Chapter Text
The pitch overflows with the colors of royal blue and bronze, emerald green and silver. Crammed in the last row of the section, Dean can't help but feel slightly out of place in his Hufflepuff robes and scarf, even as he waves a Ravenclaw flag and tries to keep an eye on the spot of blue he knows is his brother out there. In the days and hours leading up to the big game he had been following Sam around as best he could, making sure he was eating okay and sleeping at reasonable times and keeping up with school work in between practices. He even trespassed into the Ravenclaw tower a few times, though he wouldn't necessarily call it trespassing when all he had to do was answer the doorknocker's questions.
Out on the field, he watches Sam expertly pass the speck of red that is the quaffle, easily keeping up with the sixth- and seventh-years, and cheers loudly at the resounding bell that signals another goal past the Slytherin keeper. Sam and the other chasers high five each other in a quick celebration before quickly turning their brooms to chase down the bright red ball again, and tension coiled in Dean's chest starts to ease. Sam can hold his own out there, out there on an enchanted broomstick hundreds of feet in the air, playing some incredibly dangerous game that somehow passes as entertainment around here. He's absolutely crazy, but he's alright.
Over the enchanted sound system, or however the hell Quidditch games are commentated on, Dean can hear his friend, Jo, narrating and giving the play-by-play, though he has no idea how she manages to keep up with the bludgers whizzing around the stadium and the quaffle changing hands every few seconds, all while accurately keeping score at the same time. The crowd hangs onto her every word, most of them unable to follow the fast-paced game themselves. So when she interrupts herself to excitedly announce, "Hang on—it appears that both seekers have spotted the snitch!" everyone in the stands seems to take a collective gasp, leaning forward in their seats to try and find that tiny glint of gold as well.
Dean leans forward as well, eyes flitting across the field trying to spot the snitch. He can't deny it; even though Quidditch is so unbelievably dangerous and he wouldn't be caught dead trying to mount a broomstick after disastrous attempts in first year flying class, he can't help but get caught up in the excitement of it. If Sam were sitting beside him, instead of out on the field as well, he would still be cheering just as loudly for the Ravenclaw team as its seeker pulls off a tremendous dive across the field.
Though that may have something to do with who the Ravenclaw seeker is, if he's being completely honest with himself.
Dean sometimes has a bad habit of zoning out whenever Sam starts chatting about Quidditch, the rules and countless exceptions surrounding the game sounding incredibly complicated and dense most of the time. A few points always help to pull him back into focus, however, a major one being if it seems that practices are weighing Sam and his studies down. The other major one, and Sam definitely knows it, the little shit, is the Ravenclaw team captain and seeker, Castiel Novak.
Hogwarts is a huge school, and being in different houses easily threw them into different social circles and friend groups. In their years together Dean has shared a truly disappointing number of classes with Castiel and, prior to Sam joining the Quidditch team, they probably exchanged no more than two sentences that weren't about a potion they needed to brew or a particularly tricky charm they needed to learn for the next class. But between classes, in the hallways, during meals, while hanging out in the library, Dean just...notices Castiel. The way his hair fell in his eyes (blue eyes, so blue Dean nearly gasped the first time he saw them when they were partners in Potions), the way he pushed his glasses up his nose when they slid down during class, the way he sometimes stuck his tongue out while annotating his textbooks...
He's doing much more than just noticing now, as is everyone else in the stadium, including a few of the players on the field. A blur of blue streaking down the pitch, Cas chases down that invisible gold speck, the Slytherin seeker barely keeping up with him. Behind the two of them are both bludgers, hurtling towards the pair of seekers at break neck speeds.
Since Cas joined the Quidditch team when he was thirteen, three years ago, Ravenclaw's lost a grand total of two matches, the first when Cas fell off his broomstick and was wrapped up in the infirmary during his fourth year, and the second when he came down with the flu at the start of last year's season. His team's won almost all of their games within the first 15 minutes, only a handful of them stretching beyond the 30 minute mark, and practically everyone in the school expects Ravenclaw to carry the Quidditch cup for a fourth and probably fifth consecutive year.
But that doesn't mean Cas can still out fly a speeding bludger, let alone two.
Dean's heart starts to thud somewhere in his throat as he leans out of his seat. The bludgers flank the two seekers, gaining on them every second, and Cas, just an inch ahead or so, stretches out his arm, straining impossibly. At the last second he pulls his broom upward, and slices through the air nearly perpendicular to the ground, just as one of the bludgers rams itself into the arm of the Slytherin seeker and knocks him from his broom. The other bludger continues in its path into the waiting bat of one of the Ravenclaw beaters, who sends it far to the other side of the field.
Cas stops in his steep climb and raises a clenched fist in the air, where the slightest shimmering of wings and glitter of gold indicate the captured snitch. All around Dean Ravenclaws erupt into ear-deafening cheers, a few celebratory and somewhat-illicit fireworks sprouting from the wands of particularly excited fans. Dean yells right along with them, cupping his hands to shout Sammy's name as loud as he can.
And if he throws in Cas' name a few times, no one around can tell.
*~*~*
As the crowds start to disperse from the stands, Dean makes his way down towards the Ravenclaw locker rooms at the bottom of the pitch. Sam is easy to spot, the shortest member of the team in still too-big and slightly sweaty robes Dean completely ignore as he barrels forward to hug his brother. They both laugh a little breathlessly, neither of them speaking until Dean pulls away and says, "Congrats, Sammy."
Sam's smile stretches so large it seems to splits his face in half. "Thanks, Dean."
Dean opens his mouth to say more, to talk about a particularly spectacular catch Sam had made almost completely upside down on his broom (Dean nearly fell out of his seat in fear) when someone coughs softly behind him and the words get stuck in his throat as he turns around.
"Hello, Dean."
Cas. Cas standing behind him, broom in hand and framed by the afternoon sun leaking in from the open door between the pitch and the locker room, his hair windswept and stuck out in all different angles, and his cheeks still pink from flying.
Dean can't get over how his Quidditch robes make his eyes bluer than before. He stutters a little over his words. "H-hey, Cas." Behind him, Sam snickers and Dean resists the urge to elbow him in the side. "Uh, great game today. That was an amazing catch you had there at the end."
A nervous little grin finds its way onto Cas' face. "Thank you." He passes a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and looks down at the ground for a moment. "I wanted to invite you to the after party tonight, in the Ravenclaw common room. I know they're technically just for house members, but I figured that because you and Sam are siblings, you would like to join in the celebration? A few people from the other houses are going too, and I believe my brother’s been hinting at smuggling some firewhiskey in…"
Firewhiskey, Sam, and Cas? "I'll be there," Dean promises.
Cas' smile grows nearly as large as Sam's, too big for his face. "I'll see you later then." He starts walking past them into the locker rooms, but stops first to put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Great job out there, Sam. I'm looking forward to having you on the team for the rest of the season."
Sam offers a short, genuine, "Thanks, Cas," and Cas nods and moves on, but before he can get too far away Dean calls out, "You aren't going to the give me the password in?"
"Dean, in the past few weeks I think I've seen you in the Ravenclaw tower more than some members of my own house. You know how to get in," Cas answers, laughing a little.
"And if I don't get in?"
"Then I'll be surprised and disappointed, so don't do that."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Cas."
Cas smiles and nods, and then waves goodbye before turning the corner towards the boy's showers. Dean turns back to see a smug twelve year-old grinning at him.
"Oh shut up and hit the showers, Sammy," he mutters, giving his brother a shove.
"Didn't say anything, Dean."