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Brutal.
That was the only word to describe high school, really. The cliques, the homework, the food, honestly. Brutal.
The cliques, yes. They really didn't have names, you just kinda knew. You joined a clique, it was basically gang lifestyle. You lived, ate, breathed and loved as a group.
There was that one group that was probably the closest to an actual gang there was, with slicked back hair and nice cars and leather jackets and a bored, too-cool-for-you vibe. Most of them came out of the same middle school. They all played soccer.
Then there was the other bunch that was the closest to an actual high school clique. Your sterotypical jock. Well loved and popular. The big varsity jacket and sneakers, slapping hands in the halls, big winning smile. Championship faces. Basketball players, throw in some football.
They despised each other. Hated, really. Almost couldn't have them in the same hallway without having to throw out a detention. In all fairness though, normally it was the leathers that did something small, almost funny, and the jocks had to blaze up angrily. A wink, a "hey, Potter!" That was all that was needed for a brawl. Parkinson had blown Granger a kiss once and Weasley had yelled across the room at them to "control their whore!" Black eyes that lasted for days.
Of course, the potheads. A tight knit group, they were. Kind, loyal, neutral ground. Not many of them were into athletics, opting for art or thinking about life in mannerisms much too deep for the unblazed mind to comprehend. The booky kids were neutrals too. Nobody bothered them, they didn't bother anyone. Legend goes that everybody in their group had popped a shoulder at least once raising their hand too quick.
Granger was rather booky. But Weasley and Potter had been friends with her since Pre-K, so she stuck around too. And Lovegood was in a serious relationship with the youngest Weasley girl, so she hung around.
So yes, high school was brutal. So much hate.
There was always such a fine line between love and hate.
--
"Pucey! Puceeeeeey! Puuuuuuuuuceeeeeeey!"
"The fuck do you want?"
The parking lot of the school was bustling with leather jackets and cars. The reason for the latter was obvious. The cars just had a rather annoying side effect. The leathers. Marcus Flint took a drag of his cigarette.
"Gimme a ride tomorrow, I promised my little sister she could have the car tomorrow and you live down the street." Daphne Greengrass smiled sweetly. Adrian Pucey rolled his eyes, but agreed.
They were all assholes, yes, but they were a family of assholes. Marcus Flint couldn't have asked for a better one. He sighed fondly, looking at Terence Higgs and Pucey talk animatedly about soccer and some trades.
Really, they're perfect for each other, get a room, Marcus thought. He glanced over at Malfoy, Zabini and Nott chatter while Parkinson wedged herself into the backseat of his car between Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague.
His perfect, perfect epiphanies were interrupted by a full car crammed with basketball players, those cunts. All piled over each other, in each other's lap in a strange carpool for a six seater. Johnson, the girls basketball captain, Spinnet, Bell, four entire Weasleys (including the twins!) and Potter. His eyes were immediately drawn to the driver and boys basketball captain. Oliver Wood was a lanky 6'2'' of sinewy muscle and tawny brown skin. Would've had cheerleaders such as Pansy drooling, if she weren't bent on bedding Hermione Granger. Ha. Bent. Marcus snorted as he took a hit of his cigarette.
Oliver Wood. Marcus was maybe into him a little lot. But honestly, after almost four years of leaning against a hot ride and watching the jocks pull up in copious amounts at once, he knew that their two little gangs had something special. Something that burned further than hate.
His second epiphany of the morning (second!) was proven to be true as he saw Draco and Blaise's eyes drawn to Potter and the youngest Weasley boy respectively. He saw the blonde take in Potter's appearance like he did every morning for the past two out of his two years in his high school experience.
'Pathetic', Marcus thought, as his eyes were drawn back to a certain basketball player who was cursing as one of the Weasley twins made fun of his shitty parking.
--
Harry was having an awful Tuesday. Already. Fred had sat on him in Oliver's tiny little car that attempted to fit 9 people in it, and therefore Harry was not able to breathe for the rest of the day. As soon as he jumped out of the car, his gaze had landed immediately on Draco fucking Malfoy (honestly, what type of name is that?) and he choked like an idiot. Harry was going to blame the choking bit on Fred sitting on him the entire time, and not the fact that Malfoy was looking directly at him with his grey eyes and leather jacket and leaning on his car with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and smirking like that.
