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The Porskoff Ploy - some mistakes were built to last

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March 31st, 2004

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11:22 pm - The Porskoff Ploy
Anneli Laaksonen, Gryffindor, 7th year

I've just returned from quidditch practice. Yesterday's beautiful weather was just a teasing glimpse of spring. It has suddenly returned to frigid temperatures and biting wind. My fingers are still stiff from gripping my broom so tightly. Luckily, we stopped practice before the second year, who has the equivalent weight of a turnip, smashed into the stands by the force of the wind.

On a slightly more exciting note, Aldric and I were the only two chasers today because Ginny was ill. Lots of one-on-one practice. He's quite fun when he isn't being his usual cocky self, and devilishly good to look at so I was distracted much of our practice. Without a third chaser we spent much of practice perfecting the Porskoff Ploy. I think we may have to implement it in our next game. . .

“Left. . .left,” I shouted down to Aldric as he dropped down below me to receive the quaffle. I threw it to his left, but the driving winds carried the ball quickly to his right side. Aldric made a wild swipe as the quaffle passed his right shoulder, but missed by a few feet. I watched as he flew after the AWOL quaffle, his robes flying up in the back so I caught a glimpse of his fitted quidditch pants curving his ass. I was still staring when he flew back, quaffle in hand.
“Mind the wind next time,” he said, panting as he tossed the quaffle back to me, “A little more to the left should do.” I nodded quickly and he resumed his position 15 feet below me. I focused on the spot five feet to his left, but then the image of his robes flying up came to mind and I aimed directly at his left hand. It was too good to pass up.
My throw was nearly identical to the first, as was his frantic attempt to catch it and the wind gust that followed. Wonderful.
Aldric didn’t look too pleased when he returned so the next few throws I made perfectly into his left hand.
“Good throws, Anneli,” he said, returning to my height. He closed his eyes, his long eyelashes lying on his flushed cheeks, and wiped the sweat off of his forehead. I was just thinking how I’d like to kiss his temple when he said, “So do you want to be on the bottom?”
I stared at him in surprise and then my mind returned to the Porskoff Ploy, my cheeks tinted just the slightest bit.
“Right, I should practice both positions,” I agreed, smiling wickedly as I flew to my position.

I wonder if I could persuade the IAQ (International Association of Quidditch) to change the number of chasers from three to two permanently. Probably not, but it is a lovely thought.

Amidst my fantasies of getting Aldric into my bed, an owl flew down and landed in front of me on the dinner table. It was from Max. The letter is sitting on my night table now, I’m afraid to open it. I can just imagine what it says, “Ma cherie, I miss you so much. I’m waiting for summer vacation so we can once again be together. . .” Well, it may not be that unbearable, but for some reason I feel like Max knows that I was thinking of Aldric instead of him and he wanted to be sure I knew he loved me. Thank god he’s still at Beauxbatons.
Current Mood: refreshedrefreshed

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