Work Text:
Aizawa Shōta is pretty sure he’s going to strangle Yamada Hizashi before the year is out.
“And it’s another perfectly executed save by Aizawa!” Yamada announces, his voice booming through the quidditch pitch. “You know, I used to be more interested in the seekers – everyone loves a good chase, right? – but with Aizawa I’m pretty sure it was love at first save.”
The knuckles of Shōta’s hands turn white as he clutches his Nimbus harder, trying to block out the sound of Yamada’s voice. Sure, Gryffindor’s ahead by a good eighty points and so far only two quaffles have gotten past him, but he knows that he could have saved at least one of those if he hadn’t been so distracted.
He catches a glimpse of movement to his left and barely has enough time to dodge to the side before a bludger whizzes through the space where his head had been a moment earlier. He swings under his broom and then back around on top of it, steadying himself and immediately looking around for an impending attack.
“And Aizawa uses a Sloth Grip Roll to avoid a Hufflepuff bludger! Just looking at him makes my head spin!” Yamada says, sounding almost giddy, and Shōta has to resist the urge to turn and glare at him. The last thing he needs right now is a reminder of how much his stomach hates him whenever he tries to execute a move like the one he just did.
However, the brief moment he spares to be annoyed at Yamada almost costs him another save. As it is, even with his arm fully extended, Shōta’s fingers only barely graze the quaffle. Thankfully it’s enough to knock the ball off course, though, and instead of going into the goal it bangs off the goalpost with a dull, metaling clang.
In a risky move, he dives for the quaffle, leaving the goals unattended. He just barely manages to catch the ball before one of the Hufflepuff chasers get to it and he darts back up into the air with it clutched tightly to his chest.
A moment later, he spots Kayama shooting towards him and he passes the quaffle to her. She gives him a wicked grin, and for a moment Shōta almost feels bad for the Hufflepuff keeper. (13, is it? Shōta can never remember their name – only their jersey number.)
“That was a close call for Aizawa!” Yamada announces. “But what a move, diving for the quaffle after that fumble! I’ve always had a thing for guys who keep calm in a crisis.”
And Shōta goes back to wanting to strangle Yamada.
Thankfully the game doesn’t drag on for too much longer. Yagi – the Gryffindor seeker – catches sight of the snitch and the match might as well be decided. There are few people who can keep up with Yagi in the air: Todoroki Enji, the Slytherin seeker, and maybe Iida Tensei, but he’s a chaser and on the Gryffindor team, so it’s a moot point anyway.
Sure enough, the game is decided less than a minute later, with a final score of 240-20.
Which, while a crushing defeat, isn’t entirely satisfying for Shōta. He’s been aiming to play a perfect game before the season is over, but so far he can’t seem to get below the 20 point mark.
“Nice game as always, Shōta,” Kayama says as they’re packing up their equipment, coming over to slap Shōta on the back. “Not that we expect anything less from our star keeper.”
“Thanks,” Shōta replies, but there’s frustration still fizzling under his skin. “You too.”
“Well, actually, there was the one quaffle you almost missed,” Kayama says, her lips curling up into a smirk. “You’re not getting too distracted by your boyfriend, are you?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Shōta snaps, his cheeks heating.
“Mmhmm,” Kayama replies, not sounding convinced. “Well, if he isn’t, he sure as hell wants to be.”
“Yamada can go fuck himself,” Shōta grumbles, grabbing his broom and starting back in the direction of the castle.
The thing is, Shōta and Yamada have barely even spoken before. Sure, they’re in the same year, but they’re in different houses and only have a couple of classes together. To say that Shōta was surprised when Yamada started commentating less on the quidditch matches and more on him is an understatement.
In fact, he’s half convinced that it’s some sort of underhanded Slytherin scheme to win this year’s Cup: make the Gryffindor keeper too distracted by the attractive guy complimenting him to properly guard the goals.
Part of Shōta wants to march over and give Yamada a piece of his mind, but that would show that Yamada’s scheme is getting to him. He’s not about to show that sort of weakness.
Maybe he’ll have to make their next match against Slytherin his perfect game.
---
Shōta is running late for Charms. He overslept again, and truthfully he was half tempted to just skip, but it’s only ten minutes into class and Charms is his worst subject. He can’t really afford to miss too often.
However, as Shōta slips into the classroom, he almost wishes he’d just continued sleeping.
“Nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Aizawa,” Professor Nedzu says, and Shōta does his best to avoid eye contact as he slides into the first available seat. “As I was just telling the rest of the class, we’re starting a project today which accounts for fifteen percent of your final grade.”
Shōta really hopes it’s not a group project.
“I was just in the middle of assigning partners,” Professor Nedzu continues, smiling mildly. “I’ve paired you together based on your performance in the class so far. Hopefully the more advanced student in each pair will be able to impart some knowledge on their partner.”
Oh no. No, no, no, no.
“Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada, I hope you two don’t make me regret pairing you together,” Professor Nedzu says. “I trust you’ll be able to stay on topic and not get too… distracted.”
A chorus of muffled snickers sound through the room. Shōta really should have just skipped class.
While Professor Nedzu pairs the rest of the students together, Shōta wonders if it’s possible to swap partners. Then again, Professor Nedzu’s never really been known for his leniency or flexibility, so it’s probably a futile effort.
Once all of the groups have been assigned, the students get up to change seats. Shōta reluctantly makes his way over to Yamada, who waves at him casually, like they’re old friends.
“Wow,” Yamada says as Shōta takes a seat next to him. “I wasn’t expecting to get paired with you. I thought you were better at Charms than that.”
The familiar desire to strangle Yamada returns and Shōta almost finds it comforting.
“I set five feathers on fire last week,” Shōta says flatly.
“Oh,” Yamada replies. “I thought it was only two.”
This, Shōta thinks, is going to be a trying ordeal.
