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Notes: Fragments from Rolanda Hooch's life. Femslash at the end.


Odds and Evens
by switchknife



The first time she flew, her mother wrapped her up in a warm, soft cloak and held her close as the ground dropped away. A grey-green blur of grass and the chill wind whistling--and her mother's voice, in her ear, saying: All right, Rolls?

The third time she flew, she had her own broom. It was smooth and worn in the palm of her hand, the grain mellowed with age. Her father's old broom. She wasn't allowed to fly too far, so she hovered around the house--she wanted to soar higher, faster, but she knew better than to make Dad angry. Clouds looked like spun cotton from down here. But how would they feel, she wondered? Would they feel like anything at all?

The fifth time she flew, Hogwarts' turrets reflected the sun back at her. She was swifter than the rest, more fearless. The coach was a tall, strapping man with a drooping moustache--he shouted at her to get down, told her she was mad--and then, brushing at his robes as if at a fly, said: Come to the Quidditch tryouts tonight.

The seventh time she flew, she found out what the clouds felt like. Damp, she found out. Damp and thick and cool. Her robes were soaked when she swooped down, grinning, but the other girls avoided her. Freak. Her eyes were gold and quiet, and nobody liked them. She didn't mind. She had Quidditch. Balance, said the coach. Keep your balance. She did.



She flew hundreds of times in her first few years. Enough to become the best at it. Enough to lose count. She woke up thinking of Quidditch, went to sleep thinking of it--talked with Will Creevey about Seeking for Gryffindor, and was granted the position after they decided she was all right for a girl. Creevey fancied her, but she ignored it--she was here to fly, after all, and that was enough. The only other girl on the team was Gloria Vecci, who was short and cruel and had a smile like a wolf--and Gloria fucked almost any boy who talked to her, so it wasn't strange that they expected Rolls to do the same.

But Rolls only wanted to fly. She hexed any boy who touched her, slipping past in the Quidditch stands--and if she got into trouble for it, that was all right. The Headmaster always understood.

It was only after one game, on the way back to the girls' changing rooms, that she realised the hand slipping over her hip wasn't a boy's--and she turned around in surprise, wanting to ask who it was--but Vecci pulled her behind the stands and kissed her, and then got down on her knees and ate her too, tongue hot and wet and slick, Rolls' robes pushed up around her thighs. Rolls only held onto the rough wood behind her back, biting her lip, and discovered something that was as good as flying after all.

* FIN *

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