Chapter Text
“Hurry up, Hunk! The schools are arriving soon and I want to get a good spot,” Lance is pulling at his best friend’s robe and walking as fast as he can, trying to outrun everyone else.
This single moment is the sole reason why he had gotten into Hogwarts. Okay, maybe he is exaggerating, he does need to learn about magic and the school is totally awesome. But Lance has been counting the days to watch the Triwizard Tournament in person with his own eyes ever since the discovering of said event in his first year, reading all about the trials until late at night in Slytherin’s common room and nagging the History of Magic teacher to tell him more about it. Everyone in the school knows how plain obsessed Lance is with the game.
He had rejoiced the entire past week, insisting to snoop around and help with preparations for the accommodations of the foreigner students, despite not being a prefect, he had helped Professor Coran with little tasks here and there — having a soft spot for the boy, Coran let him. Lance wants to be part of it as much as he can, aware that it is a once in a lifetime chance. He will no longer be a student when the next Tournament happens.
The most awaited day of the year has finally come and Lance couldn't be more thrilled, his friends know for a fact that there isn't someone as enthusiastic as him about the event in the whole school.
“This is so exciting!” Lance bounces on his feet, clutching to Hunk’s arm, the cold wind tinting his nose red. This year the reception is being held at the front gates of the school, outside in the cold winter, where each guest school would fly in with their extravagant carriages and land in front of the awaiting crowd.
Despite the Tournament itself, Lance is looking forward to meet all the different students, ready to swoon and sigh over all the new faces. Perhaps foreigners would be more receptive of his pick up lines? The audience in London isn't easy. And it's always refreshing to have new people around.
Lance grips his friend’s arm harder when he spots two carriages in the sky, getting closer and closer. The first carriage to land is from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, according to Professor Coran’s energetic announcement, the Durmstrang Institute following right behind — the differences between them are clear like glass to everyone, but you know, formalities, after all, one of these students could be the winner of eternal glory and fame.
All watching students from Hogwarts let out a strangled gasp when both doors open at the same time, some jumping at the loud noise. A dozen dancers come out from each carriage, showing exuberant moves in a silent and beautiful competition. It's stunning, everyone is completely enchanted. Lance smiles, Wizards never miss the opportunity to be dramatic. He loves it. His heart pumps in his chest so furiously, it might escape through his throat and join either Beauxbatons' swift dance or Durmstrang's bold, acrobatic moves.
The carriages creak when the Headmasters from each school step outside side by side, head high, sparing only a glance and a head bow at each other. They're as intimidating as rulers of two of the biggest Magic schools should be — if not more.
“Hunk, I'm going to pass out,” He says with a small voice when the students follow right behind their Headmasters.
Lance truly doesn't know where to look — or to hide.
He is quite intimidated by Beauxbatons’ students. The delicate, alluring pretty features and mischievous eyes could probably hex you in seconds if you glance their way for too long. Lance won't dare to try them. The students from Durmstrang are the opposite. Strong, defined facial and body features, cold eyes that wouldn't look your way twice transmitting a single message; we are better. It isn't hard for Lance to believe that.
However, he meets a pair of warm, grey eyes in the crowd staring into his blue ones. Lance recognizes him as Takashi Shirogane, Durmstrang’s golden boy, youngest Quidditch player of their National team — possibly history — even after losing his arm fighting a dragon during a failed field trip, all while still in school. Sharp jawline, pitch black undercut hair with a white patch at the front, a pinkish scar across the bridge of his nose, not to mention how good his body looks even under the thick winter uniform. Lance risks a smile and the guy immediately looks away. Of course he doesn't stand a chance.
“Dude, did Shirogane just looked at you?” Hunk deadpants.
“Why would he?” Lance shrugs, only a little hurt that the guy ignored him. But let's be honest, what did he expect?
Sighing and snuggling closer to Hunk for warmth, something tells Lance no one from that bunch would appreciate his flirting skills either. At least definitely not the people from Durmstrang, maybe he can take a few hexes trying with the Beauxbatons.
*
"Who are you looking at?" Keith asks beside him.
Shiro snaps his eyes from Slytherin's table back at his friend. "Nobody."
Keith hums, pretending to believe him. Shiro shakes his head and focuses on the foreign food in front of him.