And then he had spilled coffee all over his Civics essay and had to ask for an extension. That was going to take marks off. Then, at lunch, they served meatloaf, the once day Harry hadn't grabbed a sandwich already made by his godfathers for the day. And Nott had thrown some on his shirt when he started a food fight between him and Neville. And finally, the hammer to the nail, he walked in on Luna and Ginny making out in a basically abandoned area of the library.
"I'm sorry! Oh my god I'm sorry! God I wish I was blind!" He groaned as Ginny laughed at him.
"You basically are blind, without those glasses! Just wear contacts like you do for basketball!"
"Hi Harry, sorry for you to walk in on us. I just heard of an experiment regarding bacteria in mouth to mouth contact and just had to..."
Harry groaned again, interrupting. "I'm going, I'm going! Sorry!"
His day literally couldn't get worse.
Until he literally walked right into Draco Malfoy.
Any other day, they would've snarled at each other, maybe bump their shoulders again roughly or stomp on each other's toes. But today was not that type ofday.
"Not in the mood, Malfoy." Harry said just as Malfoy was opening his mouth hoping he would go away. He rubbed his eyes so he wouldn't be able to look at his grey eys and groaning. Again.
Malfoy was nothing but quick and witty, so he just kept going.
"Tired isn't a nice look for your pretty face, Potter." He smiled, flashing white teeth. "You should get some beauty sleep."
Harry's heart thumped at that. But he knew better then to give in to the bait.
"Think I'm pretty, Malfoy?" He asked lightly, and kept walking. "I'm honoured, you'd know a thing or two about looking good." He looked over his shoulder and caught Malfoy's tongue dart out at his lip.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that, right?
--
Hermione and Ron were going to go insane.
"Why, God. Why!" Ron moaned to himself, tugging at his hair as he tried to process the fact that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Like he was an eighth grader again. He let himself glance upwards.
Wrong move, Blaise Zabini caught his eye and winked, and continued animatedly with his conversation with Pansy Parkinson.
"God, is her outfit even appropriate for school?" Hermione muttered. Unlike Ron, she was less subtly looking at Pansy, decked out in the signature greaser jacket and a skirt that just about left it to the imagination. Pair it off with fishnets and clunky black combat boots and she looked like every boy's wet dream.
And Hermione's, from the look of it.
"Hermione, if you don't stop eye-fucking her, I'm going to be dramatically sick all over the place." Ron groaned.
She shot daggers at him. "That wouldn't be very pleasant for Zabini to watch, would it. And I'm not eye-fucking her. She's being slutty." She said primly. It would've been easier to take her seriously if she didn't almost choke when Pansy and Blaise started walking towards them.
Ron flipped his switch immediately. "Whaddaya want?"
They looked innocently on as they sat in the other two seats across from them.
"Just wondering when the next basketball game is," Blaise said nonchalantly.
"And if you would be attending." Pansy added, directing her gaze onto Hermione.
"Wouldn't you already know, Parkinson? You cheerlead." Hermione said, most certainly not staring at Pansy's red stained lips.
"I've forgotten, and that wasn't my portion of the question." She continued cheerfully.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm watch every game."
"You playing, Weasley?" Blaise asked, smiling charmingly as Ron went red. He did try, really did for a neutral look.
"Always do. Friday. Why do you two care? Parkinson doesn't even cheer at most of the basketball games." Ron said. This was true, Pansy opted for cheering at the soccer games for her friends.
They stood up then. "Something new every day, Weasley." He smirked. "It's a date."
They really pretended not to notice the redhead and brunette gawk as they walked away.
--
"Minerva, these silly rivalries are getting out of hand." Snape grouched, cleaning up his chemistry tubes. "I had to stop a food fight today. Between high schoolers. Highly immature. I believe Potter and Malfoy are tied for most detentions this year."
Minerva McGonagall smiled lightly. "Severus, you know that those two silly groups have had that rivalry since your own time. I remember when you were once a greasy little leather, hopping out of Lucius's ride every day."
Snape scowled. "I did no such hopping, and it was silly. You'd think they'd have gotten over it after a generation."
"It hasn't and it won't. The passion between those lots run deeper than dislike and has not only toed the line between love and hate." She sighed reminiscently of her past teaching days. Minerva McGonagall had been around long enough to see the animosity between the two gangs was something special. "Don't you remember Narcissa and Lily? They had to be pulled off each other and thrown into maybe twenty detentions before they realised that they had much more in common then they realised. And they were fantastic friends up until the day Lily died." Minerva ended sadly, thinking of her own student now, and how he was so much like his late father and mother who, bless their souls, died in a fateful car crash one Halloween many years ago.
