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“Todoroki! Incoming bludger!”
Even before he hears the warning, Todoroki is already gritting his teeth and flipping his broom to avoid yet another bludger. Chivalry be damned, these Gryffindor beaters aren’t giving them a moment’s rest.
Ojiro lunges to catch Todoroki’s dropped quaffle, but both of them are forced to disperse again in order to dodge another bludger.
“I’m going to teach those beaters a lesson after this,” Todoroki mutters.
“Not very Hufflepuff of you,” Ojiro says, though he doesn’t sound like he disagrees.
Todoroki huffs. He may have the patience and understanding of a Hufflepuff, but both of those things have their limits. And those limits tend to kick in when projectiles start flying at his face.
Besides. This bludgeoning tactic isn’t just for kicks. There’s a strategy at play here.
“They’re trying to distract us,” Todoroki realizes. “Draw out the game. Midoriya has already seen the snitch three times, but hasn’t gone for it once. Given his injury, he must be waiting for an opportunity to catch it without having to race Iida for it.”
Ojiro smirks. “Then let’s make sure he doesn’t get that opportunity.”
Todoroki’s lips twitch upward. He doesn’t smile nearly so often as most of his housemates, but: he finds that it’s a bit easier to do it on the Quidditch pitch.
“Work with Jirou to regain control of the quaffle,” he says. “It’s time to go on the offensive.”
“What about the beaters breathing down our necks?”
Todoroki grips his broom more tightly. “Leave them to me.”
They both speed off in opposite directions: Ojiro toward the goal posts and Todoroki toward the beaters. Just as planned, Todoroki doesn’t have to wait long before he hears the heavy crack of bats hitting bludgers.
Dodging the bludgers is easy enough, as is keeping the beaters’ attention off his teammates. However, there is one factor that Todoroki fails to account for—that, he suspects, he will always fail to account for.
Midoriya.
Midoriya’s eyes are what catch Todoroki’s attention first. Even with Midoriya’s face half-hidden beneath his wild hair, it’s clear that the seeker has zeroed in on something at the opposite end of the field.
Todoroki narrows his eyes. Midoriya may be fast, but it’s his focus that makes him a great seeker. Todoroki suspects that you could judge the probability of a Gryffindor victory based only on the intensity of Midoriya’s gaze.
And he’s rarely seen Midoriya’s eyes look as intense as they do now.
It feels almost intrusive to break that kind of focus. But Todoroki isn’t about to let Midoriya win this. With two bludgers trailing behind him, he rushes the seeker. Todoroki tilts his broom, bracing himself to dodge at the last possible second—
But then Midoriya turns toward him with those wide, intense, green eyes, and Todoroki’s broom tilt goes wide. The back of his broom catches against Midoriya’s and, tangled together, the two of them lunge toward the ground to escape the bludgers still whistling behind them.
Fortunately, they weren’t far off the ground to begin with, and their crash is a light one.
Unfortunately, they crash in such a way that Midoriya lands right on top of Todoroki, his chest hitting Todoroki’s and knocking the wind out of him.
“Oof,” Todoroki says intelligently.
“I’m so sorry!” Midoriya squeaks, his hands fretting over Todoroki’s chest. “Sorry, I–”
He’s interrupted by the crackle of speakers as the announcer shouts, “And that’s the game! Iida Tenya of Hufflepuff has caught the snitch!”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Todoroki says with a smirk.
Midoriya raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
The speakers crackle again. “But, wait a minute. In an unlikely turn of events—this is amazing—Gryffindor still wins, 180-170!”
Todoroki blinks. He’s aware that Gryffindor scored a record number of goals this game, but, as distracted as he’d been by the bludgers, it’d been difficult to keep track of the score. Surely they hadn’t been that far behind?
“You’re wrong,” Midoriya says. His eyes are wide and intense again: even more so than they were before. His hands shake against Todoroki’s chest. “I probably should be sorry. I knew this plan was a long-shot, a reckless strategy, but…it was the only thing I could think of.”
Todoroki inhales sharply. “You weren’t trying to draw out the game so you could catch the snitch. You were drawing it out to get goals.”
A truly reckless strategy, as Midoriya himself had said. The odds of being able to secure that many goals before the snitch is caught are astronomical. And yet—Midoriya’s team did it. Midoriya did it.
Midoriya, whose weight still rests heavily on his chest. Todoroki can actually feel Midoriya’s muscles contract when the seeker speaks again.
“Between my slower broom and my injury, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get the snitch before Iida did. So we didn’t plan on getting the snitch at all.” Midoriya bares his teeth in a grin. “I just kept pretending to see it in order to distract Hufflepuff’s beaters and seeker, which left Bakugou free to score as many goals as possible. Between that and our beaters keeping you on the defensive, we got all the points we needed.”
Todoroki’s eyes widen. Midoriya had planned this from the very beginning. With that kind of cunning, is Midoriya sure that he’s a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin?
Midoriya’s breath is hot against Todoroki’s face. Todoroki flushes, fully aware that the game is over: that he should be pushing Midoriya off of him, that their faces are far too close to each other now that they aren’t actively falling out of the sky. Normally, Todoroki would not find it difficult to do something about any of these things.
But, once again, there is one factor he did not account for.
Midoriya smiles again, so brightly that it makes Todoroki’s chest hurt.
“Good game!” Midoriya says.
“You too,” Todoroki breathes, practically wheezing: partly because Midoriya is slowly crushing him and partly because he’s realizing that he doesn’t mind Midoriya slowly crushing him.
“Oh! I’m sorry—here, let me get off of you.” Midoriya jerks backward, leaving Todoroki able to breathe, yes, but also suddenly cold as he’s exposed to the autumn air.
He isn’t left cold for long, however, as Midoriya focuses that gaze on him again, shoots him another bright smile, and holds out a hand to help Todoroki back up.
Todoroki takes it. He even suspects that it will not be the last time he takes it.
After all, there is no accounting for Midoriya.