Kiss Cam at Quidditch

Kiss Cam at Hogwarts

"Scared, Potter?" Malfoy flew over Harry's head faster than Harry could turn to look at him. It was the last game of the season--the last game of their seventh year at Hogwarts. Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied, 140-140, and the Snitch was still nowhere to be seen. The crowd's restless, anxious energy vibrated through the air and set Harry's teeth on edge. "You wish, Malfoy," he spat back, smirking at the blond through the shine of the sun in his glasses.

"Now boys, play nice," came the musing tone of Lee Jordan into the microphone, "Potter, I've got lots of money on this so let's stay focused, eh?" Harry grinned and diverted his attention from Malfoy, scanning the pitch for the flash of gold that would win Gryffindor the game and the House Cup. Nothing. Nothing. Where was that damned Snitch?

Harry was in his element today; he felt sleek and powerful and unstoppable. The wind ruffled his hair gently, cooling his perspiring face just enough to keep him comfortable. His red robes were stained from use. His Firebolt shook with his magic, helping him, searching....

"Oi, Potter!"

"Malfoy, you slimy git, maybe if you paid attention to seeking you'd be able to find the snitch for once," Harry called casually over his shoulder, not bothering to see the Slytherin's reaction. This had become a familiar game over the past year: tossing insults like Fizzing Whizbee's, smirks exchanged in passing, gentle shoves out of the way in the corridors. The interactions were strangely comforting; he and Malfoy had a grim understanding. Both had lost so much during the war, both were plagued by night terrors and flashbacks which left them gripping the edges of classroom tables as they relived battles and deaths. They'd often passed each other late at night, unable to sleep, and had even taken to walking silently side by side. The companionship was one of the few constants in Harry's life.

Since the war, his days had been a whirlwind of interviews, school, funerals, hearings, and tumultuous attempts to sleep. Ron and Hermione had dealt with their own problems, their own demons, and their own off-again, on-again relationship. Things with Ginny had ended rather poorly—something about him being "sweet, but emotionally exhausting", which Harry thought was ironic, because—

Oh fuck—

A bludger soared past his ear, close enough for him to hear the high-pitched whining, and all thoughts of Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the war vanished from his mind as he jolted back into action. He dropped down to crowd level and scanned feverishly, hoping to see the snitch glittering in the afternoon sun.

"Slytherin scores, 150-140!" Lee Jordan announced grudgingly amidst the groans and cheers of the crowd. "Any time now, Potter!" Harry set his jaw and flew diagonally across the pitch, glancing quickly at Ron's anxious form before bursting forward with newfound determination. A dull ringing reverberated in the back of his mind but he ignored it, eyes squinted, grinding his teeth, focused on the hunt but aware of the flashing red and green figures flying around him. "Oi, everybody! Kiss cam! One of the better Muggle inventions, I reckon," Lee Jordan snickered, "Although I have to say it'd be even better if it were more than a kiss—how would everyone like a—oh, sorry, Professor," he cut short, "Right, yeah, inappropriate, thanks." McGonagall's disapproving tone cut over the pitch and Harry chuckled despite his focus.

There! Hovering close to the ground, the snitch glittered as it twitched back and forth. Harry pushed the broom forward into a dive and tucked his legs in close, willing himself to go faster, faster, the snitch hummed happily and zoomed away and his arm was outstretched, his fingers were barely brushing it, he was dimly aware of Malfoy gaining on him but it didn't matter because he was going to catch it a triumphant grin plastered his face as his hand began to close--