"You think that Potter and Malfoy are going to become best friends forever and make flower crowns and sing songs together after a couple detentions? After," Snape thought, "34 detentions together? Highly likely, Minerva."
"Oh, no Severus. Potter and Malfoy will not become friends. Nor will Flint and Wood, Parkinson and Granger, Zabini and Weasley, even Longbottom and Nott." She said. Snape smirked but his face fell when he saw she wasn't finished.
"They'll become more then friends, you just wait."
--
"What are they doing here?" Oliver hissed at Harry. He gestured at the stands, where the red, yellow and silver colours of their school were waving flags and yelling brashly. Beauxbatons school really had no chance, to be quite frank.
But he wasn't gesturing at that. He was pointing at a rather large group of soccer players sitting by Hermione and Luna. The girls basketball team was at an away game today.
Parkinson had sat herself down next to Granger and smiling charmingly, while Hermione rolled her eyes and looked back at her book. Flint, Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Greengrass, Pucey and Higgs made up the rest of their little entourage. Flint noticed Wood looking over and flipped him off amicably. Oliver glared.
"They were here last game as well." Harry shrugged, finishing up taping his fingers. "And a couple games before that."
Oliver groaned. Had he mentioned how much he hated Flint? Flint had shoved him into a locker freshmen year for some so reason, and Oliver had swung back instantly. First fistfight of the year, first week of school and went to two freshmen. They had hated each other since.
"Allllllriiiiiight! Welcome to the league cup quarters! I'm your commentator, Lee Jordan, and today Hogwarts will be playing Beauxbatons High! Make some noise, Hogwarts!"
Oliver couldn't help glancing over at Flint, who was whacking Pucey upside over the head over who knows what.
"Our starting lineup starts off with Captain Oliver Wood, Fred Weasley, that fine man," the crowd giggled, "George Weasley, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter! Bench right now are Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Neville Longbottom, Cormac McLaggen, and Colin Creevey! As for the Beaux.."
Oliver then drowned out the noise and started to focus up. Quarter finals. They had this in the bag. They were going to get it! They had to.
He instinctively glanced up at Flint again. They locked eyes and Flint just mouthed one thing.
Good luck.
Shocked, Oliver turned to his opponent. Tip off.
"Clean game, boys. This is for a spot in the semis."
She blew the whistle and Oliver jumped as high as he could. He thumped it forward, where George was waiting.
'Good luck,' rang through Oliver's head. Now he had to win. Flint was mocking him. He had to be.
Fourth quarter rolled around. 1 minute left on the clock. 44-41 to Hogwarts. Oliver was sweating like crazy, his hair pointing all ways, his eyes wide and bright with adrenaline. He passed the ball to Harry and he threw up a three pointer like easy.
"Good with balls, Potter?" He heard Malfoy call out, and Oliver may have been imagining it, but maybe that was a grin he saw flash on Harry's face, and maybe that was the blush from the game.
"And Beauxbatons takes it down the court, taking their time, good hands, and 55 makes an amazing shot from way out the three pointer! Ron, stop marking with your hands and start using your body, honestly, amateur." Lee said over the commentary. Oliver would've rolled his eyes, but Lee was right, and they had scored and that was not good. It was 44-44. Couple seconds left on the clock.
He sprinted down the court as Fred lobbed a long ball from the baseline. One dribble, two dribble. Jump. He was soaring. He was basically on the Beuaxbatons' post player's shoulders. Throw the ball down.
"WHAT A DUNK FROM OLIVER WOOD! THAT'S OUR CAPTAIN!" Lee bellowed as the stands went crazy. "46-44 with 10 seconds left!"
Beauxbatons were on a fast break. One three pointer and they would take the semi spot. And Oliver could not have that.
"Who's MARKING HIM?" Lee yelled as the opposing team's pointguard got ready to launch a long shot. "Jesus fu- And OLIVER WOOD DOES IT AGAIN! WHAT A CLEAN BLOCK FROM BEHIND! HOGWARTS WINS!"
The crowd stood up, cheering as the team swarmed Oliver, pounding his back and hugging him.
