Chapter Text
“…Among all of them, the Wiggenweld Potion stands out as one of the most important due to its healing properties, including…”
Bokuto zoned out of the explanation. He didn’t like Potions one bit. It wasn’t so much because it was boring — which it was — but because of being trapped in a cold murky dungeon that reeked of every potion ever brewed since Hogwarts was built. Especially when he could be soaring through the sky at quidditch practice. It was his own fault, really; if only he had put more effort in his tests—
The professor cleared his throat, his intense gaze piercing him.
“Bokuto Koutarou,” he said, “I suppose you must have already memorized this lesson if you can afford not paying attention.”
“Umm…” the boy stammered. A snicker rose at the back of the class, which the professor silenced with a glance. “I—”
“How many lionfish scales are required for the Wiggenweld Potion?” the man asked, turning to him again.
“It’s, uh… ten?” Bokuto said.
The little confidence he had deflated upon seeing the contemptuous smile that curved the man’s lips.
“Could someone give the right answer? You,” he gestured towards one of the students that raised their hands.
“The Wiggenweld Potion uses ten lionfish spines, not scales.”
“Ten lionfish spines,” the professor repeated, each word making Bokuto shrink a bit further in his desk. “I suggest you start taking these lessons seriously, Mr. Bokuto. The world doesn’t need more quidditch players that are all brawn and no brains.”
The boy clenched his fists at the remark, but nodded in silence. The class continued for a few more minutes before the professor dismissed them. The students scurried out of the room, away from the scowling elder wizard.
Bokuto felt his legs heavy as he climbed the tortuous stairs. Not even the fresh air eased the knot of anxiety that sat in the middle of his chest. He was well acquainted with the feeling — despite the usual opinion people had of him, he did take things seriously, he simply pulled through by sheer effort and willpower. Now, however, the wall before him was one that he couldn’t tumble on his own.
He tucked his book and notes under his arm and ran to the quidditch field.
His team was easy to pinpoint, not only due to the fiery red of their gear, but because of the loud banter between two of their fourth years: Hinata and Kageyama. Bokuto almost chuckled at the sight; Tobio was a prodigious beater with incredible skill to open a path for their chasers and seeker while deterring their rivals, but he was also very exigent. Hinata, the backup seeker, often faced the brunt of his criticism.
“Hey, guys! How was practice?”
“Bokuto!” the redhead beamed.
“Hinata keeps forgetting to mind the bludgers,” Kageyama frowned. “He almost got hit twice today.”
“I didn’t forget! It’s just that they turn too fast.”
“You should be used to it by now, dumbass.”
“Enough,” a deep voice rumbled before the redhead could reply. They turned to see Sawamura walking towards them. “Hurry up, we need to vacate the field. It’s Ravenclaw’s turn to use it.”
“Yes, captain,” the duo answered in unison.
“And you’d better go back to studying,” he told Bokuto. “The team can’t play at its best without you.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” he saluted, which earned him an eyeroll from the other guy.
However, his smile faded as soon as Daichi turned his back. He couldn’t let his team down. A sliver of hope stirred inside him as players clad in blue made their way into the practice grounds. He soon distinguished a mop of black hair that stood at least half a head taller than the other players.
Long gone were the times when the students only mingled within their own houses, but their close-knit friendship was still regarded as weird in the beginning, and he still got a few stares as he approached the group. Not that Bokuto cared — the colour of a tunic wasn’t going to dictate who he was friends with.
“Kuroo!” he waved.
The boy saw him and waved back before gesturing him to wait. Bokuto watched from the sidelines, changing his weight from one foot to the other, as his best friend laid the instructions for the day. It never ceased to amaze him the certainty and seriousness in which Kuroo carried himself as captain, used as he was to his goofier side.
“Well, well, well,” the black-haired boy said, approaching him with a smirk. “Look who’s escaped from the dungeons.”
Bokuto snorted.
“If only it were that easy…”
Kuroo stood by his side, resting his back against one of the wooden pillars. His eyes followed his teammates’ acrobatics, but Bokuto knew better than to think he was being ignored.
“You didn’t drop by just to say hi, did you?” his friend finally said.
“No, I didn’t. Not that I don’t enjoy the company, ‘though,” he smiled.
Kuroo cackled and patted his shoulder, and Bokuto felt instantly better. He needed that, the easy conversation and lack of judgment.
“Is this about your Potions’ test?” Bokuto nodded. “Listen, I love you, man,” Kuroo scratched his nape, “but right now, between the classes and the team, my schedule is packed. Our best beater got injured during a practice match, and now we have to cover for him somehow.”
Bokuto grimaced.
“That sucks.” Iizuna Tsukasa was an incredible player, capable of standing up against Slytherin’s fearsome combination: Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “I mean, Moniwa and Suga-chan sure are good, but…”
“Yeah, I know.” His friend sighed. “We’ll find a way, we just need to come up with the right strategy,” he added with his signature grin.
“I know you will,” Bokuto agreed with a half-hearted smile.
Kuroo wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“Hey, it’s going to be ok. You still have time to study, and maybe you can find someone else to help you. Tell you what,” he added as an afterthought, “I’ll ask some housemates if they can give you a hand.”
“Thanks, Kuroo,” he said with a wider, more genuine smile now.
The raven haired boy nodded and went to join his teammates, barking a few orders as he got closer. Bokuto watched them longingly for a moment before leaving. Even if Kuroo succeeded in finding him a tutor, there were things he had to do himself.