The Hufflepuff Quidditch team contained Victoria Summer's favorite people. There wasn't a member she didn't get along with, although Darren as Captain and awkward Authority Figure tended to be a step away and above from the rest of them. Ulby, however, had a special place in her heart for being her fellow Beater, not giving her grief about being a girl and having that kind of attitude and humor she enjoyed most. So when her babysitter-cum-friend (and former prostitute) had mailed her a bottle of Vodka for back-to-school celebration, she had decided to break it open with her fellow beater.

Coming down to the Quidditch pitch late at night was a favorite of Victoria's. She liked the space when it was quiet and it seemed like the echoes of all the games still thundered quietly and ghost-like through the air. It was also good distance from the school and had great places to hide should she hear someone coming. Having made her way down unnoticed with a blanket, the bottle of Vodka, glasses and a fresh pack of cigarettes she was practically in heaven.

It was a great way to blow off worries and there were even some practice brooms leaning up against the side of the bleachers and getting on those a little bit tipsy was always fun. Although it would be nice if at least one of her excursions didn't land her in the Hospital Wing she wouldn't let that stop her from doing stupid things. Stupid things were basically her bread and butter.

As she waited for her Quidditch Counterpart to show, she cracked open the bottle and lit a cigarette, rather sure she'd be expelled if anyone caught her who had an inclination to tattle. But that was really all part of the thrill of this kind of thing. Drinking and smoking when there was no threat of getting into trouble was just kind of depressing.

It was a little bit strange, admitting that one of his best friends was a sixth year girl, but there you go. Nate also hadn't been expecting to join a sports team when he first came to Hogwarts - hell, he hadn't even known what Quidditch was - much less befriend a girl with the intention of remaining that way. (What? Eleven-year-olds are imaginative like that, and Nate Ulby'd had high hopes when he first learned his was a wizard.) But he definitely enjoyed the perks of being one of a pair on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and being invited down the pitch for late-night drinks and smokes was definitely one of them.

He'd cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, since he really didn't like the idea of getting a detention, and moved silently through the hallways, down the shifting stairways that it had taken him his entire first year to get used to before he'd found out the proper patterns, wand out and at hand. If some prefect saw through the imperfectly cast charm (which made him look like a wavering reflection of the hallway around him rather than invisible like it should have), a good round of Avis followed by a quick Oppugno should give him enough time to get back to the Hufflepuff basement without getting caught, although it would be with great regret that he stood Vicky up.

Nothing of the sort happened, though, and Nate slipped out of the castle and outdoors, where it was cold and clear. Underneath the charm, his yellow sweater wasn't exactly the best choice for stealth, but he hadn't really quite through that through; he was more focused on reaching the prize that he could see before him on the middle of the Quidditch pitch: Vicky Summers on a blanket, a bottle of something that looked clear and dangerous and a pair of tumblers to boot next to her. As he crossed onto the pitch, he cast the counter-charm and came swimming back into view, so that looking at him would no longer cause anyone to feel dangerously seasick.

"How fuckin' classy, Summers," he said softly, not intending to be heard by the whole damn castle. He was close enough that he sat down next to her on the blanket, all gangly knees and elbows, as fourteen-year-old boys were wont to be. "Are we having some kind of fancy tea party?" His grin took the edge off, though. Nate's good humor shone through just about everything he did; his foulest insults never managed to be quite as cutting as they would be coming from someone else, and here he was just teasing. "Fancy tossin' me a fag?"

Pleased as punch the boy had made it unhindered, she offered him a fag before grinning back. "It's what I'm know for, Ulby. My class and charm." It was almost as odd for Victoria to consider a boy two years her junior one of her better friends, but then she had to admit most of her friends were boys and the few who were not where Hufflepuffs. She was friendly and open but not all of Hogwarts was and not all of Hogwarts appreciated her distinct lack of social graces. "Aren't you a little young to be smoking? Do you even know which end to light?" She grinned and poured herself a glass before offering both cup and bottle to her fellow beater.

"Whatcha think of this year's Slytherin team? Going to drag them through the fucking mud, I think." Quidditch wasn't something she thought she'd pursue after Hogwarts. She enjoyed it, but mostly for the physical excitement and exhaustion, not because of any great passion for the sport itself.

What lay beyond Hogwarts was a bit of a mystery, really. She was only sure that she wanted to make sure to do something fantastic and entirely Magical which meant a distinct steering away from teaching, ministry work or anything that could be equated to something Muggle.