"Great job, Olly!" George cheered.
Oliver grinned brightly, but found his eyes scanning the bleachers.
He was surprised to say that not seeing the familiar leather jacket and cigarette stinking hair made his heart drop a little.
--
Oliver was last out of the locker rooms, like always, waiting and making sure his team was clean and happy and uninjured.
He pulled on some grey sweatpants and towelled down his hair before jumping in shock when a clear voice rang out.
"Nice playing today."
Oliver spun around, holding his bottle of deodorant at Marcus Flint as if it was pepper spray. He laughed, a deep, satisfyingly rich laugh and Oliver reddened.
"Are you trying to scare me off with the threat of smelling good? Honestly, what could attack you in a high school locker room?" He chuckled.
"Lecherous soccer captains." He pointed out. Marcus scowled, his turn to go red. He had much reason to, as Oliver was not wearing a shirt. And grey sweatpants. Looking like an average girl's wet dream. Or Marcus's.
"Don't you have training to run, Flint?" Oliver asked pointedly. "Captain's duties and all." He shrugged on his varsity jacket.
"Aren't you going to put on a shirt?" Marcus choked out. Tan skin for miles, really, it was unfair.
"I have a clean one in my car. Soccer?"
Marcus regained his composure. "Strained ankle ligaments. Hooch told me to take it easy or I'd sprain. Warrington's got it under control."
"Thanks then. For saying I played well." Oliver's brow furrowed, trying to make sense of why he was talking to Marcus Flint half naked on a Friday evening in a locker room. And how sorely this reminded him of some late at night thoughts and dreams he had. "Why did you guys come to watch?"
Marcus shrugged, inspecting his hands. He had big hands. Strong.
"Dunno. Parkinson and Zabini suggested it." He paused. "Actually, I do know. Parkinson has a huge thing for Granger and Zabini's into red heads, specifically the youngest Weasel boy."
Oliver started. "Huh. Didn't see that one coming." The other boy rolled his eyes.
"And the tension between Potter and Draco? Thick enough to cut." Oliver nodded and swung his duffel over
"Yeah they're pretty obvious. Your leather bunch has been bedding my lot for years. Only difference between our two groups really is that you lot prefer leather jackets to the varsity one. And you guys are assholes." Oliver snorted.
Marcus looked up. "We're not. I suppose. There's always been something... stranger between us."
Oliver hadn't realised that he had moved so close to Marcus. They were about a foot apart, leaning against opposite sides of a doorway. And Oliver didn't miss his use of 'us', though he could've been referring to the two groups.
Marcus's lips were chapped, Oliver noticed.
"Yeah, I guess." His eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze. And then Marcus closed the gap between him.
Oliver's mind exploded with different thoughts as his mouth moved against Marcus's. Oh my god. Marcus fucking Flint. I'm kissing Marcus Flint!
Fuck. I'm kissing Marcus Flint.
"Jesus!" Oliver pushed himself away. Marcus's eyes were still lidded and shocked by his own actions. "You're just taking the piss outta me aren't you? You're just gonna go to your team after and laugh about how Oliver fucking Wood was easy. I don't know how you find out I liked you but fuck you! What the-"
"Shut the fuck up!"
Oliver's jaw dropped as Marcus grabbed his jacket by the lapels and put their faces close. He could feel the soccer player's breath on his mouth.
"Are you dense or did you take too many elbows to the head?" He whispered lowly. "You really think I spent my Friday night watching your ball game and skiving watching training to try and fuck you in a locker room to go tell my friends?" He laughed lightly. "I didn't know you liked me. I took my shot anyways. Something about a guy my age about half a foot shorter then me and absolutely decking me four years ago was attractive and still is. So yeah Wood, I like you."
And then Marcus let go Oliver's jaw dropped. This was surreal.
"I'm gonna kiss you again, Wood. Don't punch me."
Oliver just nodded, eyes wide.
--
Ron, Harry, George, Fred were waiting for Oliver to come out of the locker room to give them a ride, but he seemed to be taking a while. They hadn't missed Flint going in as they were leaving, but they weren't stupid. No matter how much they pretended to hate each other, they really obviously didn't. And none of them wanted to risk seeing something undesirable, even though they could be pounding each other to a pulp at that moment. The risk was calculated.
"Let's go wait on the pitch for him." Fred suggested. "There's soccer practice going. We can make fun of them."
