Quidditch & Marking
De Amore Et Bello
Chapter 10
🍺⚡💥
Previously on De Amore Et Bello:
“Can I … um, can I hug you?” Sirius looks nervous. “I fear if I ask for a kiss, you’d punch me.”
“So you do have some instincts. And some braincells.” Sirius grins at him sheepishly. “Very well, give me a hug. I must warn you though, this hug will be a turning point on whether or not we can continue with this. I’m a cuddler.” Harry says, just to see Sirius’s mouth drop open. He’s not disappointed. Sirius’s jaw practically touches the floor and his eyes bulge, his face going red. Harry realises where Sirius’s mind is wandering and snorts. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Black. Give me a hug before I change my mind. Hurry, I’m not getting any younger here.”
Sirius takes a step forward, dropping his bag to the floor. Harry does the same, feeling Sirius wrap his arms around his shoulders, drawing him into his embrace. Harry relaxes, burying his face in Sirius’s chest, sighing softly in content. Sirius is like a furnace and his body heat makes Harry feel warm and nice. He feels reluctant to pull away, but he has to lest he give in to the male. Pulling back, he smiles at Sirius and reaches down to take his bag and walks into the library.
He can still feel Sirius’s eyes even when he’s gone, and Harry’s sat down and started reading about runes.
Placing his hand to his chest, he blushes. His heart is going haywire inside him.
🍺⚡💥
Tuesday, September 10th, 1977
In the Headmasters office, Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore is sitting in his chair, seething at the latest report about their campaign to tighten creature laws. Their tracking charm on creatures was forfeited. The charm would’ve tracked every spell, every slightest hint of magic they used, where they went and what they were doing. It was sugar caked as a simple charm for protection, but Dumbledore wanted it to be more useful. It’d help the Ministry wrangle the filthy beasts into their rightful places. Having a werewolf in the school was already disgusting enough but Remus Lupin was useful in the long run. Dumbledore needed him for his future plans.
His old, crooked finger ran down the new parchment he’d shifted onto his desk. A marriage contract between Lilian Evans and James Charlus Potter. He’d gotten the mudblood’s parents signatures easily enough, imperio-ing them to sign with their blood. Obliviating them was easy enough. The mudblood’s sister was gone, out due to school, so it was easy breaking in. The mudblood’s offered no resistance to his spells. Now, Potter’s parents would be more difficult. The mother was less difficult, not being in work as she retired as a healer in Potter’s third year. His father was harder. He was an Auror, not easily caught off guard and more receptive to spells and Obliviates.
In addition, the Potter Lordship ring was known to counteract the Imperious curse easily. So, that was another line cut. Dumbledore scowled when Fawkes struck up that stupid grieving trill he always did when Dumbledore pulled out his more … suspicious documents.
“Be quiet!” Dumbledore snarled. Fawkes eyed him. The bird turned away and Dumbledore shot a curse when he started up once more. Fawkes took flight, feathers ruffling in distress and offense. When he landed on his perch once more, he was blissfully silent. Dumbledore scoffed harshly. He’d kill the daft bird, but the phoenix’s powers aided him, making his core more powerful. If he were to sever the illegal bond between them, he’d lose a significant amount of his power. Scowling once more, he hunches down over his desk and drags out the other incriminating contracts between several people.
A smug smirk graces his face.
Soon, he thought, soon the wizarding world will be at my feet. He’d do what the idiot wizard Grindelwald couldn’t. He’d take over the world and nothing would stop him. He’d kill anyone who tried.
🍺⚡💥
Wednesday, September 11th, 1977
As soon as their second free period of the week starts, they all go and head towards the Quidditch pitch, chatting as they walk. Sirius and Remus had asked if they could join, and Harry had hesitated before being faced with Sirius’s puppy dog eyes and had agreed. He hadn’t expected James and Peter to tag along, hurrying after them with a carefree grin on James’ face. Peter’s glancing over his shoulder surreptitiously every minute, wetting his lips as if nervous. They must be skipping class.
