Hello my beautiful readers, new and old! I began to get back into the lovely Harry Potter fandom again (not that I left), and am enjoying feeling like a kid again, and it's all thanks to a lovely fanfiction on here called Quidditch House Rules! A lovely USUK for those who like the pairing! Now, I do know this pairing of Scotland and 2p Italy is an extremely rare and crack pairing and now has climbed to be one of my OTP's, however please let me explain. I have an ask blog where I portray Luciano, and with a lot of backstory and character development with this Scotland, we now have a nice following of shippers on tumblr now. So I hope you can look past the strangeness and that I can bring that character development that brought so many people into this new ship. Now I'll try and stop rambling now, so please enjoy and possibly review so I can see what you all think!

Oh, and fun fact: this went from almost 700 words in the first drabble I wrote to over 5000. Talk about inspiration right?

… era of the Renaissance was a time of change through Europe with the goal being a more realistic style being depicted. Although this revolutionary way of art began in the 14th century in the city of Florence, Italy, many theories still are proposed to this day why it began in this one town instead of all over Europe preceding the Black Plague that wiped out a considering number of the population. The cultural movement lasted from the 14th century to roughly the 17th century, an important turning point in muggle art.

Of the many main techniques used during such time, a famous example of the technique of sfumato was none other than the beloved Mona Lisa. In order to create such a masterpiece, one blended one shade into the other to create depth, form, and volume, adding to the three dimensional appearance of the canvas. It is to be noted that many techniques seen during this era show the same dimensional approach. As another example, there is a technique called chiaroscuro which uses the contrast of light and dark to give the illusion of the depth in a painting, which was further developed into another form called tenebrism by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio in which objects seem to be emerging from the blackness.

Fresco was a unique technique that is split into two types, buon fresco and fresco secc-

Ink flowed onto the paper in a neat quick scribble, the owner trying to quickly write as many words while they popped up into his mind. It didn't help he had to excuse himself from most of his Art lesson so that he could get ready for the Quidditch match, and his Muggle Arts class, although canceled for that day, the assignment would still be due after the match was done. Thus he was frantically finishing the rest of his essay on the Renaissance art movement and the techniques that were beginning to emerge. Art interested him and was always a favorite past time, but at this point, he could suffer not getting full credit. He really shouldn't have spent all his free time watching Kiku take pictures of various magical creatures, or attempt to do the extra credit of taking care of the hippogriffs foals. He was only a page away from completing the assignment when he heard his name being called.

"Luciano! Vargas, get your ass up here before the captain get back!" He briefly glanced up at the keeper as she tied her hair up, before realizing that it hadn't been her who called his name. Blinking, the red-eyed male directed his eyes towards the similar eyed male who was walking up to him with a big grin. Normally he would ignore the boy, but there was a match to attend after all.

"Your homework can wait until after dinner! Captain's not gonna like that."

"Oh bite me, it's due right after the match so I need to get most of it done… It's not like I'll lose focus during the match, anyways. I'd like to sleep early tonight. If you forgot, we have double History tomorrow." Lips twitched up in a smirk when the white-haired chaser groaned, clutching his head. He muttered something along the line of 'Don't remind me!' and 'Can I borrow your notes? I fell asleep.' to which Luciano simply shook his head. Regardless of how boring the class still was – the same professor still taught it – it still was required every year. He capped his ink and shoved his essay and quill back into his bag. He would be able to finish it later. He stood up and stretched to flex his spine before he re-tied the leather strings to hold his Quidditch robe on. The gauntlets were next, fastened snug against his forearms to protect them from harm. The silver and green material looked nice against his skin, bringing out his red eyes and his auburn hair. Briefly wishing his flyaway curl would simply lie flat against his head, he refused to remember that red and green were usually Christmas colors.

"This match will be ours, da?" A cheerful voice asked behind him, causing him to spin around. How the hell did their captain and beater sneak up behind him? His eyes widened slightly. The tall purple eyed Russian simply smiled down at him, finding a way around the rules again to wear his beloved scarf. Luciano recovered and smirked up at him.