Ron nodded in agreement and they all sat down in the bleachers, pulling their coats around them to protect themselves from the biting wind.
Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the head of icy blonde hair running down the side of the pitch after Pucey, and triumphantly yelling when he slid in front of him and stole the ball. His movements were smooth with a rough sort of grace, like he knew exactly what he was doing and doing it perfectly. Draco Malfoy was nothing but a creature of grace, a creature of fluidity, a man of-
"Malfoy, what the fuck! That could've easily been a card! Watch it!" Pucey yelled, pulling himself up. Malfoy just shrugged.
"No, that was completely clean." He said snippily. "You flopped forward which is what would've gotten me the card."
Harry felt his cheeks reddening. Knowledge. How attractive.
Malfoy glanced over and was surprised to see the basketball players watching them.
Warrington had not missed that look. Cassius Warrington was rather clever, you see, and he was going to give Potter a little material to last a while.
"Shirts vs. Skins! Malfoy, Zabini, Pucey, Higgs.."
"What the fuck!" Harry hissed to Ron as suddenly Malfoy was shucking his shirt off and tossing it aside. Abs, obviously. Duh. Milky white skin, that little albino shit. Muscles rippling as he took a shot on goal, which went in.
Frustratingly beautiful, really.
"Yeah, what the fuck." Ron mumbled back, his eyes glaring holes into Zabini's bare back. He turned around, giving Ron a full show, and Ron squeaked.
"See something you like, Weasley?" He called, and Ron flipped him off.
"Aw, does little Ronniekins have a crushy-wushy on one Italian leather wearing fuckwad?" Fred nudged Ron cheerfully.
"Oh hush, Fred, not all of us have a Lee." Harry grumbled, eyes still on Malfoy. His hair was matting to his head and he was wiping sweat from his eyes. And then he looked to Harry and smiled.
"Harry, Ron? You two alright?"
Oliver! He was back! And he was with-
"Flint!" The Weasley twins chorused.
"See any scratches, Freddie?" George chimed. Fred snaked around the two captains.
"No, Georgie! Blood?"
"No, Freddie. Bruises?"
"No, no n-ah ha!" Fred pulled down the collars of the two boys' jackets and revealed a multitude of hickeys and love bites. Oliver reddened and Marcus smirked.
"Olly! How could you betray us like this?" They moaned dramatically. "A leather! A car obsessed leather!"
Oliver rolled his eyes, still blushing. "Oh hush, you two. And yes, Flint. Boyfriend, dating, whatever, labels bore me. Don't be so shocked, you own little brother is mooning over Zabini like a teenage girl."
"Oi! I resent that." Ron frowned. And glanced at Zabini. Of course.
"Anyways, let's get going home. Bye Flint, you slacking fucker. Go to training." He pecked the boy on the cheek and ignored Fred and George's catcalls. Flint smiled softly and walked away. As they all clambered into the car, Harry clapped Oliver on the back.
"You have some explaining to do, just wait till the girls hear about this!"
--
Hermione could hold her alcohol.
She could hold it well.
"Her-mi-o-ne! Her-mi-o-ne!" The crowd chanted as she took her fourth tall shot without her hands, throwing back her head and letting the burning liquid slide down her throat.
"Number five and last, Granger, think you've got it?" Pansy poured her another shot and winked.
"Oh Parkinson, I've more then got it. Don't know if you've noticed, but I've been pretty good with my mouth the past four shots." She replied boldly, smiling a little as Pansy's cheeks pinkened.
"Her-mi-o-ne!" Harry chanted, his beer sloshing all over his shirt.
"Wooohooo!" They all cheered loudly as she downed it, none of it spilling.
Seamus Finnegan's parents were out of town for the weekend, which meant a huge party. The Irish knew how to throw a good one, that was for sure.
Hermione raised her arms winningly. In the corner of her eye, she saw Terence Higgs and Adrian Pucey hooking up in the corner, hands moving faster then lighting. Eugh. Didn't need to see that.
"Spin the bottle!" Daphne crowed, an empty bottle of whiskey in hand. People groaned good-naturedly, but didn't protest. It was high school tradition.
Hermione plopped herself down between Luna and Oliver, who was leaning on Flint and giggled. It was nice to let loose once in a while.
"I'm spinning first!" Daphne announced. She spun and it landed squarely on Padma Patil. Laughing a little, she crawled over and planted a solid one on her.