He accepted the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers for a second before fumbling for the lighter in his pocket. The lighter had been a birthday present to himself, bought over the summer with carefully hoarded pocket money on an afternoon when he'd been able to escape his sisters' watchful eyes, half so that he could actually light the cigarettes he bummed off of Smith and half so that he'd have a cool lighter always in his pocket. A Refilling Charm had made it so that he'd never have to purchase more naphtha. "'Course I do," he said casually, lighting it with a click of his thumb; he took a drag and sighed, exhaling smoke and warm breath in a puff into the night before tucking the light back into the pocket of his robes. He didn't smoke terribly often, usually only when the people around him did, but it was easy enough.

Leaning back on his elbows, he accepted the bottle and cup one-handed, fingers wrapped tightly around the cup's rim. It took a bit of finagling to set the cup down onto the blanket and then pour with his left hand, but Nate managed; it was one of the downsides of smoking, your hand getting all taken up with holding the fag out of the way so you didn't burn yourself.

Vodka poured, he passed the bottle back to his fellow beater so that she could cap it, picking up his own glass and taking a sip. He was glad that the darkness hid the grimace that crossed his face at the taste; the vodka was harsh. Voice only slightly rough, throat burning from the alcohol, he asked, "The Slytherin team? Who the fuck's even on it?" Nate wasn't what you'd call familiar with the denizens of Slytherin House. They tended not to really have the time for muggleborn Hufflepuffs. "Isn't their captain a fuckin' girl?" Victoria, of course, didn't count as a girl. She was a beater who'd taught him most of what he knew about Quidditch, and that was enough for Nate Ulby to consider her better than that.

If she noticed the slight reaction to the cheap vodka, she was too much of a lady to mention it. She sipped at her own with a slight grimace herself, although she was perhaps a little more used to it than Ulby. How her muggle friend had even managed to get her hands on a bottle of Vodka to send, Victoria didn't want to know. The idea of the hands the bottle might've passed through made her picture things she didn't want to. The muggle lighter produced an unexpected surge of fondness for the boy; Victoria faced a decent amount of prejudice at the school by certain kinds for her blood, she was only too thrilled to find familiar people who couldn't care less.

Corking the bottle to keep from spilling it she rest it against her thigh so she didn't lose it in the dark. Using a cigarette butt for light was not the ideal. From what she'd heard of Winky Crockett a 'fuckin' girl' was an especially apt description but she wasn't one to judge for that sort of thing. It sort of amused her that Ulby talked like she wasn't one herself. "You know what Ulby, I think you're right. What the fuck do they think their doing, letting girls on a Quidditch team?" Her tone was teasing since as the boy might recall their were a surprising number of girls on the Hufflepuff team. Not that Gwen, Cat and herself didn't damn well deserve their spots. There was a definite reason they'd been picked over the boys who'd tried out and it wasn't so that crude wood between the legs jokes could be made (although they had, on numerous occasions).

"What'll happen next? Fucking have dogs flying around on brooms, you think? Maybe house elves! All downhill from letting girls on the team."

He made a face in her general direction, the automatic response of a fourteen-year-old to being teased, and took another sip of the vodka. Go figure that Victoria would take issue with his comment about the Slytherin team captain being a girl, but Nate wasn't about to go back on what he'd said in an attempt at explaining it away. Nate wasn't exactly the suavest of boys; he tended to speak without thinking, or after giving a moment's thought as to whether or not what he said would be funny.

Never once, though, had he doubted whether or not the girls on the Hufflepuff team deserved their places. Rather, it had been more of a comment on the fact that she was the captain of the Slytherin team. Nate didn't doubt that Vicky knew that, though, which was why he felt perfectly comfortable continuing with the conceit his first question had begun.

"I know," he said, playing along with a grin. "But at least house elves'd be faster than the fucks they've got on their team now, though." He'd gotten the shock of his short life the first time he'd gone into the kitchens and seen the house elves hard at work. It was just a reminder of how different the wizarding world was from the one he'd left behind when he came to Hogwarts. "And havin' girls on the team makes it even better when we beat Slytherin. You reckon they picked their beaters 'cause they're a matched pair?"

He waved his lit cigarette around in the air idly, watching the patterns the red-hot end traced in the darkness. Maybe they'd get to place in some nice weather for once. He was certainly fucking tired of playing Quidditch in the rain and sleet and whatever else Scotland could throw at them.