"Are you kidding me? That snitch will be mine. I heard their new seeker is still trying to get her act together. We'll be fine." The smirk grew as the Russian nodded, feeling satisfied at that answer. Luciano wasn't bluffing at all. He sometimes heard a few rumors about the other Quidditch teams, but then again, it was hard not to. It wasn't as if they were trying to be kept secret, and Kiku, his best friend, had the easiest time finding out anything from gossip. Gryffindor's last seeker ended up transferring to a new school – no one knew why, probably family trouble- and a third year took the spot after several hopefuls tried out.

The fifth year student was thankful that he made it onto the team his third year when Slytherin's seeker graduated. Luciano made sure that his tryout had not been one to forgot, so in Ivan's eyes he was quite pleased with his performance as long as he did his job. And boy did he love it. Flying through the air with only one goal – to catch the elusive golden snitch… Well, that and make sure not to get thrown off the broomstick by a Bludger. Those things were nasty when they hit you. Luckily he only got several bruises before in their games the past two years, so starting this year off with a nice clean slate would be the best.

"I'll try to keep the Bludgers away from you, but no promises. I want to see all the other players scatter before us like the little people they are." That smile the seventh year had on his face always creeped him out a bit, well, the whole team really, but he wasn't too bad. Nodding to the captain, the team gathered around him, awaiting his pre-match speech. Well speech wasn't the best term for that, technically it was more of a few words before he told them to grab their brooms and get in line.

"There is only one thing I expect - win. They may have won the final match last year by 10 points, but this year will be our time, da? Grab your brooms." The whole team cheered with big smiles, or smirks, on their faces and rushed to grab their brooms. An announcer was just getting started on saying who the match was against, not that it was needed or anything, as the first game of the season, they all knew who started it off. The seeker quickly walked over to where his Nimbus was, inspecting every inch of it like he always did. He remembered his parents saving up for the newest Nimbus, even his older brother pitched in a bit for it for his birthday as a present for getting onto the Quidditch team. A soft smile replaced the smirk, brushing his thumb over the customized carving of his name on the handle lined in silver.

Sure he would have wished to get the Firebolt, or one of its newest line, but that was still too expensive for his family, and a Nimbus was just as good for what he needed. He liked how it was similar to the 2001 version, with the dark wood that was polished black. The dark strands of twigs came to a nice point behind, streaked with lines of silver to make it look 'flashier'. The bells and whistles of spells attached to it was the package just over the standard one, but he didn't care for that. Just the prospect of having such a wonderful broom underneath him had been enough to win him over. And at least no one would have known about his excited freak out over it on his birthday, except for Kiku of course.

Quickly shaking his head, the Italian hurried after his teammates, staying behind them in the order they had always decided on. The keeper was at the head, followed by the two beaters, three chasers, and then the seeker at the end. It was a simple formation, but he loved the reaction that they get out of the crowd. Luckily the hostilities between the houses had diminished drastically after Voldemort had been defeated, but Quidditch matches still brought the worst out of people, being as competitive as it was. And Slytherin still was the snake in the corner, according to most students. Swinging his leg over his broom, he waited, hearing the announcer begin to announce the Slytherin team.

"And now for the serpents of the castle, the ones who nearly won the house cup last year – the Slytherin Quidditch Team!" Instantly the Slytherins roared with school spirit, and several members of the other houses joined them. Already the Gryffindor team was in the air, awaiting their rivals. Gilbert ahead glanced back at Luciano and gave him a thumbs up before he kicked off. Shaking his head he followed his team, back straight and eyes darting over the crowds as he trailed behind. As soon as they got to the middle of the field, they charged at the Gryffindor's team, identical smirks on their face. It was a game of chicken, but the Slytherins whooped and pulled up, lining into a v formation as each player did their own individual trick.