“So what’s the project?” Shōta sighs. “I wasn’t here for the introduction.”
“We’re supposed to choose a spell, write a report on it, and then teach it to the class,” Yamada explains, and Shōta has to bite back another sigh. He hates presentations. “I was thinking we could do something sound related, like maybe an amplifying spell – ”
“How about a noise cancelling spell?” Shōta snorts. He could certainly use one right about now.
“Okay,” Yamada says easily, catching Shōta off guard. “Generally, there are three different levels of noise cancelling spells. The first – ”
“Wait, we’re doing it?” Shōta asks. Yamada blinks at him.
“Is that not what you wanted to do?” Yamada asks, frowning.
Shōta isn’t sure how to say he was making a joke without sounding like, well, an asshole, so he shrugs and says, “Fine.” A noise cancelling charm might come in handy, anyway.
“As I was saying, there are three levels of noise cancelling spells,” Yamada continues. “The first level is more noise muffling than noise cancelling, and it’s probably too basic for what Professor Nedzu wants for this project. The third level is too difficult, though – it’s completely noise cancelling, and you can’t even hear your own heartbeat – so we should probably go with the second level.”
Yamada looks over at Shōta expectantly, and it takes Shōta a moment to realize that he’s waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” Shōta replies, still trying to process all of the information Yamada just threw at him.
“I can already do it pretty consistently, so let’s see if I can teach you!” Yamada says, smiling pleasantly.
Yamada explains a little bit more while Shōta tries not to zone out. The concept itself sounds fairy simple. The spell creates a space extending about a foot from the caster which neutralizes all sound waves that enter the area. Yamada demonstrates it with an easy flick of his wand, making the spell look almost effortless.
Unfortunately, Shōta finds that for him it’s not quite so simple.
“I think it’s the way you flick your wrist,” Yamada says, displaying the gesture with his own wand. “See, it’s more fluid. You’re all stiff.”
Shōta resists the urge to point out that prickly edges and sharp movements are pretty much what he’s made out of. Instead, he flicks his wand again and mutters the spell under his breath.
A moment later, the hem of his cloak starts to smoke. Shōta sighs and stamps it out against the table as Yamada looks on with an expression that seems to be two parts horror and one part fascination. Shōta glares at him.
“Right,” Yamada says awkwardly. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
Shōta gives him his best, “You think?” look.
“Maybe we should do the report part first,” Yamada suggests. “Class is almost over, but we can meet up in the library sometime later this week.”
“Fine,” Shōta replies, shoving his wand back into his pocket. “Does after dinner on Thursday work for you?”
“Uh, sure,” Yamada answers.
“Good,” Shōta says curtly, packing the rest of his things into his bag.
He leaves the classroom without a backwards glance, agitation still simmering under his skin. Charms and Yamada together – isn’t that just his luck?
Then again, Yamada wasn’t entirely horrible today. It dawns on Shōta that Yamada didn’t make a single flirtatious comment, although maybe that’s to be expected, considering the real reason for the annoying quidditch commentary seems to be to distract Shōta from the game at hand.
(A tiny, tiny part of Shōta is disappointed that his theory has been confirmed – not that he’d ever admit to it.)
Shōta sighs and makes his way the Great Hall. He’d slept in too late to grab breakfast and his stomach is already starting to protest. Thankfully there’s still some food out for the straggler students who have a free period first thing in the morning and decide to sleep in.
Unfortunately for Shōta, Kayama is occasionally one of those students.
“So,” she says, sliding into a seat across from him at the Gryffindor table and giving him one of her more mischievous grins. “I heard through the grape vine that you’ve got a new partner in Charms class.”
Not for the first time, Shōta wonders how the hell she hears about these things so quickly. It shouldn’t be physically possible.
“You know, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a romance movie like this,” Kayama continues, and Shōta glares at her. “The star pupil is asked to tutor the class delinquent and they both develop feelings for each other, until study sessions turn into ‘study sessions’.”
“I’m pretty sure what you’re describing is porn and not an actual movie,” Shōta snorts.
“You could be right,” Kayama says with a smirk.
“I am not interested in Yamada Hizashi,” Shōta huffs.
Which, alright, is a bit of a lie. He can’t entirely deny that Yamada is attractive, even if Shōta finds his personality utterly off-putting. Briefly, the memory of Yamada’s bright green eyes watching him as he’d attempted the charm earlier flashes through Shōta’s mind, but he shoves it aside roughly as soon as he registers it.
So what if Yamada’s hot? Shōta can handle hot. He’s friends with Kayama, after all.
“What’s that saying?” Kayama muses. “I think you doth protest too much?”
“Yamada doesn’t actually like me,” Shōta says, rolling his eyes. “He just commentates on me during matches in order to make me mess up.”
“Do you seriously still believe that conspiracy theory?” Kayama asks, letting out a put-upon sigh. “You’re so paranoid.”
“I’m not paranoid,” Shōta grumbles, stabbing at the scrambled eggs on his plate. “He didn’t try to flirt at all during class.”
“Huh,” Kayama says, her lips turning down in a frown. “Maybe he was worried about scaring you off.”
“Because announcing to the entire school that he thinks I look hot when my hair’s all windswept after a match isn’t going to ‘scare me off’,” Shōta says flatly.
“I just think you’re selling yourself short,” Kayama replies. “People can find you attractive without it being some sort of prank. I’d do you, if you weren’t practically my little brother.”
The face Shōta makes in response must betray his horror, because Kayama starts laughing.
“I’m just saying,” Kayama continues. “He could actually like you.”
“Sure,” Shōta snorts.
He’s pretty sure the day Yamada compliments him and actually means it will be the day hell freezes over.
