Greg was sat alone in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't usually so quite but lessons were still going on. He along with the rest of the quidditch team had been given their last lesson off to prepare for their first big game of the new year. Everyone else had disappeared into their dorm rooms, as had Greg until Sherlock had come in looking for John and he quietly excused himself. Being best friends with the only other fourth year on the team was great, at least until his boyfriend came round and he felt just a little more than uncomfortable in their presence.
It wasn't because Sherlock was a guy, Greg felt just as uncomfortable even imagining Sherlock to be a girl. (Not that he had to imagine, he got up to some pretty weird experimental magic for a third year.) No, what made him uncomfortable was the way the boy could just read your family history from your robe pocket, or your past relationships from the poise of your tie. He had no idea how John put up with it. Sherlock wasn't all bad though, and Greg could tolerate him when he wasn't being a complete dick. He was pretty good at helping with homework, well, after sighing and calling him an idiot first. Sherlock was also the bloody best seeker Greg had seen, which was also bloody annoying considering he played for the other team.
Greg remembered when they had first met Sherlock. He and John had been running late for the Hogwarts Express, jumping on at 10.58 they'd found all the compartments filled except for one. It was empty except for a tall, dark haired second year who was folded into the corner reading a book thicker than all the ones Greg had ever read put together. They shuffled in causing the boy to look up from his book and fix them with a piercing stare. The usually confident John stammered under the glare.
T…th…the other compartments were all filled, so…" He cut off and his words hung in the air.
"Obviously." Sherlock drawled. "Just as obvious as the fact that you two are fourth years, both aspiring to be on your house's quidditch team this year as beaters. I'd give it another year if I was you." At that point the train stared to move and both Greg and John stumbled, falling haphazardly into the seat opposite the strange boy who continued to talk. "As of your family," here he turned to face John, "Pureblood, mother works for the ministry, sectary most likely. Father, hum, dead, My sympathises." His tone didn't fit the words. "One elder sibling, also Gryffindor, although not on the quidditch team." Flicking his eyes over to Greg he continued to spout observations. "Half-blood, father's the wizard, eldest NO.. only child. You've exclusively dated girls in the past, but are currently questioning you're sexuality as you've become attracted to…"
"OK, ok that's enough," Greg cut him off, face going red as he looked guiltily down at his shoes. Sherlock's mouth twitched into a small amused smile as he looked back and forth between Greg and John, a knowing sparkle in his eyes.
"What the bloody hell was that!? I've never seen any spell like that!"
Sherlock sneered, "Ha! That wasn't a spell, Gregory. I was simply observing John and yourself." Greg looked ready to explode at the use of his unoffered name but John was grinning.
"Wow! That was amazing, did you really get all that from looking at us?"
Sherlock's face brightened at the compliments. "Ordinary people look, I observe."
"Wow, all that about my family and everything, wow. Don't you think that was brilliant Greg?" Having realised John hadn't noticed that Sherlock almost gave away his secret Greg managed to admit that it was sort of amazing.
He shrugged, "I suppose. But how did you know our names? You couldn't have gotten that from" he mocked Sherlock's tone, "observing us." Sherlock sighed. "Your luggage tag Gregory. What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring!" Greg began looking for his case, "Well Sherlock Holmes, it's Greg not Gregory, no one calls me that."
And so began the most awful, and yet most interesting train journey of his life. That train ride set of the theme for the year of the Ravenclaw guessing, sorry deducing, every new Gryffindor password just so he could convince John and on occasion Greg to help him in an experiment, go in search of a rare potion ingredient or accompanied him on some other wild goose chase.
At the end of last year Greg had gone looking for the pair who'd been gone for hours without sending a sign t let Greg know that they were alright. He worried. Sherlock had mentioned something about water taps as he dragged John off, so Greg was had been looking through all the bathrooms for the past half hour in search of them.
