He had done it. He had beaten Viktor Krum at quidditch.
Blood was rushing in his ears as he slowed to a halt and stumbled off his broom, almost falling as his knees buckled slightly. Sixteen rounds of hard seeking was finally starting to get to him, and he couldn't wait to go sit down somewhere. He grinned, holding the snitch up triumphantly, barely hearing the cheers of the crowd as his racing pulse echoed in his skull.
"We have a winner, folks!" Boris was saying, striding over to Harry's side. He grabbed the hand holding the snitch, thrusting it into the air. "Harry Potter of Hogwarts takes it all! Are you all as surprised as I am?" The official confirmation seemed to be all it took for the dam to break, and the next thing Harry knew he was being hoisted onto the shoulders of the Weasley twins, the crowd swarming around him excitedly.
"He's only bloody done it!" one of the twins crowed, their arms wrapped around his legs to keep him steady. He could see Cedric beaming in the crowd, Cho by his side applauding wildly. Over by the crestfallen Durmstrang crowd was Draco, pretending to be annoyed, but Harry could see the awe in his eyes.
Eventually the twins set him down, slapping him on the back and beaming at him. "Come up to the common room when you're done here," Fred told him. "We're definitely celebrating this. Mate, you just beat Viktor bloody Krum!"
It sounded bizarre when it was said aloud like that. Harry nodded, grateful when the twins herded the crowd back towards the castle, and turned to find Boris and give him the snitch back. The Durmstrang boy was stood beside Viktor, patting him on the shoulder. "That was a tough match," Harry said when he approached, smiling hesitantly at Viktor. He hoped the older boy wasn't too mad about it — he had a reputation to uphold, after all. "You almost had me with that feint there."
"Almost, but not enough," Viktor replied, and he was smiling. "I knew it vhen I saw you fly against the dragon, but I vill say again — you fly very well." He reached out, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "If you are not on your country's team by the time you are my age, it vill be a travesty. But vhen you are, I look forward to flying against you once more."
Harry gaped at him. Was Viktor seriously saying Harry could go pro? Not just pro, but international? "I… yeah," he said breathlessly, unsure what else to say to that. "Anytime you want a rematch, I'm there."
Boris plucked the snitch from Harry's fingers, grinning. "That was fun," he declared, tucking it away safely in its box. "And now the team will get off your back about training, Viktor."
"I don't know," Viktor said ruefully, "perhaps now they vill be even more on my back, if I can be beaten by a fourteen year-old." He smiled at Harry to show he was teasing. Then he looked down at himself. "I need a shower."
Harry looked at the state of his own robes, and grimaced. Yeah, a shower and new clothes sounded good. How could he get so sweaty in December?
"See you at dinner?" The two Durmstrang boys nodded. Viktor paused, holding out a hand for Harry to shake.
"I am serious," he said, dark eyes fixed on Harry. "You haff talent. If playing professionally is something that interests you, I know people. You should not vaste that talent, if it is something you love." He softened slightly. "I know you may haff other priorities. But ve vill keep in touch, and if you ever need help, I vill be happy to assist." There was something significant about his words and the look on his face — like he wasn't just offering Harry help with quidditch. Harry shook his hand, equally serious.
"Thanks, Viktor. I'll keep that in mind."
The two boys parted, and Viktor let Boris sling an arm over his shoulder as the two of them made their way back to their ship. Harry shouldered his broom, heading up to the castle alone. At least, he thought he was alone. "Oi, Potter!" The quiet hiss made a grin tug at his lips. Draco was leaning up against the back wall of one of the greenhouses, his cheeks rosy from the cold and his hair slightly windswept. Harry's heart skipped a beat. Merlin, he was gorgeous. "You just had to show off, didn't you?"
Harry changed course, throwing up a privacy ward as he hurried towards Draco. Giddy from his win and unable to help himself, he grabbed the blond by the hips and spun him around, kissing him firmly. Draco's arms automatically came up around his neck, chest pressing against Harry's as he leaned into the kiss. When he pulled back, he made a face. "You're disgusting right now," he said, poking at Harry's sweaty robes. Leaning back against the glass of the greenhouse, he smirked at Harry. "I can't believe you just beat Viktor Krum."
"He said I should go professional," Harry breathed, gobsmacked. "You certainly could," Draco agreed. He clearly didn't care that much about Harry's sweaty state, as he tugged him closer, sliding a hand down to grab his arse cheekily. "I could do worse than a professional quidditch player for a boyfriend," he teased. "At least it'll keep you fit."
Harry wasn't sure what hit him harder; the thought of being a pro quidditch player, or the thought of still being Draco's boyfriend by that time. That Draco didn't even hesitate to assume they would still be together by then. Unable to find the words, he placed a hand either side of Draco's head and leaned in for another kiss, moaning softly. "We're gonna get caught," Draco muttered between kisses, not slowing down in the slightest. Harry smirked against the blond's lips.
"Worth it." Even so, he eventually pulled himself away, still boxing Draco in against the greenhouse glass.
"I suppose you've got to go up and celebrate with all your Gryffindor friends," Draco drawled.
"I'd much rather celebrate with you," Harry returned. "But also I really want to put on clothes that aren't sweaty."
Draco snorted, shaking his head. "Such a romantic," he teased. "Go on, sod off. If you keep kissing me wearing those, I'm going to find it very difficult to concentrate next time Slytherin play Gryffindor." His grey eyes were dark and his pupils blown, and Harry smirked. So his quidditch robes did it for Draco, hmm? That was a good thing to know.
Feeling daring, still riding high on victory, Harry leaned in until he was pressed against Draco from knee to shoulder until he could feel Draco's hardness pressing against his thigh, and there was no way Draco couldn't feel Harry's. He let his lips trail over the blond's jaw, feeling him tense and arch up into the touch ever so slightly. It was tempting to get carried away. They'd never gone past kissing before, except for a few adventuring hands underneath shirts. Certainly nothing like this. Harry was so turned on he could barely think, but he had enough blood left in his brain to know that getting too hot and heavy out behind the greenhouses was just asking for trouble. "Think of this next time we play against each other," he breathed, sucking a kiss on Draco's neck that the Slytherin would have to cover with a glamour. Then he pulled away, green eyes glinting playfully. "I'll see you later, Draco. I've got to go take a shower." A cold, cold shower.
Stepping away as if nothing had happened, he grinned to himself at the frustrated groan Draco let out. "I hate you, Potter!" he called as Harry walked away. The Gryffindor laughed, dropping the privacy ward.
He was having an excellent day.
.-. Luckily, when he got back to Gryffindor Tower, his mussed state could be explained away as quidditch — to everyone except the Weasley twins who were eyeing him knowingly. "Go on, loverboy," George whispered in his ear, herding him towards the dormitory stairs with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Go clean yourself up. We'll stall down here."
The common room was packed with people; not just Gryffindors, but people of all houses, wanting to celebrate Harry's victory over the Bulgarian seeker. Even Cassius was there with a couple of his Slytherin friends, only looking a little bit disturbed at being surrounded by so much red and gold.
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