*✧･ﾟ:* DEAD TO ME *:･ﾟ✧*
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INDIANA WAS AWFULLY used to enjoying what she saw in the mirror. Having a low self-esteem was never something she had struggled with, and in all honesty, as a kid her mother had made sure her daughter knew how beautiful she truly was. Indiana supposed that when Death swept away her mother, he took that high self-esteem as well. Because Indiana felt like shattering the mirror in front of her.
It was not her natural features that bothered her (for she knew it was useless to fret about something she didn't have the power to change), but rather the newest additions to the collection of memories that littered the lines and divots of entire being. Between the scar she had on the left side of her nose from a Quidditch accident, to the entirety of her left arm that seemed to be so damaged she had covered it in bandages, she truly just felt upset with what she saw. Perhaps, if she had made different choices, things could have been different.
Indiana was nervous. Incredibly nervous, really, and although it was mostly because she had to play Seeker in replace of Theodore Nott (who was visiting his father in Azkaban), it was also because she knew her father would be in attendance. She had the sub-Beater, Adrian Pucey, playing in her old position, only because she knew she was a better Seeker than anyone on the team, but she knew she'd have to work twice as hard to impress her father if she was playing as Seeker.
As she walked out onto the pitch, making sure to always be a few steps in front of her team like her father always told her, she felt more anxious than ever. The weather conditions were flawless, but they didn't ease her worries at all, nor did Draco's enthusiastic remarks and nor did Blaise's quiet reassurance.
The Gryffindors had already been out on the sunny field, and the booming rasp of the cheers from the crowd felt like white noise as Potter turned around to spot the Slytherins walking out. The small breeze fanned across her face and swished her ponytail side to side a bit as she strutted out front, but even the glowing sun spreading along her cheeks could not heal the flipping in her stomach she got when she locked eyes with the Gryffindor captain.
He was probably the best Seeker Gryffindor had ever seen before. He caught the Snitch every game (with the exception of the one where dementors had made a guest appearance), and rode a Firebolt, which was faster than any other player on his team. It only made sense that Indiana flew on a Firebolt as well, because by the end of the game, they'd be able to find out who was the better flier. And Indiana, for once in her ever-so-egotistical life, worried she might not come out on top.
"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," Madam Hooch said, yellow eyes glinting, once they were all gathered around her. Indiana could tell that she seemed to be speaking particularly to her. "Captains — shake hands."
Indiana's heart skipped, but she didn't allow a single bit of her face to change when she extended a hand. Potter's hand met hers in a firm grip, and she wondered if Madam Hooch or the others players had noticed the way their handshake had lasted a bit longer than necessary, their fingertips lingering against one another's before their hands dropped to their sides.
Potter pursed his lips at her in a sort of smile, his cheeks dusted pink, and as much as Indiana wished she could smile back, her father was in the stands and she couldn't risk him seeing. She settled for a curt and slightly noticeable nod, praying he got the message before the teams stepped away from one another. Potter, ever so kind, kept smiling at her and nodded back.
"Mount your brooms, please," Madam Hooch commanded. Indiana swung her leg over her Firebolt, sticking one foot into the stirrup firmly, the ball of her other foot bouncing on the grassy ground, prepared to push off.
Madam Hooch gave a piercing blast on her silver whistle, and fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Blaise Zabini of Slytherin — an excellent Chaser he is — and he's really belting up there, a neat pass to Draco Malfoy — his first year playing Chaser, you know — back to Zabini and — no, Quaffle intercepted by Demelza Robin's of Gryffindor! — she's really soaring — and — and she's ready to —! Oh, no, intercepted by Chaser Regina Quinn for Slytherin —! Again, Quaffle intercepted by Chaser Robins — she's going, going — Keeper Bletchley dives — hard miss, and GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Indiana was not used to playing as Seeker, that's for sure. She was paying extra attention to Potter, solely because she knew once he dived nice and low, he'd see it (and not cause of how good he looked in his Quidditch uniform, absolutely not!). He was glancing about the pitch cooly, circling about other players and squinting slightly; although Indiana could not catch him, he seemed to be glancing over in her direction every few minutes.