"John! Sherlock!" Those two arseholes better be alright or he'd beat them up himself. "Are you in here? John, Sher…" He stopped shouting thinking he heard movement. He turned the corner to find the two boys hurriedly smoothing their hair down with flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
"Hey, um, hi Greg." Muttered John. Greg stepped forward and punched his best mate none too lightly on the arm.
" You wanker, why didn't you tell me?! You too Sherlock! And what the fuck do you dicks think you're doing going off for hours without letting me know if you're alright." His smile gave away his attempted angry voice.
The only thing Greg regretted about that day was that John and Sherlock were comfortable doing the whole annoyingly cute couple thing in front of him. Which was the other reason why he had sneaked out the dorm to be alone in the common room.
Hearing the door open he turned expecting to see one of his teammates, "Hey… uh, who…what are you…you're not even a Gryffindor!" A tall ginger Ravenclaw stood in the doorway. Greg gave the intruder the once over, and noted that he had really nice slim legs and narrow hips and his clothes were all perfectly positioned which would probably have looked ridiculous on anyone else but made this boy look even taller and, and Greg thought, I should probably stop staring.
"My name is Mycroft Holmes, I'm looking for my brother who I believe to be with a one John Hamish Watson." Greg was shocked, he didn't know there was another Holmes. But at least it explained how the elder boy had gotten in.
"Uh, yeah Sherlock'll be in here." He said getting up and walking over to the dorm door. He knocked twice calling out, "Sherlock, your brother's here." There was no response. Mycroft came to stand next to Greg and both boys stood in silence listening. "John, Sherlock?" Still no response. Greg twisted the door handle to reveal a very empty dorm room. Greg sighed. "They probably went out for a leisurely flight before the match." He looked under John's bed. "Yeah, John's broom is missing. They'll be back in plenty of time." He smiled thinking about all the times he'd had to cover for John when he was late for lessons or quidditch because of Sherlock.
Greg could hear Mycroft grumbling to himself, something about idiot little brothers. "Are you going to wait for him here?" He hoped the hope hadn't been obvious in his voice, but if Mycroft was anything like his younger brother he'd have a pretty hard time hiding anything around the older boy.
"I suppose that would make sense, after all I do not know what time Sherlock will return." Greg smiled and sat down on the sofa gesturing for Mycroft to do the same. "You must know my brother well being best friends with John Watson."
Greg wasn't even surprised that Mycroft knew this about him, he had become accustomed to Sherlock deucing everything and anything. "Sure, he's, um.. great. Yeah Sherlock's great."
Mycroft half laughed half scoffed producing a weirdly pleasant sound. "He's compulsive, and doesn't stick to the rules. I spend most of my time trying to keep him from getting in too much trouble." Greg shuffled in his seat, turning so he faced Mycroft.
"Sounds tiresome, I'm glad I don't have any younger siblings."
"The number of problems my dear little brother has caused me has significantly reduced since his association with John Watson began a little over a year ago. Therefore I have been turning a blind eye to his little visits to this house's quarters. However he is late for the pre-match training and as 6th Ravenclaw prefect and his brother I was approached to solve this issue."
"Wait, what, you're a prefect? But you don't…"
Mycroft raised his voice ever so slightly, "I am well aware that my badge is missing. Sherlock saw fit to take it merely for the petty pleasure of attempting to upset me."
Wanting to move the subject away from Sherlock he asked, "Are you going to be watching the quidditch match?"
"Ahh yes the match, well I wasn't planning on it…
As the conversation continued Greg could see Mycroft relaxing and opening up to him. He'd admitted that he had a love for ballroom dancing and cake. And he shared his passion for quidditch and old muggle police movies. They swapped stories of their childhood, and it saddened Greg to learn that Mycroft had spent most of his looking after Sherlock. He'd even convinced the sorting hat to place him in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin so he would be where Sherlock would inevitably sorted.
