The last week hadn't been a good week in the life of Caitlin and though she'd been told by some that throwing herself into Quidditch and her studies and her Prefect duties would help her to get her mind off things, that really was a big lie. She felt like everything she'd been doing the last week had been done by rote memory only. She'd read whole chapters in her text books without remembering a word; she'd smiled without her eyes joining in on the fun; she'd answered questions about how she was doing with a 'fine' and the clear indication that she wanted to say nothing more.

And she'd avoided Nat and Petey as much as she could. 

Today, though, she had no choice but to put all those emotional concerns behind her. She had, at this very moment, one thought to ride on: the pitch was impossible. It was impossible and that suited her. It would give her a focus and keep her sharp.

"We're ready for this."

She looked over at Petey, gave him a tight smile and then turned her head back towards the doors, her grip tightening on her broom.