Jon stared at the list posted outside the great hall and groaned. This was a disaster. This could not be happening. This… This… He grunted in surprise when a hand slapped against his back and he turned around and looked down at the grinning, evil, conniving face of his cousin.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you on the field, Jon.”
“Arya.”
“Don’t look so despondent, Jon. It’s about time someone gave you some competition.”
“Arya!” Jon looked up at the voice, watching as Sansa ran toward them, mouth split into a wide grin. “I just heard the good news! Seeker!” Sansa nearly barreled into her sister, hugging her tightly.
Arya beamed wildly at her. “I know, right?”
“You were a shoe-in,” Sansa replied. “No one in your house is as fast or agile as you on a broom.”
Arya turned to Jon and he took an instinctive step back from her. “Well, I had a great teacher.”
“Oh no,” Jon said, regaining his footing both metaphorically and figuratively. “Don’t you dare start spreading that around,” he continued, pointing a, frankly, ineffective finger at Arya. “I refuse to have the entire Gryffindor team calling me a traitor for training up the Slytherin’s newest Seeker. No.”
Arya batted her eyelashes at him. He flushed and huffed out an exasperated sigh. She gave him her devil puppy eyes. He gave an incomprehensible grumble of frustration and stomped away from her, shoulders hunching around his ears as he heard Arya’s loud cackles echoing behind him accompanied by Sansa’s more dignified chuckles.
He made a bee line for the Gryffindor common room, giving off as much tragic emo pissed off vibes as possible to avoid any and all conversations. The last thing he needed was someone like fucking Ramsay Bolton goading him into a fight in the middle of the hall. One more fight this term and he knew he’d be sent to the Headmaster, and that was just asking for a howler from Uncle Ned.
By some miracle he managed to make it to Fat Lady without incident and that’s about the time his luck ran out.
“Chocolate. Frog.” He ground out, again, and leveled his most hateful glare at the portrait.
“Yes, yes. I heard you the last four times,” the Fat Lady dismissed, waving a hand in the air. “I want to know what we’re going to do about your sister.”
Jon took a deep breath in, held it for two, and exhaled it for four before saying, “Not my sister. And chocolate. Frog.”
The Fat Lady sighed.
Jon growled.
Just as he was about to scream the password in her face the door swung open and steely blue eyes stopped him in his tracks. All at once he exhaled sharply and felt his anger drain away as he stared at the mane of red hair turning copper in the sunlight.
“Tormund, thank the Gods,” he said, relieved to be put out of his misery.
“There’s my little crow. We’ve been waiting for you.”
He stepped aside as Jon squeeze by him, his hand landing on his neck and trailing down to his back as he led him into the common room. “Sorry. I’ve been standing outside the painting trying to get in for the past five minutes. The Fat Lady wanted to know our quidditch strategy.”
“Well, she’s not the only one.”
Jon looked over to Robb sitting across one of the armchairs, his legs thrown over one side as he leaned against the other. Next to him on the couch were Pyp and Yara, both of them reading some of sort of magazine with a scantily dressed witch on the cover winking at Jon and blowing him a kiss. On the floor in front of them sat Ygritte, a long scroll taking up half the table in front of the fire, ink stains covering nearly a quarter of the parchment. On the other armchair, Loras was curled up against Renly, head resting on his shoulder and nose buried in his neck.
Tormud gave Jon a soft push and he nearly tripped over the edge of the rug. He glared behind him before stomping over to the other side of the table and flopping down to sit cross legged across from Ygritte.
“Stop brooding, Jon Snow. It’s distracting.”
He kicked her under the table and watched with grim satisfaction as more blotches of ink colored the parchment. He grinned as icy blue eyes snapped up to glare at him.
“Let’s not start you two,” Robb groaned from the armchair as he flipped over to sit on it properly. He leveled Jon a look before sighing. “So the rumors are true?”
Jon groaned. “Aye.”
The table rattled as Tormund unceremoniously flopped to the ground, one knee pressed against Jon’s forearm. Ygritte let out an incomprehensible string of words that were mostly unrepeatable curses.
“Is she really that good?” Tormund asked curiously.
“You know how you like to say I’m the fastest little crow you’ve ever seen?” Tormund turned and stared at him with steely blue eyes that clearly telegraphed he thought Jon was currently being an idiot. Jon rolled his eyes. “She’s like an evil fucking humming bird.”
“She’s very fast,” Robb agreed from the armchair, fingers clasped and chin resting against his fingers. “And she’s very cunning.”
“You’re going to have a hard time beating her off course,” Jon continued.
“But you’ve got more experience,” Pyp said as he turned the page of his magazine.
“Not to mention that the seeker is only one person on the team,” Yara commented even as she leaned over Pyp’s shoulder and made a cooing sound. “There have been plenty of matches won by the team that didn’t catch the Snitch. You should have more faith in us.”
Ygritte looked up then and grinned, something feral and hungry gleaming in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare!” Jon yelled even as she said “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”
“Argh!” he snapped as he dramatically fell backward and hid his face behind his palms. “I hate you so much, woman!”
She nudged his foot under the table. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do,” he replied, his voice muffled.
“Maybe we could transfigure a cup into a humming bird and try hurling bludgers at it.”
Six heads turned toward the armchair occupied by the two cuddling sixth years in various states of disbelief.
“That’s horrible!” Pyp and Jon exclaimed at the same time that Tormund, Ygritte, and Yara shouted, “That’s brilliant!”
“Huh,” Robb mumbled as he stared at Loras.
Jon stared at his cousin in horror. “Robb, you can’t be serious!”
“It’s not like it’s a real humming bird. It’s just a cup. That might work, Loras. At least for Yara and Tormund to practice bludgeoning my sister.” He chuckled softly at that. “Words I never thought I’d say. And we’ll have to figure out how to get Jon to be faster on his broom.”
“Weigh it down.” Jon turned his head to the side to stare at Tormund in confusion. “If your broom is heavier, you’ll learn to fly with a handicap. And when you don’t have the weight, you’ll be able to maneuver more easily.”
“That… might be worth a shot,” Jon agreed.
“Excellent,” Robb said as he pushed himself to his feet. “On that note, I’ll draw up some battle plans.”
“We’re not going to war, Robb,” Jon sighed.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear cousin. This war has been looming since the day Arya was sorted into Slytherin and it became apparent she would become their newest Seeker. But now, it begins.”
Jon watched as his cousin swept his robe to the side with a flourish and marched toward the stairs leading to the boys’ dormitories. He glanced at Tormund, who looked back at him with a smirk.
“You Starks are so dramatic.”
“You love it,” Jon said, grinning as Tormund leaned over and kissed him.
“Who said I was complaining?” he grinned back.
“Oy, you two,” Ygritte barked from across the table, her feet kicking them repeatedly despite their protests. “No canoodling!”
“What about them!” Jon protested as he gestured toward Renly and Loras who were still cuddling on the couch, Loras’s face once again buried in the crook of Renly’s neck.
“They’re cute. Unlike you two, who are just gross.”
“That’s blatant bullying. You’re being a bully,” Jon accused.
Ygritte smiled predatorily from across the table. Jon automatically recoiled at the look on her face. Nothing good ever came to him whenever she had that look on her face.
“Fine!” he groused as he stood up, stretching out his hand to help Tormund to his feet. “We’re leaving.”
“Finally,” Yara grumbled from behind her magazine.
“Don’t expect any help from me on your charms homework tomorrow, you ingrates!” he yelled as he marched toward the staircase dragging Tormund by the hand.
“I have better grades than you in that!” Pyp yelled from the couch.
“I hate you all!” Jon screamed.