Snakes and Ravens

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Theodore Nott looked over at Anthony with a frown creasing his forehead.

"Don't you want to go?" he asked.

Anthony pressed his lips together, like he always did when thinking hard, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He shivered slightly as a sudden gust of wind blew his blue and bronze scarf around and ruffled his hair. Theodore watched with something close to reverence as the light brown hair fluttered back down.

"I do," Anthony said.

"What?" Theodore had lost all train of thought watching Anthony's hair.

"I do want to go to the Quidditch game."

"Then, let's go," Theodore said.

"But, Theo..."

"What?" He was starting to lose some patience. He didn't want to be late.

"Are you sure it's okay if we sit together?"

Theodore shrugged. "Sure, it's okay. Why wouldn't it? We're going out, aren't we?"

Anthony scuffed his shoes on the gravel path and sighed softly.

"We are, only... Is it really, er, safe to sit with the Slytherins?"

Theodore stared. So that's what this is about...

"Are you really worried about that?"

Anthony looked a little ashamed and smiled sheepishly. "A little."

Theodore just smiled his widest, most un-Slytherin smile. "You don't have to. Slytherins like Ravenclaws best. They won't hurt you. We're not even playing Ravenclaw today."

Theodore looked down the path to where Blaise was giving Neville a rather intense parting snog.

"Just be glad you're not a Gryffindor. Even Blaise isn't bringing Longbottom to the stands today."

Anthony snickered, rather uncharacteristically at Neville's dazed, but blissful expression, as Blaise walked off to the Slytherin stands.

Theodore just smirked. "Even if they do get violent, don't worry. I'll protect you."

He possessively put an arm around Anthony's waist. The other boy just rolled his eyes.

"Leave the heroics to the Gryffindors, Theo."

Theodore scoffed. "It's not Gryffindor heroics, Ant. It's Slytherin ambition. We take what we want, and we don't let anyone touch what's ours. And you are mine."

To prove his point, he pressed his lips to Anthony's in a bruising kiss. It was hard, searing, and claiming. Neither boy pulled away until the demand for air separated them.

"Right," Anthony said breathlessly, "Yours."

Theodore chuckled smugly.

"That's right. Maybe I'll show you again after the game, under the stands."

Anthony's eyes brightened, like they did when Madam Pince shelved a new book on the Dark Ages. Then, he tugged Theodore's arm and half-pulled, half-led him to the entrance for the Slytherin stands.

"How long do the games usually last?" he asked, not having been to many. "Harry should catch the Snitch in less than ten minutes, right?"

Again, Theodore chuckled. "You better say Malfoy from now on, Ant, or even I won't be able to stop the slaughter."

Anthony laughed brightly and Theodore's breath caught at the sound. He only had time for one thought, though, before he was pulled up the steps to the stands.

Merlin, Potter better catch that Snitch fast.