Evan entered the boy's dormitory again, breathing from his nose. That little brat couldn't have written to Fallon! No... just... it wasn't right! It shouldn't be right. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. Then, hearing a vibration or some sort, he got up with his heart beating fast. Fallon couldn't have written to him about it, could she? Hands shaking, he reached over his luggage to find the parchment. He found it at last and stared white faced--there was a note from her!
So she was apologising, and she should be. She hadn't written to him since summer! Well, he hadn't either, but he was the one who wrote last. Anyways, he was glad she had written back. He also felt a sudden throb of guilt. He was now actually dating Marie. However, this note clearly showed Fallon and he were friends now. Still, he decided not to mention it unless Fallon asked it directly. No need another drama, though he doubted Fallon would create it. Pulling out a Muggle pen, he replied back.
He waited eagerly for her reply. Wonder if she'd ask it.

Pierre walked into the boys dormitory. It had been a rather long day, even though he spent most of it wandering the castle. He walked over to his bed. He put his arms underneath his head and proceeded to look around the room.

He spotted someone he had met in Diagon Alley. Evan was it? he thought to himself. He really didn't feel like going to sleep yet and he figured he could talk to Evan. "Hello Evan." He hoped that he remembered him, otherwise this would be very awkward.

Evan heard a voice talk to him. With a little stir, he looked around to see who had talked to him: The French guy whose name he could never get. Wow, he was so into the parchment that he didn't even realise him walking in. He seriously needed to get his mind away.

"Hey there," he said, careful to refrain from having to say his name. He still couldn't figure it out. "How are you? Like it here?"

Pierre realized that Evan probably still didn't remember his name. He was okay with that. He just needed someone to talk to. "I've been all right. I've met a lot of interesting people since I came here. Hogwarts is all right. I like wandering around the castle and the grounds." He remembered what him and Evan had talked about last time. "I haven't had the chance to play football since that Muggle Studies lesson where my friend got hurt."

Oh, yay. Another person liked here. Well, who wouldn't, with all the craziness going on? Evan smiled. There were indeed a lot of interesting people here. At the mention of the game, his smile got even bigger. "Actually, I, Warren and Adam played a little last weekend. Adam'll call me when we do again, and I'll let you know. Though we can play now if you want." Never mind the time was night. Dungeon corridor or even this room were wide enough. Besides, there was always time for football. Oh yes.

Pierre perked up slightly as Evan mentioned possibly playing football. "Sounds great, but how are we going to play? Do you have a football?" He figured Evan probably did, but he didn't want to mention that it was night. It was fairly obvious that it was night. He looked around the empty room again, wondering what Evan was thinking.

Evan gave a heartbroken look. Duh. How could he think such a football freak like him wouldn't have a football? "We can play here." He gave a pleading look. Or dungeon corridor was another option they could choose of course.

Pierre could see that somehow he had hurt Evan by not assuming that he had a football. He let out a sigh and sat up on his bed. "Sounds good to me." He thought that they might get in trouble, but he wasn't worried about it.

Yay! Of course it would sound good. Whom playing football wouldn't sound good to anyways? He took his precious Chelsea ball out and backed off a little bit and waited for the French guy to back off. Wonder how he played.

Pierre got up from the bed and stood where he needed to, waiting for Evan to kick the ball. He hoped Evan didn't get mad at him because of his bad aim. He was good at kicking it back and forth, but sometimes (well most of the time) he had horrible aim.

After doing a bit kicking the ball on his knees and toes, Evan kicked it to the seventh year. He seriously needed to learn his name. He had to warm up to the ball before doing more complicated stuff.

Pierre watched as Evan kicked the ball around and even bounced it around his knees. I wish I could do that... Then, Evan kicked the ball to him and Pierre reacted quickly to stop. He really didn't want to get shown up by a third year, but he figured that it was going to happen. He kicked the ball back and forth and then kicked it back to Evan. He missed slightly to the left and hoped Evan would be able to stop it.