"Doesn't matter, though," he added casually. "We can outfly and outplay 'em any day, Summers." Nate and Victoria were among the faster beaters on the House teams, a point of pride when it came to reaching the Bludger first.

"They're fucking attached at the hip, the horrible way they fly,' she responded, thinking back to a pair of siamese twins she'd seen in a circus tent when she'd been little. This had been before Hogwarts and the fakes and freaks she'd seen in that dingy little show had been the most fantastical things she'd laid eyes on until she'd been introduced to the wizarding world. Had kind of blown the obese woman with the beard out of the water.

She grinned, "House elves would be tougher beaters. A troll a smarter Captain and a fucking Centaur on a broom would be more graceful then their fucking chasers." Laughing a little at her own joke as tactful as she always was, she downed enough of the vodka that she required a refill. It burned and everything and she probably should have brought something to cut it with, but she'd only so many hands and a trip to the kitchen involved greater risk.

She grinned and knocked her shoulder against his in a show of affection and solidarity. "That we can, Ulby. Going to get the cup this year, eh?"

Nate had never seen Siamese twins, but he could hardly imagine them flying any worse than the Broadmoor Beaters. His family had never been the sort to go to the circus, as firmly grounded in normalcy as they were; his mother would've been horrified at the sideshows and herded her brood of children as far from the circus as the limits of London would have allowed. Respectability had been the Ulby goal, from their flat to their Sunday best. He could hardly imagine telling his parents about this particular little venture with Victoria, sitting here in the middle of the night smoking and drinking cheap vodka. It was certainly not what they'd expect to hear about wizarding school.

"Fuck," he said emphatically, nodding as well, "a team of five year old kids'd be a better team, you think?" Mimicking her swallow - and trying not to choke as the vodka burned its way down his throat - he downed the drink and held his cup out for a refill, already smiling fuzzily. Most of his drinking experience had been limited to butterbeer in Hogsmeade and a few mouthfuls of firewhiskey when he could get it; it had decreased extensively one he'd stopped hanging around Dawlish and those other Hufflepuffs.

He wavered slightly when she bumped his shoulder, hands full of empty vodka glass and cigarette, although he didn't tip over. Instead he grinned back and crossed his legs to make a steadier base. Nate had never really given thought to how little cheap vodka it might make to take him good and drunk - not much, apparently. Once he stood up, he'd probably feel his head swimming, although he didn't have enough experience to realize that.

"'Course we will." Hufflepuff was the best Quidditch team, clearly. "Not the House Cup, probably, but who cares about that one?" He shrugged and took another sip when she refilled his cup, as if drinking more would ease the burning in his throat. Nope. It didn't. Instead of coughing, though, he managed to say, "Where'd you manage to get this stuff, anyways?"

Her mother hadn't had the energy to police her children as of late. Job opportunities for poor, uneducated women were brutal and poor-paying and Victoria herself was expected to find a job during the summer months to help out. She often picked up a stint at a launderer's or, nowadays with the war effort, could often find something in a factory. But it was all grueling and all mind-numbingly boring. Just thinking about it made her force down another few gulps. "Fucking pig fetuses would be better,' she quipped happily, beginning to feel warm in her limbs and just under her skin in that pleasant way that blurred her troubles.

Catching the waver, Vicky giggled a little and then studied the bottle although it was so dark she couldn't even read the label properly. "Back to school present from my Aunt,' she explained. It was a quicker and easier explanation then telling Ulby it was from the aging hooker who had looked after her when she'd been a little girl. Unlike her brother, Victoria was slightly ashamed of some of the harsher details of her poverty. "How'd you even manage to get on the team, Ulby?" She teased seemingly out of the blue. "Bribe someone?"

He laughed and fell completely backwards so that he was lying on the blanket, although his legs were still crossed and his arms awkwardly up in the air so that he didn't spill any of the vodka or lose his lit cigarette. "Christ," he said to the sky, oddly content to stay lying down for a few moments, "you're right, Summers." It was actually rather amazing how right she was. Still lying down, he took a drag off the fag and watched as the smoke he exhaled spiraled up into the sky. At least he wasn't hacking up a lung - Nate had some practice when it came to smoking, compared to his limited past experience with drinking, especially liquor like this vodka.

