SPN: Hogwarts Supernatural
Title: Hogwarts Supernatural
Beta: skylar-matthews
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Hogwarts-verse, WIP, Fluff, Pre-slash
Pairings: Pre-slash Dean/Cas, mentions of Sam/Jess, Sam/Ruby, Balthazar/Rachel, Lisa/Dean, Bela/Dean
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Language, abuse of English slang
Word Count: 14 500
Summary: It's fifth year and Castiel has began noticing subtle changes in his friendship with Dean.
A/N: So I have written a series of one-shots based on cafe-de-labeill's Hogwarts inspired artwork found here. It started with a request made by fearlesssisters at spnstoryfinders to find Hogwarts AU fanfiction that were influenced by Cafe-de-labeill's art. Once I realized how little there was out there, I decided to go and write my own.
There will be some deviations from the verse portrayed in Cafe-de-labeill's art but, for the most part, I credit her work for heavily inspiring my muse. I also would like to thank skylar-matthews for beta reading and apologize in advance for abusing English slang and wizard terminologies. Supernatural characters and the Hogwarts verse are owned by Kripke and J.K. Rowling, respectively.
“You’re going down, Singer! 1 Butterbeer says our new seeker flies circles around you!”
Leaning in casually on his Impala broomstick, Dean smirked, his green eyes twinkling. Castiel could catch Dean’s faint scent, Old Spice (a Muggle product his own father uses) laced with mint and pine. Castiel had to bite back the urge to close his eyes and breathe in Dean’s scent deeply, already feeling warmth tickling in his stomach and the oncoming of a heated blush. But instead of giving in, the 5th year Hufflepuff leaned in even closer to Dean on his own broomstick, breaking the unwritten laws defining the boundaries of personal space and answering the smack down with one of his own.
“It’s ill-advised to make threats, Dean,” Castiel whispered, his own lips quirking in the smallest of smiles. Dean’s name rolled off his tongue like silk and had its desired effect, the splatter of freckles across Dean’s cheeks disappearing under the rosy flow of blood that pumped into the Gryffindor’s cheeks. “When we both know that you’ll be the only one going down.”
Dean’s breath hitched, having leaned in and down (much to Castiel’s dismay, he had yet to hit the same growth spurt as Dean) far enough that his nose was nearly touching Castiel’s. As much as Sam, Dean’s younger brother in Ravenclaw, often teased Dean for failing to read between the lines, this double entendre was not lost on the older Winchester. “Is that a promise, Singer?”
“By Merlin, you bet it is.”
“Winchester, stop flirting with my seeker!”
Both Dean and Castiel drew back sharply, each turning away in embarrassment. Castiel, better known for his quiet and unassuming nature, was always surprised at how Dean Winchester seemed to bring out this more confident side of him, especially when it came to sports. By all means, Castiel would never consider himself an athlete. He had only gotten into Quidditch because it gave him a chance to spend more time with Dean, as they would often spend summers or their spare time practicing together, even though they both were from separate houses. Castiel’s affinity for flying and smaller, lithe frame also made him a natural seeker, where he was able to combine his patience, relentlessness, and technique into an unstoppable force. Although Dean often remarked that Castiel was easily the best seeker at Hogwarts, Castiel bashfully declined the praise, opting instead to identify himself with his academics and love for Muggle things (by Muggle things, Castiel really meant ‘Dean’). In fact, Dean Winchester, a half-blooded wizard, descended from the pure-blooded Campbells through Mary Campbell, and the muggle-born Auror John Winchester, never failed to fascinate Castiel with his Muggle pop culture references and his naivety regarding Wizard culture. Castiel tried to pretend that the reason he started taking Muggle Studies was not so he could understand more about Dean and his upbringing (as far as Dean was concerned, it was purely for the sake of knowledge).
“I’m not flirting!” Dean protested, fixing a glare at the Hufflepuff captain that failed to eliminate his noticeable blush. “Just checking to see if your seeker brought his game today.”
Christian Campbell fixed his Quidditch robes, the yellow-on-black bringing out traces of blond in the chaser’s sandy brown hair. Although Dean’s older cousin, Christian stood only an inch or two taller than the Gryffindor and the seventh year failed to garner the same intimidating presence since Dean had hit his growth spurt in the past summer. “Save it for after we hand your asses to you.”
Once Christian’s back was turned, Dean made to flip him off but was rewarded with a resounding SMACK from Jo Harvelle. “Come on, Casanova! We have a game to play!”
“Merlin, Harvelle, that hurt!”
Luckily, Jo had only used her hand, and not her beater. The Gryffindor shoved him playfully and then hopped onto her broom, launching herself up to take her position. Grinning sheepishly, Dean turned back to Castiel, his smile making the Hufflepuff’s pulse quicken, “Have a good game, Cas!”
“May the best wizard win,” Castiel said. He watched as Dean positioned himself on his broom and, after some hesitation, asked, “Do you still want to meet up in the library tonight?”
It was always difficult to get away from the festivities that followed the end of a game. With one team walking away the champion in today’s match that opened the Quidditch season, this meant that Dean or Castiel would have to make excuses to slip away for this Saturday evening study session. While Castiel was more than content to review his notes for Muggle Studies on a weekend night, he was still surprised that Dean had offered to give up part of his weekend, seeing as he usually had to be dragged screaming and flailing into the library. It’s not that Dean didn’t like helping Castiel (going on their 5th year as BFFs, Dean had never once let Castiel down). It’s just that his relationship with the library was complicated at best and had nothing to do with that prank Dean pulled on the librarian, Zachariah Adler, in second year, with Dean now being “unfairly” declared public-enemy-number-one and forever unwelcomed in Mister Adler’s presence.
“’Chuckles’ has no sense of humour,” Dean had mumbled bitterly, then a 12 year-old master prankster and forced to stack books every day for the rest of the semester.
Back then, Castiel had assisted Dean whenever he could with his punishment, having been in on the prank but managing to escape detention as Dean refused to let him take the fall. To this day, he still regrets having given Dean that hair growth potion (he doesn’t know how he let Dean convince him that Mister Adler would be happier to have more hair, even if it were neon pink) but it hadn’t all been bad. Second year had really solidified his friendship with Dean and even if getting to know Dean had meant spending 2 hours every day stacking books (without assistance by magic!), Castiel wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
Castiel forced the memory away as he was brought back by the white noise of students cheering in the crowds and Dean’s proximity. The Gryffindor chaser placed a gloved hand on Castiel’s shoulder, green eyes meeting blue. “I said I’d help you with your Muggle Studies test, Cas. And until you know AC/DC from Metallica, you’ll need all the help you can get!”
The Hufflepuff hid his blush from hearing his nickname with a sigh of mock frustration. “Dean, I thought I explained that I’m taking Muggle Studies, not Muggle Music: Classic Rock, 101.”
“It’s the only thing about Muggles worth knowing about,” Dean declared, winking cheekily at Cas and taking off into the air.
As Dean ascended, the crowds went wild. Castiel watched as Dean made a quick swerve toward the opposite end of the bleachers, where Gryffindor and most of Ravenclaw (courtesy of Sam Winchester) had gathered to cheer on Dean’s team. Because of their historical rivalry with Gryffindor, the Slytherins who could be bothered to attend the opener sat slightly separated from the Hufflepuffs in the stands behind Castiel. As Castiel took to his broom, he caught sight of two of the Slytherins he dared consider friends: Anna Milton, the wide-eyed and red-haired fifth-year he had befriended in first year on the Hogwarts Express, a girl whose cunning made her the perfect Slytherin even if her sweet nature defied the stereotype; and the seventh year Balthazar Flynn, an attractive pureblood whose posh accent dripped wealth and prestige, with arrogance to match. It was an unlikely friendship, one that irked Dean to no end, but even Castiel couldn’t deny how Balthazar had really grown on him.
Both Anna and Balthazar, cousins via the Flynn bloodline, sat together and waved to Castiel when he flew by. Anna had brought her best friends Meg Masters and Ruby Price along, the two brunettes looking quite as out of place as they must have felt seated beside the sea of yellow and black. Some other Slytherins sat near them but Anna seemed to be the only one comfortable and content to be seated in the Quidditch stadium. She shouted out to Castiel but he couldn’t hear her above the Hufflepuffs cheering on the Campbells (the Campbells, with a long history of affiliation with the House of Hufflepuff, had 3 members on their Quidditch team) so he shrugged an apology before being called to take his position.
“Alright, guys, let’s get this show started!” Christian said. “Rachel, Maggie, remember that play we discussed?”
Maggie Zeddmore, an outside chaser and the youngest member of the team at 14, nodded, “Ready for action, Fearless leader. Rache and I have got it down pat!”
Rachel Adams, a 7th year chaser, groaned. “Two weeks straight on the field…trust me, we got it.”
“Preparation is key. Gryffindor took the cup last year and if their new seeker’s as good as Collins, we have our work cut out for us.” He glanced over each shoulder to look at the beaters. “Got my back, Gwen?”
Gwen Campbell, Christian’s cousin who was also in her 7th year, rolled her eyes. “When have I ever let you down, Chris? Talley and I have got this in the bag!”
Jake Talley, the 6th year beater opposite of Gwen, merely nodded his affirmation. With their keeper Mark Campbell taking his position among the goal hoops, Christian repositioned himself, his shoulders tensing as he prepared for the release of the Quidditch balls.
Castiel looked to the other side of the field at Gryffindor’s team. Nearly everyone was in position; Dean, having heeded Jo’s earlier teasing, his face now set firm in concentration as he hovered on one side of the Gryffindor captain and center chaser, Michael St. Onge. The 7th year Gryffindor was beautiful beyond comparison, his slim frame muscled with 7 years experience in the sport and blue eyes colder than winter frost. His red and gold uniform made him look regal, and his blond hair seemed to shimmer despite the dull gray clouds that hid the sun. Besides Dean, whose hit of puberty was promising, Michael garnered the largest base of female fans and even his serious, no-nonsense attitude, failed to discourage the flock of fan girls.
The second outside chaser, Victor Henricksen, another 7th year, was still fumbling around on his broom and received a stern look from Michael. What had made Gryffindor a force to be reckoned with the year before was not only the skill of their now graduated seeker, Bradley Collins, but also their amazing offensive line consisting of Dean, Michael, and Victor. When their keeper Ava Wilson may have lacked the speed to deflect the quaffle, or when Jo Harvelle and Gordon Walker failed to stop all bludger attacks, the combined skill and strength of the offensive line often stuck and carried the Gryffindors to an undefeated season in Castiel’s 4th year.
