In retrospect, it wasn't the worst way the year could have begun.
Sure, Castiel's stack of homework wasn't getting lighter anytime soon, Balthazar had almost let him take the blame on a curse gone awry in the halls on the third day, Professor Alcinous still loathed his very being, and Professor Crowley had forced him into sitting with Dean Winchester in Potions, and a total of sixteen people had come to ask him about Quidditch tryouts, but hey, it could have been going much worse.
He could have been murdered.
That was the bright side of things. The bright side wasn't the most illuminated place at the moment.
Much to his surprise, his saving grace had been his training sessions with Sam. They only lasted an hour or so, since they both were laden with work, but for the short period of time that Castiel was in the air, none of the worries plaguing his mind seemed all that pressing anymore.
And it helped that Sam was truly a great Keeper. Castiel had been overwhelmingly pleased the first time they had flown together. He had definite talent on a broomstick, and blocked goals with surprising ease. Castiel, who considered himself a semi-decent Chaser, had only managed to put away a few goals in their time together. He had Balthazar come out for one of the practices, as a more accomplished Chaser, and even he had been happy with Sam.
The young Winchester was not only a good player, but seemed to be a decent person as well, which was a necessary trait in a potential teammate. Hell, who was Castiel kidding? Sam was already his teammate. Sure, he'd give the other folks that tried out a grain of consideration, but he knew his mind was made up. Sam would be Ravenclaw Keeper, there was no question.
Castiel knew Sam was worried about how moral their situation was, but to be honest, what Castiel wanted was a successful team despite the pretense of favoritism. He wanted to prove that he was a capable Quidditch captain, that he deserved his badge.
It was Friday now, and with the tryouts occurring the next morning, Sam's flying was more nervous tonight. He had missed a couple of easy goals that Castiel knew he could have blocked without a second thought the day before. He hoped Sam got over the majority of his nerves by tryouts so that he would be able to fly at his top form.
When the two of them skidded to the ground a little after nine o'clock, Castiel was much more pleased with Sam, whose nerves had lessened enough during the hour in the air that he was able to pull off a couple of spectacular saves.
"Nice job," Castiel told him, clapping his shoulder. Sam grinned at him through his tangle of messy brown hair. "You'll do a great job in the morning, I'm sure."
"Thanks," Sam cracked his neck. "I hope so."
"Just get a good night's rest," Castiel told him. "And try not to worry too much."
"No promises on that last part," Sam chuckled as the pair made their way across the pitch and in the direction of the brightly lit castle. "I tend to get…nervous…easily…"
He trailed off, eyes fixed on a point ahead of them. Castiel turned to see Dean Winchester walking down the path to the Quidditch pitch toward them, looking rather pissed off and gazing directly at his younger brother. Sam was wincing and seemed to shrink as Dean strode toward them purposefully, which was a feat, as at only fourteen, he was already barely shorter than Castiel.
"So, Sammy," Dean had finally reached them. He was ignoring Castiel – which he didn't mind in the slightest – and focused directly on Sam.
Castiel had to feel bad for the young boy who had become his friend in the last week, for being on the receiving end of Dean's anger never appeared to bode well for anyone in the school. Well, if you listened to the rumor mill, at least.
"Benny told me he'd seen you down on the Quidditch pitch with Novak here for the past couple days. And then I heard a rumor – from Ruby Lestrange, no less – That you were trying out for the Ravenclaw team. And I said no way; you would have at least told me if you were trying out. So I came down to see for myself. Care to explain, little brother?"
"I –" Sam began. "I didn't know how to tell you. You freak out if I do anything out of the ordinary. You're always worrying about me. And I figured it would be easier to tell you after tryouts. Because, you know, I might not have made the team. And if I did, you couldn't do anything about it."
"Why would I want to do anything about it?" Dean's brow furrowed.
"Because you're always telling me what to do," Sam said defensively. "And I wanted to do something without you interfering. Which you do far more than you should, by the way."
Castiel felt as if he was intruding upon a private moment as Dean eyed Sam, his expression softening. "Hey, listen, Sam – I'm not mad. I'm proud of you. Just wish you would have told me. And if you wanted me to back off, you could've just said something."