A few times she began to speed up, flying quick circles about the pitch (still looking for the Snitch, of course) just to fuck with him and make him think she spotted it, maybe to get him dizzy. And a few times, she did spot that speck of gold, but she'd loose it after dodging a Bludger or swerving about the Chasers.
"The Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Zabini, off up the field and — Ouch! — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Draco Malfoy speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Ritchie Coote — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Zabini back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off he goes — he's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — Keeper Ron Weasley dives — misses — SLYTHERIN'S SCORE!"
Slytherin cheers filled up the stadium's cold air, along with howls and boos from the Gryffindor stands. Indiana had no time to grin or high-five another player; her eyes had never been strained more, and she then understood why Potter chose to keep his glasses on whilst playing.
"Gryffindor in possession," The commentator was saying. "Gryffindor Chaser ducks two Bludgers, and Chaser Quinn speeds towards the goal post — oh, has Jones spotted the Snitch?"
Indiana muttered a curse under her breath at the stupid fourth year commentator for outing her, and the whirring of Potter's broom behind her only made her more aggravated. She could just barely see the Snitch ahead of her, and she was leaning so far on her broom that her chest was touching the wood, her entire body scooted up further than it should have so her arm was able to extend if need be. Her toes were grazing the stirrups, her thick thighs clutching about the length of the broom tightly so she didn't topple off.
And then, Potter was right next to her, body pressed to his own broom. The Snitch was flying away from them a couple of feet away, and neither had their arm outstretched just yet, but Indiana could feel the heat radiating off his body from the close proximity between the two of them.
"Shove off, Potter!" she yelled over the wind, not letting her eyes leave the Snitch.
"Don't think so!" he shouted back, and his first mistake was letting himself shift his gaze over to her for a moment. Her eyes were trained ahead of her, ponytail whipping behind her head as the sounds of the crowds and commentator were drowned out. "How come you never tried for Seeker?"
And then, when he looked at her again, a mad, wicked grin had unfurled across her flushed face, the background blurred as the pair of them flew side by side. "I enjoyed aiming Bludgers at you too much!"
"Oh, you little —!"
"Speaking of!" And then, she flew directly upwards, her broom flying her in a perfect circle, dodging the Bludger than had been sent her way by Jimmy Peakes.
"Seeker Indiana Jones dodges Gryffindors Bludger by a landslide, flying in a perfect circle — Seeker Potter dodges to the side, both have lost sight of the Snitch —"
"Damnit!" Indiana muttered to herself as blurs of scarlet and green flashed by her eyes. Across the field, through the blurred colors of the other players robes, she spotted Potter, hovering in that same stupid spot with his stupid hair being whipping about by the wind. He raised a hand to wave at her sarcastically, just as she had at Gryffindor tryouts in the beginning of the year, to which she smirked and lifting up one of her hands to flip him the bird. A wave of deja vu washed over her when she started flying again.
"Chaser Quinn takes the Quaffle — swift pass to Malfoy — pass to Zabini — pass back to Quinn — and, and —! Bad luck, intercepted by Chaser Weasley — nice dodge from Goyle's Bludger — oh, watch where you're aiming, Pucey, that Bludger could've hit Professor Slughorn —!"
And then, she spotted it again — a fleck of gold in the sea of green and scarlet, and with a single glance at Potter (who had not spotted it yet), she decided to copy his best move, flying as low as she could. Maybe, if she really focused, she could pull this off.
"C'mon, c'mon," she muttered more to her broom than to herself as she leaned forward, her chin practically grazing the handle, her fingers burning as she clutched the broom. Potter had seen it as well, and soon enough, he was flying beside her again, their shoulders thumping against one another's passionately in attempts to knock the other off the path.
"Fancy seeing you up here!" Potter said teasingly, his eyes flickering in between her and the Golden Snitch with a borderline maniacal grin crossing his tanned features, his head of wild raven hair being tousled by the wind.
Indiana only let her spare him one single glance, and in that glance, her brown eyes met with green ones dead on. He was grinning — she had never quite seen him so adrenaline filled — and she simply could not help but grin, too, flashing him her teeth before whipping her head back into line. His grin only grew and by god, Indiana thought she could stare at him for the rest of her life.
