Chapter Text
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oikawa hissed under his breath, having lost his cool and composed demeanour and now officially freaking the fuck out in all possible senses of the word. Next to him, Matsukawa and Hanamaki tried their best (and, as expected, failed incredibly) to contain their laughter, having to go as far as to run away to keep themselves from cackling like madmen in the crowded corridor. Iwaizumi looked at his friend with an “I told you so” expression, relishing in the amazing feeling of being right all along.
“I told you talking to him back then was a bad idea,” he said, patting Oikawa on the back and proceeding to walk back to their dorm.
Oikawa Tooru was a Slytherin in his sixth year, a muggle-born alien enthusiast, secret bookworm who loved Quidditch, volleyball, and magic equally. He was popular, handsome, and well-known among the student body. He had not yet secured a date for the oh so infamous Yule Ball because he was so busy studying for his N.E.W.T. the next year, despite having a lot of people following him around at all times in hopes of getting to invite him.
Ushijima Wakatoshi was a Hufflepuff in his sixth year, a pure-blood wizard who had quickly risen to fame as one of the best Quidditch players Hogwarts had ever produced. He was tall, strong, scary, and very straight-forward. He wanted Oikawa to be his date, and, unbeknownst to his dense self, had a way to ensure Oikawa couldn’t decline.
And now, there they stood. Oikawa standing on a connecting bridge overlooking a pumpkin patch, a series of pumpkins surrounded by unfaltering flames despite the snow spelling out “BE MY DATE”, and Ushijima looking up at him from below with metaphorical fire in his eyes. Whether it was planned or it happened to be just pure luck, at least a couple hundreds of students were witnessing the whole thing, gasping and taking pictures and snickering and some being disappointed that they had not thought of something so grand and flashy before.
In 21st-century Hogwarts, queerness was nothing out of the ordinary, so the fact a guy had been the one to ask Oikawa out was not a big deal. What really caught people off guard was the fact it was Ushijima of all people. The two had probably never spoken in their lives. But the truth was, Oikawa and Ushijima had been really close their first year at Hogwarts, Oikawa simply drifted away after either a misunderstanding or a fight or just because people change. And that was it, they had not spoken in the last 5 years, other than unavoidable things like acknowledging each other’s presence. So the fact Ushijima Wakatoshi, a full-time athlete completely devoted to what he was best at, had been harbouring a crush big enough to lead him to do something like this for half a decade really left Oikawa with a lot to think of. He felt his cheeks getting warmer as the people nearby urged him on, demanding an answer. “Well? What’s it going to be, Oikawa?”
He pulled his scarf up enough to cover his reddening face. “Yeah, whatever!” he proclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear. The multitude cheered. Ushijima looked like he could probably faint (who knew someone like him had emotions?). Oikawa peeked at Ushijima from behind his green and silver scarf, slightly furrowing his brow and sticking his tongue out at him like the child he sometimes was. Then he ran away, back to the safety of his dorm.
***
Several hours after that painfully embarrassing public display of affection, Oikawa had searched for Ushijima. They had to talk. They met up in a dark corner of the castle at night, when everyone was (supposed to be) asleep, and Oikawa had gotten his chance to speak his mind—for about 2 and a half hours. When he was done with his rant about how Ushijima couldn’t just force his way into his life after all that had happened, after being nothing more than acquaintances for 5 years; about how he would spike his food with laxatives for the rest of their student life if he ever involved an audience in anything having to do with the two of them again; about how he shouldn’t get any weird ideas because the only reason he agreed to be his date was because it would damage his reputation if he turned him down in front of all those people, it was Ushijima’s turn to speak. He didn’t say much, aside from apologizing for each thing Oikawa had listed. “My feelings for you are real, and they’re there, even if I don’t fully understand them, and even if we’d both be better off without them.” He looked Oikawa in the eye. “Give me a chance to woo you.”
Oikawa’s voice broke, faltering under Ushijima’s heavy gaze, and he looked away. “Absolutely not. I don’t have time for romance, I’m busy with N.E.W.T.s, you have Quidditch.” He then caught himself and blushed. “I-It’s not like you’d have a chance if the situation were different! I have many more reasons why what you’re saying is crazy, okay?!”
Ushijima risked a bold move and held Oikawa’s hand. The other flinched, surprised not only by the action but by the fact Ushijima’s hand was so cold.
“Please look at me.” Oikawa grudgingly obeyed. Ushijima looked softer somehow, less scary and imposing and more pleading. That expression looked good on him, Oikawa thought. “Would you go to the Yule Ball with me? Now you can say ‘no’.”
Not even in Oikawa’s wildest dreams—or nightmares, really—would he be talking like a civilised person with Ushijima Wakatoshi, who was, as a plus, being so nice and gentle and caring and considerate. He was quickly getting overwhelmed, flashbacks from when they were kids racing through his mind. That first year at Hogwarts they’d been each other’s emotional support, before Oikawa met Iwaizumi and the rest. Maybe—just maybe—this friendship was worth a shot again. He inhaled deeply and exhaled the following words: “I’ll go.” While the Triwizard Tournament was not a thing that happened regularly, and this Yule Ball would probably be the only Oikawa would ever attend in his lifetime, he didn’t really care much for it. He figured it’d be more important to him if he were in love, it’d be the equivalent of prom in muggle high schools: an important night to share with your friends and significant other, dancing, eating, and having fun. He wondered if the Yule Ball meant a lot to Ushijima, he wondered if that was the reason he was so intent on going with Oikawa.
Ushijima looked incredibly relieved. He grinned, a rare sight that caught Oikawa off-guard, making him smile as well. Oikawa checked his watch and frowned. “Hey, we should sleep now, it’s late.”
Ushijima nodded, standing up and offering his hand to Oikawa. He reached for it but stopped himself, choosing to stand up on his own. “Don’t… let this Yule Ball thing get to you, okay? The Tournament hasn’t even started.”
Ushijima nodded. “The participants will be chosen in two days, right?”
“Yeah, during the Halloween Feast.”
There was a small pause.
“Are you curious about who’ll be chosen?” asked Ushijima.
“What?” Oikawa looked at him as if he’d grown a new head, “Not really. Why?” Then realisation dawned on him. His eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me, you…”
Ushijima squared his shoulders and proudly lifted his chin. “I’m planning on winning.”
Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “And how are you so sure you’ll get chosen? They have a new system this year, not that old goblet.”
“Look at me, Oikawa. Do you think anyone else in Hogwarts is as qualified for that opportunity?”
Oikawa felt annoyance bubbling up inside him. “Why do you even want to do that? It’s stupid! Risking your life over something as insignificant as fame?!” He found himself shouting by that point.
“Oikawa… could it be that you’re envious of the champions? That you don’t trust your own skills?”
And that’s all it took for him to snap. Oikawa hated condescending people more than anyone, he hated those who clearly had talent, who had success guaranteed for the rest of their lives, trying to sympathise with the poor bastards who were unlucky enough to never hone a talent during their childhood—those who were moderately good at everything but not enough to stand out over the rest, those like Oikawa, who couldn’t claim to be really good at anything. We work the hardest and yet they’ll always be one step ahead, we’ll never be anything more than “average” while they have their futures handed to them on a silver platter.
“You know what? Fuck you. If you want to go die in that stupid tournament, be my fucking guest. I can’t believe I actually considered giving a shit about you.”
“Oikawa, wait—“
He heard his name being called out.
“Tooru!”
But he was gone, and he wasn’t turning back under any circumstances. That night, neither of them got any sleep.