The rest of the match had passed quickly, after Caitlin had been carted off the pitch, but Nigel and Nat hadn't been able to come up with much between them. They were outnumbered, and while the loss of the She-Demon hadn't upset him, it had apparently been a huge morale boost to the Slytherin team. They had only won thanks to Will. Though, she was much too pleased with herself over that, he noted with a sour glare toward Noam. Yes, they had won, and yes, she had been a major part of it, but that was just excessive. He glared at Will, too, when she toddled back to him, all nauseatingly pink, and he refused to speak to her as they walked back to the Gryffindor locker room.
He barely acknowledged Pete and the others, stripping down quickly and jumping into the showers. That was about normal for Nigel, but usually he was a shower lingerer. He liked to stay under the water until it started to cool and he was all pruney, which tended to make him the last to leave the locker room. Today was different, though, because today he had an objective in mind. He showered quickly, threw on some clothes, and hurried over to the Slytherin locker room, parking himself right outside the door. He was in a foul mood, and he knew who was to blame for it. He was not leaving until he had his say.
Nigel could not care less about Quidditch; he didn't care that they'd won, and if they had lost, he would just feel the same. However, he did care about his own reputation, which was one of the reasons he stuck it out in this miserable sport. Being a player on a house team came with some popularity points, and he knew Emma liked it. Still. He had not looked good out there today. He had looked like a complete, fucking wank. Not that that was new, because he was sort of a wank, but he had looked like a complete, fucking, useless wank. He was not useless. He had been a reserve player since he was a third year. If he had been useless, Pete would have told him long ago to pack it in and quit. He didn't care about the game, which often looked like ineptness, but he could play if he had to. Usually. In regular conditions. When he didn't have fucking bludgers coming at him every other second.
So, of course, today, he had been absolutely no help at all when it was just Nat and himself chasing. It was hard to focus on putting the Quaffle through the hoops when he could hear the iron balls whistling toward him. If it had been Burke's intention to completely destroy his game, he had succeeded. But with that success, there had also come the bonus perk of pissing Nigel off totally and completely. And apparently, he was taking his own sweet time in there because it looked like the entire rest of the team had come past him since he had been standing there, all of whom were met with glares, though their captain got the glariest glare. He'd be bringing that up to Will later. There were more pressing issues to deal with right now. Like his pride.
"Finally, Burke!" he said, catching sight of the other boy. "I was beginning to think you died in there. Now just what the fuck was your problem today? Did it escape your notice that there were six other people out there with me? Maybe if you hadn't been on my arse all day, your team would have won." He poked a finger in the other boy's chest. Most of the time, he gave Finn Burke a wide berth because there was something off-putting about him, but right now, he was too angry to care about that. "Well?" he asked. "What did I ever do to you? Please tell me." So that he could continue to do it in revenge for making him look like a useless wank.