---
Thankfully, the report part of the Charms project goes fairly smoothly. It’s all research and theory, and while Shōta might be terrible at the practical aspects of Charms, a report is pretty straightforward. Unfortunately, they finish that part of the project quickly enough, even with Yamada chattering on constantly about aspects of Charms theory that Shōta doesn’t actually give a shit about.
Which means they’re back to the practical part of the project.
“Sono retexo,” Shōta mutters, twisting his wrist in a sharp movement. Nothing catches on fire, but he can still clearly hear the bustle of the library around them.
“Your movements are still too stiff,” Yamada says, and he finally sounds like he’s starting to get frustrated. “See, like this.”
Yamada flicks his own wand in demonstration, but Shōta honestly can’t see any difference between Yamada’s movements and his own. Sure, Yamada’s look a little more effortless, but Shōta has no fucking clue how to make his own movements attain that level of ease when he hasn’t even gotten the spell to work once.
“Sono retexo,” Shōta says again, trying to loosen his grip on his wand a little. Maybe that will help.
Apparently not, because a moment later the edge of his report catches on fire. Briefly, Shōta wonders if he should just get everything he owns fire-proofed at this point.
“Look, just – ” Yamada starts, before reaching over and placing his hand on top of Shōta’s.
Shōta stiffens up immediately, and it seems like all he can feel are the points of contact between him and Yamada. To make matters worse, Yamada’s fingers dig gently into his wrist, in what seems like an attempt to massage the tenseness out of Shōta’s muscles.
“Relax,” Yamada orders, but his tone is soft.
“Maybe I’d be able to if you stopped touching me,” Shōta snaps, trying to pull his wrist out of Yamada’s grip. Shōta’s cheeks heat a little as the pads of Yamada’s fingers run over the sensitive underside of his wrist.
“I’m trying to help!” Yamada protests, his hand still not releasing Shōta’s. “Just – pretend I’m someone else or something.”
Shōta highly doubts that will help. Everyone who knows him well enough would never dare to initiate physical contact without explicit permission. (Well, except for maybe Kayama, but she always limits herself to briefly tousling his hair, an exchange that never lasts more than five seconds.)
“Jeez, are you this tense everywhere?” Yamada asks, fingers still gently massaging Shōta’s wrist.
“Probably,” Shōta snorts, finally relinquishing his hand to Yamada. It doesn’t seem like he’s about to let go anytime soon.
“No wonder you’re so bad at Charms,” Yamada says, and Shōta glares at him. “Seriously, though, you think you’d be more relaxed than this considering how often you fall asleep in class.”
“Maybe,” Shōta says, his tone low and a little dangerous, “I’m tense because I need the sleep.”
“That – ” Yamada starts, his fingers stilling for a second. “Is a good point. Are you out late practicing for quidditch or something?”
“It’s none of your business,” Shōta replies.
“Well, it’s sort of my business if you can’t learn the spell for our project,” Yamada points out.
Shōta glares at him.
The conversation falls into a lull for a moment as Yamada continues to massage the tension out of Shōta’s wrist. After a little while, Shōta actually finds himself subconsciously relaxing into Yamada’s touch. He sinks back into his chair a little, his shoulders slumping. Apparently Yamada doesn’t miss his change in posture and only massages Shōta’s wrist for a little while longer, although Shōta could almost swear that Yamada lets his fingers linger for a moment before he relinquishes his grip.
“Right,” Yamada says, suddenly sounding a little awkward. “Try the spell again.”
This time, the movement comes to Shōta almost naturally – or at least as naturally as it’s ever likely to come – and his wrist moves in a smooth arc as he says, “Sono retexo.”
For a moment, he thinks he messed it up again. However, when he looks over at Yamada, he’s surprised to find that while Yamada’s mouth is moving, no sound is coming out.
Or, rather, Shōta can’t actually hear the sound.
“Finite incantatem,” Shōta mutters, with another flick of his wand.
“ – it work?” he hears Yamada asks, excitement clear in his tone. “You weren’t responding, so I thought – ”
“It worked,” Shōta interrupts.
“Yes!” Yamada exclaims, punching the air with his fist. “See, I told you you just needed to relax!”
“I still need to be able to do it consistently,” Shōta points out.
“C’mon, let me enjoy our success for a moment,” Yamada protests, his expression dangerously close to a pout. “Shouldn’t you be happier about this?”
Shōta gives him his best nonplussed look.
“Look, it’s a simple fix, right?” Yamada says. “Once you figure out how to relax, you’ll do fine.”
“You say that like it’s easy,” Shōta mutters. He can already feel his shoulders stiffening up again.
“Well, you don’t seem to have any trouble relaxing when you’re playing quidditch, do you?” Yamada asks, and Shōta’s lips turn down in a slight frown. “I mean, when you’re up in the air, you make it look as easy as walking.”
“That’s because it is,” Shōta replies.
“No, it’s really not,” Yamada snorts. “Look, you don’t have any trouble in any of your other classes, do you? So what’s different about Charms?”
“Charms are… vague,” Shōta finally says.
“Vague?” Yamada asks, frowning.
“In Transfiguration there’s a clear endpoint,” Shōta explains, “and in Defense Against the Dark Arts, there’s something specific you’re trying to block or defeat. With Charms… you’re altering your surroundings or nearby objects in abstract, inconsistent ways and it’s just – ”
Shōta lets out a frustrated noise, unsure how to articulate himself.
“You’re overthinking things,” Yamada says. “Seriously, just relax and you’ll do fine.”
Shōta glares at him again.
“Okay, well, it’s getting kind of late, and you look like you could use some sleep,” Yamada says, starting to collect up his books. “Maybe we can meet again at the same time on Friday?”
“I have practice,” Shōta replies, shaking his head.
“How about Saturday, then?” Yamada asks.
“Fine,” Shōta sighs, shoving his thinks into his own bag.
