Spark
Iris had woke up and for the first time in a long time she had nothing to do. She had the day to do as she pleased, and first thing on her list was breakfast and she was hoping for a nice plate of pancakes with crispy bacon and a glass of orange juice. Oh yes, she was practically giddy. She did her hair up into a large ballerina bun, a pair of her high waisted jeans, and a baby blue cropped cardigan.
She was absolutely feeling sassy and her spirits were high as she walked into the Great Hall in search of breakfast. That feeling was quickly cut short when she overheard Murphy sounding quite agitated.
“You don't mean that Rath! I'm going to be the best Quidditch Commentator the sport has ever seen!” She searched for the blonde and saw Murphy sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table, chess set assembled, and staring up at-
Erika Rath.
Iris was a bit put off, she thought that she and Erika were on good terms, friends even at this point. Why would she be picking a fight with Murphy for?
“Sure McNully, if you say so.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, making her look even more intimidating then normal.
“I do say so! You'll see! There's a-”
“What? 98.3% chance? Just another made-up, meaningless statistic.” Rath cut him off to state. Iris approached, neither of the others saw her. She wasn't sure what had got under Erika's skin, but she needed to go hit a bludger or something. Murphy's face looked like Erika has just beat him over the head with a beaters bat, and with that she seemed satisfied and turned to walk away.
Iris approached and sat down across from Murphy. “What was that about?”
“Ravenclaw's star beater just hit me square in the chest with a bludger.” Murphy practically wailed.
“She did what?!” Iris exclaimed, slapping her hands down on the table, ready for a fight.
“All right, maybe not a literal bludger, but it may as well have been.”
“What happened?” She inquired. Murphy looked up at Iris and noted in his brain that she had done her hair differently, she only wore her up up in a bun on 12.3% of occasions. Usually she wore her hair in a long braid, or half braided with all her hair down her back.
“Rath insulted my Quidditch commentating abilities during the last friendly. She thinks I'm repetitive and rote... Lackluster and lethargic... Uninspired and unoriginal-”
“Blimey hold on, Murphy.” Iris held her hands up to stop him from the self deprecating remarks.
“I can't. She accused me of hiding behind statistics and figures, and worst of all... Being out of touch with the heart of the sport.”
“Rath said all of this? Because honestly she isn't known for being very wordy.” Iris questioned, because it seemed a bit much fo Erika to say such things.
“Well not exactly. But she did say my commentary is irritating and tiresome. But I know what she really meant, nothing gets past me. It's what makes me a good commentator, or so I thought.” He crossed his arms on the table and plopped his head down on them, practically wailing.
“I don't like seeing you so down, Murphy.” She reached across the table and placed one of her hands on his arm, trying to reassure him. He lifted his head and looked up at her.
“But what do you think of my commentating, Iris? Do you agree with Rath that it's irritating and tiresome?” He dared to ask. He knew Iris wouldn't be rude but she would tell him the truth even if it hurt his pride a little.
“I don't agree with Rath at all. It's top notch and as crackling as ever!” She smiled, assuring him. Part of him felt better, because Iris was one of the most honest human being's he had ever met.
“I appreciate that, Iris, but I can't ignore the opinion of one of Hogwarts top Quidditch Players.”
“Her or me?” Iris tried to joke with him, but he didn't smile.
“If something is bothering Rath, then it's bothering me.” He admitted to her.
“She may just be upset you secretly root for Gryffindor and just wanted to get under your skin.” Iris tried to lighten the mood, but Murphy still looked downright gloomy.
“You may be right, but I can't return to the commentary box until I know otherwise. Darren O'Hare didn't create the Hawkshead Formation by settling for mediocrity.”
“Good Point!... But who is Darren O'Hare?” Iris asked him, chuckling lightly.
“He was a famous Quidditch Captain who inspired his team and lead them to greatness! Perhaps that's what I need, someone to lead me to greatness.” He said in an off handed way.
“That's brilliant! I know just the witch for the job!” Iris exclaimed happily. “Me!”
“I know you're good out on the pitch, Iris, but I'm not sure you're right for this task.” He mentioned to her, Iris was new to Quidditch and he wasn't sure what all she actually knew about the sport other than playing it and playing it well. There was a flash of sadness that crossed her face when he said that though, so he quickly added, “although I certainly enjoy your enthusiasm, you're reminding me of me.”
“That's because I want to help, but I see you're hesitating. So why don't you let me prove my strategy over a game of wizard chess?” She asked with a smirk, knowing him well enough that he wouldn't turn her down. He loved this side of her, the wicked little side of her full of moxie that not many people were able to see.
“That's brilliant. Let's play.” He agreed. He picked up his pawn and placed it down.
“You know quidditch Murphy, but I know how to help a friend in need.” Iris told him as she moved her bishop. Big mistake, he thought to himself, mapping out his road to victory.
“Yeah well, my future may depend on this game of chess, and chess strategy can be very revealing as to your strategy with-”
“Quidditch. I've hung out with you enough to know how important strategy is.” She gave him a playful wink, and he smiled back. He had a inkling that she may have a crush on him, and he desperately hoped so, because he was crazy about her. He was just terrified that he was wrong and would be humiliated if he said anything.
Still, whenever they were together, there was no denying that they had a ton of chemistry. Other players had even commented on it before and he sadly had to admit that there was nothing going on romantically between them.
Yet.
“How do you plan to teach me, Coach Rosewood?”
“I have ideas. Like, if this doesn't work maybe I can convince you over butterbeer at the three broomsticks next time?”
“Perhaps.”
Perhaps my left arse cheek. Any time he could sequester away Iris to have her all to himself he would. Butterbeer, homework, Quidditch, holding her hair back as she vomited slugs, he would do them all in a heartbeat.
For now, he would happily settle for beating her at chess.
“Checkmate. Well done, Iris.... Of course I still won, but your strategy was quite impressive. You continue to surprise me.”
“Does that mean I can help you become the best commentator you can be?” She asked, batting her long eyelashes at him with a smile on her pretty pink lips.
You sneaky little vixen. She knew exactly what to do to get him to be putty in her hands.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“Yes, it does! You've convinced me you're just the person for the job. Together, we'll have a 93.7% chance of success.”
“Brilliant! I like those odds!”
“Now it's time we get to work. I hope you're ready to take this top notch commentator to the next level.”
“I'm ready, Murphy, but don't forget that I'm the coach now.”
“Then what's our first move, coach?” He asked, leaning in.
“Just like a Seeker performing the Wronski Faint, it's time to plunge head first into some books!” She announced, standing up. “Come on Greatest Commentator, let's get the spark back.”