Gilbert twirled in the air before he slid down onto the foot stand of his broomstick and held it upright, releasing one hand to salute the audience with a charming smile. With one wink, he sent a few girls squealing. The two beaters swooped at each other, hitting each other's sticks while they took their position, Gilbert sliding into where the chasers were. Luciano on the other hand zoomed past them all, going into a loop before he let go of his broom, using his legs to stand up on it, facing the other seeker. He bowed towards her, loving the roar of applause. Too bad they had not been able to see what that team had done to show off. It was a good way to start their competitive edge and show off a little to please both themselves and their fans. Some of the Gryffindor team rolled their eyes at the flashy maneuvers.

Sliding back onto his broomstick properly, he heard a whistle that succeeded in getting everyone's attention. Glancing down at the coach, both teams quieted down. The woman below seemed to look similar to that one flying coach from so long ago, before any of them had been born, what was her name? Eyes sharp like a hawk's, strict yet well loved? Oh he couldn't remember. But this one had similar eyes that watched them like a bird of prey, and although many considered her to be quite the softy when not doing school duties as both flying teacher and Quidditch referee, she was a stickler for the rules with her passion for the sport.

"You all already know the rules. Any foul play will be called out by me. If I see anyone other than the seeker attempt to go after the snitch…" The threat of that hanging sentence unnerved everyone except for Ivan, so simply smiled down at her happily. There were a few instances where it had gotten so throat cut competitive that a few players had gone after the Snitch themselves. It had not been pretty, as the referee went livid, quite literally. Regardless, everyone nodded and the woman walked to the box that held the Quidditch balls.

With one look back up at the two teams, she waved her wand with a harsh flick of the wrist and the Bludgers exploded from their containers, nearly knocking one of the Gryffindor's off their broomstick. The Snitch hovered over the Quaffle, teasing the two seekers. The referee ignored it as it then flew lazily around her head, grabbing the Quaffle. Everyone's breath froze in their lungs, waiting for the start of the match. Even the announcer was unable to come up with any words at the moment, waiting for it, for the surge of energy to come crashing down like a wave on the beach. The Quaffle was thrown into the air, and with it, the Snitch followed.

"Let the match begin!" A piercing whistle was once again sounded and the chasers immediately dived for it, a Gryffindor chaser snatching it just out of the fingertips of Gilbert, who cursed at her. Instantly Luciano forgot about the Quaffle, diving underneath Ivan as a Bludger headed his way. The Russian's beater stick made a booming CRACK as it sent the ball hurtling away to an incoming chaser who nearly broke her broomstick swerving out of the way. He yelled back a 'thanks' to his captain, gaining altitude as he tried to figure out where the Snitch went. After it climbed up with the Quaffle, the swarm of chasers hid it from view. He cursed to himself, keeping an on any Bludgers that would come his way, and the other seeker.

A key point when being a Seeker was how you couldn't only rely on your own talent, you have to always pay attention to the other players, hints they would give off if they noticed the Snitch. The audience also gave out clues, never ones to bite back a 'Look, there!' or 'Oh, did you see it?'. It was almost hilarious, one could call that cheating, but the Italian liked to simply say it was observation. The only problem with Quidditch was playing in the rain. Visibility was well reduced and the occasional struck by lightning scenario was never something that he found fun. After all, it happened to too many of them over the years.

A flash of red caught Luciano's attention, thinking it was the Quaffle, but apparently it was the red-haired beater. That always distracted him; not as if the hair was horrible to look at, it was rather a lovely shade - and god knew how much it was his favorite color – but when he wanted to keep an eye out for every ball in play, it always mixed him up. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he stalled above the Ravenclaw stands, spying Kiku for a moment down below. His eyes trailed after the beater, who apparently was swinging his beater stick at his companion, obviously up to something… he would have to be careful. Wait… his vision narrowed in on the beater again, catching a glimpse of something.

Was that plaid?

Staring again, he deadpanned, almost wanting to facepalm out of the sheer obscurity of it. The boy was wearing a kilt underneath his outfit, a kilt. He probably never really noticed it before, but enough of wondering how strange some students were, the Snitch awaited his fingers. Smirking, he pointed his broomstick and shot through the air, scanning the fields below him. To fly like this had always been considered a dream by many muggles, yet wizards and witches had been able to live out this dream for many centuries.