Castiel now scanned the field for team Gryffindor’s newest member, his eyes falling on the 3rd year Adam Milligan. When in need of new seekers, most teams snatched promising players in their 2nd or 3rd year since the position often required players with a smaller, lithe stature. Once chosen as a seeker, it wasn’t uncommon for a team to go five or six years without recruiting any new seekers since once the new seeker tested the waters, they often went on to master their stealth and agility given the demand in skill that the position required. The seeker was depended upon to end the game thereby, in most cases, winning the game for the seeker’s team. Because of the pressure in having a skilled seeker, teams often demanded a string of qualities as a must for anyone considering the position, resulting in usually a lengthy process of choosing a new member.
From what Dean had said, the team felt a lot of promise with Adam Milligan. He looked small now, easily the shortest player on the field, but even on his face, Castiel could see that look of determination, to prove himself and make Gryffindor proud. Like many of the other Gryffindor boys his age, Dean had mentioned that Adam had this almost hero worship for Michael and had been training hard in preparation for this game.
And that, Castiel thought, is the biggest threat standing between me and the snitch.
Castiel had been there once. He remembered being in 3rd year and shaking nervously as he clutched for dear life to his broomstick, not so much for fear of tumbling off but because everyone’s eyes in the stadium were looking curiously to this new player. It wasn’t even their attention that made him most nervous in that first match against Slytherin, but the green eyes of a young boy that had shone with admiration when he found out Castiel would also be playing Quidditch.
“You’ll do awesome, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, clapping the shorter and smaller boy on the back. “Show those slugs how its done!”
Castiel had bitten his lower lip to keep it from quivering. “Promise me you won’t be mad if I suck..”
And Dean had laughed, those eyes of his shining brightly. “You won’t suck, Cas. You’ll win. Just wait and see! You’ll out-fly Raphael easily!”
Raphael Milton, Anna’s cousin and another 3rd year, had given Castiel a smug look before the game had started, promising to, “not make you look that bad, Mudblood-lover.” And the memory of the insult that had been indirectly cast at Dean, had made Castiel’s blood thicken with newfound determination. During that first game, whenever Castiel felt tired or felt that his best wasn’t enough, he remembered Raphael’s words and made his body work harder.
Afterwards, when Castiel tumbled to the ground, snitch in hand, he could barely breathe as his teammates landed beside him, lifting him into the air as the stadium chanted his name. But none of that compared to the look of pure joy Dean Winchester had given him, stealing him away from the Hufflepuffs later on and enveloping him in the longest, tightest hug Castiel could recall to date.
The trunk on the ground below flew open as the referee released the Quidditch balls, breaking Castiel away from his thoughts. The players went immediately into action, Jo swatting at the first bludger that made a beeline for Michael. Michael swerved forward to avoid crashing into Gwen, quaffle in hand as he made his way straight for the Hufflepuff goal rings. But while all this commotion was going on around him, Castiel flew to the side to avoid the play taking place, scanning around quickly to get a sense of where the snitch may have gone.
A small whirr of gold and red brushed by Castiel, almost a bit too close for comfort and caused Castiel to pull up a bit too abruptly on his broomstick. He cast a glance over his shoulder and, just as he suspected, Adam was pursuing an object almost too quick to escape the naked eye.
As Adam rounded the Hufflepuff goal posts, Castiel swerved towards the opposite end of the field, flying around the scuffle as Michael tossed the quaffle to Dean and Christian made an attempt to intercept. Zooming ahead along the edge of the Quidditch ring, Castiel came up just beside Adam, keeping a friendly enough distance between them to avoid any contact that would call for a foul. A quick glance ahead, just out of arms reach, the bright gold snitch glittered, its little wings fluttering rapidly.
Rounding up along the corner of the Gryffindor side of the field, the cheers from the Gryffindor and some of the Ravenclaws filled the stadium. It was almost deafening but seeing as Castiel was going on his third year in the game, he had learned to tune out the sounds and focus on the hypnotic whirr of the snitch. Closing his eyes for a millisecond, he focused his breathing and felt himself enter this state of complete concentration, where there was only him and the snitch.
Opening his eyes again and pulling up along the fields boundaries, Castiel and Adam continued their pursuit of the snitch, now heading back towards the Hufflepuff side of the field. It was as if everything else had faded away, Castiel so concentrated on the snitch that the field may as well have been silent and absent of life. He pulled his body closer to the broomstick, lying as flat as he could, and willed himself to edge closer. A quick look to his right, with Adam now wedged between the boundary of the field and himself, told him that he was gaining the upper hand, the younger player red-faced and struggling to keep up.
The snitch was in front of him and Castiel reached out his hand, pulling in closer and closer and-
“CAS, LOOK OUT!”
But Dean’s warning came too late. A bludger smashed into Castiel’s side, which in turn caused Castiel to crash into Adam and both tumbled down towards the earth. Adam cried out in surprise and lost complete control of his broomstick, his eyes opening wide in fear.
“Hold on!” Cas shouted.
Although more injured, Castiel managed to maintain control and was still hovering. He reached out and grabbed Adam a bit sloppily and roughly by his red robes, holding the smaller boy close. Adam scrambled until he had a good grasp on Castiel, his arms tightening around Castiel’s waist where Castiel had been hit by the bludger. Castiel winced painfully but seeing as Adam was clinging to him only by his waist, Castiel ignored the pain and began a slow descent down to the ground. The bludger had crashed into him a bit over 2 meters above the ground so within a few seconds, Castiel had set Adam on the pitch.
“Thanks,” Adam mumbles, his face red with embarrassment.
Castiel ascended up to the air, coming up beside Victor and Dean. Gryffindor had just scored another point, leading the game 40-10 (ouch!) and Maggie had the quaffle in hand, preparing to throw it back into play. Dean was casting concerned looks at Castiel, trying his best, and maybe failing a little, to not be distracted from the game. Gwen, who was hovering not far from Castiel, glanced over at Castiel worriedly.
“You okay, Castiel? You took a pretty bad hit.” She bit her lip, looking a bit ashamed, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the bludger in time.”
“It’s alright, Gwen. I have a few bruises but I will be fine.”
He ignored the urge to wince as pain shot up his side.
“I didn’t know you played for the other team, Winchester,” Victor mocked, although the hint of annoyance could easily be detected in his voice. Castiel recalled that Dean had been the one to shout the warning and the even darker look on Michael’s face, who seemed even less pleased that Dean and Victor were chatting when a new play was about to start, confirmed how badly the rest of the team is taking Dean’s action. Players were hit all the time by bludgers, seekers not exempted as opposing beaters often redirected bludgers in their direction, and Gryffindor’s front line looked to be falling apart if Dean couldn’t keep his head in the game.
“It’s not like that between Cas and I,” Dean hissed.
Looking even angrier and more red-faced than Castiel had expected, Dean flew off before either Victor or Castiel could comment. Castiel couldn’t help but feel that he had missed something, but the shout from Christian to “get his ass back into gear” reminded Castiel that he still had a snitch to catch. Since no foul was called (Castiel helping Adam may have broken rules about 1 player per broomstick but was more an act of generosity than a foul) play hadn’t stopped and Adam was already mounting his broomstick and launching up into the air.
Rachel had the quaffle in hand and was racing to the other end of the pitch, Christian and Maggie trailing close behind. Dean was hot on their tail, seeming to find more adrenaline after attracting Michael’s ire, and he barely avoided being hit by a bludger himself that was knocked aside by Gordon. As Castiel flew around to catch sight of the snitch again, he heard Michael redirect his ire to Adam and couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the junior player.
“The first thing they teach you about flying is how to stay on your broom,” Michael said, his voice as cold as his clear-blue eyes.
Adam averted his eyes and mumbled something Castiel couldn’t hear.
A cheer went up as Hufflepuff scored another goal, bringing the new total to 40-20. Castiel caught sight of the familiar red and gold robes as Dean steadied himself on his broom, one hand holding onto the quaffle to throw it back into play. Michael was already zooming off towards the Gryffindor end of the field.
Castiel and Adam took off in opposite ends of the pitch, each hoping to be the first to catch sight of the well-hidden snitch. It seemed as if both of them were wandering around aimlessly for a while, managing to successfully avoid bludgers, minus one that swooshed by a bit too close to Castiel, compliments of a sheepishly smiling Jo. Castiel generally stuck close to the pitch surface anyway, in case he was knocked off his broom and forced to take a tumble. Although small for his age, he was agile enough to avoid taking any serious damage.
By the time Castiel looked up at the scoreboard, it was 90-50, with Gryffindor strengthening their lead. A foul had just been called and a screaming match had ensued between Gordon and the referee, Gordon now arguing the blurting foul at the side of the pitch. Having sidled up his broom and locking it into Maggie’s, he had prevented the younger player from catching the quaffle that Christian had attempted to toss to her. None of the other Gryffindor players argued the call but the Gryffindor captain seemed ready to pull his hair out with how his team was playing today, despite their 40 point lead.
“Keep it together, team!” he called, jaw tightening as he intercepted the quaffle and raced towards the Hufflepuff goal rings. Mark’s shoulders tensed, Michael’s break-away promising a head-on one-on-one confrontation between chaser and keeper.
The snitch whizzed by Castiel’s ears and Castiel did a quick u-turn, breaking out into a full-on race against the quick-moving, enchanted object. He was barely a meter above the pitch surface, body flattening against the broomstick to increase his speed. A bludger that had been knocked towards him whirred inches from his head and bounced off the ground but Castiel paid it no heed as he kept his eyes locked on the snitch.
Up ahead, Adam dipped down from across the field and flew straight towards Castiel and the snitch. With his broomstick hovering even closer to the earth, Adam increased his speed and surged forward, seeming as if he were attempting to challenge Castiel to this Muggle game Dean called “Chicken.” Just as Castiel was reaching out to make another attempt at grabbing the snitch, his blue eyes flew wide as he realized that Adam had no intention of breaking his collision course with the Hufflepuff. Before Castiel could make a move to try and swerve around the Gryffindor seeker, Adam pulled up and made a u-turn, forcing Castiel to pull up and briefly lose control of the broomstick. Castiel crashed down onto the earth and Adam strove ahead, now hot on the trail of the snitch.
“Merlin!” Castiel cursed. His side burned but he had tumbled safely enough to avoid further injury. More cheers could be heard from Gryffindor’s end of the field, indicating another goal. It’s time to end this!
