could barely hold on to his broom anymore. He had fought and played a good game, but he wasn’t good enough to beat Merrick…he wasn’t going to win.

It was a moment of true definition for Merrick…the moment in which he realized just what this would mean for him, but in doing so his normally perfect aim was…no so perfect. The throw was off center…a feign that had gone awry and with that Miles had had the ability to hit the quaffle away from the goals with the back of his broom, sending the quaffle barreling in the opposite direction toward the far right. That was Merrick’s cue, he bolted after it, not even looking over his shoulder to see if Miles was following him or not. This was the moment, he had to regain possession or he would lose the game…he knew that. He knew that if Miles gained possession Merrick would be unable to stop him from scoring. That wasn’t going to happen though. He wasn’t about to let him get the quaffle.

Blue eyes watched the red ball drop to the ground under the tree and he didn’t think twice as he dove down to grab it from the ground, that’s when all hell broke loose as suddenly pain flashed at his side and he was knocked hard against the ground. For a moment his mind was so cloudy he could only think Miles was after the quaffle, but then his eyes cleared and the realization of what tree he was now under hit him like a freight train. The Whomping Willow the panic flashed through his eyes as the branches took aim and he had to roll out from under them, pain stabbing through his side as he moved. Felt like at least one broken rib…maybe more…but that didn’t matter. At that moment he just had to get out of there. He reached for his broom, hoping to use that as leverage, but it was pulverized in front of him by one of the thicker branches of the willow tree. Another branch came for him and he had to roll again. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was nothing he could do…no way to get out…he was going to die there, his bones crushed to powder by the willow tree he had always admired.

In those moments a few defining things came to mind…of course the only time a Marr would use self-reflection was when they were faced with their own life coming to an end. Such an arrogant way to view the world, but it was true. It was here that things became clearer…fear still coursed through him…admitting that who he was, was not the person he had always wanted to be was a frightening thought. Not only that, but there were things he didn’t really even want to think about and as he flipped over backward to avoid another branch he realized that even if he didn’t want to think about that sort of thing it didn’t mean it was going to stop him from knowing it was true. The slight distraction his mind brought to him caused his lack of paying attention to land another branch square in his chest, throwing him backward into the Whomping Willow’s trunk. He groaned and winced once before the world suddenly seemed to slow to a crawl and then a voice he hadn’t expected to hear filled his ears.

[Finn Miles H7]

You know the times when everything slows down and the worst thing that could happen seems to linger in the air as it unfolds before your eyes? You can't do anything to stop it, and it's like fate is toying with you by having it all happen in slow motion. Well, that's what Finn saw happening before him as Merrick threw the Quaffle his way. It approached, much slower than before, and Finn was certain that he'd not be able to stop it in time. Though, when he went to fly for it, he found himself moving faster than he expected. It was almost like he himself wasn't affected by the curse of slow-motion. Perhaps he had been wrong the entire time, and maybe this particular shot of Merrick's was indeed as slow as it had seemed. This wasn't a flash before your eyes type moment, but instead it was a moment in which Finn found himself able to easily deflect the shot away with his broom tail. Now, he just needed to beat Merrick in a race to retrieve the deflected Quaffle.

Pulsing forward, Finn stopped almost suddenly when he realized that the Quaffle was headed straight toward the most dangerous tree on the entire grounds of Hogwarts: The Whomping Willow. The horror stories surrounding the tree were... brutal. Finn knew there was no way he'd readily fly headfirst at the tree just to gain possession of the Quaffle. No match, not even this one against Merrick, was worth the possibility of death. And death was very well a possibility if one was foolish enough to go within reach of the tree's whomping branches. Apparently Merrick had a death wish though, as Finn watched him fly straight toward the Quaffle. Seconds later and Merrick became the tree's personal punching bag. This wasn't good.

Finn hesitated for a few seconds, hovering as he watched the hulking tree make Merrick look like a rag doll. If Merrick didn't stand a chance, Finn knew he wouldn't either. But, he couldn't just fly there and watch Merrick get beat to an unrecognizable pulp. Finn reached for his wand and flew as close as he could without breaching the reach of the agile branches. "Impedimenta!" A shield of light flew toward the swinging tree, but it wasn't strong enough. Finn panicked for a moment but then regained his composure and gathered his focus. "Impedimenta!" he tried again. This time he saw the branches slow down. They didn't stop completely, but they were in no way as dangerous as before. He couldn't waste a second though.