“Great! Sounds like a plan,” Yamada says. “Maybe you should try relaxing a little before we meet, though. You could try meditation or something.”
“I am not going to meditate,” Shōta says flatly.
“Do you want me to spend half of our time massaging your hand again?” Yamada asks, quirking an eyebrow at Shōta, and there’s a tiny hint of flirtation in his tone.
“Shut up,” Shōta grumbles, his cheeks heating. His skin prickles with the memory of Yamada’s soft fingertips ghosting over his wrist.
“I’m just saying,” Yamada replies, looking amused. “Those are your options.”
“Fine,” Shōta says curtly. “I’ll relax on my own.”
For a moment, he almost thinks he sees disappointment flash across Yamada’s face, but it’s gone in a spit second – if it was even there in the first place. Maybe spending time with Yamada is starting to warp his perception of reality.
---
The dusk air is crisp and cool as it hits Shōta’s skin. He’s standing at the top of the astronomy tower, notebook and quill clenched tightly in his hands as he stares up at the evening sky. There’s a telescope set up in front of him, but first he takes a moment to gaze up at the simple beauty of the stars just starting to glow against the fading rays of the sun’s light, his view unmarred by the pollution present in large cities.
When he’s at Hogwarts, Shōta spends every night watching the stars.
Eventually he refocuses his gaze through the telescope, his eyes darting between constellations. Saturn is still slightly visible in the evening sky, but he’ll have to wait until an hour or so before dawn to record the movements of Jupiter, Mars, and Venus. He’s unable to entirely suppress a yawn as he’s reminded of how he woke up three hours before sunup earlier that week, in order to catch a glimpse of Jupiter and Mars in their “double planet” formation.
He pulls out a blank star chart, idly mapping the constellations, his quill flicking across the parchment in familiar movements. Briefly, he wishes that he could get a better look at Regulus – the brightest star of the Leo constellation – but now that it’s well past June, it’s become increasingly more difficult to glimpse. He’s been trying to track asphodel growth rates in relation to the position and relative strength of Regulus’ light, and he thinks he might actually have something to show for his work by the end of the year.
“Wow.”
Shōta startles, nearly dropping his quill.
“Is this why you’re always falling asleep in class?” Yamada asks, and Shōta turns around to glare at him.
“What are you doing here?” Shōta growls, irritated that his concentration has been broken.
“I realized that we never set an exact time for Satruday,” Yamada replies, walking over towards Shōta and leaning against the edge of the tower wall, next to where Shōta’s telescope is set up. “Kayama told me I could find you here.”
Not for the first time, Shōta curses her meddling.
“We can meet after dinner again,” Shōta says shortly.
“I already promised to meet with someone then,” Yamada replies, and Shōta is annoyingly reminded that despite Yamada’s noisiness and general obnoxiousness, he’s actually pretty popular, both within Slytherin and in the other houses.
Shōta, on the other hand, really doesn’t see the appeal.
“After lunch?” Shōta suggests. Really, almost anytime works for him. Barring quidditch practice and homework, his weekends are usually fairly open.
Well, except for in the evenings. Shōta’s not about to miss the small window of opportunity at dusk to get a clear view of Saturn.
“Alright,” Yamada says. However, instead of leaving, he pulls up a chair and sits down next to Shōta.
“Do you need something?” Shōta asks pointedly, his grip tightening on his quill.
“Not really,” Yamada replies. “Just thought I’d give myself a breather before I climb back down all those stairs. Is that why you’re so in shape for quidditch? Because you climb up all those stairs every day?”
Shōta doesn’t dignify that with an answer.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been up here before,” Yamada continues, and Shōta wonders if he should try out the noise cancelling spell they’ve been working on. “Maybe I should have taken Astronomy instead of Arithmancy.”
“You take Arithmancy?” Shōta asks, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He has to resist the urge to cringe as Yamada brightens, clearly pleased that he’s actually participating in the conversation.
“Yeah, I’m more of a morning person than a night owl, so I didn’t really consider Astronomy,” Yamada answers, craning his head to look up at the purple-blue sky. “And Divination was just a step too far for me. I mean, finding out about magic and everything was cool, but you’ve gotta draw the line somewhere. At least with Arithmancy there’s numbers involved.”
“You’re muggle-born?” Shōta asks, frowning. However, as soon as the question leaves his mouth, he sees Yamada’s expression close off a little.
“You’re surprised because I’m in Slytherin, right?” Yamada asks, his lips twisting into the wry smile of someone who’s had this conversation one too many times.
“No,” Shōta snorts, catching Yamada off guard. “I’m surprised because you seem much more invested in quidditch than football.”
Yamada laughs at that, a sharp, ear-splitting sound that reminds Shōta a little bit of what it sounds like in the owlry during feeding time.
“Quidditch players are more attractive,” Yamada says when he finally stops laughing, winking at Shōta. The tips of Shōta’s ears heat and he scowls.
They fall silent for a moment, Shōta rubbing at a spot of ink staining the back of his hand, while Yamada gazes out over the darkening sky.
“Thanks,” Yamada says suddenly, and Shōta glances up at him, confused. “For, you know, not being weird about my blood status.”
Shōta shrugs.
“People are idiots,” Shōta replies. “Every year there’s someone who tells me I should have been sorted into Slytherin.”
“No way,” Yamada laughs. “But you’re such a Gryffindor! You’d make a terrible Slytherin.”
Shōta stares at Yamada for a moment. He’s never received a reaction like this when talking about whether or not he should have been a Slytherin. Most people just say that the Sorting Hat doesn’t make mistakes and leave it at that.
“I mean, come on,” Yamada continues, oblivious to Shōta’s surprise. “You don’t care at all about what other people think of you. That’s bravery right there. I mean, sure, you’re clever, but to be a Slytherin, you have to want something. Fame, fortunate, whatever. I have no clue what you want.”