Quickly picking up his broomstick, yellow robes swishing, Castiel made a running start and hopped onto the broomstick. Adam weaved past a bludger, preventing his outstretched hand from catching the snitch that had now redirected its course and was coming across the field from Castiel’s right. As the snitch continued its journey, Castiel raced forward and counted the seconds that it would pass by in front of him.
5…4…3…2…
And he launched himself forward off his broomstick, turning his body so that the snitch collided into his chest. Bringing his arms in, he closed his hands over the golden object before it could bounce off his body and enter back into play, feeling relief flood into him as the snitch remained trapped in his clasped hands. His body skidded into the pitch, shoulder first, and he knew that he would have a nice set of bruises to match those on his side but it was a small price to pay for the move he had just pulled off.
A whistle blew and the Hufflepuff end of the pitch erupted into deafening cheers. Castiel, now lying on his back, lifted his right hand into the air, the snitch struggling fruitlessly in his grip. After a few moments, it gave up trying to escape and Castiel felt as if he could finally breathe, panting heavily and closing his eyes.
The other members of the Hufflepuff team dropped down all around him and he barely had time to regain his breath before Castiel was hoisted back onto his feet.
“Singer, you are one gutsy bastard!” Christian said, throwing an arm around Castiel and laughing. Seeing the seeker’s discomfort when Christian’s arm rested too heavily on Cas’s bruised shoulder, he grinned sheepishly in apology and began ruffling Castiel’s dark, wind-swept hair.
Maggie, however, seemed to forget about Castiel’s spill and launched herself onto him, hugging him tightly. “You did it, Castiel! That was amazing!”
Nothing seemed to be able to wipe the grin from her face. Having just been recruited this year to replace a graduated chaser, Maggie had been the youngest at tryouts against some pretty tough competition. She almost had not been chosen in favor of one of the sixth years but Castiel and Rachel had pushed for her, finding in Maggie an enthusiasm and potential that could only strengthen their game. Seeing as Maggie was on the winning team in her first ever match, and contributing a solid 20 points to their overall score of 200-110 (2 of the 5 goals scored by Hufflepuff), Castiel could see the approval in Christian’s eyes over the choice to let her on the team. He also knew, from his own experience, that it would be weeks before the pride of winning would subside.
Castiel wheezed as the breath was literally squeezed out of him and Gwen burst out into a fit of laughter, pulling off the enthusiastic chaser and then patting Castiel on his good shoulder. “Next time we go out to Hogsmeade, we’re buying you an infinite supply of butterbeers and pepper imps!”
“But don’t go eating it all at once or you’ll be too fat for your broom!” Mark warned, snatching the smaller Castiel and pulling him into a headlock. The keeper, broad-shouldered and larger than his teammates, towered over Castiel. He laughed as Castiel flailed pitifully trying to escape.
By this time, students flooded the field to cheer (or console) the players. It wasn’t long before someone came to Castiel’s rescue, capturing the seeker and pulling him through the crowd of Hufflepuffs offering up hugs and shoulder pats (unfortunately, most were aimed at Castiel’s bruised shoulder). As Castiel was pulled to the edge of the crowd, dazed by all the attention, he felt his cheeks heat up under the scrutiny of Balthazar’s stare.
“Excellent play, mate,” Balthazar drawled, his rich accent making even words like ‘mate’ sound like a title fit for the wealthiest and most noble of wizards. Leaning forward with an arm casually draped over Castiel’s shoulders (and by lean forward, it may be more appropriate to describe it as bending down since the tall and slim Slytherin easily towered over all the other seventh year students), Castiel felt the slightest brush of lips against his ear as Balthazar whispered, “you bloody well owned that game. You’re more of a spitfire than I thought.”
“Lay off the kid, Balto,” Gabriel said, smile as snide as the mischief in his eyes. “The poor puff ball’s not even legal.”
Balthazar pulled back from Castiel, standing at his full height with a hand lowering to hover over the small of Castiel’s back. “Must you always rain in on my parade, Gabriel? I was merely complimenting the bloke on a job well done.”
Gabriel came around to the other side of Castiel, the seventh year Slytherin resting his elbow on Castiel’s bad shoulder and leaning on him as if he were a shoulder rest. Gabriel was surprisingly short for his class but still had a few inches on the younger Hufflepuff. Although Castiel winced, Gabriel paid him no heed. “Oh, Balto, the trouble you get into when I’m not around to babysit. Picking up 5th years, cloak-chasing after Professor Mills, setting Mr. Adler’s quill on fire…”
“In my defense, he was writing up an ill-informed report on my apparent misconduct. I gave him fair warning and the wanker accused me of disobeying library rules. How was I to know that the stacks were not meant for snogging? Rachel was as shocked as I.”
“Yeah but…Professor Jodi Mills?”
Balthazar sniffed. “A mature woman who carries herself with such dignity is all but undeserving of the affections of a Flynn.”
“But a mudblood…really?”
Castiel flinched for an entirely different reason this time and Balthazar came to his rescue, lightly shoving Gabriel off of the seeker. “That’s Muggle-born around the kinders, Gabe. And what can I say? I have a thing for leggy brunettes, Muggle or not.”
Gabriel glanced down at Castiel and raised his brows. “This one’s all skin and bones and babyfat.” And to emphasize, he pinched Castiel’s round cheek, causing the younger teen to hiss in protest. “He’s missing those miles of legs you seem so keen on.”
“Give it a couple of years and little Cassie here will be all height and sass,” Balthazar all but purred, ruffling Castiel’s tousled hair affectionately.
Anna pulled up behind the two Slytherins and slapped them playfully. “Knock it off, guys! Stop harassing poor Castiel!”
“Fuck, Anna,” Gabriel grumbled to his younger sister, rubbing the back of his head. “A little warning next time?”
Anna pulled her friend away from the two of them, noting how uncomfortable Castiel had looked. A moment longer and she wouldn’t have been surprised to find Balthazar groping him, Balthazar’s wandering hands often having a mind of their own. As she smiled comfortingly, the blush on Castiel’s cheeks began to subside. “Great game, Castiel! Meg and I were rooting for you from the bleachers!”
Meg, the other fifth year, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stood back from the small group behind Anna, feigning disinterest. “I was rooting for Gryffindor’s loss; there’s a difference.”
Anna ignored her. “Would you like to come down to the dungeon with us tonight? I know that you guys probably have a party going on in the Hufflepuff Common Room but maybe afterwards, you could come by. Ruby and I are going to prepare cookies and pie tonight.”
“Yes Cassie, why don’t you join us,” Balthazar said, smiling lecherously.
This time, Meg slapped him, earning another muttered curse. Gabriel chuckled, receiving a glare from his best friend.
Castiel smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Anna, but I promised Dean we would meet up in the library tonight and-“
He stopped abruptly and looked away, becoming self-conscious as he realized how nerdy that sounded.
Anna, though, didn’t seem all that bothered even if Meg couldn’t help but snicker. The warm look she gave Castiel melted away any concerns over what the Slytherins thought of him. “It’s okay, Castiel. But I want you to know that even though we Slytherins may get a bad rap from some people,” and everyone present knew she was referring to people like Dean even if it was unspoken, “we’re not all that bad. You’re welcome in the dungeons any time. Don’t be a stranger!”
And even though Meg had put up an air of indifference and Balthazar and Gabrielle spent more time acting like jerks than friendly acquaintances, the earnest look that all of them gave him made Castiel feel warmer than he had in a while.
“Thanks, guys,” Castiel said softly, feeling his eyes become a bit misty. “It means a lot to me.”
Castiel meant it too. Although being a seeker increased his popularity in the Hufflepuff house, minus practices with his teammates and his friendship with another 5th year named Tessa Malmort, he wasn’t that close to most of the Hufflepuffs. When he wasn’t studying or practicing, he spent most of his time with Dean and Sam and over the last year, their trio had grown to include Jessica Lee Moore, a 3rd year Muggleborn Ravenclaw, and Bela Talbot, a Muggleborn Slytherin in 5th year. Bela was closer to both Sam and Jess, having developed a friendship with the younger Ravenclaws through circumstances still unknown to Castiel. Cas suspected that it was partly due to the blood controversy of Bela’s lineage, having been sorted into a house made up almost entirely of purebloods. Dean had been most bothered by Bela hanging around his little brother at first (not nearly as bad as when Ruby took an interest in Sam, Dean being the ever over-protective older brother and reminding Sam that the Prices have a history of delving into dark, illegal magic) but gradually grew to accept her as she turned out to be just a misfit in her own house with a haughty-attitude. These days, Bela and Dean bicker for the sake of bickering, but behind the insults there is nothing but grudging affection.
Gabriel, not one to be comfortable with such touchy feely moments, broke it with his usual crassness and ill-timed humor. “And if you ever need someone to make a woman out of you, Balto’s free on Sundays.”
“For you, love, I’ll make an exception: any day of the week is fine by me,” Balthazar continued, winking at Castiel.
Anna groaned. “Really, guys?”
Luckily, Castiel was then saved from further harassment by a pair of strong arms that cut through the space between Balthazar and the Hufflepuff, pointing an accusing finger at the Slytherin. “Don’t you snakes have some place you need to be? I hear they’re serving stewed rats down at The Leaky Cauldron tonight. Seems right up your alley.”
Dean, as well as any other student, knew that taking the trip to Diagon Alley would break every school rule imaginable but the insult was well received by the look of disgust that flitted across Balthazar and Gabriel’s faces. The dirty pub also served as the gateway between the wizarding and the Muggle world for the Muggleborn wizards who needed supplies. To put it simply, any Mugglephobic, pureblooded wizard with a sense of pride and superiority would rather battle a hungry dragon wandless, blindfolded and tied to a chair than set foot in the pub.
Balthazar shoved Dean’s accusing hand away, scowling. “Might want to watch that tongue of yours, Winchester. If you talk too much, you may ‘accidentally’ swallow it.”
Before anyone could blink, Dean and Balthazar both drew their wands, but Balthazar was slightly faster. The spell was already on the tip of his tongue when Gabriel roughly tugged at his wrist, hissing, “we don’t need to draw more attention to ourselves, Balto!”
Sam Winchester, who had come up behind Dean, followed by Bela Talbot and Jess, also started tugging at Dean’s out stretched hand. “Knock it off, Dean! You pull off a spell in the middle of the pitch and you know you’ll be suspended from the next game!”
Dean grudgingly stopped trying to tug his wand hand away from Sam but that didn’t diminish the glare he had set on Balthazar. “Next time, Slytherin. You and me. Wizard to wizard.”