Letting the explanation of how she'd got the vodka slide right by, though - he didn't know Victoria's family, it could've been true, for all he knew - he sat up indignantly when she mentioned his tryouts, pushing himself up awkwardly with his elbows. "'Ey, fuck you," he said, although he was smiling and still half-laughing. Christ, his head was spinning. He couldn't be drunk yet, could he? Defiant in the face of his intolerance for alcohol, Nate took another swallow of the vodka and grinned. "I was on reserves for a whole year."

The dizziness passed and he hazarded another sip; each one seemed to burn less than the previous drink. Fuck, another glass and he might say the vodka was good. Or be passed out; Nate was a lightweight, and even cheap vodka was strong stuff.

"I served my time, what about you?" His question was highlighted by a wave of the hand holding the fag; the burning tip traced an arc of bright light through the darkness of the Quidditch pitch. "Who'd you make eyes at to get on the team, huh?" The teasing tone of his voice took the edge off the accusation; Nate thought more highly of his fellow Beater than that. She might be a little bit, well, unfeminine, but that just made it all the more likely that she'd never fall back on feminine wiles to get a place as a Beater on a Quidditch team.

The thought of her using any feminine wiles on Darren to get onto the team had her snorting with uncontrolled laughter. "Oh don't,' she pleaded in between gasps, 'don't. Can't you just fucking picture it? O'hare would get a brain bleed and collapse." It took a few deep breaths to get her laughter under control. She was not, however, deeply insulted by the suggestion. Their team had faced worse and much less friendly for being more girls than boys. It only made it all the more satisfying when they won.

"No one's got eyes enough to make O'hare take himself less seriously,' she giggled and Victoria was usually not one for the girlish giggle. "Wonder if he's going to take an actual fucking square to the dance? Be the only thing that suit him, eh?" Thoughts of the dance made her wince just a little. Strong-armed into going with Zonko she was hardly looking forward to it. Zonko was alright in his way, but certainly not anyone she had fuzzy feelings about. She knew it was just a matter of who blinked first and she was going to be damned if it was her.

"Nor, I suppose, enough gold. Must've gotten on based on talents, Ulby. Wonder whats wrong with our dear Captain that he thinks you've got talents."

He joined her laughing at the mental picture of O'hare's reaction to something as unlikely as Summers attempting to seduce her way onto a Quidditch team, caught up in helpless gales of giggles, voice cracking slightly. "Shit," he said appreciatively, "what I wouldn't give to see the look on his face, Summers. Bet that's how Morgan and Madley and McCormack made it onto the team, too. O'hare requires an exactin' price if you want him to think you've got talent." Words were slurring together and letters falling off the ends of words at a record rate; if Nate wanted badly to sound as tough as he thought he was, apparently alcohol was the way to go.

Another sip of vodka and he was feeling as bold and great as ever, that ever-present grin not even lessening slightly. This was the life, really. It wasn't really cold, but rather brisk and nice out with a clear sky above, and the sweater was just enough to keep him from shivering while he sat here on the blanket with his friend and fellow Beater, a girl, much less.

"Speakin' of taking people to the dance, though," he said, leaning forward slightly towards Victoria so that he was bent halfway over his crossed legs, arms still held akimbo to stabilize the twin vices in each f his hands, "I hear you've found yourself a date." He grinned and straightened. The story of how Ed Zonko had chased Victoria down the hallways had spread like wildfire, and while Nate'd gotten as good a laugh out of it as anyone else, it had struck him as pretty fucking odd. "Zonko, though, really?"

"S'how you and Smith made it onto the team, actually, I bet,' she laughed at the implication and mental image of O'Hare being seduced by Smith and Ulby (although she stopped before that went too far in the wrong direction). "'Sides, Gwen's too much of a fucking square to use her womanly wiles on anyone and fucking Cat's got bigger balls than you do." Despite how she might speak of the other girls on her team, she felt nothing but great deals of affection for them both. Gwen, whom she'd roomed with for six years and Cat who, although two years younger, was great company.

"Yeah, Zonko. What, jealous I got to him first?" She put aside her vodka a moment to concentrate on her cigarette which she'd been letting grow to a stub for her inattention. A pitiful waste, really. "Really he was just trying to fucking embarrass me and I wouldn't let him. He wasn't expecting me to say yes. I doubt he'll stay long enough to get me punch."

Tilting her head back she let out the smoke and then glanced at Ulby. "What girl did ya manage to convince to go with you, huhn?"

