He was getting closer to understanding, or so he thought. Something still didn't feel right. Clearly Sloane loved quidditch. He didn't doubt that. She went to the games, had spent the better part of their time as friends talking about quidditch with him, had always been reliable seeker (which she didn't seem to realize, as she only chose to focus on her recent performance), and more than anything it was one of her defining hobbies. Almost a personality trait.
"And you think leaving behind something you love will make you happier?" he asked, less because he didn't trust her to know herself and more because he couldn't imagine leaving quidditch behind. Even with the stress of looming OWL examinations serving as a backdrop for every class and every assignment, he relied on the sport to keep him steady. Merely the physicality of it was enough to help burn off steam, and the game itself did so much more.
He glanced towards the entrance to the pitch. The other players had left, and no one had come to watch practice today (it wasn't as if they were likely to win a championship at this point, so no one really bothered). Quickly he folded the resignation letter into the smallest square her could manage, and then grabbed her hand. He opened her palm, placed the parchment back inside, and closed her hand, but held onto her fist for a little longer. Touch was one of the ways they'd always communicated, the way they'd shown their affection. The lack of it was part of the tension, and he knew that.
"Don't make it official yet. Please. Just... give it the rest of the year and let me know how you feel at the beginning of next year." If she could give him that, he could try to figure out a way to change her mind. "For me—as your captain and your Cameron." He gave her a little smile and dropped his hand back to his side.
"And you think leaving behind something you love will make you happier?" he asked, less because he didn't trust her to know herself and more because he couldn't imagine leaving quidditch behind. Even with the stress of looming OWL examinations serving as a backdrop for every class and every assignment, he relied on the sport to keep him steady. Merely the physicality of it was enough to help burn off steam, and the game itself did so much more.
He glanced towards the entrance to the pitch. The other players had left, and no one had come to watch practice today (it wasn't as if they were likely to win a championship at this point, so no one really bothered). Quickly he folded the resignation letter into the smallest square her could manage, and then grabbed her hand. He opened her palm, placed the parchment back inside, and closed her hand, but held onto her fist for a little longer. Touch was one of the ways they'd always communicated, the way they'd shown their affection. The lack of it was part of the tension, and he knew that.
"Don't make it official yet. Please. Just... give it the rest of the year and let me know how you feel at the beginning of next year." If she could give him that, he could try to figure out a way to change her mind. "For me—as your captain and your Cameron." He gave her a little smile and dropped his hand back to his side.