The Snitch was so close, and both Seekers extended a hand — Indiana's left, Potter's right, and her stomach flipped when the edge of their hands bumped. The commentator was saying something she could not understand, and the crowd's cheering was like white noise in the background, the sounds blurred like the sight of other players passing by.
And for a moment, Indiana though Potter was going to grab it. His fingers were closer to it than her was, and he had enough room to lung forward grab it, hopefully not toppling off his broom. But there was a hesitation, and when she looked over, she saw him glance at the Slytherin stands, his brow furrowed as though he were thinking deeply about something. And in that short moment, although she wondered if she'd regret it, Indiana extended her torso as far as she could and snatched that Snitch back before he could.
"Jones catches the Snitch — SLYTHERIN WINS 170 TO 90!"
She raised the golden ball above her head, the wings fluttering about her fingers, and she lifted her chest off of her broom to show it off to the crowd. Potter was still flying next to her, and although he was not quite beaming as brightly as she was, he had a tiny grin on his face and was only staring at her. As the crowd burst into loud cheers, she turned to look at him.
"Good job," He said simply, but his words were laced with such a genuine kindness that she felt her heart somersault within her chest .
"I know," And, boldly, she winked at him before tightening her grip on her broom with her free hand and swooping past him, green robes billowing behind her.
Draco was closest, and his pale eyes had crinkled at the corners from how enthusiastically bright his smile was; he slung an arm around her shoulder, grabbing the hand that held the Snitch and raising it above their heads with a loud whoop!
Blaise flew to them and joined them, slapping Indiana hard on the shoulder in congratulations. Then came Regina Quinn, her milky skin flushed red, and then Goyle, Bletchley, and Pucey. She wished Theo could have been there to celebrate with them.
When she reached the grassy ground to where her father (who was ignoring the large amount of cameras and news reporters surrounding him) was, he was standing beside Simon with his hands clasped at his front, a satisfied look on his face. Indiana shrugged Draco off her shoulders and approached her father, wiping the cheer from her face and settling on a stern and yet prideful expression.
"Brilliant flying!" Simon quipped, visibly refraining from jumping up and hugging her due to their father's presence. Indiana gave him a small smile.
"Thanks," She said quietly, saving the exchange with her brother for when her father was not there.
"Quite the close game," Jack Jones said deeply once she approached. "Hands?"
She extended her palms, both of which were a bright cherry red from where they had been wrapped about her broom.
"Hm," He said. "Hurt, do they?"
"A bit," Indiana lied. They were positively burning. She wished she could have worn gloves.
"If your callouses had grown more along here —" He tapped her fingers. She could feel her lips curving downwards into a frown; couldn't he just be proud for once? She had won the game, wasn't that enough? "— you'd've caught it twice as fast. Perhaps next time you'll get there."
"She won the game!" said a fiery voice from her left. Her head whipped towards the source, and so did her fathers; it was Potter, standing relatively nearby with a furrowed brow and expression of disbelief. "No 'Good job?' Save the criticisms for later, why don't you!"
"Potter —" Indiana began quickly, clamping her mouth shut when she head that half-way charming and still threatening chuckle of deep laughter from her father. She had heard it many times; it was what he did around the press.
"I'm afraid how I speak with my daughter is none of your concern, Mr. Potter," Her father said with a phony smile, eyes stern and lips curled up. Potter was glaring at the man, and Indiana only prayed that the exchange would not go further. "Do mind your business."
Potter scoffed and shook his head a bit, his eyes drifting to Indiana as though to get her to join in. She twitched her head a bit to mimic her shaking it, hoping he'd understand that it was not a wise decision for either teen to mess with Jack Jones. Potter opened his mouth to speak, but when she widened her eyes and raised a single eyebrow, he sighed and only sent her a look before moving back into the swarm of scarlet robes.
"Any idea where that came from?" Her father asked. Indiana sharply inhaled, shaking her head.
"No — no, I — I don't," Indiana said hastily. Her father raised an eyebrow but said no more in regards to Potter.
"Yes, well," Father clasped his hands together. "I suppose I ought to — oh, smile for the camera —"
One of the Daily Prophet reporters came over to a snap a picture, and Indiana's shoulders tensed greatly when her father placed an arm around her. She quickly flashed her teeth into a phony smile and prayed she didn't look too terrified on camera.
