A Spirit In My Feet Hath Led Me
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
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Adult +
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,331
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
J.K. Rowling, literary goddess of all things HP, owns everything you see here. I just make the pretty boys do naughty things without her permission, but the boys secretly enjoy it. I make no money from this.
Chapter Two
~`*`~
Chapter Two**
(A picture of the Official Program can be seen here-- http://pics.livejournal.com/chickalupe/pic/00009pa7 )
THE EUROPEAN QUIDDITCH CUP of The Year Two-Thousand
~Official Program~
Welcome, Witches and Wizards to the finals of the European Cup! And for our friends in our host country of France-- Bienvenue, Sorcières et Sorciers à le Tournoi Quidditch Européenne! As we are all aware, this is the first International Sporting Competition since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named almost eighteen months ago, and as such it has been decided to stretch out the festivities over several days!
Day One: Opening Ceremonies, Introduction of Teams and Quidditch Tricks- in which players from all over the Continent will show off rare and entertaining talents such as Bludger Juggling, Blindfolded Snitch-Catch, Quidditch Hoop Limbo and much more!
Day Two: Unofficial Minor Game- with those teams who came in second in their Leagues getting a chance to play a friendly game. (Note--Since the season proper is over, this will not count towards overall League standings.)
Day Three: European Cup Final. Who will the new champions be? The Falcons or the Quafflepunchers? Don't miss the exciting match to find out!!
Day Four: Closing Ceremonies, Victory Party. (Note-- In the case of Cup game lasting over twenty-four hours, Day Four may be postponed.)
~`*`~
After the opening ceremony, Harry and Ron made their way back to the small Wizarding village of Montbleu, and the inn that the team would be staying at for the next few days. Tristan joined them, chatting amiably with Ron about the relative merits of trying to juggle Bludgers, disenchanted or not.
“I mean, that takes the challenge right out of it!” Tristan gestured wildly as they walked, juggling invisible Bludgers, and both Ron and Harry laughed at his antics.
Tristan Moongleam had been a good friend to them both since they had joined. First Beater on the team, Tristan was even taller and thinner than Ron, with strong arms from hefting the Beater's bat. He was funny and open when not on the pitch, with brown eyes and spiky brown hair that made him resemble a friendly porcupine. As far as Harry could see, the man had only one flaw.
“Move please, Moongleam! Some of us would rather get out of the road than watch you jump around like an fool!” Lisbet shoved his bulk from out of her path and stomped away.
Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing look as all of the spirit seemed to drain out of Tristan. They both knew that Tristan, the poor misguided thing, was madly in love with Lisbet and blind to all her faults. Lisbet responded by treating him with nothing but scorn. Harry couldn't begin to understand the attraction, but love could be funny like that sometimes.
“She'll never see me as anything but an idiot,” Tristan moaned, his posture slumped in misery.
“Cheer up, mate,” Ron tried to comfort the other man with an arm around the shoulders. “She might yet come around.”
“Yeah, Tris,” chimed in Harry on his other side. “Look on the bright side. Maybe someday she'll just think of you as 'slightly dumb'.”
Tristan looked up to glare at Harry, playfully lunging out as if to punch Harry in the arm. Harry scooted away to hide behind Ron, but they were soon all three laughing. Joking together, they all made their way back towards the inn.
~`*`~
“Alright, you lot, settle down!” their Team Captain Fletcher Wright was trying to achieve order and failing.
The lobby-slash-common room of the inn where they would be staying was a chaotic mess of Quidditch players from everywhere. It seemed that many other teams had made reservations there as well. There was even a rumor that members of both the Magpies and the Quafflepunchers were booked somewhere-- on separate floors, of course.
“SHUT IT!” Tristan hollered. The couches by the fireplace where the Cannons had gathered grew suddenly silent at the unexpected outburst from the mild-tempered man.
“Thank you, ” Fletcher continued, slightly mollified. “As I've been trying to tell you all, there has been a slight change in plans when it comes to our rooms.”
“Uh-oh,” Ron mock-whispered in Harry's ear. “That's never good.”
“I wonder if it's like Fletcher's 'slight change in plans' that resulted in us playing that whole practice blindfolded,” Harry said back, sotto voce.
Ron shuddered in apprehension. “I've only just now got back the feeling in my left knee.”
