抖阴社区 it on my Heart-Mattheo Riddle story

The week leading up to the first quidditch match of the season was hectic to say the least. Claire had to juggle class, homework, finding inspiration for her anonymous article, and conduct the player highlights for quidditch on top of writing the actual article after Saturday's match and before the Sunday night's deadline.

Her only saving graces were copious amounts of caffeine and Mattheo. He studied with her, supplied a lot of the caffeine, and was there to help her with the quidditch portion of the paper. Even though he had to be equally as stressed seeing as Slytherin was playing Ravenclaw in the first match and he was Slytherin's captain.

Sitting in the empty newspaper tower, Claire and Mattheo sat across from each other at the table closest to the fire. The surface was covered in their textbooks and parchment as they attempted to get ahead on their work. Glancing across the table, Claire found Mattheo studying plays in his captain notebook instead of writing the essay for Bin's History of Magic class. He was chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes darting across the playbook while the quill he held dripped a few drops of ink on the essay he'd set to the side. Setting her own quill back in her ink pot, she reached across the table and took Mattheo's from his hand before it made what he had written, illegible.

Claire's hand gently pulling his quill from his grasp, her skin smooth against his, pulled Mattheo away from the playbook. His pulse quickened at her touch, and too soon her hand was gone. He glanced up at her slightly guilty at being caught with his playbook. They were supposed to be working on essays but History was mind-numbingly boring.

"Would it help if you explained the play to me?" She asked, nodding towards his playbook, making him half-close the book. "Is it confidential?"

"Captains don't share their teams plays with anyone who isn't on the team, especially not someone from another house," he said, torn between following the captain code and showing her.

"It's not like it'll make any sense to me," she shrugged, making him smile.

"You really want to listen to me talk about quidditch?" he asked, starting to cave.

"More like, willing to listen. Talking out loud to someone helps me when I need to remember or understand something. I figured it might help you too."

He didn't need more convincing before launching into an explanation of the play he'd been studying. Claire tried to follow, but he noticed her brow furrowing, the crease in her forehead getting deeper as he kept talking. Changing tactics, he used their books to set up a miniature quidditch pitch and used their quills as players on their brooms. His showing her what he was talking about seemed to help because her brow smoothed out and her eyes lit up as he talked.

"The tricky part is—"

"Not falling off your broom when you spin mid-flight?" Claire supplied, as she watched him turn the quill to signify the broom spinning.

"No, that parts simple. It's timing the spin so I can come out of it at the right moment to hit the bludger before it hits me."

She visibly paled at that.

"Right, the iron balls of death. And this is something you're going to do during the match?"

"Possibly. Depends on if I'm presented the opportunity." It was a play that was highly dependent on certain factors you couldn't manufacture because of the unpredictability of the bludgers, or 'iron balls of death' as Claire referred to them.

"Then you should definitely do more than study the plays and act them out with quills."

"I've run through it several times during practice," he assured her. He'd never use a play in a game that he hadn't practiced. That would just be reckless. "It's still fairly new though."