The Slytherin Transfer

19: "No foul play my ass."

The weekend soon comes, and Friday night brings a common room full of excited fans and nervous players. I sit next to Sirius on the couch, one knee pulled up to my chest as James paces in front of me, staring at the endless strategies scribbled down on the parchment in his hands. Marcus and Caradoc are probably the only two not gathered around James in an anxious wreck, and that's because they're doing their 'Four Lucky Beers' tradition. Some superstition they follow like a religion, drinking every night before a game.

The only thing keeping me calm is Sirius, who is drawing circles on the knee I'm not grasping onto for dear life. As usual I push down any butterflies I feel and just hope it will all blow over eventually, because I know that it will only end up with me getting hurt. It's just not something I want to get involved in, but right now my odds aren't looking so good.

This past week, I feel like Sirius has really been trying to get with me. Not just a hook up, but he goes out of his way to spend time with me. I want to ask why, but I'm afraid I'll scare him away, and I enjoy his company too much to put our friendship at risk. I like what we have, even if we can never be more. As much as my emotions tell me I want to.

I have a crush on Sirius Black, and there's nothing I can do about it.

In spite of myself, and just to prove how little pride I have left, when I feel myself getting tired, I lean on Sirius's shoulder. I feel him tense up, and then he puts his arm around me and I nuzzle into his chest, just taking advantage of what I've got while it lasts. I let my eyes close, and just listen to James chatter on to the remainder of the team while Sirius starts drawing circles on my shoulder instead. I once again find myself breathing in his scent, tobacco and vanilla overwhelming my senses and making me dizzy with desire. I want so badly to open my eyes and kiss him, but I know better. I have to keep control.

Then soon I'm lying on his lap, and his hand is combing through my hair. I'm still awake as most of the players go to bed, leaving just James sitting down in an arm chair and running both his hands through his already tussled hair.

"Relax, mate," Sirius says, watching his best friend torture himself, "I'm sure you guys will do fine."

"We have to win this game, Padfoot." James groans, "It's my first game as captain, and I've been running them all so hard. If we lose it'll all be for nothing."

"That's not true," I say, "We play Quidditch because we like the sport, it's not all about winning . . . although that would be nice."

James just groans again, and I sit up, yawning as Sirius makes a noise of protest.

"We should sleep, unless you'd rather stay up and continue this self destructive behaviour," I say as I stand up, patting James on the back as I head for the stairs, "Your choice."

"See you in the morning," James grumbles as he too stands up and heads for the dorms, leaving me to lean on the wall by the staircase and watch him go. Sirius then stands up and approaches me. I don't back down as he walks up to me and puts his arm on the wall above me, the other one stuffed in his pocket as I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask softly, a small smirk tugging at my lips as he looks down at me, his hair framing his face perfectly from where I stand and stare up at him. Into his stormy grey eyes, which I've noticed always have that twinkle in them when we make eye contact. I feel my heart jump as he slowly leans in, and I force my eyes to not flutter closed, wanting his lips on mine.

But he just swoops his head down, his lips by my ear.

"Good luck tomorrow, Milton," he whispers, and my nails dig into my skin as my heart beat picks up, "I'll be cheering you on from the stands."