Evan ran to the left a little to catch the ball. He raised his foot to cut the ball and shot it up to his head. Kicking it a bit there, he lowered it to his chest again and sent the ball high back at his friend.

Pierre was happy that Evan had caught it. Before he knew, the ball was shot back at him pretty high. He freaked at bounced it off of his head. He was shocked that he had even managed that. He bounced it again and hit it towards Evan.

Evan realised this guy knew some stuff, just that he lacked practise. He again lifted the ball by rolling it on his toes and bending over, caught the ball on back of his neck. He then shot it up again and did some more hard leg and foot movements before sending it back to the French guy again. "So, you started following British Premiere League?" How could someone interested in football not watch it? It was one of the best leagues in the world!

Pierre tried not to look completely shocked by the moves that Evan was doing. They were amazing and Pierre knew that if he tried that he would probably end up hurting himself. He quickly stopped the ball with his foot and started to dribble it back and forth. He kicked it back to Evan before answering the question. "Kind of. My father really wouldn't let me go to a game or anything like that."

Evan got the ball with his chest and then dribbled it too. How, how he had missed to play football on a real pitch. "Do you support any team then?" Where did he say he lived again?

Pierre watched as Evan dribbled the ball. Think, what was the name of that team again? It finally came to him and he was proud for remembering. "Manchester United."

Evan was about to send the ball high again -yes, he did love to give the ball some height, it made the whole thing more enjoyable- when he froze at his words. He was literally frozen like a statue, facing the French guy, mouth open a centimetre and left foot on the ball. Blink blink. Did he say Manchester United? Like... Manchester United? The Devils? The one with Fergie? Oh Merlin. He moved a bit at last--closing his mouth and removed his foot from the ball. And his stares changed too--they looked more of dubious about him. Yes yes, he'd just met Barclays Premiere League and the most illustrious club was United --definately not the best though, only the most illustrious-- and he would surely be under the effect of the name before getting to know the League better to fully decide who was best, but Evan couldn't think properly now. He didn't like United fans. They were usually bad people. Not that this guy was bad, but now he would pay more attention to him. Manchester United had brought down all of his coolness. Not nice.

After a good one minute, he finally sent the ball back to him with a simple shot and he spoke. "Alright. And I'm a Chelsea fan." He normally would have excused himself, but he really wondered if he had heard of Chelsea, or just United and decided to support it. This was a matter of life or death for their friendship. He watched his face carefully to catch his reaction to the name of United's biggest rival.

Pierre smirked. He had known that Evan was a Chelsea fan to begin with. The one day he had really talked to him he was wearing his Chelsea shirt. Pierre had watched a lot of football since he moved to England. He really did like Manchester United. He wasn't going to hold the fact that Evan was a Chelsea fan against him though. If he did, he wouldn't really have anyone to play football with.

Pierre smirked again. "I know. The one day I talked to you you were wearing a jersey." He caught the ball with his foot and kicked it so he could bounce it off of his knee a couple of times before sending it back. "I've watched a lot of football since I moved here. I really like Manchester United. Plus, my dad got a chance to take me to one day to a game. I had to beg him for forever, but he finally gave in and that's the game he took me too." He wondered how Evan would react to this.

He was smirking now, was it? Evan didn't like it. See? United fans were so annoying! Right after the guy had revealed himself to be a Devils fan, he had started to show his evil side. They weren't called 'The Devils' for nothing. They were devil. And this smirk corrected it once again. Evan liked Liverpool fans, he could like even Arsenal fans but United just wouldn't work. And with those smirks his almost friend was shooting at him wasn't helping at all.