Harry snorts and summons his broom, the wood of the handle hitting his palm with a thud minutes later. Draco summons his as well, the twins doing the same. Harry had ordered everyone that wanted one in their group the top notch quality brooms despite their protests that they had the money and gifted it to them at the end of the day yesterday. It just made the excitement and anticipation of today’s free period more visceral.
Harry reaches into his pocket and tugs out a snitch, holding the golden ball up to the light. Sun glints off it and splinters across his face, making his eyes look almost regal in quality. It’s a nice weather for Quidditch, sunny but there’s a light breeze in the air. “Come on, Harry, throw the snitch.” Draco calls, climbing onto his broom and shooting off into the air, spinning around sharply. Even so far away Harry knows he’s staring at him, one blonde eyebrow arched.
Snickering, Harry summons some bats and a bludger, throwing it up into the air. The marauders head of to the stands and sit on the third row of seats, staring at them. Handing the bats off to the twins, Harry let go of the snitch, watching it flitter off and climber onto his broom. He kicked off, the impact sending him spinning and he laughed as he rose higher and higher before suddenly stopping and pushing himself backwards in an arch. It was just like one would do a backflip, though he plummeted to the floor as such a speed Draco had to move out of the way to avoid crashing into him. Harry giggled as he got closer and closer to the ground.
Someone shouted his name. Harry ignored them, pulling up sharply, his feet just about skidding against the floor. The person that’d screamed his name began exclaiming in awe as the marauders cheered. Harry looped through the air, doing tips and tricks he’d learned throughout the years and spun sharply around after five minutes of goofing off. He was near the highest stand and his eyes rove over the pitch, looking for that golden ball.
“Nice Wronskei Faint, Har!” Draco exclaimed as soon as he was close enough, jerking his broom sharply to the side, making him stop next to Harry. Harry grinned at him.
“Thanks, Dray. I’ve been practicing.” Harry told him, eyes going to the pitch, roving over the Quidditch pitch, his lips thinning when the glint of the golden snitch doesn’t immediately jump out to him. Draco makes a noise, eyes focused on something in the stands. Harry shifts his broom to the side, peering down, eyes squinting to focus, seeing a dark haired figure staring up at the sky. Even so far down Harry knows that he’s focused on Draco.
“You should talk to him.” Harry murmured. Draco glanced at him, gnawing at his lips. There’s a spark of frustration in his eyes.
“You’ve already told me this, Harry!” Draco snapped. Harry frowned at him.
“Don’t talk to me like that, Draco.” Harry said coldly, pointing his broom down at the floor. Harry could hear Draco shouting his name as he sped away, veering sharply around the goal posts, getting out the frustration. Draco had told him he’d stop acting that way, like he was when he was younger. Of course, he acted like that sometimes, but it was in a teasing way that Harry knew he wasn’t serious but this … he meant it. Maybe it was frustration, but Harry was tired of being pushed around all his life.
There’s a breeze as someone stops next to him. The familiar sigh makes it known that it’s Draco. “I’m sorry okay? He just … he won’t talk to me, won’t look at me—”
“Draco, he could hardly take his eyes off you in Potions.” Draco tenses. “He wants something from you. That’s better than nothing, okay?” Draco nods, sighing heavily once more.
“I’m scared that after he finds out we’re soulmates, he’s not going to want me. Severus in our time loathed the thought of his soulmate. And I … I know he wished it were Lily Evans. What if it’s the same thing here? What if he doesn’t want me and wants Evans?” His voice sounds unsure, insecure in the thought of Severus’s feelings. Harry knows all the what ifs? are running through his mind, solidifying the idea that Severus didn’t want him. That Severus wanted Lily Evans more.
“Draco …” Harry started. “You never know until you try.”
“I—I can’t. He rejection … Harry, soulmate rejection is agony.” Draco’s voice breaks. He brings a hand up to his face and wipes at the tears teetering on the edges of his vision. Harry reaches out and cards his fingers through Draco’s soft hair, dipping his broom closer. Draco sniffles and Harry tucks a strand of hair behind Draco’s ear.
“He’d be stupid to reject you, understand me, Draco Lucius Malfoy?” Harry ducked his head to stare better into Draco’s eyes. Draco mustered a shaky smile. “Besides, I don’t think he’d reject you. If you don’t believe in yourself that you’re good enough for him, then believe in me. You are good enough for Severus Snape, okay?” Draco nods jerkily.
