❝HOW COME YOU NEVER TRIED FOR SEEKER?❞
❝I ENJOYED AIMING BLUDGERS AT YOU TOO MUCH.❞
The Gryffindor Quidditch Team finally has some real competition. And Harry Potter is totally conflicted.
warning: this book has many mature, NSFW scenes that contrib...
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HARRY WONDERED IF he had ever felt so happy in his entire life. After dropping off Indiana at the Slytherin Commons (they had stood outside the doors snogging for a solid fifteen minutes), Harry had journeyed back up to Gryffindor Tower unable to contain to euphoric grin that had situated itself onto his face. He purposefully left his shirt unbuttoned (Indiana's work) and his tie loosened (also Indiana's work) as he walked in an attempt to preserve the night, and although he knew that his hair probably looked a wreck, he wanted to stay frozen in time for a moment.
He couldn't believe he'd ever say this, but he couldn't wait to tell Ron everything. And Hermione. And probably Dean and Seamus. And hell, even Neville. And probably the entire world because he— Harry James Potter — had a thing with Indiana fucking Jones and it was exclusive and god he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
He couldn't wait to show her Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark and see her reaction to someone sharing her name. He couldn't wait to bring her to Surrey and show her the zoo where he let the snake loose. To go to Hogsmeade with her... to hold her hand... to play Quidditch on the same team...!
"What's up with you?" Ron said accusingly when Harry sauntered into his dorm in the middle of night. For a moment, Harry thought Ron had waited up for him, but it seemed Ron had simply woken up in time to see the giddy-boy enter the room.
"Nothing's up," Harry said vaguely, crossing the room, tossing his Invisibility Cloak and the map onto his bed before flopping down onto his back. Ron said nothing, but Harry had the impression that he was looking at him oddly. "I've just had a brilliant day."
"Did you... take Liquid Luck again?" Ron asked hesitantly. Harry lightly laughed.
"No, just happy," he said simply. "Weird, right?"
"Let me guess," Ron mused quietly. Harry flipped over onto his stomach to glance up at Ron through his crooked glasses, tugging at his tie and tossing it over his shoulder. Ron's eyes flicked over at where the curtains were drawn around Neville's bed. He then mouthed, "Jones?"
Harry grinned again. Hummed in agreement. Ron snickered.
"Bloody whipped, are you?" Ron stated, turning onto his side. "I'm going to bed."
"You do that," Harry said absentmindedly. He sighed contently, reaching up to yank the curtains down around his bed before leaning against one of the bed posts. His eyes flickered to the window that was placed a bit above his headboard, the moon seeping in through the glass in silver-white stripes across his scarred knees and mismatched socks. The smiled adorned on his blotched-red face grew wider than ever when he ran his tongue across his lips; he could still taste her chapstick.