The wind whistling through his hair and clothing was something the Italian always had loved. Becoming a seeker, so that he could fly through the air with speed on his side - that had been his dream, and now, his reality. Going on three years, and hopefully until his seventh year, the Italian was sure he would be able to have a lasting impression on the Quidditch team. It wasn't as if he'd try pursue a professional Quidditch career, no, as competitive as it was, he didn't want to have his favorite sport spoiled for him with that. After finishing his last year, he'd probably call on his friends and colleagues for a friendly match once and a while, maybe even let his older brother player keeper like he wanted to.

You know, Flavio wasn't that bad at Quidditch now that he thought about it… But what was he kidding, he had a match to focus on! Tuning back in to it all, he realized the Bludgers were being kept well away from the seekers, other than Ivan nailing it towards the other seeker just to scare her slightly. The dangerous ball hadn't been anywhere near where it could have hit her, just stopped her concentration on where she thought she saw the Snitch.

"Keep your wits about you!" A small chuckle followed the taunt and he few past her, ignoring her frustrated growl and comeback, the words lost in the wind behind him. Annoying several of the other team members was always fun, and it was the highlight of every Slytherin Quidditch member's game, more their specialty. Rile the opposite team so that their mind was not completely focused. Thus teamwork would not work as well in the end. Glancing over at the scoreboards, he checked the points. Slytherin just pulled ahead by twenty points while he was around looking for the coveted golden ball. Nodding, he knew they always wanted to make sure to pull ahead with enough points before the Snitch was sighted. It was a strategy they always agreed on. It always sucked when they thought they had enough with just the Snitch only to realize how close the game had been without much scoring.

There!

A flash of gold had been pointed out by the sun herself and he went into a nosedive before he realized what the Snitch was planning… Shit. Bracing himself, he went into the lower stands, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins alike having to dive out of his way as he fought to keep his speeds up. He heard Gilbert's obnoxious laugh as he flew by with the Quaffle, followed by the other three Gryffindor chasers. The Snitch adjusted course flying up the tower stand suddenly and Luciano had only a split second to avoid crashing into the banner-laden tower. He climbed, arm stretched out to grab the ball when he was sent spiraling out of the way, nearly colliding with the other team's seeker as she dove to grab it.

Damn, she had seen it as well. The Snitch once more disappeared from view as she fought to quickly get their descent under control, hearing gasps and concerned shouts as they both hurtled past the lower stands. Straightening his own broomstick just in time to avoid splatting against the ground, he glanced back to see how the other seeker faired. She had made it as well and shook her head, glancing over at him. Now Luciano wasn't a gentleman, but he nodded towards her in respect, though in the girl picked up on it was beyond him. The Italian seeker never bothered to memorize their faces or names, he never really interacted with many of the Quidditch players unless they were on his own team, and even then they were merely teammates, not friends.

Well, Gilbert was alright as it was. Ivan, not so much.

He dodged a beater as he tried to knock a Bludger near him, rolling his broomstick upside to shoot through the group of Gryffindor chasers and past two of his own teammates. He smiled, seeing as they still hold possession of the Quaffle. But apparently not for long as a pass was intercepted and the opposing chasers changed course to turn the tables, although the Slytherin chasers went on the defensive.

Biting his lip and attempting not to get involved with his other teammates, he spied the Snitch racing towards the Slytherin's goals. Immediately he was off, gaining speed as he pressed his body as close to his broom as possibly to prevent windbreak. Meters and then soon feet separated him and the golden prize, listening to the excited whoops filling the air around him. It wasn't so far away now, he could literally see the golden segments of the Snitch as it fluttered, testing the ability of the seeker. The sun glinting off its shiny surface almost blinded him, and relief set in when the sunlight was dulled by slight wisps of clouds. All he had to do was keep it in his vision.

