The Love Of A Good Wizard

Love is the Sweetest Thing

It was amazing, Harry reflected, how little thought he'd given to Quidditch since he'd arrived in 1942. This occurred to him on his way to the Quidditch pitch for the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match on a crisp, late October afternoon.

He'd been made seeker, unsurprisingly, and while his impressive playing had earned him a lot of sudden interest from his fellow Slytherins, he found he was rather blasé about it. The problem was, of course, Tom - who had no interest whatsoever in Quidditch, considering it a stupid waste of time and barely less barbaric than a mud fight. Harry had insisted that it was fun, and Tom had finally relented and agreed to actually come and watch.

However, an hour into the game, Harry was almost in agreement with Tom. Ravenclaw suffered from a useless seeker and beaters so aggressive that they more often than not overshot their intended targets by a mile, taking chunks out of posts and the corners off stands. The snitch, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen, and Harry kept himself entertained watching Tom huddled in his coat high up in the stands, looking put out and bored, except when Harry hovered nearby and their eyes met. Minerva and Pansy were sitting next to him, cheering on Slytherin, to the confusion of most of the house.

When the snitch finally made its appearance, Harry had no trouble spotting it. He took off after it, and Ravenclaw's beaters did their best to dislodge him from his broom, but aside from his right knee being grazed by the quaffle, he ran into no trouble at all catching the snitch before the opposing seeker got anywhere near it.

A Slytherin win was declared, and the teams descended to subdued applause, with a handful of students rushing onto the grass. To Harry's horror, Myrtle - who, perhaps not surprisingly, had turned out to be a Slytherin - was running towards him. He was almost used to her 'living' presence by now, as she seemed to constantly hover wherever he went. Tom had been rather annoyed about it to begin with, but as Harry had just shrugged it off, he too had got used to it; in his own time, Harry imagined Myrtle would be considered a groupie. The thought nearly made him laugh out loud.

"Oh Harry, you were brilliant!" she shrieked.

Harry did his best to smile. "Thanks, Myrtle." When his eyes met Tom's over her shoulder, his smile softened into a real one.

"Congratulations, Harry," Tom said, striding past Myrtle to wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him in for a casual hug, while using the opportunity to whisper into his ear, "Seeing you in all that leather, straddling a broom, almost makes this blasted game worthwhile."

Harry blushed furiously and missed the start of the argument breaking out in front of them.

"Harry's ever so much better than your stupid seeker!" Myrtle was screeching.

One of Ravenclaw's beaters - the rather too muscular and altogether square Olive Hornby - was hissing at her. "He got lucky, Milligan." She glanced at Harry, then turned on Myrtle again. "And I don't know why you bother following him around like a puppy - it's not like he's ever going to give you a second look, you half-blind, stupid, ugly mudblood!"

Myrtle began to howl in a way scarily reminiscent of her undead wailings, and Harry shivered. He saw a few more students and professors, including Slughorn, approaching the scene of the quarrel, and was caught by surprise when Tom almost unnoticeably raised his hand and the Ravenclaw spun around as if yanked back.

"Shut your mouth, Hornby," Tom said quite calmly.

"Who are you defending, Riddle?" Hornby cackled. "Your boyfriend or a mudblood?"

When Tom merely stared at her icily, she backed down, suddenly looking scared. "50 points from Ravenclaw for provoking and insulting fellow students," Tom said. He noticed Harry's smile in the corner of his eye, and added, "And if I hear you hassling Milligan again, there'll be detentions as well."