Shōta can’t stop staring. He thinks that maybe he should be creeped out that Yamada just gave him such an accurate description of his personality, but instead he just feels like he’s been dunked under cold water and is coming back up for air. This is a Yamada Hizashi that Shōta has never seen before, or even thought to look for.
“I just want to watch the stars in peace,” Shōta finally says, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart inside his chest.
“And that’s why Slytherin would eat you alive,” Yamada replies. “Well, maybe not. You’re probably self-confident enough to survive, but you definitely wouldn’t like it.”
“You like it?” Shōta asks. “Playing mind-games with people?”
“They’re not mind-games,” Yamada huffs. “It’s politics – how to present yourself, how to make people like you. I like being liked.”
Part of Shōta wants to ask if that’s why Yamada makes those stupid comments during quiddich games – if it’s to curry favor with other Syltherins.
“Sounds like a waste of time,” Shōta snorts.
“Which is a very Gryffindor answer,” Yamada points out. Shōta makes a vague noise of agreement.
They fall into silence again, and after a few moments, Shōta leans forward to look through his telescope again, adjusting its positioning slightly. Then, he says, “Do you want to see Saturn?”
“Sure!” Yamada replies, and Shōta moves aside. Shōta hovers near Yamada’s shoulder, watching carefully to make sure Yamada doesn’t accidentally mess up the positioning of the telescope.
“It’s fairly low in the sky at this time of year, near the horizon,” Shōta says.
“I think I see it,” Yamada replies, fascination clear in his tone.
Yamada watches through the telescope for a while and Shōta finds himself listing off little facts about the mid-October night sky. Part of him expects Yamada to make fun of him or get bored, but instead Yamada just listens, nodding along occasionally.
Maybe Yamada isn’t so bad after all.
---
Gryffindor’s next quidditch match is against Ravenclaw.
So far Shōta hasn’t had much to do – Ravenclaw’s always had a better defense than offense – but they’re still only fifteen or so minutes into the game. Neither team is making much headway, with the score stuck at 10-0, in favor of Gryffindor. Iida’s speed managed to get them one goal, but they’ve only had two shots on goal so far. This game might very well depend solely on who catches the snitch.
Unfortunately, Yamada’s not commentating on the seekers.
“I’ve gotta say, while the lack of scoring is certainly upping the tension, I’m kind of disappointed that we’re not getting much action on the Gryffindor side of the pitch,” Yamada announces. “Not that I mind appreciating Aizawa while he’s stationary.”
Somehow, Shōta had thought that maybe Yamada would abandon the false flirtation after their heart-to-heart in the astronomy tower. Apparently that was naïve of him.
“Ishiyama manages to intercept the pass and makes a break for the Gryffindor goal!” Yamada shouts.
Shōta snaps to attention, eyes fixing on the figure rushing towards him. Ishiyama’s far enough ahead of everyone else that there’s no one for him to pass to, so Shōta studies him carefully, trying to anticipate which goal he’ll aim for.
It’s a fairly simple deduction, in the end. While Ishiyama is good at intercepting passes, he’s never been very good at aiming his own. Sure enough, he goes for the closest goal, and Shōta catches the quaffle cleanly, before passing it to Iida.
“Aizawa almost makes it look too easy!” Yamada announces. “Maybe I should ask him for lessons on broom-handling technique.”
The comment makes Shōta’s entire face burn with embarrassment. Hopefully he can pass off the redness as a simple result of the October chill. Gritting his teeth, he tries to refocus on the game at hand, eyes tracking the movement of the players on the other end of the pitch.
Iida and Kayama pass the quaffle between each other, each time avoiding Ishiyama by mere inches. As they get closer to the goal, Kayama dives for the far left goal, but at the last second she pulls up again, receiving the ball from Iida and hurling it through the middle goal. It passes through unhindered.
“Another goal for Gryffindor!” Yamada shouts, his voice reverberating through the quidditch pitch. “That brings the score up to 20-0. Will Ravenclaw be able to make up the difference?”
Apparently they’re going to try, because they’re more aggressive in their attacks this time as they advance on Shōta. Iida manages to use his speed to break the three Ravenclaw chasers’ formation, but unfortunately that doesn’t seem to deter them too much.
The Ravenclaw team is known for sticking to pre-planned plays, but this is one Shōta doesn’t recognize. As the center chaser comes down the pitch, Shōta glances between the two outside chasers, trying to anticipate which one will receive the ball – assuming the center chaser decides to pass it at all.
“Aizawa’s certainly gotten intense as he tries to predict the movements of Ravenclaw’s chasers!” Yamada says, abruptly dragging Shōta out of his headspace. “Which one will take the shot? Either way, it won’t be an easy goal to make when Aizawa’s looking at you like that! I certainly wouldn’t be able to function normally.”
The split second Shōta lets himself be distracted by Yamada’s commentary costs him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the center chaser pass to Ishiyama – a move he hadn’t anticipated, but probably would have been able to keep up with if he hadn’t lost his concentration. He extends his arm out as far as he can, almost unbalancing his broom with the shift in weight distribution, but even then he can’t quite reach far enough. The quaffle bounces off the edge of the goal to Shōta’s left, but it goes in, and Shōta has to bite back a frustrated noise.
So much for his perfect game.
He tries to focus up for the rest of the match, but he knows that his frustration is making him sloppy. He misses one of the other balls that comes at him, and he fumbles with the quaffle a couple of times after blocking shots that should have been easy for him to catch. His passes are less accurate than usual, too, and once he actually misses a simple pass to Iida, letting one of the Ravenclaw chasers pick it up.
In the end, Gryffindor wins thanks to Yagi’s abilities as a seeker, but Shōta leaves the pitch irritated and unsatisfied. Kayama tries to talk to him after the game, but Shōta blows her off, stewing in his frustration instead.