A warning from one of his team's chasers sounded out and he just managed to swerve, avoiding the offset Bludger as it sought to knock him off his broom. He heard the curse as the Gryffindor seeker behind him had to do the same. She was catching up fast; he had to catch it now! He didn't thank whichever teammate that had called out the warning; he'd be able to do that after they won the match. And since this was the first match of the season, bragging rights would be included.

According to the barely heard sound behind him, he figured that she was beginning to struggle. Allowing a confident smirk to grace his lips, Luciano stretched out his dominant hand, guiding his broomstick with his left one. He was nearly there, only a few more inches and the golden ball would be caught. Just a few more-

The Italian froze as he heard the deafening crack of the Bludger meeting a beater's stick nearby. The smirk dropped, eyes widening as he turned to the left just in time for a Bludger to connect against his ribcage. He heard bones crack and crunch under the pressure and hot waves of pain overwhelmed him, barely recognizing the scream of pain was his own voice, sounding so alien. He tried to take a breath, but found his lungs barely able to take in oxygen without pain flooding his senses.

The ground began to rush up on him, holding onto his broom as he went into an almost nosedive. Darkness began to spread across his vision, a mash up of horror-filled gasps, screams, laughter, and concerned yells blending into a giant rush of wind. He was out before he hit the ground.

Luciano slipped in and out of conscious constantly, unable to form words when he awoke, hearing bits and pieces of conversation that made little since alone. He knew he heard Gilbert's voice, but it was distance and warped. Pain seared through him, overwhelming his system as he tried to breathe, taking him back into the sweet painless darkness. At one point he felt something travel down his throat, a vile-tasting liquid and knew that he had to be in the hospital wing. He sputtered and nearly coughed it up, ribs protesting immensely.

"Swallow all of it, boy!" a faraway voice demanded, not letting him squirm away from it. He obeyed long enough before he again slipped into darkness. Dreams eluded him, just darkness that made him feel as if time had fast forward with no time delay.

A dull ache was what awaited him, turning into a hot jab if he moved to his injured side. He bit his lip to stop from gasping out in pain, not wanting to show how much it still hurt. Damnit… He thought whatever the nurse had made him drink would have taken care of it… Had it really been bad? If he had to stay in the wing for more than one day, he was going to kill that person. Almost immediately, he saw slight movement near him and glanced to his left, frowning slightly. He expected that it was Gilbert, smirking down at him, but… no… It was that red-headed beater. Why was he? Oh, that's right…

It all came back to him - the boy in front of him had been the reason why he ended up here in the first place. Was he there to laugh at how he was unable to catch the snitch, that his dodging skills were horrible? However, the more he studied how he looked, the more he thought differently.

The Gryffindor was rubbing the back of his head like he was lost in thought, staring off out into the fogged up window where it was raining. Wait? When did it start raining? And how long had it been? Confusion began to well up within him, especially as he took in the boy's expression. It was so strange, his eyes, from what he could see with his bangs slightly in the way, so intense with regret, and something else he couldn't quite put a finger on. It was as if he had been thinking hard about something, trying to come up with an answer to a question he was thinking. Quickly narrowing his eyes as the beater turned to glance over at him, only to blink in surprise, Luciano growled.

"Why the fuck are you here?" That snapped reply was not something the sixth year student had expected to hear from the injured Slytherin. He blinked again, trying to get his thoughts in order. Alistair had not expected the seeker to be so rude, okay, he did send him to the hospital wing, but still… He had wanted to see if he was alright. Simply shrugging it off, he sheepishly smiled down at the younger teenager, a bit embarrassed as he spoke.

"Eh… sorry about all that. I was trying to aim at me brother, I swear! Your teammates were here earlier, but the nurse shooed them away for making a loud ruckus about losing. I wanted to stay here and apologize." Luciano pursed his lips at that Scottish-accented reply. Did he honestly expect him to think that he wanted to see the very person who put him in the damn wing when he woke up? And what was with that excuse? Did he look like an idiot who couldn't see past a lie when one was spoken? He wasn't some oblivious first year who would just blink up at him with large owlish eyes and just accept the damn apology.