Nate choked on his vodka over Victoria's comment, swallowing with great difficulty before breaking out laughing, almost hysterically. It was either laugh or cry over something that completely awful. She did have a point, though, that Gwen and Cat weren't exactly the epitomes of what he might have expected girls to be, either: Gwen was too serious and too ambitious, compared to his frillier sisters at home, and Cat was... well... Cat.

He set the glass down carefully, trying to balance it on the lumpy blanket over the grass they were sitting on. When it refused to stand up, he kept his fingers cupped around the rim, not letting it go, and smoked in silence for a few moments, not bothering to try for smoke rings or anything cool like some of the more experienced smokers at Hogwarts could do, trying to figure out how to word his answer to Victoria's question.

After all, he hadn't managed to convince anyone to go with him. Of course, he hadn't bothered asking anyone, but now, drunk and brave, the vodka might have changed his mind. Shit, this was a terrible idea.

"You're right," he said boldly, ignoring her question completely, focusing rather on her assumption that Zonko would abandon her almost immediately upon arrival. "I'd bet you five quid that he's gone within ten minutes of getting there, Summers." He stopped, considered what he'd said and its implications, and added lamely, "Not 'cause it's you, or anything, just 'cause it's Zonko." Not really having planned this out at all or even having any of idea of what he was going to say next, he took another sip of the vodka. Well. He'd gone this far, he might as well jump right off the fucking cliff. "What d'you say you go with me once Zonko disappears? Hufflepuff Beaters together, you know?"

Even through the weighty influence of the alcohol Victoria could identify that this was a delicate situation. She liked Ulby a great deal, just not that way but the prospect of having a backup date was incredibly tempting. After a moment of silence she decided to offset it all with humor. "You're stupid if you're thinking I'm letting you paw at me, Ulby. But yeah, I'd like that." She smiled at him brightly and offered him the bottle again, not giving him much of an option as she filled up his glass. Her girlish pride was soothed by the idea of having a back up date. She'd been dreading the dance with Zonko and this was very nearly a perfect solution.

Despite her seconds-ago insistence that he wasn't to be grabby - although she hardly thought the boy thought of her that way - she nudged his shoulder again with her own and just sort of rested there. "You're a good friend, Ulby."

Nate made a face. He was, after all, still only fourteen; girls were borderline fascinating (at which point he teased or pulled pigtails) or were just one of the boys. Victoria, obviously, fell into the second category. She was his teammate, he wasn't going to go groping at her. "Gross, Summers," he said, laughingly, then took a sip of the vodka that she'd so generously refilled his cup with. "'Course I'm a good friend, you're a Beater."

The fact that she'd agreed was an incredible relief. Nate hadn't really thought through what would've happened if she'd declined to use him as a backup date.

"Great then." He grinned and took another drink and sighed happily. "If you supply the liquor, Summers, I'll get it into the dance." Of course, someone would probably be spiking the punch, but having their own personal supply of alcohol would be even more fun. "I need some sorta costume, right?"

She laughed right along with him, apparently not at all insulted to be referred to as gross. The ball was suddenly looking up a great deal and it would be fun to tell Zonko she had a backup. Although the boy was hardly malicious so she really wouldn't begrudge him all that much when he inevitably did leave her be. "You should stuff some socks down your pants and go as a boy." She suggested with a wicked grin an a quick duck to avoid the sure-to-happen retribution.

It didn't really bother Victoria that most of her friends were boys who would probably have the same reaction as Ulby to anything romantic involving her. She was sixteen, preoccupied with her father and her studies as much as she didn't seem the studious type and it only rarely bothered her girlish pride that she wasn't exactly sought after in that way.

The swing he took at her was incredibly halfhearted, and a sign of just how little Nate thought of Victoria as an actual girl. He never would've taken a swing at a girl. Of course, the halfheartedness came from the fact that he was still holding the glass of vodka in his hand and didn't really fancy sloshing it all over his fellow Beater. No, he'd rather be drinking it, thanks! But he was still smiling even as his hand passed over where Victoria's head had been.

"I'll lend you a few extra pairs," he shot back, still laughing, "and you can stuff your shirt and go as a girl, Summers." Romance with Victoria Summers was quite honestly one of the last things on his mind; she was his teammate, what sort of awfulness would happen if people on the same team went together and then stopped going together? Nate didn't want to find out, he just wanted to have fun at the dance with Victoria and whatever liquor she gave him to smuggle in.