“Funny, I don’t see any wizards here,” Balthazar sniffed coldly. “All I see is a hot-headed, mud-blooded-“
“That’s enough, Balthazar!” Anna said.
Dean had dropped his wand and his hands had balled up into fists, now struggling against Sam and Bela who held him back and prevented him from pouncing on Balthazar. On the other side of Castiel, Anna and Gabriel were both holding back Balthazar who was equally enraged and struggling to get to Dean.
“I’m not a mudblood, you fucking cocksucker!” Dean shouted, followed closely by another string of curses that had even Sam, who was used to Dean’s colourful language, blushing furiously.
Anna mumbled a sincere apology as Gabriel successfully dragged Balthazar away. The small group was already starting to draw the attention of the Potions master and head of Slytherin, Professor Fergus “Crowley” McLeod, better known to his students as Professor Crowley. Even if it was his own house, Professor Crowley would not hesitate to deduct points from all parties involved and give them a week’s worth of detention for even thinking of using their wands.
“Remember what I said, Castiel. I’m sorry that we have to leave on such awkward terms,” Anna said, softly.
Castiel nodded numbly, holding back his own upset for the way Balthazar had insulted Dean. Castiel sometimes wondered if the only reason Balthazar took any interest in him was due to Castiel’s pure lineage, the Singers by no means being a wealthy wizarding family but had a history of magic that rivaled even the oldest and wealthiest pureblood lines. “I will, Anna. Thank you.”
Anna and Meg made their exit, joining Balthazar and Gabriel up ahead where they had met up with Ruby and some of the other Slytherins. Professor Crowley was already questioning the group and from his tight-lipped scowl and hint of a glare, it was evident that Balthazar was about to get a mouthful.
Castiel looked back apologetically to his friends, feeling particularly more embarrassed since Balthazar’s insult applied to everyone except him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Balthazar gets…a bit emotional at times.”
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing with trash like that?” Dean demanded, having only been just released by Sam and Bela. His cheeks were still flushed from his earlier anger.
Castiel suddenly remembered that the reason why Balthazar had went on the defense was because Dean came barging in, dishing out insults like it was going out of style. “They’re my friends, Dean,” he said, his voice a bit defensive. “They were congratulating me on the game.”
“With friends like that, you’ll never need enemies,” Dean retorted, crossing his arms stubbornly. “You can’t trust a Slytherin any more than you can trust a dragon with your hoard of gold.”
“Not to barge in on your one-sided mud-slinging contest,” Bela started, eyes narrowing at Dean. “But it may have escaped your notice that you are in mixed company at the moment.”
“Bela, when have I ever said I trusted you?”
Bela quirked a brow, annoyance dissipating as Dean broke into their familiar banter. “I assure you, the feeling’s mutual.”
Sam and Jess rolled their eyes. They had been spending so much time together that they were now mirroring each other’s gestures without so much as a glance at one another. “You were awesome out there, Castiel! And it was very noble of you to help Adam when he slipped off his broom,” Jessica gushed, pushing a blond strand out of her blue eyes as she smiled at Castiel.
Sam smiled sheepishly. “We may have been, uh, rooting for the other team but we’re still proud of you. That last move you pulled was really killer!”
In his excitement, Sam’s arm brushed against Jess’s. Castiel watched as both exchanged a look and turned away almost as abruptly, blushing furiously. He found their interest in one another quite endearing although Dean often took it a step further and teased them relentlessly, not accepting their claim of being “just friends”.
Today, though, Dean made it clear that he wasn’t in his usual good mood. Having abated his usual exchange of insults with Bela, his shoulders continued to remain tense as his eyes flickered over to Castiel. Everything about his posture said he was on the defensive and he wasn’t about to let whatever was bothering him go. Much to Castiel’s dismay, he also knew Dean well enough to know that when Dean was in this kind of mood, Dean also wouldn’t own up to what exactly it was that was eating away at him.
“Our seeker’s still learning the ropes,” he mumbled. “Gotta get a bit more mileage on him and then we’ll get our game back.”
And that was when Castiel realized that it wasn’t just Balthazar that had pissed Dean off. This was the first time that Hufflepuff had ever won a game against Gryffindor since Castiel and Dean joined their respective teams in 3rd year. To be fair, though, a huge part of Gryffindor’s past victories came about due to the old seeker, Bradley Collins', skill on a broomstick. Having already amassed 3 years experience when Castiel first joined Hufflepuff in 3rd year, Castiel always found himself trailing the senior seeker in games, coming sometimes close enough that he could almost taste victory on the edge of his tongue, but never quite getting it.
Castiel knew Dean was competitive. But he never thought Quidditch would be a sore spot for the Gryffindor. Even when his team lost, Castiel had always happily congratulated Dean, reveling in the way Dean’s face would light up like it was Christmas morning. And if Castiel had to be honest, he would willingly lose every game he played if it meant being rewarded by Dean’s smile.
Now, however, he couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed although he hid it very well. “I think you still did very well, Dean. You should be proud of your team’s effort.”
“’Effort’ is not the same as winning,” Dean muttered.
Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the best player but he trained hard, partly for his own growing love for the sport but also because Dean made such a fuss about Quidditch to the extent that he almost treated it like a religion. Deep down, Castiel knew that he was also hoping to gain Dean’s approval and while it might not always be the best reason to stick to the game on days when practice left Castiel’s body weary and tired, it was a driving force to know that this was something the two shared between them.
Sam gave Dean a dirty look, catching the hurt on Castiel’s face before the Hufflepuff hid it behind a mask of forced indifference. “Dean…” Sam began.
“Great game, Dean!”
The awkward tension was broken by Lisa Braeden, a 5th year brunette from Ravenclaw. She ran up to the group, long blue and bronze scarf falling on either side of her neck and swishing with her black robes. One of her hands was firmly grasping Pamela Barnes, a 6th year Ravenclaw with dark, sultry eyes and a knack for Divination that even made non-believers like Dean (he often claimed it was more useless than “hippogriff dung,” despite Castiel’s fondness for the subject) question his own opinions, tugging her along. Lisa stopped in front of Dean, smiling shyly and seeming oblivious to the tension. Much to Castiel’s dismay, when the Ravenclaw locked eyes with the Gryffindor, Dean’s irritable behavior immediately subsided and his eyes softened, a blush coloring his cheeks.
“You were great out there,” Lisa breathed, flushing at how airy she sounded. “That is, well, Pamela and I were rooting for you.”
Pamela, who was as sassy and sexy as Lisa was bashful and reserved, placed one hand on her hip and smiled flirtatiously. “Nice moves, Winchester. You filled out nicely over the summer, too. Been practicing?”
Dean grinned, falling right into step with Pamela. His blush was replaced with a haughty smirk and the straightening of his posture as his confidence bordered on that almost unbearable cockiness he got when confronted by the opposite sex. “Every day. Not much else to do back at my old man’s. Sammy here’s been letting me pummel him with the quaffle. He might try out for beater next year.”
Dean began ruffling Sam’s dark brown locks, the shorter and smaller Winchester swatting at his hand. “Knock it off, Dean!”
Pamela and Lisa giggled, earning a tight-lipped smile from Bela, who was now blocked out behind them with Jessica. Castiel didn’t really understand girls but something about the way Pamela and Lisa had wedged in front of Bela and Jessica to corner the Winchester brothers told him there was some kind of alpha female stand off going on. It was times like this that Castiel was happy he didn’t have to delve any further into female behavior, partly due to his yet undeveloped interest in the opposite sex. Even the way Dean deepened his voice and acted more macho kind of got on Castiel’s nerves.
“I think it’s cute how close you and Sam are,” Lisa remarked, moving in a bit closer to Dean. Castiel’s shoulders stiffened and he couldn’t help the bitter taste of jealousy that settled at the back of his throat. To make it worse, Dean now turned his body so his back was facing Castiel, his full, undivided attention how granted to Lisa and Pamela. Before even Sam could, again, protest Dean’s behavior, Lisa placed a hard on Dean’s arm and softly asked, “are you doing anything this evening?”
The next words uttered from Dean felt like a thousand daggers driven through Castiel’s heart.
“Nothing special planned. Got something in mind?”
Lisa smiled. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go up to the astronomy tower with me…”
Castiel could feel a cold sense of dread course through him. The astronomy tower. That may as well have been mermaid for “make-out central.”
Dean glanced back over his shoulder and that happy Winchester grin made Castiel swallow his own bitter feelings of betrayal and force a calm look on his face. “Say, Cas? Seeing as you guys won and all, you’ll probably have a huge party in the common room tonight. You should celebrate, man. How about we do that study thing tomorrow instead?”
Castiel forced a smile but it wouldn’t take a wizard who had mastered Occlumency to realize that it failed to reach his eyes. “Sure, Dean. Whatever you want.”
Whatever you want.
But wasn’t that always how it was? Didn’t he always do what Dean wanted? Castiel bitterly wished he had the strength to voice his true feelings, but even he didn’t want to be the one to selfishly take away Dean’s happiness like that.
“Great! I’ll see you guys around. Don’t celebrate too hard!”
And with that, Dean was dragged away by Pamela and Lisa. With the graying, early November sky already darkening, Castiel could only guess that they were heading to the dining hall, along with many of the other students who were already leaving the field. Castiel swallowed hard and stood silently, willing himself to not burst childishly into the invisible tears he felt prickling at the back of his eyes.
“Don’t let that harlot get to you,” Bela mumbled, glaring at Lisa’s retreating form. “She’s as classy as she is tactful.”
“Lisa’s not that bad,” Jess started, coming to the defense of her fellow Ravenclaw even though Lisa and Jess had never even so much as exchanged two words.
“Dean’s entitled to do as he pleases,” Castiel said, coolly.
“Don’t let him get away with stuff like that, Cas,” Sam said, unable to hide his irritation with his brother. “I was there the other day when he said he’d help you after tonight’s game. You can’t let him treat you like a doormat all the time. If you want, I could talk-“
“Forget about it, Sam,” Castiel said, cutting him off. He looked down at his grass-stained yellow Quidditch robes and flicked his wand, mumbling a spell. In moments, Castiel’s clothes were like new, as if the abuse from only an hour ago when he made contact with the pitch was forgotten. “I should change and get to the library.”
He brushed past his friends and began walking back towards the school. He knew he was going to have to come up with every excuse in the book to ditch his teammates in their common room celebration tonight and part of him almost wished he had taken up Anna’s offer, preferring to be around the company of someone who wouldn’t make him think of Dean Winchester.