There’s someone he needs to talk to.
Shōta finds Yamada still in the stands, putting away his announcer’s equipment, and doesn’t hesitate to march over to him. A look of surprise fixes itself on Yamada’s face as he catches sight of Shōta, and it doesn’t dissipate when Shōta fists a hand into Yamada’s cloak and jerks him forward.
“Is this funny to you?” he demands.
“What?” Yamada asks, clearly startled.
“Talking about me during matches,” Shōta clarifies, knuckles turning white as he grips Yamada’s cloak harder. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“I thought you didn’t care!” Yamada protests, flailing a little. “You should have said something about – ”
“Oh, so this is my fault?” Shōta snaps, eyes flinty as he glares at Yamada.
“No!” Yamada exclaims, his eyes wide. “That’s not what I meant – ”
“If you do it again I’ll report you to the headmaster for – harassment or something,” Shōta says, finally releasing Yamada’s cloak from his grip, and Yamada stumbles back a few steps.
With that final declaration, he storms out of the stands. Even after he rounds the corner, though, he can almost feel Yamada’s shocked gaze on him.
---
For the next few days, Shōta avoids Yamada as best he can. They have Transfiguration together, but thankfully their seats are about as far apart as they can be. Yamada tries to intercept Shōta after class, but Shōta’s too quick for him, darting out of the classroom before Yamada can actually say anything.
In fact, there are a couple other times when they pass each other in the hallway or during meals and Yamada tries to say something, but Shōta always ignores him. He has no desire to hear Yamada’s excuses.
Unfortunately, they can’t avoid each other in Charms.
“Aizawa – ” Yamada starts when Shōta finally shows up to class, five minutes late.
“I’m here to work on our project, not to talk to you,” Shōta says, his tone icy cold. He doesn’t meet Yamada’s eyes.
“I just wanted to apologize,” Yamada replies. “I didn’t realize you were uncomfortable with the fact that I – with my commentary. I would have stopped if I’d known.”
Shōta’s quiet for a moment.
“I don’t like being in the spotlight,” he finally says, some of the anger draining out of him as he recognizes the sincerity in Yamada’s tone. “Just – don’t do it again.”
“I won’t,” Yamada promises quickly.
They’re both quiet for a moment, the silence a little awkward. Shōta wracks his mind for a way to change the topic without making the awkwardness worse.
“So,” Yamada says, saving Shōta the trouble. “You’re probably too tense to actually cast any charms without setting something on fire, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I should have made you let me set you on fire once before forgiving you,” Shōta drawls, but he’s unable to entirely suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Nope – we already made up. No take-backs,” Yamada says, his own face splitting into a grin. Shōta can’t help but notice how the tension drains out of his shoulders at the joke, a little surprised as he realizes how invested Yamada was in making things right between them.
“No take-backs?” Shōta repeats. “What are we, twelve?”
“No take-backs is a time-honored tradition,” Yamada replies, mock-serious.
Shōta opens his mouth to give a derisive reply, a smile still threatening to overtake his lips, but before the words leave his lips, Professor Nedzu says, “Mr. Yamada and Mr. Aizawa, since you seem to have time to make small-talk, how about you demonstrate your progress for me.”
Yamada suppresses a grimace and pulls out his wand, but before he can cast the spell, Professor Nedzu says, “Actually, I’d prefer if Mr. Aizawa demonstrated.”
Those words are enough to make Shōta stiffen up again. So far he’s only been able to perform the spell properly once, and he can already feel his fingers tensing. Professor Nedzu’s eyes bore into Shōta as he lifts his wand, already preparing himself for a lecture about staying focused in class.
“Don’t set me on fire,” Yamada whispers, catching Shōta off guard. He looks over at Yamada, who winks. “Remember, no take-backs!”
“Sono retexo,” Shōta says, aiming his wand at Yamda and flicking his wrist exaggeratedly.
Nothing catches on fire.
In fact, nothing catches on fire and although Shōta can see Yamda’s mouth moving, none of the sound waves reach his ears. He looks back over at Professor Nedzu and says, “Finite incantatem.”
“Very good, Mr. Aizawa,” Professor Nedzu says, a small smile on his lips. “You appear to have made a considerable amount of progress in these past two weeks.”
“I had some help,” Shōta replies, and he can feel Yamada’s surprised gaze on him.
“Well, I believe you two will have no trouble with your presentation next week,” Professor Nedzu says. “Keep up the good work.”
He walks away to go terrorize another group, apparently satisfied with Shōta and Yamada’s progress.
“That was great!” Yamada exclaims once Professor Nedzu is out of earshot. “I seriously thought for a second that you were going to set me on fire out of spite.”
“I’m saving that for when you’re not expecting it,” Shōta says dryly.
“So we’re good?” Yamada asks, his expression sobering.
“We’re good,” Shōta sighs, and he’s a little surprised to find that he can’t summon more than a vague annoyance with Yamada. “I might have overreacted a little.”
“Hey, no, it’s understandable,” Yamada replies, fiddling with his wand. “I was being an inconsiderate dick.”
“Can I quote you on that?” Shōta asks, quirking an eyebrow at Yamada, who lets out a soft snort of laughter.
“Sure,” Yamada replies.
Shōta smiles.
---
It suddenly seems like everywhere Shōta looks, Yamada’s there.
Maybe he was just oblivious before, but now when they pass each other in the hallway, Yamada waves at him, and when Shōta’s doing homework in the library, Yamada doesn’t hesitate to pull up a chair at the same table. During breakfast one morning, Shōta finds himself squished between Yamada and Iida, both conversing enthusiastically about the Bulgarian national quidditch team. In Charms they’re partnered together, and in Transfiguration Yamada manages to coax Shōta’s cat – Mocha – into letting him pet her.