Finn weaved his way through the swinging branches which were flying at about half the speed of an average Quidditch player. Maneuvering wouldn't have been so difficult if there weren't a million branches when compared to the dozen or so Quidditch players on the field at any given time. Shortly though, he was on the ground near Merrick, and a branch collided with the back of his broom, knocking him to the ground. Finn wasn't affected by the blow though, and so he scrambled to his feet over to Merrick. "Merrick! Get up! Merrick!" The boy was clearly knocked half senseless. Finn watched as both of their brooms were swept away. There was nothing he could do to stop them. Not if he wanted to get Merrick out alive before the spell wore off. If he wasn't quick, both of them would have little chance to walk away.

He pulled out his wand for good measure. Being an expert at Charms, Finn remembered an anti-gravity charm which could do a variety of things related to gravity and weight. One of the uses of this charm included the ability to cut the weight of an object in half. If there was any way he was going to carry Merrick away from the tree, he'd have to use this spell. It was never recommended for the students to cast spells that they had learned on their friends, at least not until they had mastered them. Then again, Merrick wasn't exactly a friend, and Finn was probably one of the best at Charms in his year. It was a risk he was willing to take.

With a clear voice, he cast the spell as quickly as he could and then tried to pick up Merrick from the ground. It seemed that the charm had worked, for Finn was able to comfortably take the weight of the seemingly lifeless Slytherin into his arms. The branches were slowly gaining speed, evidence of his spell wearing off. Finn hurried his pace, the weight of Merrick also taking it toll as he tried to dodge the branches and run for safety. The space between himself and the boundary of the tree's reach slowly diminished, and in a final effort, Finn flung both himself and Merrick forward as the tree was back to its full swinging power behind them. He collapsed onto the ground, relieved and out of breath, so much so that he didn't realize Merrick was bleeding from a few different places and had likely broken a bone or two.

[Merrick Marr]

Merrick couldn’t really feel anything at the moment, his back rigid against the trunk of the whomping willow…the warm metallic smelling liquid running into his mouth from his nose. It was probably a horrifying sight to see, but Merrick couldn’t really think about it. There was a veil or something over his eyes…or more readily over his mind. Everything seemed a million miles away from him, especially the familiar Hufflepuff who came darting into the tree to help…he was there to help right? Or was he the one doing all this? It was hard when one thought didn’t connect to the next, though it was entirely different than being drunk. Usually when he was drunk his thoughts didn’t connect, but at least they were seemingly hazier, easier to understand. In his current state nothing was making sense, not the blue sky, nor the dead grass with snow patches intermixed, nor the colour red…

“I’m seeing in red,” he mused to himself as he heard a voice say his name…it was too far away though for him to really recognize it fully, which was probably a good thing as he was suddenly picked up. The pain probably would have been ten times more unbearable had he been in his right mind, but as it was there was only a slight throbbing as he was carried. It definitely felt better than it would have…there was no lying around that. One hand came up to his face waving over his eyes…and he felt an odd sense of panic grip him that it was tinted red. He couldn’t figure out why he was seeing red, but suddenly that didn’t matter anymore as he once again found the ground hard. He groaned and rolled onto his back, his eyes finding the sun and squinting closed. His mind was still cloudy, but now…now there was pain.

“What the hell…” he mumbled as he turned, trying to get the sun out of his eyes. His mind was beginning to clear awakened by the sudden pain that flared throughout his entire body…and then there were the voices…most sounded a lot older than he knew. Professor’s maybe? No matter who the voices belonged to the only thing that mattered was the fact that his head hurt and that as the world began to become clear again he realized that he hadn’t gotten out of there by himself. That’s when he glanced over to his side, blue eyes falling on Finn Miles. He’d gone in there to save him…the Hufflepuff had saved the Slytherin. Merrick groaned half out of annoyance and half out of pain as he realized that this, more noticeable rescue, would definitely put a hamper in his reputation, enough so that he’d have to do everything in his power to proof that he didn’t need rescuing…that he didn’t need anyone, but himself. He only hoped that this was his last encounter with Finn Miles…that he would just bugger off and leave him alone.

Of course that thought dwindled out as the voices descended on his little world of red. The voices were loud and then there were shouts for someone to get Madam Pomfrey. Merrick just closed his eyes, unwilling to view the world in its red state any longer. There was too much to think about as it was, he was having a brain overload and that was enough to cause his mind to shut down momentarily…driving his whole world into darkness and the pain from his mind.