there’s a small sigh as she dusts down her uniform. the crowds filter out of the cramped stalls, cheering and mumbling about how the game had gone, with all its twists and turns. she waits for the crowd to die down before moving and descending the stairs. the blonde dug a book out of her bag, some fantasy romance novel as she leaned against the wall just outside the gryffindor changing rooms. small smirks perks up as the scruffy chaser catches her eye, ‘ if it isn’t the infamous bellamy blake. ‘ hand curls into a fist, an action ti mimic a microphone as she falls into line with him, ‘ can we get a quote ? how do you do it ? ‘. usually, clarke hated going to the games. quidditch bored her, she knew all the rules inside and out, knew the fouls and the disciplines for said fouls. she knew how many people were hurt during such games, and that sort of entertainment didn’t exactly . . . entertain her. but it was different when bellamy played. she was engrossed whenever he played, apart from a few eye rolls when he flew too close and the girls surrounding her screamed so loud she was sure her ears had started bleeding. finger parts pages as she allows arm to drop by her side, ‘ . . . harry’s getting better every game. ‘ she mutters, ‘ i just . . . ‘ she cuts herself off, lips pursing as she glanced away for a moment, catching a group of fans outside the main doors, ‘ you’ve got to be kidding me. can we go no where without someone else waiting for you ? ‘ / @caelrex