Not as concerned about his vodka and he was, she gave him a strong shove and laughed. "Sounds good, we'll make the perfect couple." Then sipping on her own glass she staggered to her feet and offered her hand to hoist him up as well. "Let's fly and I'll show you whose got the bigger balls." It was, perhaps a drink ago, not such a great idea but by now it seemed like there could be nothing else for them to do then hop on a couple of brooms and zoom around the pitch playing a game of knock-off. The likelihood of this evening ending her in the hospital wing again didn't seem to infringe on her decision making process.

Really, she should just have set up her dormitory in the Hospital wing. "Whaddya say Ulby? Not a chicken, are you?"

He almost tipped over when she shoved him, although he managed to catch himself on his elbow, laughing loudly and almost hysterically. "The best," he said, voice cracking wildly. Flushing, he cleared his throat and took another sip of vodka before sticking his cigarette between his teeth and accepting her hand up, wavering slightly where he stood. Her suggestion to have a flying competition sounded like the best idea ever, it really did. The fact that it really wasn't a good idea didn't really occur to him.

No, it sounded great.

"I'm not a chicken," he slurred at her, waving his cigarette in the air for emphasis. "Where's a broomstick, huh? I'll show you who's got the bigger balls here." The likelihood of ending up in the hospital wing? What was that? Who cared about that? Certainly not Nate. Nope, nope, not Nate. Besides, if one of them broke a wrist or something, he knew how to stop bleeding. Maybe not set the bone, but at least stop bleeding! Then they'd just go wake up Healer Spleen and he'd fix everything but they weren't going to end up in the Hospital Wing anyways. They were great fliers.

There were a handful of brooms that were leaning up against the side of the pitch, possibly meant for practice. Her own broom had been donated to her by the school as there had never been the possibility of her affording one on her own. It was an older, slightly slower model than the ones that were flown most, but she managed just the same. It wasn't like she was seeker. These were about the same quality and so she assumed leftovers from a flying class. Picking one out and testing it's weight before sitting on it, she waved Ulby over. If he could walk over here in a straight line it would be a small miracle.

"Come on, you girl. I bet I get you off your broom in ten seconds flat." It was a wild assumption because she was nearly if not just as drunk as Ulby and he was a talented flier himself, but she was full of nonsensical energy - as, perhaps, this activity would suggest.

Now standing, he tossed down the stub of his cigarette and snuffed it with a clumsy twist of his toes in the grass of the Quidditch pitch before finishing off his vodka and bending over to set the glass down on the ground, wavering slightly as he was bent. Unsurprisingly enough, Nate Ulby was not a miracle worker, that much was obvious from the way he staggered over towards Victoria, who was already on her broom. It took effort to put his feet in front of each other, one after the other, but even that was hardly successful; the line of footsteps he left in the dewy grass quite clearly unsteady and most definitely not a straight line.

"I'd like to see you try, Summers," he retorted, grabbing a broom from the bunch leaned up against the wall, disliking the way it felt in his hands, and switching it out for a lighter option. He might not be as fast as Smith on a broom, but he was probably fast enough to keep out of Victoria's hands. "Catch me if you can!" he added wildly, laughing as he straddled the broom and leaped into the night sky, leaving his fellow Beater on the ground behind him. The broomstick's path veered wildly from left to right, but Nate hardly noticed; he was too busy watching Victoria down on the ground.

While she screamed out "Cheater!" as he took off without warning, she shot up after him and managed to get a good deal higher than was actually necessary. Trying to figure how to descend at the correct trajectory to collide with him with her head swimming and stomach rolling, however, proved difficult and she swooped up and down unsteadily for a moment before simply plummeting in his general direction hoping that dumb luck would come into play and allow her to hit him.

The wisdom of trying to cause a full-on collision didn't occur to her, the only thing that she was fixated on was getting him off his broom before he got her off hers. Knock-off was much simpler than Quidditch but no less dangerous to the body as a whole.

"Slowpoke!" he hollered up at her. "Careful up there, Summers, or I'll see up your skirt, you dipso!" Of course, Nate wouldn't look. That would be gross - and rude, to boot. He wasn't really expecting Victoria to come hurtling down towards him from way up there, but this was a game of knock-off and he wasn't about to let her win. No, that was an awful idea. So he kicked his own broom up to meet his fellow Beater with the full intent of knocking her off of her broom. After all, if he couldn't win a game of knock-off, what the fuck sort of Beater was he?

Then they abruptly collided and he had about a split second to wonder why he'd thought it was a good idea before, laughing as he tumbled off his broomstick, which went spiraling out of control towards the stands, he caught Victoria's ankle with both hands and hoped to Jesus that he pulled her down with him.