The most surprising thing, though, is that Shōta doesn’t actually mind it. Somehow, Yamada’s managed to worm his way into Shōta’s small circle of friends, and while the first descriptor that comes to mind when Shōta thinks of him is still “noisy,” he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s more like the background hum of a radio instead of the in-your-face cacophony of a rock concert.
The only time Yamada isn’t loud is when they’re in the astronomy tower.
People don’t normally come with him when he goes up there in the evenings or very early mornings, but Yamada only hesitates momentarily before asking if he can come with. Shōta shrugs and says he can – on the condition that he isn’t disruptive. So far, Yamada’s managed to stick to that condition.
In fact, Shōta kind of likes having Yamada in the astronomy tower with him. While Shōta’s never been in the habit of feeling lonely, it’s sort of nice to have someone with him on the chillier, darker nights.
“You just like having me here because you suck at warming charms,” Yamada jokes, the tip of his nose a little red despite said warming charm as the late November chill nips at the two of them.
“It’s the only reason I married you,” Shōta replies dryly. Yamada laughs at that, but for some reason it sounds just a little forced.
“Yep,” Yamada says. “The only reason.”
The thing is, Shōta thinks he’s starting to like Yamada, just a little. Yamada’s always been physically attractive – Shōta’s never tried to deny that – but lately Shōta’s been noticing all sorts of little things about him. For such an energetic person, he’s remarkably gentle with animals, and Mocha’s definitely taken a liking to him. He has a strange laugh that always makes Shōta think of a flock of birds, but although it’s strange, it’s not unpleasant. Shōta likes hearing it. In fact, Shōta likes causing it.
Maybe, he thinks, as he watches Yamada look up at the dark, star-spotted sky, he actually likes Yamada.
Not that it matters much, whether he maybe, sort of likes Yamada or not. After all, Yamada spent a good few months making a joke out of finding Shōta attractive. While Kayama still claims that Yamada was at least partially serious when doling out compliments during qudditch matches, Shōta’s less than convinced. After all, Yamada apologized for everything he said.
In fact, not only did he apologize – he’s also stuck to his promise of not making those sorts of comments during matches anymore.
They’re playing Slytherin today, and so far Gryffindor’s wiping the floor with them. Last year, Slytherin’s strength was mostly with their seventh years, and with them gone now, the team is full of holes. Sure, Todoroki is a good seeker, but their new keeper is fresh faced and rash. It’s only been half an hour, but the score’s already up 50-0, a complete antithesis of their last game against Ravenclaw.
In fact, in comparison to the neck-and-neck tension of the Ravenclaw game, Shōta finds this match almost boring. He does his duty as keeper, and occasionally the Slytherin chasers make things interesting with a risky shot or complex play, but Shōta never finds himself truly worried about whether he’ll be able to block a shot.
For a moment, he finds himself wishing that Yamada would make a flirtatious comment, just so that he’d have something to listen to. It’s a little strange to hear Yamada be so professional as he commentates on the match. He hasn’t entirely lost his energy or showmanship, but there’s something dimmed about it, and Shōta’s certain he’s not the only one that’s noticed.
Still, he got what he wanted, didn’t he? No more distractions.
The match doesn’t really get interesting until Todoroki catches sight of the snitch. He dives towards the ground, and for a second Shōta thinks it’s a feint, but then he catches a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. Yagi catches up to Todoroki only a moment later, and from there on out it’s a battle of the seekers.
The chase only takes about six minutes, but it feels like it goes on for much longer than that. The Slytherin chasers attempt two score twice during that time, probably hoping that Shōta will be distracted, but neither attempt is successful. Shōta feels a smug sort of satisfaction each time he blocks the quaffle and sees the frustration on the opposing players’ faces grow.
In the end, it’s Yagi who catches the snitch in a lightning fast move that almost sends him toppling off his broom.
200-0. What a humiliating score.
Through the cheering and booing, it takes Shōta a moment to realize that he actually managed it – a perfect game. Somehow, it feels less satisfying than he’d expected it to. There was no tension, really, no doubt about whether he’d achieve it. The match was just too boring.
He can’t help but glance over at where Yamada is in the stands, announcing Gryffindor’s victory. Shōta’s too far away to really make out Yamada’s expression, but he does see Yamada glance over at him. However, as soon as Yamada’s eyes land on him, Yamada cuts himself off in the middle of a sentence and yells, “Aizawa – !”
Shōta doesn’t hear the rest, because something hits him in the back of the head and everything goes black.
---
Shōta wakes up in the hospital wing.
He groans, squinting against the bright light flooding the room. His head is pounding and the base of his skull throbs periodically. For a moment, he’s disoriented, trying to remember what exactly happened.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Shūzenji Chiyo, the school nurse, says, coming over to his bed. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Aizawa Shōta,” Shōta answers easily, and Nurse Shūzenji nods, making a note on her chart.
“Can you tell me what date it is?” she asks.
“Friday, November 18th,” Shōta says, relieved that the information comes to him without too much difficulty.
“And do you remember what you were doing before you fell unconscious?” Nurse Shūzenji asks, studying him carefully.
“I was – ” Shōta starts, pausing for a moment to think. “I was playing quidditch against Slytherin. We won and then…”
And then he let himself get distracted by Yamada again, even though Yamada didn’t even say anything this time.
“Something hit me in the head,” he finishes. Then again, he’d probably have been able to figure out that much based on the throbbing in his head alone.
“Good,” Nurse Shūzenji says, nodding. “You’re well oriented, so your concussion isn’t too severe.”
“What hit me?” Shōta asks.
“A bludger,” Nurse Shūzenji replies and Shōta winces reflexively. He’s been hit by bludgers before, but never in the head.