As he walked away, he heard Bela sigh, “I swear, that brother of yours can be so daft sometimes…”
Part 2
Beta: skylar-matthews
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, Hogwarts-verse, WIP, Fluff, Pre-slash
Pairings: Pre-slash Dean/Cas, mentions of Sam/Jess, Sam/Ruby, Balthazar/Rachel, Lisa/Dean, Bela/Dean
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Language, abuse of English slang
Word Count: 14 500
Summary: It's fifth year and Castiel has began noticing subtle changes in his friendship with Dean.
A/N: So I have written a series of one-shots based on cafe-de-labeill's Hogwarts inspired artwork found here. It started with a request made by fearlesssisters at spnstoryfinders to find Hogwarts AU fanfiction that were influenced by Cafe-de-labeill's art. Once I realized how little there was out there, I decided to go and write my own.
There will be some deviations from the verse portrayed in Cafe-de-labeill's art but, for the most part, I credit her work for heavily inspiring my muse. I also would like to thank skylar-matthews for beta reading and apologize in advance for abusing English slang and wizard terminologies. Supernatural characters and the Hogwarts verse are owned by Kripke and J.K. Rowling, respectively.
“You’re going down, Singer! 1 Butterbeer says our new seeker flies circles around you!”
Leaning in casually on his Impala broomstick, Dean smirked, his green eyes twinkling. Castiel could catch Dean’s faint scent, Old Spice (a Muggle product his own father uses) laced with mint and pine. Castiel had to bite back the urge to close his eyes and breathe in Dean’s scent deeply, already feeling warmth tickling in his stomach and the oncoming of a heated blush. But instead of giving in, the 5th year Hufflepuff leaned in even closer to Dean on his own broomstick, breaking the unwritten laws defining the boundaries of personal space and answering the smack down with one of his own.
“It’s ill-advised to make threats, Dean,” Castiel whispered, his own lips quirking in the smallest of smiles. Dean’s name rolled off his tongue like silk and had its desired effect, the splatter of freckles across Dean’s cheeks disappearing under the rosy flow of blood that pumped into the Gryffindor’s cheeks. “When we both know that you’ll be the only one going down.”
Dean’s breath hitched, having leaned in and down (much to Castiel’s dismay, he had yet to hit the same growth spurt as Dean) far enough that his nose was nearly touching Castiel’s. As much as Sam, Dean’s younger brother in Ravenclaw, often teased Dean for failing to read between the lines, this double entendre was not lost on the older Winchester. “Is that a promise, Singer?”
“By Merlin, you bet it is.”
“Winchester, stop flirting with my seeker!”
Both Dean and Castiel drew back sharply, each turning away in embarrassment. Castiel, better known for his quiet and unassuming nature, was always surprised at how Dean Winchester seemed to bring out this more confident side of him, especially when it came to sports. By all means, Castiel would never consider himself an athlete. He had only gotten into Quidditch because it gave him a chance to spend more time with Dean, as they would often spend summers or their spare time practicing together, even though they both were from separate houses. Castiel’s affinity for flying and smaller, lithe frame also made him a natural seeker, where he was able to combine his patience, relentlessness, and technique into an unstoppable force. Although Dean often remarked that Castiel was easily the best seeker at Hogwarts, Castiel bashfully declined the praise, opting instead to identify himself with his academics and love for Muggle things (by Muggle things, Castiel really meant ‘Dean’). In fact, Dean Winchester, a half-blooded wizard, descended from the pure-blooded Campbells through Mary Campbell, and the muggle-born Auror John Winchester, never failed to fascinate Castiel with his Muggle pop culture references and his naivety regarding Wizard culture. Castiel tried to pretend that the reason he started taking Muggle Studies was not so he could understand more about Dean and his upbringing (as far as Dean was concerned, it was purely for the sake of knowledge).
“I’m not flirting!” Dean protested, fixing a glare at the Hufflepuff captain that failed to eliminate his noticeable blush. “Just checking to see if your seeker brought his game today.”
Christian Campbell fixed his Quidditch robes, the yellow-on-black bringing out traces of blond in the chaser’s sandy brown hair. Although Dean’s older cousin, Christian stood only an inch or two taller than the Gryffindor and the seventh year failed to garner the same intimidating presence since Dean had hit his growth spurt in the past summer. “Save it for after we hand your asses to you.”
Once Christian’s back was turned, Dean made to flip him off but was rewarded with a resounding SMACK from Jo Harvelle. “Come on, Casanova! We have a game to play!”
“Merlin, Harvelle, that hurt!”
Luckily, Jo had only used her hand, and not her beater. The Gryffindor shoved him playfully and then hopped onto her broom, launching herself up to take her position. Grinning sheepishly, Dean turned back to Castiel, his smile making the Hufflepuff’s pulse quicken, “Have a good game, Cas!”
“May the best wizard win,” Castiel said. He watched as Dean positioned himself on his broom and, after some hesitation, asked, “Do you still want to meet up in the library tonight?”
It was always difficult to get away from the festivities that followed the end of a game. With one team walking away the champion in today’s match that opened the Quidditch season, this meant that Dean or Castiel would have to make excuses to slip away for this Saturday evening study session. While Castiel was more than content to review his notes for Muggle Studies on a weekend night, he was still surprised that Dean had offered to give up part of his weekend, seeing as he usually had to be dragged screaming and flailing into the library. It’s not that Dean didn’t like helping Castiel (going on their 5th year as BFFs, Dean had never once let Castiel down). It’s just that his relationship with the library was complicated at best and had nothing to do with that prank Dean pulled on the librarian, Zachariah Adler, in second year, with Dean now being “unfairly” declared public-enemy-number-one and forever unwelcomed in Mister Adler’s presence.
“’Chuckles’ has no sense of humour,” Dean had mumbled bitterly, then a 12 year-old master prankster and forced to stack books every day for the rest of the semester.
Back then, Castiel had assisted Dean whenever he could with his punishment, having been in on the prank but managing to escape detention as Dean refused to let him take the fall. To this day, he still regrets having given Dean that hair growth potion (he doesn’t know how he let Dean convince him that Mister Adler would be happier to have more hair, even if it were neon pink) but it hadn’t all been bad. Second year had really solidified his friendship with Dean and even if getting to know Dean had meant spending 2 hours every day stacking books (without assistance by magic!), Castiel wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
Castiel forced the memory away as he was brought back by the white noise of students cheering in the crowds and Dean’s proximity. The Gryffindor chaser placed a gloved hand on Castiel’s shoulder, green eyes meeting blue. “I said I’d help you with your Muggle Studies test, Cas. And until you know AC/DC from Metallica, you’ll need all the help you can get!”
The Hufflepuff hid his blush from hearing his nickname with a sigh of mock frustration. “Dean, I thought I explained that I’m taking Muggle Studies, not Muggle Music: Classic Rock, 101.”
“It’s the only thing about Muggles worth knowing about,” Dean declared, winking cheekily at Cas and taking off into the air.
As Dean ascended, the crowds went wild. Castiel watched as Dean made a quick swerve toward the opposite end of the bleachers, where Gryffindor and most of Ravenclaw (courtesy of Sam Winchester) had gathered to cheer on Dean’s team. Because of their historical rivalry with Gryffindor, the Slytherins who could be bothered to attend the opener sat slightly separated from the Hufflepuffs in the stands behind Castiel. As Castiel took to his broom, he caught sight of two of the Slytherins he dared consider friends: Anna Milton, the wide-eyed and red-haired fifth-year he had befriended in first year on the Hogwarts Express, a girl whose cunning made her the perfect Slytherin even if her sweet nature defied the stereotype; and the seventh year Balthazar Flynn, an attractive pureblood whose posh accent dripped wealth and prestige, with arrogance to match. It was an unlikely friendship, one that irked Dean to no end, but even Castiel couldn’t deny how Balthazar had really grown on him.
Both Anna and Balthazar, cousins via the Flynn bloodline, sat together and waved to Castiel when he flew by. Anna had brought her best friends Meg Masters and Ruby Price along, the two brunettes looking quite as out of place as they must have felt seated beside the sea of yellow and black. Some other Slytherins sat near them but Anna seemed to be the only one comfortable and content to be seated in the Quidditch stadium. She shouted out to Castiel but he couldn’t hear her above the Hufflepuffs cheering on the Campbells (the Campbells, with a long history of affiliation with the House of Hufflepuff, had 3 members on their Quidditch team) so he shrugged an apology before being called to take his position.
“Alright, guys, let’s get this show started!” Christian said. “Rachel, Maggie, remember that play we discussed?”
Maggie Zeddmore, an outside chaser and the youngest member of the team at 14, nodded, “Ready for action, Fearless leader. Rache and I have got it down pat!”
Rachel Adams, a 7th year chaser, groaned. “Two weeks straight on the field…trust me, we got it.”
“Preparation is key. Gryffindor took the cup last year and if their new seeker’s as good as Collins, we have our work cut out for us.” He glanced over each shoulder to look at the beaters. “Got my back, Gwen?”
Gwen Campbell, Christian’s cousin who was also in her 7th year, rolled her eyes. “When have I ever let you down, Chris? Talley and I have got this in the bag!”
Jake Talley, the 6th year beater opposite of Gwen, merely nodded his affirmation. With their keeper Mark Campbell taking his position among the goal hoops, Christian repositioned himself, his shoulders tensing as he prepared for the release of the Quidditch balls.
Castiel looked to the other side of the field at Gryffindor’s team. Nearly everyone was in position; Dean, having heeded Jo’s earlier teasing, his face now set firm in concentration as he hovered on one side of the Gryffindor captain and center chaser, Michael St. Onge. The 7th year Gryffindor was beautiful beyond comparison, his slim frame muscled with 7 years experience in the sport and blue eyes colder than winter frost. His red and gold uniform made him look regal, and his blond hair seemed to shimmer despite the dull gray clouds that hid the sun. Besides Dean, whose hit of puberty was promising, Michael garnered the largest base of female fans and even his serious, no-nonsense attitude, failed to discourage the flock of fan girls.
The second outside chaser, Victor Henricksen, another 7th year, was still fumbling around on his broom and received a stern look from Michael. What had made Gryffindor a force to be reckoned with the year before was not only the skill of their now graduated seeker, Bradley Collins, but also their amazing offensive line consisting of Dean, Michael, and Victor. When their keeper Ava Wilson may have lacked the speed to deflect the quaffle, or when Jo Harvelle and Gordon Walker failed to stop all bludger attacks, the combined skill and strength of the offensive line often stuck and carried the Gryffindors to an undefeated season in Castiel’s 4th year.