“As you can see,” Fletcher talked pointedly over Ron and Harry, “The management got a little overzealous with the bookings, and seems to have given half of the team's rooms to someone else. The good news is, I've gotten a partial refund, which goes back into our travel budget!”
Some of the teammates applauded in a halfhearted, lackluster fashion.
“The bad news is, we all have to double or triple up rooms.” Fletcher held up his hands against the moans and groans that were immediately produced. “HEY! It's not my fault. You don't like it, then go ahead and miss out on the rest of the Cup.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I thought so.” Fletch treated his team with a dry look. “Room assignments are as follows: Room 42- Potter and Weasley. Room 43- Froom and Clinkscales. Room 44- Senterfitt and Phosporé. Room 45- Wades, Moongleam and myself...”
Ron and Harry both tuned out the rest, as they knew the most important part--they would be together. Ron was holding Harry's hand again, playing with his fingers. Harry shivered a bit as Ron started tracing the veins on the back, lightly caressing the knuckles and slowly twisting the gold band there. Harry looked up into Ron's eyes and felt his face heat at the intensity he saw within.
“Well, I guess the sleeping arrangements won't be a hardship for some,” Fletcher said with a chuckle, jerking the attention of the two young men away from each other.
Harry's face turned even brighter red, as did Ron's, to see the whole team smiling at them in a knowing fashion. Or in Lisbet's case, glaring at them venomously.
“I'd bet my last Knut that something will be hard, alright,” chirped Maria Phosporé, the Reserve Keeper, a saucy grin on her olive-toned face.
“And I doubt they'll be much sleeping involved,” Pamela Senterfitt added slyly; Maria's best friend and one of the rare few female Beaters. She was large enough for the position, but still surprisingly pretty. Great guffaws of not-unkind laughter rang out from everyone around them.
“You guys,” Harry moaned, wanting to die of mortification. The whole team knew that Ron and he were engaged. Harry was glad of that, because he wasn't ashamed. It was at times like these, though, that he almost wished it were a secret--rather than face their teasing and innuendo. It made him very uncomfortable. 'If they only knew...'
“I reckon a bloke can hold the hand of his betrothed if he likes!” Ron glared around the circle of faces as he jealously snatched the blushing Harry to his feet. As the two of them retreated towards the stairs, a chorus of cat-calls and whistles followed them out.
“Don't get too energetic! You need to be up by nine tomorrow morning,” someone hissed jealously after them. It sounded suspiciously like Lisbet.
~`*`~
Chudley Cannon Headquarters, England
April 1999
When they had first joined the Cannons and had no idea what an evil wench she would turn out to be, Ron had briefly fancied Lisbet. Well, shagged her, at the very least.
She had flirted with the redhead shamelessly, while all but ignoring Harry. Ron, not used to receiving preferential treatment over anyone (especially Harry) had been flattered and appreciative. They had slept together for about a month; all the while Lisbet going behind Ron's back to insult, belittle, taunt and overall be an utter bitch to Harry. She was a more persistent bully than Draco Malfoy had ever dreamed of being.
Harry hadn't wanted to tell tales about his mate's new girl, but he was getting tired of all the shite. Booby-traps in his locker that covered him in stinging nettles; crude pictures attached with sticking spells to the back of his robes, nasty comments about screwing his way to fame and glory. Lisbet didn't even attempt to hide her misdeeds-- when confronted, she would baldly admit it to Harry's face.
It all quite literally came to a 'head' one day, when during practice Lisbet threw a spell at Harry that carved the handle of his broom into something quite lewd. Harry had to spend the next hour flying a broom with a huge wooden dildo for a hood ornament.
Harry cornered her in the changing rooms, not even caring that he was trespassing in the Ladies' half. “I KNOW that was you, Clinkscales!”
“Yes,” Lisbet had hissed, full of spite. “I did it. And I'll do it again and again for as long as you're with the Cannons.”
“What did I ever do to YOU?!” Harry yelled, angry and confused.
“You took my spot. I'm supposed to be the Seeker here!” Lisbet was so mad she was spitting. “I'm trapped in my bloody contract playing a grotty little Chaser and second fiddle to you. For that, you deserve for me to ruin your life!”
“Well, you're quite barking if you think this,” here Harry hefted his more-phallic-than-normal broom, “Counts as 'ruining my life'. I've had bloody Voldemort himself after me; you are nothing more than an annoyance!” Harry punctuated this with a snort.