The group leered and cheered and they split laughing. None of them had qualms against genders or sexualities. Most of them were pretty bent anyways.
Padma spun next, landing on Draco Malfoy. He took a swig of his tequila and bent a crooked finger at her. Except he wasn't looking at her, but staring squarely at Harry. It was a challenge. Come and get me.
Hermione watched Harry and sniggered. He was obviously livid. Poor boy was so far in denial that he wouldn't ask Draco out if his life depended on it. She kept snickering until her eyes landed on Pansy.
There was no denying it, Pansy Parkinson was beautiful. Her sleek black bob of hair and her lips always stained cherry red. Her legs went on for miles and her skirt and top hugged her figure sinfully, and Hermione's mouth was suddenly dry.
Padma kissed Draco, Draco kissed Neville (much to Theo's chagrin), Neville kissed Theo (much to Theo's delight), Theo kissed Oliver (much to Flint's chagrin), Oliver kissed Pansy (which Flint found hilarious, because they were both as straight as a candy cane), and Pansy spun to land on-
"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed happily. He beamed at her from across the room and she couldn't help but laugh at his delight. He knew well of her little crush on Pansy. Which reminded her...
"Parkinson, you can come here. I'm not getting up." She said loftily, eliciting "ooooh"'s and sniggers. Pansy raised a challenging eyebrow, and slowly walked up to her.
One, Pansy was two steps away
Two, Pansy was leaning down, eyes boring into Hermione's
Three, their lips met and Hermione melted.
This was something she had wanted for so long. Their tongues danced and the rest of the room was forgotten as she pulled the leathered girl into her lap and pushed her hands into her hair. It went on for ages, the circle cheering them on.
"Alright, Granger, Parkinson, get a room!" Montague leered. People chimed in and as Pansy pushed herself off Hermione, she whispered into her ear.
"I'd like to do that again. Date me?"
It sent shivers up Hermione's spine.
"You're not kidding?" She muttered back as Pansy was going back to her seat. Pansy nodded vigorously; she was being truthful.
'I'd love to.' Hermione mouthed and Pansy beamed. It was beautiful, and Hermione's heart fluttered. It was her turn to spin. It landed on... Harry! Yuck.
She must've pulled a face, because Harry feigned hurt.
"Ouch Hermione, I get you're a flaming lesbian and I'm a two sided bisexual and basically your brother, you still wouldn't want to kiss me?" He cried out dramatically. Hermione just rolled her eyes and pecked him on the corner of his mouth.
"Damn, Granger, now I'm just wanting your sloppy seconds." Malfoy called. Harry blushed and tried to glare at Malfoy. He tried really. It was hard when he was drunk and a strange attraction to him.
It was just his luck that Harry's spin landed on Ron. They looked aghast, faces of horror bright on their faces.
"Noooo!" Ron groaned. "Does he have to?'
Harry grimaced. Hermione was one thing, she was affectionate and a girl and a lesbian. Ron and him were both bi, and.. and they were bros! They couldn't kiss!
Yuck. That sounded heterosexual.
"No he doesn't." A smooth voice murmured. Blaise Zabini strode over from the side of the room he was observing from, with the confidence only alcohol can give you. "Because he's mine."
As smoothly as he spoke and as smoothly as he talked, Blaise Zabini grabbed Ron by the belt loops of his jeans and jammed his mouth onto his.
Ron squeaked, but eventually they were playing tonsil hockey and Jesus Zabini, you're not a vampire!
When they broke apart, Malfoy snickered. "Needed some air, did you?"
Ron smirked evilly (a look that Blaise liked), and said, "no, but you will be. I'm giving my turn to you. Harry can get it on with you instead!"
Harry's look of shock turned into one of embarrassment, and he glanced quickly at Malfoy. He had licked his lips and was now eyeing up Harry like he was a tall glass of water. Harry felt his neck heat up.
"Well, go on then. Scared, Potter?" He challenged.
"You. Wish." He said, and crawled over. He looked Malfoy in the eye.
"I'll never be scared of you."
And he pressed his mouth to the blonde's, and soon enough he was in his lap and their tongues were violent against each other and..
"Ok now, we're done, too much alcohol in everyone's system, no corruption of any kind please." Hermione grabbed Harry and hauled him up. "Up! We're going home! Gin's giving you a ride."