Castiel now scanned the field for team Gryffindor’s newest member, his eyes falling on the 3rd year Adam Milligan. When in need of new seekers, most teams snatched promising players in their 2nd or 3rd year since the position often required players with a smaller, lithe stature. Once chosen as a seeker, it wasn’t uncommon for a team to go five or six years without recruiting any new seekers since once the new seeker tested the waters, they often went on to master their stealth and agility given the demand in skill that the position required. The seeker was depended upon to end the game thereby, in most cases, winning the game for the seeker’s team. Because of the pressure in having a skilled seeker, teams often demanded a string of qualities as a must for anyone considering the position, resulting in usually a lengthy process of choosing a new member.
From what Dean had said, the team felt a lot of promise with Adam Milligan. He looked small now, easily the shortest player on the field, but even on his face, Castiel could see that look of determination, to prove himself and make Gryffindor proud. Like many of the other Gryffindor boys his age, Dean had mentioned that Adam had this almost hero worship for Michael and had been training hard in preparation for this game.
And that, Castiel thought, is the biggest threat standing between me and the snitch.
Castiel had been there once. He remembered being in 3rd year and shaking nervously as he clutched for dear life to his broomstick, not so much for fear of tumbling off but because everyone’s eyes in the stadium were looking curiously to this new player. It wasn’t even their attention that made him most nervous in that first match against Slytherin, but the green eyes of a young boy that had shone with admiration when he found out Castiel would also be playing Quidditch.
“You’ll do awesome, Cas!” Dean exclaimed, clapping the shorter and smaller boy on the back. “Show those slugs how its done!”
Castiel had bitten his lower lip to keep it from quivering. “Promise me you won’t be mad if I suck..”
And Dean had laughed, those eyes of his shining brightly. “You won’t suck, Cas. You’ll win. Just wait and see! You’ll out-fly Raphael easily!”
Raphael Milton, Anna’s cousin and another 3rd year, had given Castiel a smug look before the game had started, promising to, “not make you look that bad, Mudblood-lover.” And the memory of the insult that had been indirectly cast at Dean, had made Castiel’s blood thicken with newfound determination. During that first game, whenever Castiel felt tired or felt that his best wasn’t enough, he remembered Raphael’s words and made his body work harder.
Afterwards, when Castiel tumbled to the ground, snitch in hand, he could barely breathe as his teammates landed beside him, lifting him into the air as the stadium chanted his name. But none of that compared to the look of pure joy Dean Winchester had given him, stealing him away from the Hufflepuffs later on and enveloping him in the longest, tightest hug Castiel could recall to date.
The trunk on the ground below flew open as the referee released the Quidditch balls, breaking Castiel away from his thoughts. The players went immediately into action, Jo swatting at the first bludger that made a beeline for Michael. Michael swerved forward to avoid crashing into Gwen, quaffle in hand as he made his way straight for the Hufflepuff goal rings. But while all this commotion was going on around him, Castiel flew to the side to avoid the play taking place, scanning around quickly to get a sense of where the snitch may have gone.
A small whirr of gold and red brushed by Castiel, almost a bit too close for comfort and caused Castiel to pull up a bit too abruptly on his broomstick. He cast a glance over his shoulder and, just as he suspected, Adam was pursuing an object almost too quick to escape the naked eye.
As Adam rounded the Hufflepuff goal posts, Castiel swerved towards the opposite end of the field, flying around the scuffle as Michael tossed the quaffle to Dean and Christian made an attempt to intercept. Zooming ahead along the edge of the Quidditch ring, Castiel came up just beside Adam, keeping a friendly enough distance between them to avoid any contact that would call for a foul. A quick glance ahead, just out of arms reach, the bright gold snitch glittered, its little wings fluttering rapidly.
Rounding up along the corner of the Gryffindor side of the field, the cheers from the Gryffindor and some of the Ravenclaws filled the stadium. It was almost deafening but seeing as Castiel was going on his third year in the game, he had learned to tune out the sounds and focus on the hypnotic whirr of the snitch. Closing his eyes for a millisecond, he focused his breathing and felt himself enter this state of complete concentration, where there was only him and the snitch.
Opening his eyes again and pulling up along the fields boundaries, Castiel and Adam continued their pursuit of the snitch, now heading back towards the Hufflepuff side of the field. It was as if everything else had faded away, Castiel so concentrated on the snitch that the field may as well have been silent and absent of life. He pulled his body closer to the broomstick, lying as flat as he could, and willed himself to edge closer. A quick look to his right, with Adam now wedged between the boundary of the field and himself, told him that he was gaining the upper hand, the younger player red-faced and struggling to keep up.
The snitch was in front of him and Castiel reached out his hand, pulling in closer and closer and-
“CAS, LOOK OUT!”
But Dean’s warning came too late. A bludger smashed into Castiel’s side, which in turn caused Castiel to crash into Adam and both tumbled down towards the earth. Adam cried out in surprise and lost complete control of his broomstick, his eyes opening wide in fear.
“Hold on!” Cas shouted.
Although more injured, Castiel managed to maintain control and was still hovering. He reached out and grabbed Adam a bit sloppily and roughly by his red robes, holding the smaller boy close. Adam scrambled until he had a good grasp on Castiel, his arms tightening around Castiel’s waist where Castiel had been hit by the bludger. Castiel winced painfully but seeing as Adam was clinging to him only by his waist, Castiel ignored the pain and began a slow descent down to the ground. The bludger had crashed into him a bit over 2 meters above the ground so within a few seconds, Castiel had set Adam on the pitch.
“Thanks,” Adam mumbles, his face red with embarrassment.
Castiel ascended up to the air, coming up beside Victor and Dean. Gryffindor had just scored another point, leading the game 40-10 (ouch!) and Maggie had the quaffle in hand, preparing to throw it back into play. Dean was casting concerned looks at Castiel, trying his best, and maybe failing a little, to not be distracted from the game. Gwen, who was hovering not far from Castiel, glanced over at Castiel worriedly.
“You okay, Castiel? You took a pretty bad hit.” She bit her lip, looking a bit ashamed, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the bludger in time.”
“It’s alright, Gwen. I have a few bruises but I will be fine.”
He ignored the urge to wince as pain shot up his side.
“I didn’t know you played for the other team, Winchester,” Victor mocked, although the hint of annoyance could easily be detected in his voice. Castiel recalled that Dean had been the one to shout the warning and the even darker look on Michael’s face, who seemed even less pleased that Dean and Victor were chatting when a new play was about to start, confirmed how badly the rest of the team is taking Dean’s action. Players were hit all the time by bludgers, seekers not exempted as opposing beaters often redirected bludgers in their direction, and Gryffindor’s front line looked to be falling apart if Dean couldn’t keep his head in the game.
“It’s not like that between Cas and I,” Dean hissed.
Looking even angrier and more red-faced than Castiel had expected, Dean flew off before either Victor or Castiel could comment. Castiel couldn’t help but feel that he had missed something, but the shout from Christian to “get his ass back into gear” reminded Castiel that he still had a snitch to catch. Since no foul was called (Castiel helping Adam may have broken rules about 1 player per broomstick but was more an act of generosity than a foul) play hadn’t stopped and Adam was already mounting his broomstick and launching up into the air.
Rachel had the quaffle in hand and was racing to the other end of the pitch, Christian and Maggie trailing close behind. Dean was hot on their tail, seeming to find more adrenaline after attracting Michael’s ire, and he barely avoided being hit by a bludger himself that was knocked aside by Gordon. As Castiel flew around to catch sight of the snitch again, he heard Michael redirect his ire to Adam and couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the junior player.
“The first thing they teach you about flying is how to stay on your broom,” Michael said, his voice as cold as his clear-blue eyes.
Adam averted his eyes and mumbled something Castiel couldn’t hear.
A cheer went up as Hufflepuff scored another goal, bringing the new total to 40-20. Castiel caught sight of the familiar red and gold robes as Dean steadied himself on his broom, one hand holding onto the quaffle to throw it back into play. Michael was already zooming off towards the Gryffindor end of the field.
Castiel and Adam took off in opposite ends of the pitch, each hoping to be the first to catch sight of the well-hidden snitch. It seemed as if both of them were wandering around aimlessly for a while, managing to successfully avoid bludgers, minus one that swooshed by a bit too close to Castiel, compliments of a sheepishly smiling Jo. Castiel generally stuck close to the pitch surface anyway, in case he was knocked off his broom and forced to take a tumble. Although small for his age, he was agile enough to avoid taking any serious damage.
By the time Castiel looked up at the scoreboard, it was 90-50, with Gryffindor strengthening their lead. A foul had just been called and a screaming match had ensued between Gordon and the referee, Gordon now arguing the blurting foul at the side of the pitch. Having sidled up his broom and locking it into Maggie’s, he had prevented the younger player from catching the quaffle that Christian had attempted to toss to her. None of the other Gryffindor players argued the call but the Gryffindor captain seemed ready to pull his hair out with how his team was playing today, despite their 40 point lead.
“Keep it together, team!” he called, jaw tightening as he intercepted the quaffle and raced towards the Hufflepuff goal rings. Mark’s shoulders tensed, Michael’s break-away promising a head-on one-on-one confrontation between chaser and keeper.
The snitch whizzed by Castiel’s ears and Castiel did a quick u-turn, breaking out into a full-on race against the quick-moving, enchanted object. He was barely a meter above the pitch surface, body flattening against the broomstick to increase his speed. A bludger that had been knocked towards him whirred inches from his head and bounced off the ground but Castiel paid it no heed as he kept his eyes locked on the snitch.
Up ahead, Adam dipped down from across the field and flew straight towards Castiel and the snitch. With his broomstick hovering even closer to the earth, Adam increased his speed and surged forward, seeming as if he were attempting to challenge Castiel to this Muggle game Dean called “Chicken.” Just as Castiel was reaching out to make another attempt at grabbing the snitch, his blue eyes flew wide as he realized that Adam had no intention of breaking his collision course with the Hufflepuff. Before Castiel could make a move to try and swerve around the Gryffindor seeker, Adam pulled up and made a u-turn, forcing Castiel to pull up and briefly lose control of the broomstick. Castiel crashed down onto the earth and Adam strove ahead, now hot on the trail of the snitch.
“Merlin!” Castiel cursed. His side burned but he had tumbled safely enough to avoid further injury. More cheers could be heard from Gryffindor’s end of the field, indicating another goal. It’s time to end this!
