A/N: Prompt from sinful-obsessions on tumblr: AUcrossover-HP~Quidditch~SQ
This takes place in my "Seek and You Shall Find" universe.
She flies with the wind. Her quidditch cloak billows behind her, her grip on the handle is strong. Her eyes are focused on the snitch flying erratically in front of her. She reaching out, feeling the wind filing through the spaces between her gloved fingers.
Almost got it…..Almost….Just gotta reach a little….
Oomph.
And with that, Emma Swan knew she was basically screwed.
Regina presses her broomstick exactly against Emma's own with a terrifying preciseness. She is almost downright regally perched on her broomstick, her lips pursed in concentration. All the while Emma is scrambling to stay on her Nimbus 2001, one of her legs dangling uselessly off the edge. It is one of those moments where everything runs in her head at once; her life as a the weirdest orphan on the block before finding out hey there were other weird people too and it was called magic, not weirdness, Hogwarts becoming her true home, meeting Mary Margaret and David and August and Regina, and oh yes Regina's thigh now pressed very intimately against Emma's own as they whizz around the stadium chasing a golden ball, both their arms outstretched and searching and fingers threatening to link together.
As they dip down below the bleachers, the snitch still just ever so slightly in front of them, a voice rang out in the stadium:
"And there we have the two seekers, bodies pressed together towards that ultimate goal, the climax of the game. Both sweating in sheer excitement and anticipation. It will be a fight to the end for Gryffindor Seeker Emma Swan, and Slytherin Seeker Regina Mills, I can assure you of that, my marvelous audience."
Okay, she is really going to kill August later. Or feed him pumpkin juice laced with a hallucinatory hex.
The snitch, being the little fucker that it is, whizzes off to the side at a dangerous angle, leaving both seekers just so slightly bewildered, and Emma almost half-way off her broom. She is going to be the laughing stock of the common rooms by the time this was over.
Regina turns to her, eyes wild with the chase, her lips blooming into a full-fledged amused smirk, and Emma finds herself examining how accentuated Regina's cheekbones are with her hair tied back, a tongue snaking out to warm her lips from the chilly air, and then her grip slips once more on her broomstick, and honestly this is getting to be a bit of a problem.
"Really, Ms. Swan, I thought you had much better form than this." Oh now Regina has let go of the broom to put her cross her arms, and the broom just floated steadily underneath her.
Show-off.
"Yeah well, my broom is having a bad day."
Regina chuckles, that deep one that sent too many chills down Emma's back for a school quidditch game.
"Brooms can't have bad days, dear." Regina smiles widely then, (nothing ever good comes from a smile like that from Regina Mills), and puts a hand back on the broom handle.
"However their riders can be….focused on other matters." She nudges her broom towards Emma's and reaches out to rest a hand on her cheek and Emma is suddenly very thankful that they were far away from prying eyes and that the Wizarding World had yet to develop video cameras, or at least didn't use them in sporting events.
Regina strokes her hand on Emma's cheek gently, far too gently for Emma to feel comfortable. Her head cocks slightly to the side for just a moment, and she begins to lean in, her dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous and exhilarating. And also another kind of emotion, inexplicable, and too terrifying to name. It causes a certain softening in those same dangerous eyes for a half a second before it disappears entirely. She leans closer and closer still and Emma's lips part, and she swears Regina is going to go in for the kiss (or the kill) when instead Regina aims for her ear. Her breath is hot as she speaks, and voice reaches somewhere inside Emma and makes her temporarily physically frozen, while everywhere inside bloomed searing heat.
"Of course if my opponent is focused on other matters, that means…I win. In every regard."
Emma wants that voice everywhere on her body if that was possible, her hands and lips on places they probably shouldn't be in front of the entire student and teacher population. Just as she's about to say a haughty retort to cover up her intense arousal, (that was probably evident anyway, Merlin's Beard she can be obvious), Regina whizzes away like the speed of light, leaving Emma as stunned as if someone had put a hex on her.
Damn firebolt.
She stares dumbly in front of her for mere seconds before getting her shit together and flying after her, her gaze steely, her eyes re-focussed, the air rushing by her making her feel like a bird, or some kind of vengeance angel. She wrinkles her nose. That was a lame metaphor. But no way in hell was Mills was going to win this round.
Well. At least in Quidditch.
(Oh yes, they would be making plenty of use of the Room of Requirement that night).