“Yes, yes; but by all accounts you've always had Ronald Weasley at your side for all of your little adventures. What would you do without him, I wonder? I've now got your best friend wrapped around my finger, and I'll slowly turn him against you, Potter. I hope you enjoy being abandoned!” Lisbet simpered nastily in her faux-sweet tone.
“That,” came a booming new voice, making them both jump, “Will never happen!” Ron appeared from behind a row of lockers.
Lisbet whirled to see a tall, furious redhead, and then her glare snapped back to Harry. “You set me up!”
“No, I didn't!” Harry denied it hotly.
“No, he didn't,” Ron echoed, no warmth in his tone. He crossed the floor to stand behind Harry, one hand gripping Harry's shoulder in a show of support. “I came here looking for you as a surprise, you blistering harpy! Instead, I think I'll just take Harry and be going.”
“Just you wait-” Lisbet tried to threaten.
“I don't think so, you evil doxy. Instead, I'm thinking I might put this conversation in a Memory Orb.” Ron's face was calculating, like he was looking at a chess board. Harry knew when to remain silent, and let Ron play out whatever strategy he had.
“What?” Lisbet hadn't known Ron long enough to recognize when his brain had jumped five moves ahead.
“Yeah, and then I'll send the Memory Orb to the Chudley Cannons' owners. I wonder what they would say to such disgraceful behaviour from one of their players.” Ron's voice was level, though his eyes flashed dangerously. “I wonder if such a player would ever find work on a Quidditch team, ever again; when the press ran the story, and the Wizarding public found out someone had been horribly tormenting 'THE' Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived.”
Harry was, for once, thankful for the imagined pull of his name.
Lisbet's face screwed up in powerless rage and resignation. “Fine. I'll never so much as speak to him again.”
“Good. See that you don't, bitch.” Ron steered Harry towards the exit and the sunshine waiting outside for them.
Harry waited until they were out of earshot to give in to laughter. “Thanks, Ron. You were effing brilliant!”
Ron gave a bark of humor that sounded only a little forced. “I think I'm to give up women forever, mate. From now on it'll be just you and me.”
“Yeah, just you and me,” Harry echoed happily.
~`*`~
**This chapter somewhat belatedly dedicated to my wonderful darling Issy, for the most excellent and timely French translation!
~`*`~
Chapter Two**
(A picture of the Official Program can be seen here-- http://pics.livejournal.com/chickalupe/pic/00009pa7 )
~Official Program~
Welcome, Witches and Wizards to the finals of the European Cup! And for our friends in our host country of France-- Bienvenue, Sorcières et Sorciers à le Tournoi Quidditch Européenne! As we are all aware, this is the first International Sporting Competition since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named almost eighteen months ago, and as such it has been decided to stretch out the festivities over several days!
Day One: Opening Ceremonies, Introduction of Teams and Quidditch Tricks- in which players from all over the Continent will show off rare and entertaining talents such as Bludger Juggling, Blindfolded Snitch-Catch, Quidditch Hoop Limbo and much more!
Day Two: Unofficial Minor Game- with those teams who came in second in their Leagues getting a chance to play a friendly game. (Note--Since the season proper is over, this will not count towards overall League standings.)
Day Three: European Cup Final. Who will the new champions be? The Falcons or the Quafflepunchers? Don't miss the exciting match to find out!!
Day Four: Closing Ceremonies, Victory Party. (Note-- In the case of Cup game lasting over twenty-four hours, Day Four may be postponed.)
~`*`~
After the opening ceremony, Harry and Ron made their way back to the small Wizarding village of Montbleu, and the inn that the team would be staying at for the next few days. Tristan joined them, chatting amiably with Ron about the relative merits of trying to juggle Bludgers, disenchanted or not.
“I mean, that takes the challenge right out of it!” Tristan gestured wildly as they walked, juggling invisible Bludgers, and both Ron and Harry laughed at his antics.
Tristan Moongleam had been a good friend to them both since they had joined. First Beater on the team, Tristan was even taller and thinner than Ron, with strong arms from hefting the Beater's bat. He was funny and open when not on the pitch, with brown eyes and spiky brown hair that made him resemble a friendly porcupine. As far as Harry could see, the man had only one flaw.