“O-Okay.”
“Okay.” Harry repeated, smile turning mischievous. “Now, let’s play Quidditch. I’m going to beat your ass, Draco!” Harry zipped away, laughing. Draco exclaimed, sounding better, voice not so wet with tears, veering after him. Harry turned his head to see how far Draco was behind him and caught sight of a golden blur near the stands, just where the marauders were sitting. Harry grinned, shooting his broom down to the floor.
“He’s caught sight of the snitch!” Fred squeaked. “Get him!” Harry laughed as he dodged bludgers being hit his way by the twins bats. Harry sees the snitch veering right in front of the marauders, Sirius, and James startingly back at the wings that almost hit them in the face. Harry reared around sharply, until he can fly straight on to the pitch instead of straight on into the stands. He flied after it, seeing it raise slightly as if ready to fly away just as he came in contact with it.
Like his very first Quidditch match, a storm of nostalgia rising inside him, he begins to stand. Unlike then, he doesn’t wobble, hand outstretched. James exclaimed when he sees him, grabbing Sirius’s arms and shaking it excitedly. Harry’s eyes were focused on the snitch, and he leaned forward, snatching it out of the air as soon as it looked like it was going to jump further into the air. Though like his first match, he leans too far, and he plummeted forward. Sirius cried out, jumping up and reaching out like he was going to catch him.
Harry used the last bit of his momentum to jump, falling down. He grasped his broom as he fell, it falling with him when it’s sensed its rider no longer on it. Harry laughed as he spun, moving his broom until he could sit on it, the broom levelling out just as his broom almost smashed into the floor. Harry shot up, the marauders jumping back from where they’d leaned over to see if he were alright.
Sirius shouted in excitement. “That’s my soulmate!” Sirius roars. Harry turned his broom to face him and grinned widely. Despite Sirius not having done the month of trial period, Harry felt the warmth in his chest overbrim. He felt the chord of magic between them glowing in elation and pushed some of the happiness he was feeling towards Sirius. From where he was, Sirius gasped and clapped a hand to his chest. Then a beaming grin spread along his face, ignoring James and Remus asking him what was wrong worriedly, eyes focused on Harry.
“Hell, yeah, Harrikins, that was wicked!” Fred and George chime, stopping next to him. Harry grinned and high fived both of them. Together, they descended onto the pitches floor, the marauders racing over to them.
“That was amazing!” James cried, fist bumping the air. Remus started talking to Charlie, the male lighting up at his soulmates attention on him, even if the latter wasn’t aware of Charlie being his soulmate. Harry smiled softly, surprised when Sirius gently gripped his wrist and lead him away.
“What was that with Altair?” Sirius asked, eyes showing his jealously.
“What was what?” Harry asked, slightly confused.
“You—you touching his hair. Tucking it behind his ear. I’m not blind you know?” Sirius said. His excitement from Harry’s catch seemed to dim. “I’m supposed to be your soulmate, not Altair.”
“His name is Draco, Black, use it.” Harry snarled. How dare Sirius talk to him this way? Harry could hug and touch his friends however he liked! There wasn’t anything but platonic and brotherly feelings behind it.
“Back to Black?” Sirius said, voice showing his hurt. “I thought … you and I … seems nothing has changed …” Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“What are you talking about, Sirius?” Harry demanded, frustration colouring his tone.
“You—touching his hair. That’s not something you do with friends! I don’t touch Remus’s hair. I don’t touch James’s hair and I sure as hell don’t touch Peter’s hair—”
“What about Regulus, Sirius, do you touch his hair when he’s in need of comfort?” Harry growled, feeling like stomping his foot in anger. Sirius looked taken aback. Harry sighed. “Do you touch Regulus’s hair when he’s upset to calm him down?” Harry repeated, tone softening. Sirius bites his lip.
“Yeah, I mean—but he’s my brother.”