Quickly picking up his broomstick, yellow robes swishing, Castiel made a running start and hopped onto the broomstick. Adam weaved past a bludger, preventing his outstretched hand from catching the snitch that had now redirected its course and was coming across the field from Castiel’s right. As the snitch continued its journey, Castiel raced forward and counted the seconds that it would pass by in front of him.
5…4…3…2…
And he launched himself forward off his broomstick, turning his body so that the snitch collided into his chest. Bringing his arms in, he closed his hands over the golden object before it could bounce off his body and enter back into play, feeling relief flood into him as the snitch remained trapped in his clasped hands. His body skidded into the pitch, shoulder first, and he knew that he would have a nice set of bruises to match those on his side but it was a small price to pay for the move he had just pulled off.
A whistle blew and the Hufflepuff end of the pitch erupted into deafening cheers. Castiel, now lying on his back, lifted his right hand into the air, the snitch struggling fruitlessly in his grip. After a few moments, it gave up trying to escape and Castiel felt as if he could finally breathe, panting heavily and closing his eyes.
The other members of the Hufflepuff team dropped down all around him and he barely had time to regain his breath before Castiel was hoisted back onto his feet.
“Singer, you are one gutsy bastard!” Christian said, throwing an arm around Castiel and laughing. Seeing the seeker’s discomfort when Christian’s arm rested too heavily on Cas’s bruised shoulder, he grinned sheepishly in apology and began ruffling Castiel’s dark, wind-swept hair.
Maggie, however, seemed to forget about Castiel’s spill and launched herself onto him, hugging him tightly. “You did it, Castiel! That was amazing!”
Nothing seemed to be able to wipe the grin from her face. Having just been recruited this year to replace a graduated chaser, Maggie had been the youngest at tryouts against some pretty tough competition. She almost had not been chosen in favor of one of the sixth years but Castiel and Rachel had pushed for her, finding in Maggie an enthusiasm and potential that could only strengthen their game. Seeing as Maggie was on the winning team in her first ever match, and contributing a solid 20 points to their overall score of 200-110 (2 of the 5 goals scored by Hufflepuff), Castiel could see the approval in Christian’s eyes over the choice to let her on the team. He also knew, from his own experience, that it would be weeks before the pride of winning would subside.
Castiel wheezed as the breath was literally squeezed out of him and Gwen burst out into a fit of laughter, pulling off the enthusiastic chaser and then patting Castiel on his good shoulder. “Next time we go out to Hogsmeade, we’re buying you an infinite supply of butterbeers and pepper imps!”
“But don’t go eating it all at once or you’ll be too fat for your broom!” Mark warned, snatching the smaller Castiel and pulling him into a headlock. The keeper, broad-shouldered and larger than his teammates, towered over Castiel. He laughed as Castiel flailed pitifully trying to escape.
By this time, students flooded the field to cheer (or console) the players. It wasn’t long before someone came to Castiel’s rescue, capturing the seeker and pulling him through the crowd of Hufflepuffs offering up hugs and shoulder pats (unfortunately, most were aimed at Castiel’s bruised shoulder). As Castiel was pulled to the edge of the crowd, dazed by all the attention, he felt his cheeks heat up under the scrutiny of Balthazar’s stare.
“Excellent play, mate,” Balthazar drawled, his rich accent making even words like ‘mate’ sound like a title fit for the wealthiest and most noble of wizards. Leaning forward with an arm casually draped over Castiel’s shoulders (and by lean forward, it may be more appropriate to describe it as bending down since the tall and slim Slytherin easily towered over all the other seventh year students), Castiel felt the slightest brush of lips against his ear as Balthazar whispered, “you bloody well owned that game. You’re more of a spitfire than I thought.”
“Lay off the kid, Balto,” Gabriel said, smile as snide as the mischief in his eyes. “The poor puff ball’s not even legal.”
Balthazar pulled back from Castiel, standing at his full height with a hand lowering to hover over the small of Castiel’s back. “Must you always rain in on my parade, Gabriel? I was merely complimenting the bloke on a job well done.”
Gabriel came around to the other side of Castiel, the seventh year Slytherin resting his elbow on Castiel’s bad shoulder and leaning on him as if he were a shoulder rest. Gabriel was surprisingly short for his class but still had a few inches on the younger Hufflepuff. Although Castiel winced, Gabriel paid him no heed. “Oh, Balto, the trouble you get into when I’m not around to babysit. Picking up 5th years, cloak-chasing after Professor Mills, setting Mr. Adler’s quill on fire…”
“In my defense, he was writing up an ill-informed report on my apparent misconduct. I gave him fair warning and the wanker accused me of disobeying library rules. How was I to know that the stacks were not meant for snogging? Rachel was as shocked as I.”
“Yeah but…Professor Jodi Mills?”
Balthazar sniffed. “A mature woman who carries herself with such dignity is all but undeserving of the affections of a Flynn.”
“But a mudblood…really?”
Castiel flinched for an entirely different reason this time and Balthazar came to his rescue, lightly shoving Gabriel off of the seeker. “That’s Muggle-born around the kinders, Gabe. And what can I say? I have a thing for leggy brunettes, Muggle or not.”
Gabriel glanced down at Castiel and raised his brows. “This one’s all skin and bones and babyfat.” And to emphasize, he pinched Castiel’s round cheek, causing the younger teen to hiss in protest. “He’s missing those miles of legs you seem so keen on.”
“Give it a couple of years and little Cassie here will be all height and sass,” Balthazar all but purred, ruffling Castiel’s tousled hair affectionately.
Anna pulled up behind the two Slytherins and slapped them playfully. “Knock it off, guys! Stop harassing poor Castiel!”
“Fuck, Anna,” Gabriel grumbled to his younger sister, rubbing the back of his head. “A little warning next time?”
Anna pulled her friend away from the two of them, noting how uncomfortable Castiel had looked. A moment longer and she wouldn’t have been surprised to find Balthazar groping him, Balthazar’s wandering hands often having a mind of their own. As she smiled comfortingly, the blush on Castiel’s cheeks began to subside. “Great game, Castiel! Meg and I were rooting for you from the bleachers!”
Meg, the other fifth year, appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stood back from the small group behind Anna, feigning disinterest. “I was rooting for Gryffindor’s loss; there’s a difference.”
Anna ignored her. “Would you like to come down to the dungeon with us tonight? I know that you guys probably have a party going on in the Hufflepuff Common Room but maybe afterwards, you could come by. Ruby and I are going to prepare cookies and pie tonight.”
“Yes Cassie, why don’t you join us,” Balthazar said, smiling lecherously.
This time, Meg slapped him, earning another muttered curse. Gabriel chuckled, receiving a glare from his best friend.
Castiel smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Anna, but I promised Dean we would meet up in the library tonight and-“
He stopped abruptly and looked away, becoming self-conscious as he realized how nerdy that sounded.
Anna, though, didn’t seem all that bothered even if Meg couldn’t help but snicker. The warm look she gave Castiel melted away any concerns over what the Slytherins thought of him. “It’s okay, Castiel. But I want you to know that even though we Slytherins may get a bad rap from some people,” and everyone present knew she was referring to people like Dean even if it was unspoken, “we’re not all that bad. You’re welcome in the dungeons any time. Don’t be a stranger!”
And even though Meg had put up an air of indifference and Balthazar and Gabrielle spent more time acting like jerks than friendly acquaintances, the earnest look that all of them gave him made Castiel feel warmer than he had in a while.
“Thanks, guys,” Castiel said softly, feeling his eyes become a bit misty. “It means a lot to me.”
Castiel meant it too. Although being a seeker increased his popularity in the Hufflepuff house, minus practices with his teammates and his friendship with another 5th year named Tessa Malmort, he wasn’t that close to most of the Hufflepuffs. When he wasn’t studying or practicing, he spent most of his time with Dean and Sam and over the last year, their trio had grown to include Jessica Lee Moore, a 3rd year Muggleborn Ravenclaw, and Bela Talbot, a Muggleborn Slytherin in 5th year. Bela was closer to both Sam and Jess, having developed a friendship with the younger Ravenclaws through circumstances still unknown to Castiel. Cas suspected that it was partly due to the blood controversy of Bela’s lineage, having been sorted into a house made up almost entirely of purebloods. Dean had been most bothered by Bela hanging around his little brother at first (not nearly as bad as when Ruby took an interest in Sam, Dean being the ever over-protective older brother and reminding Sam that the Prices have a history of delving into dark, illegal magic) but gradually grew to accept her as she turned out to be just a misfit in her own house with a haughty-attitude. These days, Bela and Dean bicker for the sake of bickering, but behind the insults there is nothing but grudging affection.
Gabriel, not one to be comfortable with such touchy feely moments, broke it with his usual crassness and ill-timed humor. “And if you ever need someone to make a woman out of you, Balto’s free on Sundays.”
“For you, love, I’ll make an exception: any day of the week is fine by me,” Balthazar continued, winking at Castiel.
Anna groaned. “Really, guys?”
Luckily, Castiel was then saved from further harassment by a pair of strong arms that cut through the space between Balthazar and the Hufflepuff, pointing an accusing finger at the Slytherin. “Don’t you snakes have some place you need to be? I hear they’re serving stewed rats down at The Leaky Cauldron tonight. Seems right up your alley.”
Dean, as well as any other student, knew that taking the trip to Diagon Alley would break every school rule imaginable but the insult was well received by the look of disgust that flitted across Balthazar and Gabriel’s faces. The dirty pub also served as the gateway between the wizarding and the Muggle world for the Muggleborn wizards who needed supplies. To put it simply, any Mugglephobic, pureblooded wizard with a sense of pride and superiority would rather battle a hungry dragon wandless, blindfolded and tied to a chair than set foot in the pub.
Balthazar shoved Dean’s accusing hand away, scowling. “Might want to watch that tongue of yours, Winchester. If you talk too much, you may ‘accidentally’ swallow it.”
Before anyone could blink, Dean and Balthazar both drew their wands, but Balthazar was slightly faster. The spell was already on the tip of his tongue when Gabriel roughly tugged at his wrist, hissing, “we don’t need to draw more attention to ourselves, Balto!”
Sam Winchester, who had come up behind Dean, followed by Bela Talbot and Jess, also started tugging at Dean’s out stretched hand. “Knock it off, Dean! You pull off a spell in the middle of the pitch and you know you’ll be suspended from the next game!”
Dean grudgingly stopped trying to tug his wand hand away from Sam but that didn’t diminish the glare he had set on Balthazar. “Next time, Slytherin. You and me. Wizard to wizard.”
“Funny, I don’t see any wizards here,” Balthazar sniffed coldly. “All I see is a hot-headed, mud-blooded-“
“That’s enough, Balthazar!” Anna said.