“Move please, Moongleam! Some of us would rather get out of the road than watch you jump around like an fool!” Lisbet shoved his bulk from out of her path and stomped away.
Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing look as all of the spirit seemed to drain out of Tristan. They both knew that Tristan, the poor misguided thing, was madly in love with Lisbet and blind to all her faults. Lisbet responded by treating him with nothing but scorn. Harry couldn't begin to understand the attraction, but love could be funny like that sometimes.
“She'll never see me as anything but an idiot,” Tristan moaned, his posture slumped in misery.
“Cheer up, mate,” Ron tried to comfort the other man with an arm around the shoulders. “She might yet come around.”
“Yeah, Tris,” chimed in Harry on his other side. “Look on the bright side. Maybe someday she'll just think of you as 'slightly dumb'.”
Tristan looked up to glare at Harry, playfully lunging out as if to punch Harry in the arm. Harry scooted away to hide behind Ron, but they were soon all three laughing. Joking together, they all made their way back towards the inn.
~`*`~
“Alright, you lot, settle down!” their Team Captain Fletcher Wright was trying to achieve order and failing.
The lobby-slash-common room of the inn where they would be staying was a chaotic mess of Quidditch players from everywhere. It seemed that many other teams had made reservations there as well. There was even a rumor that members of both the Magpies and the Quafflepunchers were booked somewhere-- on separate floors, of course.
“SHUT IT!” Tristan hollered. The couches by the fireplace where the Cannons had gathered grew suddenly silent at the unexpected outburst from the mild-tempered man.
“Thank you, ” Fletcher continued, slightly mollified. “As I've been trying to tell you all, there has been a slight change in plans when it comes to our rooms.”
“Uh-oh,” Ron mock-whispered in Harry's ear. “That's never good.”
“I wonder if it's like Fletcher's 'slight change in plans' that resulted in us playing that whole practice blindfolded,” Harry said back, sotto voce.
Ron shuddered in apprehension. “I've only just now got back the feeling in my left knee.”
“As you can see,” Fletcher talked pointedly over Ron and Harry, “The management got a little overzealous with the bookings, and seems to have given half of the team's rooms to someone else. The good news is, I've gotten a partial refund, which goes back into our travel budget!”
Some of the teammates applauded in a halfhearted, lackluster fashion.
“The bad news is, we all have to double or triple up rooms.” Fletcher held up his hands against the moans and groans that were immediately produced. “HEY! It's not my fault. You don't like it, then go ahead and miss out on the rest of the Cup.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I thought so.” Fletch treated his team with a dry look. “Room assignments are as follows: Room 42- Potter and Weasley. Room 43- Froom and Clinkscales. Room 44- Senterfitt and Phosporé. Room 45- Wades, Moongleam and myself...”
Ron and Harry both tuned out the rest, as they knew the most important part--they would be together. Ron was holding Harry's hand again, playing with his fingers. Harry shivered a bit as Ron started tracing the veins on the back, lightly caressing the knuckles and slowly twisting the gold band there. Harry looked up into Ron's eyes and felt his face heat at the intensity he saw within.
“Well, I guess the sleeping arrangements won't be a hardship for some,” Fletcher said with a chuckle, jerking the attention of the two young men away from each other.
Harry's face turned even brighter red, as did Ron's, to see the whole team smiling at them in a knowing fashion. Or in Lisbet's case, glaring at them venomously.
“I'd bet my last Knut that something will be hard, alright,” chirped Maria Phosporé, the Reserve Keeper, a saucy grin on her olive-toned face.
“And I doubt they'll be much sleeping involved,” Pamela Senterfitt added slyly; Maria's best friend and one of the rare few female Beaters. She was large enough for the position, but still surprisingly pretty. Great guffaws of not-unkind laughter rang out from everyone around them.
“You guys,” Harry moaned, wanting to die of mortification. The whole team knew that Ron and he were engaged. Harry was glad of that, because he wasn't ashamed. It was at times like these, though, that he almost wished it were a secret--rather than face their teasing and innuendo. It made him very uncomfortable. 'If they only knew...'
“I reckon a bloke can hold the hand of his betrothed if he likes!” Ron glared around the circle of faces as he jealously snatched the blushing Harry to his feet. As the two of them retreated towards the stairs, a chorus of cat-calls and whistles followed them out.