He winced at the ache that made itself know as he tried to sit up straight. Concern shown into those - damn such a brilliant blue color - eyes and the beater reached forward to try and gently push his shoulders back before he hurt himself. Angrily, Luciano slapped his hands away, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder.

"Don't touch me! You really think I would believe that you attempted to pass to another beater when he wasn't even near me, you damn idiota? He was right beside you to the right." The Italian snarled up at him, fury showing quite clearly on his face. Truthfully, he shouldn't have been so riled up over a simple game, or at something trying to look out for an injured comrade. But this wasn't just about the still on-going Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry, no…. this was about his pride being damaged by not being able to have dodged out of the way as soon as he even heard that damn bludger coming… He used to brag back then about his quick reflexes that snagged him the position of seeker on the team. Not only did he have the small frame for it, but his eye for observation still served a highly useful skill, even off the field.

If there was one thing Luciano couldn't stand, it was being made a fool out of. Though technically that wasn't completely what happened, his short temper did get the best of him at times. It was one of the most well known facts about him that circulated the school. Never chase after a serpent or try to pick one up by its tail, because one may find a set of fangs sinking into their unprotected hand… The idiot didn't even bother to offer his name either. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to the names of everyone on the other Quidditch teams…

Damn Gryffindors…

Before the other had a chance to respond to his words, watching those slightly chapped lips begin to open and those bright eyes narrowing slightly at how unreasonable the Italian was being, Luciano decided he didn't want to be in the presence of the annoying beater or hear his voice again. Since he was unable to leave the bed to get away, he settled on the next best solution.

Grabbing the glass of water that had been left on the dresser near his bed, he turned and threw its contents at the redhead, glaring challengingly at him, as if daring him for a rebuttal. Sputtering in surprise and shock, Alistair stared at him, most of the front of his Quidditch robes soaked, same for his gauntlets. Did that Slytherin brat actually do such a childish act in an attempt to make him get out? Almost immediately the expression in his eyes shifted from sheepish to narrowed eyes and an annoyed scowl. He ran his hand threw his wet hair, trying to strain the liquid out so it didn't flop down into his eyesight. It wasn't even the fact that he did that that was so rude, he had pleaded with the nurse for the chance to apologize. After seeing exactly how the beater had hit the lad, the guilt had set in.

As if the looks from the Slytherin team hadn't been enough…

"Shut it and leave so I can get some rest. You cost me the Snitch, and I promise you… Next time our teams are matched, my team will destroy yours. You can count on that." Luciano's dark eyes flashed with purpose. Even if he had to catch the Snitch in the first few minutes, he would do that. There was no way that he will let his own team lose against the Gryffindors again. This time, the match would be personal. The Gryffindor beater better watch out next time.

With his words said, the Italian turned onto his good side, not wanting to look at the redhead's face anymore. He slightly winced at disturbing his now-healing ribs, ones that were no longer broken, but still aching sore. The lung was a different story, as it only now set in that he was struggling for breath even now. With his back to the other boy, it efficiently ended their conversation, silence falling since they were the only two in the wing.

The silence lasted for three minutes, the beater trying to say something before he got up, grabbing a hand towel from one of the dressers and wiping his face with it. Luciano wasn't sure, but he swore he heard something along the lines of 'Damn brat… Not even accepting a simply apology.' but he wasn't sure. He huffed, hearing the beater leave the room, leaving the Italian to his thoughts. He closed his eyes, attempting to fall back asleep so his body could heal, but in the darkness behind his eyelids, all he could see was the image of the Gryffindor looking out the window, lightning accenting his features and that strange look in his eyes. He didn't understand why, but perhaps his love of art made that instance stand out so much, and why it refused to leave his mind.

Not able to toss and turn, the seeker simply lay there, the image continuing to burn in his mind until the pounding rain on the window lulled him into an uneasy and dreamless sleep, awaiting the morning when he could get back to his studies.