The pair were so deep in conversation that they didn't notice John and Sherlock open the door from the 4th year's dorm cheeks red and hair messed up from the flight. They turned when they heard a loud clearing throat sort of a cough. "Mycroft." Said Sherlock curtly. "Sherlock. And you must be John Watson." He bobbed his head in a half nod. Sherlock was giving Greg a look identical to the one he'd given him that day on the train, Greg was trying to ignore it and the meaning behind it that he knew to be true. Mycroft turned back to Greg his lips supporting a genuinely apologetic smile, "I'm sorry Gregory but I must return with my brother to make sure he actually turns up to the match this time."
Sherlock looked affronted, "Why brother dear you know I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see John in all that tight leather. Sherlock smirked at his brother and turned to leave, just before he was out the door he turned back to wink at John who had a dark red blush spreading across his features. The boy muttered an excuse and went back into the dorm.
"So, um, will I see you at the match?" Greg shuffled his feet.
"I'll be there." The 'to see you' left unsaid but obviously implied. With a "Goodbye Gregory." Mycroft turned to walk out the door Greg staring at his arse not realising the elder boy would turn round again. Greg blushed brighter then John had, but Mycroft only chuckled swaying his hips as he walked out the door.
Walking out onto the pitch an hour later Greg searched the crowd for a sign of Mycroft. He spotted him in the third row back. Greg waved and received a large smile and a small wave in return. Everyone took their positions, the balls were released and Madame Hooch blew her whistle. They took off Greg and John with bats in hand. Greg had only played a few matches since he'd joined the team in September but he no longer felt nervous whilst playing, only adrenaline and the joy of being up in the air. A bludger came flying towards him, he took aim and hit it narrowly missing one of the Ravenclaw keepers. He and John weaved in and out of the other players working together to protect their team. He kept stealing glances over towards where Mycroft was sitting and was pleased to note that the Ravenclaw prefect's eyes were glued to him, hardly noticing his own house or bother was playing. John pulled up next to Greg, "Getting a little distracted are we?" John asked wiggling his eyebrows. At that moment Sherlock flew past in hot pursuit of a gold blur. John stared after him.
"You're one to tal…JOHN!" Greg exclaimed as a bludger headed towards him. It missed John but hit his broom sending it spinning out of control. Greg flew after John managing to grab his arm just before he hit the ground. But the added weight unbalanced Greg and they both fell unceremoniously on the floor. Thanks to Greg they'd only fallen a little way so they were none worse for wear.
Sherlock had given up on the snitch, flying towards John when he noticed him fall. This gave the Gryffindor seeker a chance to overtake and putting on an extra burst of speed she reached out and grabbed it. The crowd erupted into cheers. Sherlock landed next to John and immediately began checking him for injury. "John are you ok, does anywhere hurt, there seems to be no external wounds but you never know about…"
John cut him off "I'm fine Sherlock, honestly. I'm fine." That's when they noticed that the game had ended. "Sherlock, did you…did you just give up the game for me?"
Sherlock snorted. "Don't be stupid John of course I did." Then Greg had to turn away because they started making out and he really wanted to find Mycroft. He began looking through the congratulatory crowd that had gathered on the pitch.
He turned his head sharply when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned to stare into a pair of misty blue eyes. "Mycroft." He said softly.
"You played very well Gregory."
Greg smiled and joked, "Is that the best you can do at congratulating me?" Mycroft leaned in closer to Greg and his stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, or dragons.
"No." Mycroft whispered. "I can do this." He leaned further in and pressed his lips against Greg's. He started to bull away but Greg brought his arms up to Mycroft's neck keeping him there. Greg kissed harder, encouraged by the thin fingers coming to rest on his hips. They pulled apart and rested their foreheads together.
"I hope you don't plan on congratulating the whole team like this." Mycroft's chuckle made Greg shiver from their close proximity.
"Shame, I suppose I'll just have to give you a kiss for all of them." They were both smiling as they reconnected their lips.