✧✧✧
SLYTHERIN WAS HAVING a party that night to celebrate the big Quidditch win, but Indiana was not quite in a partying mood. She had since traded in her tight, green dress for a pair of baggy, beige pants and a cropped white long sleeved tee so she didn't have to waddle around and worry about flashing the entirety of the common room. She had no desire to drink, and Nancy hated when she smoked so she couldn't light up a cigarette in the middle of the party.
Potter had let her win. She was sure of it. His arms were longer than hers, same with his torso, so why he hadn't been able to clutch his long fingers around the Snitch was an enigma. Unless, of course, he truly had decided to let her catch it — which only made her feel worse.
It wasn't necessarily the game that had stuck with her since it ended; it was him. Stupid Potter who's hand had lingered on her after that first handshake. Stupid Potter with that adrenaline filled grin that he gave her whilst bumping shoulders on their brooms. Stupid Potter with his Gryffindor bravery who stood up to her father when she simply could not.
Blaise was sat beside her, a mostly filled solo cup of some type of alcohol in hand that he kept sloshing around rather than taking a sip. The sleeves of his black collared shirt were rolled up to his elbows and he kept rolling his neck as though he were sore. Draco was on her other side, leaning on his elbows that rested on his knees with his white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned after he downed the remainder of his glass.
"You look troubled," Blaise spoke up after a while of them people watching, silently judging outfits and guessing how long it might take for another student to pass out. Indiana hummed, licking her lips and leaning backwards in a typically masculine manner, her legs parted and her arms crossed over her breasts. "Something bothering you?"
"No," Indiana lied. "Just tired."
"Where's Nancy at?" Blaise asked, shifting his eye about the crowded common room.
"I think she's upset about..." Indiana leaned a bit closer to Blaise so Draco could not hear. "...about Hermione."
"Poor Nance," Blaise frowned. "What happened, then?"
"Hermione definitely had feelings for Nance, but she's in love with Weaselbee," Indiana frowned. "Nancy was just trying to help Hermione out... heat of the moment, thing. But the Gryffindorks are all swell, now. Mione and Weaselbee talked it out. Guess the ginger's a nicer person than we thought."
"What, he forgave her?" Blaise asked, quirking up an eyebrow.
"Yeah, guess so. Mione said somethin' bout' Weasley understanding that Hermione was feeling a bit lost ," Indiana shrugged. "Right person, wrong time, I suppose."
"And what about you, then?" Blaise asked smoothly, finally taking a well-deserved sip from his cup. Indiana blinked and turned her head, confused.
"What's that supposed to mean, Zabini?"
Blaise chuckled lowly, pressing the rim of his cup to his lips for a moment. "The Chosen One."
"Ugh, Blaise," Indiana whacked him on the arm. "Don't even."
"Come on, Dee, you expect me to sit idly by without acknowledging what's going on?" Blaise gave another deep laugh, placing his cup down on the table in front of him. "What, is commitment too much for you?"
"No, that's not it," Indiana muttered, gnawing at her bottom lip for a moment. Blaise watched her carefully. "My trials are in a week. There's no point."
"Of course there's a point —"
"Not if I'm gonna be sentenced to —!" Indiana paused, lowering her volume. "I'm not gonna string him along for a week until I become a prisoner."
"Indiana —"
"No, Blaise, enough!" Indiana got to her feet angrily. "I'm gonna motor. I need a smoke."
SHE SPEAKS!
writing indie's trials were SOOO hard guys u have no idea. but i think they turned out okay. also sorry nancy and hermione aren't endgame <3
yes i know you all were very upset with hermione for cheating on ron. yes i also wanted nancy and hermione to get together, but i really love ron and i felt awful leaving him in the dust so i left him and mione together in the end. sometimes things don't work out!
anyway, dead to me doesn't have too many chapters left :( it's a shorter fic cause it's post-war. but (shameless plug) if u want more harry content, my new fic garden of eden will be coming out shortly after dead to me is finished! u can save it to ur library or to a reading list if u want😏
I AM IN LOVE WITH ALL OF YOU!
-s <3
ps. i'm also working on a james fic!! none of it is written because i can't think of a decent plot❤️ anyone have any ideas??