Harry sighs once more. “Sirius, all intense and purposes, Draco and I may not be blood related, but he is my brother, okay?” Harry murmured. “There’s nothing going on between us. It’s all platonic, brotherly. You have nothing to worry about. Draco needed comfort because though things are going well with my soulmate, it isn’t with his. Do you understand now? You’re my soulmate and Draco has his.” Tension melts from Sirius’s shoulders.
“I—I’m sorry I—I presumed.”
“I forgive you.” Harry whispered. He glanced behind him, seeing the marauders walking off, Charlie, Bill and the twins trotting after them. Draco looked towards them; expression curious. Harry shook his head and Draco nodded, jogging to catch up with the others. Harry looked back to Sirius, who’s head was hanging low.
A small smile graced Harry’s face and he dropped his broom to the ground, Sirius looking up at the sound. He let out a gasp when Harry threw his arms around Sirius’s shoulders, hugging him tight. He had to go on his tiptoes to reach him. Sirius lets out a breath Harry hadn’t even realised he’d been holding, wounding his arms around Harry’s waist, tugging him into Sirius’s chest. Harry’s feet left the floor, just hovering over the grass. Releasing a breath of content, Harry buried his face in Sirius’s shoulder.
“Believe me, Sirius, there is nothing going on with any of my friends. They’re like my brothers. It’d be like … like incest.” Harry shudders at the thought. Sirius’s chest rumbles with a laugh and it reverberates through Harry. “Despite us—or well you, I guess—being on a trial period, right now, you are still my soulmate. I don’t want to lose that.”
“I don’t either.” Sirius whispered. Harry smiled, tugging himself back. Sirius let him go and Harry’s feet touched the floor once more.
“Then we won’t. Now, let’s go after the others. I’m hungry after all that flying.” Harry said. Sirius grinned and offered an arm.
“Shall we, Heir Peverell-Pendragon-Gryffindor.”
“Lord actually.” Harry corrected. Sirius’s eyes widened before a smirk graces his face.
“You are incredible, my soul.” Harry blushed, Sirius’s eyes roving over it. His smirk spread wider. He pushed his arm out a little wider. “Alright. Shall we, Lord Peverell-Pendragon-Gryffindor?” Harry smiled, linking his arm with Sirius’s.
“We shall, Heir Black.”
Together, they headed to the Great Hall for lunch, their bond thrumming happily in their chests.
🍺⚡💥
Cyrus was eating his breakfast, eyes going to the end of the Slytherin table where the twins and his friends were speaking, laughing as they traded words. Cyrus’s lips thin as he glances around himself. No one’s sitting beside him. He sighed and lowered his head, only looking up when there’s a loud caw from the owls flying through the Great Hall, depositing letters to their owners. He’s surprised when a letter dropped onto the table, right next to his plate of toast, eyebrows raising.
The owl lands next to the letter, beginning to preen it’s feathers. Cyrus examined the bird, paling when he recognises it as the Malfoy family’s owl. He reached for the letter hastily, ripping it open with bated breath.
Cyrus,
I’m writing to you today to tell you that Belladonna is pushing me towards disowning you. As a Malfoy, you are entitled to claim an Heirship and since you have not, nor expressed any desire too, it would be just to do a disowning as you are not taking your role as a Malfoy seriously. Despite that, I am hesitant towards disowning.
It would be painful. You’ll have your family magic ripped from you. Since we do not know your parentage, apart from me, and it was never specified since you were left on the Malfoy manor doorstep, I do not know how it would affect your own magic core specifically.
Belladonna is insistent on your disowning. I do not believe it would be safe for you to come home for Christmas. Your brother Lucius will be staying as well. I have not yet heard from Xenophilius yet, but I will send out a letter for him not to come as soon as I finish writing this.
Know this, Cyrus, though I do not know your parentage and I do not remember your other parent as I have no memory of enacting infidelity, you are still my son. You are still a Malfoy in name and in blood.
If you would immediately contact me regarding your Heirship and whether you want to take it, I would like to know your decision. Hopefully this anonymity between Belladonna and you passes. It would not due dwell to fester in hatred in these trying times.
I await your owl and response.
Lord Abraxas Malfoy, of the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy.