Nurse Shūzenji performs a few more tests, shining a pen-light in his eyes and making him track the movement of her finger, before seeing if he can walk in a straight line. Thankfully he passes all the tests with relative ease, and she declares that his concussion isn’t too severe. His head is still throbbing, though, and even when she turns down the lights, it feels too bright.
“You have a visitor,” Nurse Shūzenji tells him, once she’s done with her tests and has made him sit back down on the bed.
Shōta’s mind immediately goes to Yamada, but it’s Kayama who comes into the hospital wing, plopping herself down into the chair next to his hospital bed.
“So, how much brain damage do you have?” she asks without preamble.
“Not much,” Shōta snorts. “Nurse Shūzenji just wants to monitor me overnight.”
“Good, we can’t lose our star keeper,” Kayama says, but her smile is soft, betraying her relief. “Especially not after you just played a perfect game. Congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Shōta mumbles. “I know I got hit by a bludger, but what exactly happened?”
“Todoroki Enji happened,” Kayama snorts. “He was so pissed about the final score that he tried to hit Yagi with a bludger, but his aim is shit so it hit you instead. You were too busy making heart-eyes at your boyfriend to notice.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Shōta protests, his cheeks heating.
“Does he know that?” Kayama asks, arching an eyebrow at Shōta. “Because he’s in detention right now for breaking Todoroki’s nose. He has a pretty good right hook.”
“What?” Shōta blurts out, trying to process what Kayama just said.
“Yeah, I didn’t think he had it in him either,” Kayama says.
“No, I mean – why?” Shōta asks, frowning. “Why would he – ?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that he likes you before it gets through your thick skull?” Kayama huffs. “Although I guess you must have a pretty thick skull if you survived a bludger to the head with only a mild concussion.”
Shōta glares at her.
“Seriously,” Kayama says. “I don’t think Yamada would punch Todoroki out for just anyone.”
For a moment, Shōta thinks that maybe she’s right.
---
Shōta’s simultaneously attempting to read a book on Jupiter’s moons and fighting a headache when Yamada finally bursts into the hospital wing. He looks like a complete mess, his hair in disarray and his robes covered in chalk dust.
“You’re awake!” he exclaims as soon as his eyes land on Shōta, his expression brightening.
“Lower your voice,” Shōta grumbles, wincing slightly.
“Shit, sorry,” Yamada replies, speaking more quietly as he sits down in the chair next to Shōta’s hospital bed. “So, what’s the verdict?”
“Mild concussion,” Shōta answers. “I have to stay overnight, but that’s just a precaution.”
“Good, that’s – good,” Yamada says, biting his lower lip.
“So,” Shōta drawls. “I hear you broke Todoroki’s nose.”
Yamada stiffens up for a second, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses.
“I did it because you’re my friend!” Yamada blurts out, catching Shōta off guard. “Not because I like you! Well, not just because I like you. I know you’re not comfortable with – I mean, I wasn’t trying to defend your honor or anything – ”
“You like me?” Shōta interrupts, staring at Yamada.
Yamada stares back.
“Well, yeah,” Yamada replies.
“As in, you want to date me,” Shōta clarifies, still staring.
“I literally announced it to the entire school during quidditch matches,” Yamada says, looking at Shōta like he’s some sort of idiot. “You even told me to stop because it was making you uncomfortable.”
“I thought you were joking,” Shōta replies.
“What? Why would I do that?” Yamada asks, sounding bewildered.
“So that I’d be distracted during matches and mess up,” Shōta answers, the words awkward in his mouth now that he’s actually saying them aloud.
“You’re – ” Yamada starts. “Kind of paranoid, aren’t you?”
“It makes more sense than you announcing to the entire school that you like me,” Shōta mutters, his cheeks heating.
“God, you’re such a Gryffindor,” Yamada snorts, a wry smile on his face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shōta asks, bristling.
“Ever Slytherin knows that there are two ways two control a scandal,” Yamada answers, slumping back into his chair. “One way is to keep it a secret. The second is to announce it to the world.” Hizashi gives Shōta a sharp smile, and for the first time Shōta truly sees the Slytherin in him. “And I’ve never been good at keeping my mouth shut.”
“A scandal?” Shōta repeats, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“They’ve cracked down on blackmail in Slytherin, just like they’ve cracked down on hazing in Gryffindor, but it’s still a problem,” Yamada explains. “Someone found out about my crush on you and said they’d tell you if I didn’t do their Charms homework for them, so I just decided to tell you first.”
“But you didn’t just say it once,” Shōta points out, frowning.
“I dunno, making it part of my announcer routine made me feel less pathetic, you know?” Yamada replies, shrugging. “People thought it was funny, and I could sort of desensitize myself to it.”
“Oh,” Shōta says awkwardly.
“I’m not expecting anything from you,” Yamada assures Shōta quickly. “I mean, I thought you knew already. I’d like it if we could still be friends, though – ”
“I like you too,” Shōta says simply.
Yamada stares at him.
“You what?” Yamada asks, disbelief clear in his tone. Shōta lets out a little huff, his cheeks heating.
“I like you,” he repeats. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I thought you were just joking about finding me attractive.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Yamada says, a smile spreading slowly across his face as he makes a show of looking Shōta up and down. “I’m definitely attracted to you.”
Shōta’s cheeks flush an even darker shade of red, but he finds himself unable to break eye contact with Yamada, caught in his bright green eyes.
“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” Yamada asks suddenly.
“I won’t go to Madam Puddifoot’s,” Shōta says slowly. “But we could go to the Three Broomsticks.”
Yamada’s face splits into a grin and Shōta can’t help but smile back.
---
“And it’s another perfectly executed save by my boyfriend!” Hizashi announces, his voice booming through the quidditch pitch.
Shōta still sort of wants to strangle him. He’d promised Hizashi that he could make two embarrassing comments per match, though.
(And maybe he kind of, possibly likes it when Hizashi calls him his boyfriend. Just a little.)