It would be embarrassing if only he fell off his broom. Better take Summers down, too.

Victoria had not been expecting the little fuck to come meet her, she had been expecting him to run away. Zip along somewhere else and try to get the higher ground, but that kind of logic had possibly left his drunken brain. Same as the logic that told her she should probably veer to the right to avoid this.

They collided, hard, and worse was that as Ulby fell and even though there was some sharp pains she was sure she'd won until he latched onto her ankle and pulled her right off too. Fortunately she landed directly on top of him, his stomach cushioning her back from direct impact with the ground. She lay there, stunned and breathless and when she finally did manage to take in air and the pain still hadn't reached her through vodka and adrenaline she began to laugh.

Spatial analysis had never been Nate's strong suit - fuck, he didn't even know its proper name. However, even a little bit of the ability to visualize how two falling bodies would land might have helped him be not so surprised when he found himself on the ground with Victoria on top of him, all the air crushed out of his lungs as he tried and failed to laugh. Finally his laugh came, raspy and quiet and rather painful - not that Nate really noticed.

"I won!" he said hoarsely from beneath his fellow Beater, not bothering to try to shove her off. He wanted to just lay here for a moment and catch his breath, which seemed slightly more difficult than he'd expected, even after falling twenty feet and landing underneath another person. "Knocked you off your broomstick, didn't I, Summers?" Laughing, he struggled to raise himself up on his elbows and at the same time move Victoria form where she lay across his chest and stomach. A warning twinge from his ribs, noticeable even through the haze of vodka, changed his mind; Nate let his head fall back down onto the wet grass and stared up at the sky. "Good try, though."

She yelped a little as he moved as it brought her attention to the awkward way her arm was bent under her and she was relatively sure it was not meant to fold that way. Wincing, she tried to roll on her side and slide it out, jolts of pain accompanying each movement. The vodka and the rush of the flying helped her cope almost effortlessly with it, though and she slowly sat up as her head spun.

"Did ya break anything, Ulby?" She asked after a long moment where she attempted to order the words properly on her tongue - easier thought of then done. "And you didn't win, you little fuck."

What little breath was in his lungs rushed out in a huff as Vicky pushed herself up off of his chest. Even drunk, that certainly smarted, although he wasn't about to admit that to his fellow Beater. Instead, Nate forced a grin and said, "Dunno." He tried to sit up again, was once again thwarted by even sharper pains in his wrist and, additionally, his wrist, which he had failed to notice land awkwardly underneath his hip. "Maybe," he added, reluctantly.

Nate took a moment to gather himself, and pushed himself up with only his right hand, wincing when he moved his left arm and took a breath. Definitely.

"And not maybe that I didn't win," he insisted a little petulantly, still fixated on Vicky recognizing the fact that he had won when it came to their insane, poorly thought-out broomstick game. "I did." It was enough to keep his thoughts off how fucking bad his ribs and wrist hurt, certainly, continuing to insist that he had, in fact, won. "Anyone who'd've seen would say I did."

"I think my wrist has gone funny. Let's go see Spleen, eh?" She tried to stand, wobbled a little, fell, stood again, wobbled more but finally managed to remain on her feet. Things were beginning to smart more than a little as the drunkenness and adrenaline failed to compensate for the pain. Still, her primary concern was Ulby's illegitimate claim.

"Oi, I charged you, you fell and yanked me off. Ergo, I win, you shit." She declared authoratatively. Returning dutifully to his side none the less, she offered him her (mostly) uninjured arm. "Get up, you cheating lout."

He watched from the ground as she suggested that they go see Spleen - he clung to the pluralized pronoun she'd used, hoping that she actually meant it, although she usually did - and proceeded to abandon him. Maybe she didn't, this time. Maybe she'd just leave him out here until the next team with the pitch booked found him out here napping off his hangover with broken ribs and a broomstick that had drifted about ten meters off. The thought wasn't a terribly pleasant one; Nate didn't want to imagine the detention that would stem from being drunk on school property (broomsticks and land, he supposed).

But no, she was going to be merciful. He might even unbend his stiff neck and allow that she may have gotten the upper hand in this particular round of knock-off. "You're the shit, you tosser," he grumbled uncharitably, taking her arm with his own uninjured hand and climbing slowly to his feet. "But yeah, I think Spleen's a good idea right now."