Oooh, so he was also observant. And this also suggested Evan he was a United fan since. He wasn't bad then though... hmm... He stopped the ball. He was too focused on listening to him to to tricks. He couldn't help but snort. I really like Manchester United. Seriously. Yes yes they played well, but while there was Chelsea, United didn't even have a chance. Not to mention since Ronaldo left, they were slowly falling down. Hold there--his first match was United's and that was the reason he supported them? Pfff. C'mon. He asked "Who were they playing against?" If it was against some rather weak team like Portsmouth, they would surely win it and United would impress. He should've known it. Then, as if waking up from a dream, he did a few kickings on his knees and sent the ball back.

Pierre could tell that his smirks were bugging Evan. That was just how Pierre was. He loved to smirk and roll his eyes. He had cut down on the eye rolling because of Lawson, but his smirks weren't going anywhere. He couldn't understand what was so wrong with a person just from liking a certain football team. He had never had to tell with that at Beauxbaton's.

Pierre caught the ball, nearly missing it this time. He kicked it back and forth between his feet and then shot it back up to his head. He was getting better and it was showing. "Um, I actually believe that they were playing Chelsea." He kicked the ball back. It was at about the height of Evan's stomach. He hoped that he would be able to stop the ball before it hit him in the gut.

Wow, guy was getting better. Evan was almost impressed. But no Manchester United could impress him. He was better than that. Only Van der Sar might be nice... and Rooney... and Berbatov, Nani, Evans, Ev--NO. Ahem.

Hmpf. It had been a Chelsea match, is it? It was really hard to keep calm now. "Where, though? At Old Trafford, or Stamford Brigde? If it was at Stamford Bridge," his lips curled into a very, very delighted and also annoying smirk "I'd like to remind you that we've won." Ha! He didn't want to comment on Old Trafford matches though, and he didn't want to think he'd probably gone to Old Trafford. Naah.

He moved a bit back so that his foot could meet the ball again. He did more complicated kicks now on his knees, shoulders and head. He wouldn't lose it to a Devil. Never.

Pierre could tell that Evan was somewhat impressed by his increasing skills. He could also tell that it was bugging him to some extent. He had a feeling that this playing with each other wasn't going to end well.

Pierre tried to think of the name of the place. Then he saw Evan's smirk and really wanted to slap it off of his face, even though he was always smirking. "It was at Old Trafford, but I don't think them losing at Stamford Bridge has anything to do with it."

Pierre glared at Evan as he showed off. He didn't seem like he was going to pass the ball anytime soon. He just stood there and glared, wondering just how bad this was going to get.

If French guy didn't stand back any sooner, Evan felt this wasn't going to end well. Even though he would never accept it, he was slightly fanatic, especially against United, Barcelona, Inter and Fenerbahçe. These four were the teams he hated with no limit that he would even refrain from pronouncing their names. And right now this United fan was annoying him to much great degree.

He smirked again. "You can't get out of Bridge healthily anyway..." he muttered silently that he wasn't sure if the guy would hear it. Oh. My. GOD. Was this boy a true follower of football? Evan could say not, judging by this sentence. '...but I don't think them losing at Stamford Bridge has anything to do with it.' He laughed loud, though one could tell it was highly sarcastic. "It does, hun." he said quickly, couldn't hold his tongue. 'Hun' was a word he used only when he was agry and sarcastic. "If you aren't aware yet, we play on a League table base, where every point counts. Not to mention it is a wonderful pleasure to beat your rivals, especially as a response to the previous defeat." Seriously, how did this guy watch the matches, as a mere -sometimes boring- spectacle?

Okay, that did it. See? SEE? his evil, Chelsea side barked inside his head. Uniteds are so very bad people! You shouldn't have given him a chance, he doesn't deserve it. His nostrils grew bigger as he watched the Devil's show off, wondering when the ball might come to him. If the guy didn't kick it back, Evan could always jump onto him to ripe his shirt and strach him a bit with a good reason tackle him gently and show some tricks as well. Let's wait for a minute, then go and get it. That ball, after all, carried a proud Chelsea badge on it which was getting dirty under a United's feet.