“Don't get too energetic! You need to be up by nine tomorrow morning,” someone hissed jealously after them. It sounded suspiciously like Lisbet.
~`*`~
Chudley Cannon Headquarters, England
April 1999
When they had first joined the Cannons and had no idea what an evil wench she would turn out to be, Ron had briefly fancied Lisbet. Well, shagged her, at the very least.
She had flirted with the redhead shamelessly, while all but ignoring Harry. Ron, not used to receiving preferential treatment over anyone (especially Harry) had been flattered and appreciative. They had slept together for about a month; all the while Lisbet going behind Ron's back to insult, belittle, taunt and overall be an utter bitch to Harry. She was a more persistent bully than Draco Malfoy had ever dreamed of being.
Harry hadn't wanted to tell tales about his mate's new girl, but he was getting tired of all the shite. Booby-traps in his locker that covered him in stinging nettles; crude pictures attached with sticking spells to the back of his robes, nasty comments about screwing his way to fame and glory. Lisbet didn't even attempt to hide her misdeeds-- when confronted, she would baldly admit it to Harry's face.
It all quite literally came to a 'head' one day, when during practice Lisbet threw a spell at Harry that carved the handle of his broom into something quite lewd. Harry had to spend the next hour flying a broom with a huge wooden dildo for a hood ornament.
Harry cornered her in the changing rooms, not even caring that he was trespassing in the Ladies' half. “I KNOW that was you, Clinkscales!”
“Yes,” Lisbet had hissed, full of spite. “I did it. And I'll do it again and again for as long as you're with the Cannons.”
“What did I ever do to YOU?!” Harry yelled, angry and confused.
“You took my spot. I'm supposed to be the Seeker here!” Lisbet was so mad she was spitting. “I'm trapped in my bloody contract playing a grotty little Chaser and second fiddle to you. For that, you deserve for me to ruin your life!”
“Well, you're quite barking if you think this,” here Harry hefted his more-phallic-than-normal broom, “Counts as 'ruining my life'. I've had bloody Voldemort himself after me; you are nothing more than an annoyance!” Harry punctuated this with a snort.
“Yes, yes; but by all accounts you've always had Ronald Weasley at your side for all of your little adventures. What would you do without him, I wonder? I've now got your best friend wrapped around my finger, and I'll slowly turn him against you, Potter. I hope you enjoy being abandoned!” Lisbet simpered nastily in her faux-sweet tone.
“That,” came a booming new voice, making them both jump, “Will never happen!” Ron appeared from behind a row of lockers.
Lisbet whirled to see a tall, furious redhead, and then her glare snapped back to Harry. “You set me up!”
“No, I didn't!” Harry denied it hotly.
“No, he didn't,” Ron echoed, no warmth in his tone. He crossed the floor to stand behind Harry, one hand gripping Harry's shoulder in a show of support. “I came here looking for you as a surprise, you blistering harpy! Instead, I think I'll just take Harry and be going.”
“Just you wait-” Lisbet tried to threaten.
“I don't think so, you evil doxy. Instead, I'm thinking I might put this conversation in a Memory Orb.” Ron's face was calculating, like he was looking at a chess board. Harry knew when to remain silent, and let Ron play out whatever strategy he had.
“What?” Lisbet hadn't known Ron long enough to recognize when his brain had jumped five moves ahead.
“Yeah, and then I'll send the Memory Orb to the Chudley Cannons' owners. I wonder what they would say to such disgraceful behaviour from one of their players.” Ron's voice was level, though his eyes flashed dangerously. “I wonder if such a player would ever find work on a Quidditch team, ever again; when the press ran the story, and the Wizarding public found out someone had been horribly tormenting 'THE' Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived.”
Harry was, for once, thankful for the imagined pull of his name.
Lisbet's face screwed up in powerless rage and resignation. “Fine. I'll never so much as speak to him again.”
“Good. See that you don't, bitch.” Ron steered Harry towards the exit and the sunshine waiting outside for them.
Harry waited until they were out of earshot to give in to laughter. “Thanks, Ron. You were effing brilliant!”
Ron gave a bark of humor that sounded only a little forced. “I think I'm to give up women forever, mate. From now on it'll be just you and me.”
“Yeah, just you and me,” Harry echoed happily.
~`*`~
**This chapter somewhat belatedly dedicated to my wonderful darling Issy, for the most excellent and timely French translation!
~`*`~