Harry took one look down at Malfoy.
"Soccer champs. Come and watch day after tomorrow." Was all he said.
Harry just nodded.
--
The two days had gone by quickly. It was also the day of the soccer championship. The soccer team had been jittery all day. Harry had noticed Draco had stammered over all the questions he had been asked about in chemistry. Chemistry was his best subject and his grades were notoriously good. Blaise had stumbled in the halls. Twice. That was insane for someone with his level of grace.
And nobody could even get started on Flint. Rushing around like a mother hen, making sure everyone was carbo-loading and eating all their salad, making sure he had enough sports tape for everyone, having everyone drink a tank of water to avoid dehydration.
Oliver found it endearing.
"You're like a mother duck with all her chicks." He commented as Marcus plopped down in a seat next to him in the library.
"Oh hush, you. Don't pretend like you won't do the same." He said, shrugging off his leather jacket.
"You'll be fine! If Ilvermorny's soccer team is anything like their basketball team, you guys'll have it in the bag."
This made Marcus smile a little, and he pecked his boyfriend (crazy!) on the corner of his mouth.
"Alright, Wood, let's see if you can put your money where your mouth is and help me pass Geo.."
--
True to his word, Harry was seated in the bleachers with a big group with him. He saw Hermione blow Pansy a kiss in his peripheral and smile a little. It was nice seeing her finally 'get the girl.' With them was Ron (anxiously thinking of his new beau), Oliver, Fred, George, Ginny, Luna, Katie, Alicia, Angelina and Neville.
He watched Draco warm up, stretching and jogging. There was a fluidity to his movements. His actions were thought out, carefully planned. He knew the game better then the game knew him.
"Helloooooo Hogwarts, it's the championship game for the cup, obviously! 11 aside! Our starting lineup goes, Captain Marcus Flint, good steal of a boyfriend, by the way!- Montague, Pucey, Higgs, congratulations on finally getting your shit together and going out- hey, no need for violence Miss McGee! Warrington, Malfoy-" Harry's heart skipped as the blonde jogged onto the pitch, taking his position. "Zabini, Nott, Bole, Derrick-"
Lee Jordan continued his commentary further. It was a tight game between the two teams. Warrington had scored one and they had scored right back. It was getting so close, so so so close-
Until Marcus got hurt. 10 minutes left on the clock.
Nobody saw it coming. The Ilvermorny kid came flying out of nowhere, stomping on Marcus' foot and sending him sprawling, ankle still caught and twisted. He howled and fell.
Oliver was aghast, knowing how much this game meant to Marcus., and the twins held him back from running right off the bleachers and onto the pitch. It was a red card and free kick to Hogwarts, and rightfully so.
Marcus was helped off this pitch, hopping on one leg and collapsing as soon as he hit the side. Smith came on for him.
He was obviously devastated, but that wasn't going to stop him from sideline coaching.
"Warrington, drop the fucking line! Number 6 is going to run and take the pass easily!"
5 minutes left on the clock. The crowd was silent in anxiety, Marcus' calls ringing loud on the pitch.
"Montague passes to Bole, to Pucey, to Higgs, back to Pucey, kicks it long to Smith in the corner! Smith kicks it in to absolutely nob- WAIT!"
Malfoy was speeding into the box, just as Smith had set him up. One well placed foot and-
"-MALFOY SCORES! 2-1 to Hogwarts with 4 minutes left!"
The stands erupted in cheers, screaming and hugging. Four minutes was basically nothing in soccer.
And true enough, Ilvermorny wasn't able to make it work and time ran down. The crowd shrieked and screamed when the team rushed off to bowl Marcus over, careful to not knock his ankle, and dogpile him.
"We did it, you absolute shitheads, we did it!"
Harry jogged over to Malfoy, who was sweaty and gross and smiling and looking as beautiful as Harry had ever seen.
So he naturally just grabbed the sweaty motherfucker and kissed him on the middle of the pitch.
"Nice work, Malfoy." He murmured when they separated. Draco smiled softly and looked around. Neville and Theo were holding hands.
Blaise and Ron were on the ground rolling around and hugging.
Pansy and Hermione were sat on the bench smiling and chatting.
Marcus and Oliver were... ew, get a fucking room, Jesus.
Terence and Adrian were ALSO in need of a room.
Harry smiled. All was well.