Cyrus released his breath. He wasn’t surprised with Belladonna’s acts of wanting him out of the family, but he was surprised that Abraxas was so hesitant on disowning him. He hadn’t thought his father had cared much for him but apparently he was wrong. Abraxas had always seemed so dismissive of him. Another thing wrong he supposed. He’d never much leaned towards examining people and trying to get the most out of meetings like Abraxas and Lucius, he’d rather have his books and his quill to write.
He startled when someone sat next to him. “Hey, gorgeous.” One of the twins cooed. Cyrus peered at him, finding himself knowing who it was despite his mistake before. He hadn’t properly seen Fred, so he’d mistaken him for the twin he had met and seen closer before. He knew this was Fred. Just like he was sure he’d know if it was George that’d sat beside him.
“Fred.” He grumbled. Fred looked surprised. Cyrus snorted before sobering. “Why do you call me that?”
“What—gorgeous?” Cyrus nodded. Fred smirked at him. “Because you are. Gorgeous.” Cyrus blushed, cursing his pale skin for making it more promising. “May I?” Fred asked, face back to serious as he extended a hand for the letter. Cyrus tugged it away abruptly before he realised what he was doing, seeing Fred tug back. “Uh, sorry. Bit too soon, huh?” He chuckled awkwardly.
“No—no, you just … you, erm, startled me is all. Here.” Cyrus handed the letter to him. He watched as Fred began reading, expression going raged before softening a little as he read on. When Fred was finished, he sat the letter next to Cyrus’s plate.
“What’re you going to do?” He asked. Cyrus shrugged, playing with his tie a little. A small pondering frown appeared on his face.
“I don’t know.” Cyrus whispered. “I suppose I have to take the Heirship. It’d make it harder for Belladonna to push father to disown me.”
Fred frowned harder. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I appreciate it, Fred, but I have no choice.” Cyrus stood and gathered his letter, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. “I can’t escape this. I’m just going to have to shoulder through it. That’s my life. Always has been, always will be.” Cyrus began to walk away when someone gripped his wrist, fingers twisted in the sleeve of his slightly oversized robe. The Ravenclaw could feel the warmth through the fabric. He turned, seeing Fred holding out a small jam pastry with his free hand. “W-What …?”
“You didn’t eat much of your breakfast. You’ll be hungry. Here.” Cyrus frowned, eyes going to his plate. Indeed there was only around three or four bites out of one piece. The other was completely untouched. “For me?” Cyrus’s eyes snap back to Fred’s puppy eyes and he caved, taking it. Their fingers brush and Cyrus gasps, dropping the pastry. It would’ve smashed into the floor if Fred hadn’t caught it.
“S-Soulmate.” Cyrus breathes, hand holding his forearm. Fred grinned widely.
“Good. I was hoping it would be you.” Fred stands and holds out the pastry once more. Cyrus takes it, eyes still wide, staring up at the red-head.
“Y-You …”
“Allow me to escort you to class? My soulmate needs only the best of course.” Fred reaches out when Cyrus nods shakily. His arm goes around Cyrus’s shoulders, tugging him into Fred’s chest. There’s a pressure on his hair when Fred kisses the crown of his head. “I’ve been wanting to do that since last time.”
“R-Really?” Cyrus whispered. It seemed surreal. He’d never thought he’d meet his soulmate—never thought he was good enough for a soulmate. Belladonna had always said it cruelly when she’d come across him. That he was too dirty, too tainted, too much of a bastard for his soulmates to want him let alone enough to have one.
“Oh, yeah, gorgeous. You’re mine now.” Cyrus feels a smile grace his face unbiddenly, and he doesn’t try to pull away when Fred takes his bag, waving to his friend group as he steers Cyrus to the exit of the Great Hall. “So tell me about yourself, gorgeous.”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to …” Cyrus begins talking, more animated than he’s been in a very long time, his hands flittering about. He doesn’t see Fred’s fond eyes on him nor the wondered tilt to his smile. Cyrus is just busy talking and bonding with Fred—with his soulmate.
Suddenly the letter doesn’t seem so important anymore. Suddenly, Belladonna and his father aren’t as pressing as before. His whole focus is on Fred, his whole worlds shifted to him. Though he’s found his soulmate, he still can’t help but feel stilted, like somethings missing.
Something or someone.