Dean had dropped his wand and his hands had balled up into fists, now struggling against Sam and Bela who held him back and prevented him from pouncing on Balthazar. On the other side of Castiel, Anna and Gabriel were both holding back Balthazar who was equally enraged and struggling to get to Dean.
“I’m not a mudblood, you fucking cocksucker!” Dean shouted, followed closely by another string of curses that had even Sam, who was used to Dean’s colourful language, blushing furiously.
Anna mumbled a sincere apology as Gabriel successfully dragged Balthazar away. The small group was already starting to draw the attention of the Potions master and head of Slytherin, Professor Fergus “Crowley” McLeod, better known to his students as Professor Crowley. Even if it was his own house, Professor Crowley would not hesitate to deduct points from all parties involved and give them a week’s worth of detention for even thinking of using their wands.
“Remember what I said, Castiel. I’m sorry that we have to leave on such awkward terms,” Anna said, softly.
Castiel nodded numbly, holding back his own upset for the way Balthazar had insulted Dean. Castiel sometimes wondered if the only reason Balthazar took any interest in him was due to Castiel’s pure lineage, the Singers by no means being a wealthy wizarding family but had a history of magic that rivaled even the oldest and wealthiest pureblood lines. “I will, Anna. Thank you.”
Anna and Meg made their exit, joining Balthazar and Gabriel up ahead where they had met up with Ruby and some of the other Slytherins. Professor Crowley was already questioning the group and from his tight-lipped scowl and hint of a glare, it was evident that Balthazar was about to get a mouthful.
Castiel looked back apologetically to his friends, feeling particularly more embarrassed since Balthazar’s insult applied to everyone except him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. Balthazar gets…a bit emotional at times.”
“What in Merlin’s name are you doing with trash like that?” Dean demanded, having only been just released by Sam and Bela. His cheeks were still flushed from his earlier anger.
Castiel suddenly remembered that the reason why Balthazar had went on the defense was because Dean came barging in, dishing out insults like it was going out of style. “They’re my friends, Dean,” he said, his voice a bit defensive. “They were congratulating me on the game.”
“With friends like that, you’ll never need enemies,” Dean retorted, crossing his arms stubbornly. “You can’t trust a Slytherin any more than you can trust a dragon with your hoard of gold.”
“Not to barge in on your one-sided mud-slinging contest,” Bela started, eyes narrowing at Dean. “But it may have escaped your notice that you are in mixed company at the moment.”
“Bela, when have I ever said I trusted you?”
Bela quirked a brow, annoyance dissipating as Dean broke into their familiar banter. “I assure you, the feeling’s mutual.”
Sam and Jess rolled their eyes. They had been spending so much time together that they were now mirroring each other’s gestures without so much as a glance at one another. “You were awesome out there, Castiel! And it was very noble of you to help Adam when he slipped off his broom,” Jessica gushed, pushing a blond strand out of her blue eyes as she smiled at Castiel.
Sam smiled sheepishly. “We may have been, uh, rooting for the other team but we’re still proud of you. That last move you pulled was really killer!”
In his excitement, Sam’s arm brushed against Jess’s. Castiel watched as both exchanged a look and turned away almost as abruptly, blushing furiously. He found their interest in one another quite endearing although Dean often took it a step further and teased them relentlessly, not accepting their claim of being “just friends”.
Today, though, Dean made it clear that he wasn’t in his usual good mood. Having abated his usual exchange of insults with Bela, his shoulders continued to remain tense as his eyes flickered over to Castiel. Everything about his posture said he was on the defensive and he wasn’t about to let whatever was bothering him go. Much to Castiel’s dismay, he also knew Dean well enough to know that when Dean was in this kind of mood, Dean also wouldn’t own up to what exactly it was that was eating away at him.
“Our seeker’s still learning the ropes,” he mumbled. “Gotta get a bit more mileage on him and then we’ll get our game back.”
And that was when Castiel realized that it wasn’t just Balthazar that had pissed Dean off. This was the first time that Hufflepuff had ever won a game against Gryffindor since Castiel and Dean joined their respective teams in 3rd year. To be fair, though, a huge part of Gryffindor’s past victories came about due to the old seeker, Bradley Collins', skill on a broomstick. Having already amassed 3 years experience when Castiel first joined Hufflepuff in 3rd year, Castiel always found himself trailing the senior seeker in games, coming sometimes close enough that he could almost taste victory on the edge of his tongue, but never quite getting it.
Castiel knew Dean was competitive. But he never thought Quidditch would be a sore spot for the Gryffindor. Even when his team lost, Castiel had always happily congratulated Dean, reveling in the way Dean’s face would light up like it was Christmas morning. And if Castiel had to be honest, he would willingly lose every game he played if it meant being rewarded by Dean’s smile.
Now, however, he couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed although he hid it very well. “I think you still did very well, Dean. You should be proud of your team’s effort.”
“’Effort’ is not the same as winning,” Dean muttered.
Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the best player but he trained hard, partly for his own growing love for the sport but also because Dean made such a fuss about Quidditch to the extent that he almost treated it like a religion. Deep down, Castiel knew that he was also hoping to gain Dean’s approval and while it might not always be the best reason to stick to the game on days when practice left Castiel’s body weary and tired, it was a driving force to know that this was something the two shared between them.
Sam gave Dean a dirty look, catching the hurt on Castiel’s face before the Hufflepuff hid it behind a mask of forced indifference. “Dean…” Sam began.
“Great game, Dean!”
The awkward tension was broken by Lisa Braeden, a 5th year brunette from Ravenclaw. She ran up to the group, long blue and bronze scarf falling on either side of her neck and swishing with her black robes. One of her hands was firmly grasping Pamela Barnes, a 6th year Ravenclaw with dark, sultry eyes and a knack for Divination that even made non-believers like Dean (he often claimed it was more useless than “hippogriff dung,” despite Castiel’s fondness for the subject) question his own opinions, tugging her along. Lisa stopped in front of Dean, smiling shyly and seeming oblivious to the tension. Much to Castiel’s dismay, when the Ravenclaw locked eyes with the Gryffindor, Dean’s irritable behavior immediately subsided and his eyes softened, a blush coloring his cheeks.
“You were great out there,” Lisa breathed, flushing at how airy she sounded. “That is, well, Pamela and I were rooting for you.”
Pamela, who was as sassy and sexy as Lisa was bashful and reserved, placed one hand on her hip and smiled flirtatiously. “Nice moves, Winchester. You filled out nicely over the summer, too. Been practicing?”
Dean grinned, falling right into step with Pamela. His blush was replaced with a haughty smirk and the straightening of his posture as his confidence bordered on that almost unbearable cockiness he got when confronted by the opposite sex. “Every day. Not much else to do back at my old man’s. Sammy here’s been letting me pummel him with the quaffle. He might try out for beater next year.”
Dean began ruffling Sam’s dark brown locks, the shorter and smaller Winchester swatting at his hand. “Knock it off, Dean!”
Pamela and Lisa giggled, earning a tight-lipped smile from Bela, who was now blocked out behind them with Jessica. Castiel didn’t really understand girls but something about the way Pamela and Lisa had wedged in front of Bela and Jessica to corner the Winchester brothers told him there was some kind of alpha female stand off going on. It was times like this that Castiel was happy he didn’t have to delve any further into female behavior, partly due to his yet undeveloped interest in the opposite sex. Even the way Dean deepened his voice and acted more macho kind of got on Castiel’s nerves.
“I think it’s cute how close you and Sam are,” Lisa remarked, moving in a bit closer to Dean. Castiel’s shoulders stiffened and he couldn’t help the bitter taste of jealousy that settled at the back of his throat. To make it worse, Dean now turned his body so his back was facing Castiel, his full, undivided attention how granted to Lisa and Pamela. Before even Sam could, again, protest Dean’s behavior, Lisa placed a hard on Dean’s arm and softly asked, “are you doing anything this evening?”
The next words uttered from Dean felt like a thousand daggers driven through Castiel’s heart.
“Nothing special planned. Got something in mind?”
Lisa smiled. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go up to the astronomy tower with me…”
Castiel could feel a cold sense of dread course through him. The astronomy tower. That may as well have been mermaid for “make-out central.”
Dean glanced back over his shoulder and that happy Winchester grin made Castiel swallow his own bitter feelings of betrayal and force a calm look on his face. “Say, Cas? Seeing as you guys won and all, you’ll probably have a huge party in the common room tonight. You should celebrate, man. How about we do that study thing tomorrow instead?”
Castiel forced a smile but it wouldn’t take a wizard who had mastered Occlumency to realize that it failed to reach his eyes. “Sure, Dean. Whatever you want.”
Whatever you want.
But wasn’t that always how it was? Didn’t he always do what Dean wanted? Castiel bitterly wished he had the strength to voice his true feelings, but even he didn’t want to be the one to selfishly take away Dean’s happiness like that.
“Great! I’ll see you guys around. Don’t celebrate too hard!”
And with that, Dean was dragged away by Pamela and Lisa. With the graying, early November sky already darkening, Castiel could only guess that they were heading to the dining hall, along with many of the other students who were already leaving the field. Castiel swallowed hard and stood silently, willing himself to not burst childishly into the invisible tears he felt prickling at the back of his eyes.
“Don’t let that harlot get to you,” Bela mumbled, glaring at Lisa’s retreating form. “She’s as classy as she is tactful.”
“Lisa’s not that bad,” Jess started, coming to the defense of her fellow Ravenclaw even though Lisa and Jess had never even so much as exchanged two words.
“Dean’s entitled to do as he pleases,” Castiel said, coolly.
“Don’t let him get away with stuff like that, Cas,” Sam said, unable to hide his irritation with his brother. “I was there the other day when he said he’d help you after tonight’s game. You can’t let him treat you like a doormat all the time. If you want, I could talk-“
“Forget about it, Sam,” Castiel said, cutting him off. He looked down at his grass-stained yellow Quidditch robes and flicked his wand, mumbling a spell. In moments, Castiel’s clothes were like new, as if the abuse from only an hour ago when he made contact with the pitch was forgotten. “I should change and get to the library.”
He brushed past his friends and began walking back towards the school. He knew he was going to have to come up with every excuse in the book to ditch his teammates in their common room celebration tonight and part of him almost wished he had taken up Anna’s offer, preferring to be around the company of someone who wouldn’t make him think of Dean Winchester.
As he walked away, he heard Bela sigh, “I swear, that brother of yours can be so daft sometimes…”
Part 2