Captains of Quidditch

Harry was quite exhausted as he left Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's office. It was after midnight, and he wasn't really looking forward to the long walk back to the Gryffindor common room - the thought of warmth and sleep being the only thing keeping him moving. He had been unnerved when he'd heard a voice that Professor Lockhart could not, and this made him long for sleep even more. His right hand was stiff and sore from the hours of writing addresses on envelopes to help answer fan mail - a task Lockhart seemed to think was a "real treat". Battling the troll in first year was more of a treat, in Harry's opinion.

The school was now very quiet; it's occupants asleep in their respective rooms. Or at least, they should have been. As Harry was taking a short cut past the old, unused classrooms, he heard rustling in the room closest to the end of the hall. Curiosity, being a major characteristic of his, drew him to inspect what was causing the disturbance. The door was opened a few inches, and Harry was easily able to peer inside. In the moonlight that flowed in through a window, the form of Oliver Wood - Gryffindor Quidditch Captain extraordinaire - was visible. He was leaning on the edge of a desk, a strange grin on his face as he stared at someone out of Harry's view. Harry couldn't be sure, but the glint in the older boy's eye looked a bit like seduction.

'I don't care how good your racing broom is,' Wood said, his voice was teasing. 'Or at least, the one you use on the field.' The undertones of that statement sent confusion reeling through Harry's mind.

'I know you better than that, Wood,' came the unmistakable Irish accent of none other than the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint. 'I know how much you want to take it for a whirl.' Flint's voice had the same tones as Wood's, which confused Harry even more. He had to be mistaken. He just had to. These two were sworn enemies, polar opposites with nothing in common - well, maybe except for Quidditch. But beyond that...

'Really, Flint, you and I both know that I'm not the only one.' At this, Flint strolled into view, coming to a stop mere inches form Oliver. The grin the older Gryffindor sported grew wider as the Slytherin leaned forward, put one hand behind Wood's head and pulled him into a deep passionate kiss. They broke from the kiss, and Wood wrapped his arms around Flint's back, grasping his shoulders as the older man bit down on his neck.

It was only when robes began to disappear that Harry was thrust violently back into reality. He shook his head and quickly slipped away from the doorway, leaving the two Quidditch captains to each other, hoping to the high heavens that they didn't notice him. He raced back to Gryffindor Tower, the common room empty by the time he arrived. He got ready for bed and slipped under the covers, still trying to make sense of what he'd witnessed. He contemplated whether or not to tell Ron.

When Ron arrived, he decided not to say anything. He settled on telling Ron about his detention with Lockhart.

[Continued in "Ignorance Is Bliss"]