There was something about Quidditch that drew him like a moth to a flame.
He was more into it than any other Weasleys- and that was saying something. The sport was his life, his goal, his dream. He breathed Quidditch.
He begged his family for tickets to go to the World Cup of Ireland versus Germany. "Please, mum? Consider it an early birthday gift!" and much to his relief, his family agreed. The whole Weasley-Potter-Scamander clan went, with lots of noise and bangs, and it was obvious that they were the largest group of people not part of a society or school.
When he arrived at the field (it was held in Germany, this year, but that was nothing but a little trivial piece of information when they had a portkey) he was ecstatic to see that his whole family had the top box- best seat in the house.
He was excited beyond relief, his cheeks flushing pink and his blue eyes shining brightly with a tall green hat plopped on his head.
It turned out that the top box wasn't only full of the British families, but also some of the other members of well-known Quidditch teams or some of their previous players.
"Wait a second! I remember you! You're Ryan! Barry Ryan, the previous Keeper of Ireland! I'm a huge fan. I watched your Ireland versus Bulgaria game in 1994 and you were amazing."
Lysander turned his head to look at his Uncle Ron, his blue eyes wide when he caught sight of the attractive raven next to him.
"Ah, thank you." The Keeper smiled, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Not a lot of people remember me, I feel rather flattered."
"Really? You're well known to a lot of my family, my godson, Lysander is a big fan of yours."
Lysander blushed brightly, silently begging Ron to shut up, and that he was embarrassing him.
"Ah! There's Lysander! Lysander!"
Lysander tried to ignore his uncle, but his unholy devotion to the amazing old Keeper made him stand up and smile slightly at the duo.
"Yes?"
"Lys, meet Barry Ryan. Mr. Ryan, meet my godson, Lysander Scamander."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Scamander." Lysander looked up into the taller man's blue eyes and his throat caught. The pictures simply did not do him justice.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Ryan."
"Please, call me Barry."
"As long as you call me Lysander, Barry." The two of them smiled, and Lysander felt the butterflies in his stomach begin a frenzy of emotions he wasn't familiar with.
"Of course… Lysander."
For the 335 pairing challenge (4/335) hosted by the lovely Fire the Canon.
This pairing also goes against my OTP and it was kind of… eh, writing it, but eh. Oh well eh? Eh? Eh? Okay. Sorry. I will stop with the 'eh' now. How about 'ah'? Or 'oh'? I tend to do a lot of 'Oooh!'. I'm rambling aren't I.
I don't own Harry Potter.