"You would have ignored me," Sam said, although his tone was much more playful now than it had been before. "And don't be proud of me yet; I haven't actually made the team."
"Hey, you've got the captain training you, haven't you?" Castiel almost felt a sense of relief at be recognized, no longer feeling an outsider. "I'd say you have a pretty good chance."
"He does," Castiel still felt a bit like an intruder as he spoke up, although Sam looked even more relieved than himself that someone else was contributing to the conversation. "He's very good."
"And if the captain says it, it must be true," Dean clapped Sam's back. "Relax. And next time you're mad at me for no apparent reason, remember that I do listen to people on occasion."
"It's rare," Sam started to smile.
"Very," Dean said, mimicking his brother's grin. "Saw Jess on the way out; she wants you to meet her in the library."
"I guess I better go, then," Sam said. "Hey, Castiel, can you take my broom back up to my dorm, please? If it's not too much trouble, that is."
"Of course," Castiel said as Sam handed him his broom, a Comet Two Sixty. It was a nicer model than his own, which was an old Silver Arrow that used to belong to his father, one of the few possessions of his that Castiel owned. The broom wasn't even made anymore, it was that ancient. But it had sentimental value and it still flew wonderfully, so Castiel wasn't going to go replacing something that wasn't broken in the first place. "No problem."
"Thanks," Sam said as he started walking up the path and away from Castiel and Dean. "See you tomorrow, Castiel. Bye, Dean!"
Sam soon disappeared out of sight as he hurried up toward the castle. Dusk was beginning to fall and a chill was sweeping through the grounds, giving Castiel the initiative to start heading up toward Hogwarts as well. Dean fell into step next to him, much to his discomfort. The pair of them might be seated together in Potions, but they had spent the majority of their classes ignoring each other unless they needed an ingredient passed or something of that nature. Castiel wasn't sure how to talk to the Gryffindor boy. Sociality had never been his strong suit.
Instead of choosing to strike up a conversation with Dean, as any ordinary person would have done, no matter how awkward it would have been, Castiel started to speed up so as to avoid the whole 'talking' thing. His friends would have chastised him, but he couldn't help that socializing made him more nervous than he'd care to admit.
"Hey, Cas, wait up!" Castiel, turned, confused, as Dean hurried to meet his pace again.
"Cas?" He asked, confused.
"Nickname, sorry," Dean brushed it off as they continued walking on the winding path up toward the double doors that would lead inside. "I'm too lazy to say Castiel all the time."
"Are you insinuating that you'll be talking to me more?" Castiel raised an eyebrow. Out of all the conversations he could be having with Dean Winchester, this was one of the most unexpected he could have imagined.
"Er, yeah, I guess," Dean shrugged. "You're gonna be Sam's captain, right? Well, you better be."
"What do you mean?" His curiosity piqued.
"Well, I know you're helping him train and all," Dean started out. "So you probably think he's got a good chance. But it would be an asshole move with to ditch him after being all buddy-buddy with him."
"Dean, I have no intention of doing that," Castiel looked incredulously into Dean's eyes. They were extremely green, which he hadn't noticed before. "Sam is a great player, and I have no doubt in my mind that he'll make the House team."
"Well, thanks for the reassurance," Dean said, although Castiel detected sarcasm in his tone. "But if you do anything shitty to him, I will break your fingers off one by one. Just a warning for ya'."
Castiel had no idea whether Dean was kidding or not, so he decided to ignore the last comment. "You're very protective of your brother," he said instead, hoping to steer the conversation away from bodily harm. "It's a refreshing change from how I'm treated by my older brother."
"That's…Gabriel, right?" Dean said, surprising Castiel with his knowledge of other students. "Slimy little snake?"
"Slytherin doesn't automatically mean evil," Castiel corrected out of habit. While he agreed that most of Slytherin house was a bit on the slimy side, there were people like Anna and Gabriel, who were very good people not interested at all in the Dark Arts. Stereotyping of people bothered Castiel, so he always tried to treat everyone equally, unlike many students. "But yes, that's him. He's a decent person, I'm just quite sick of his jokes."
"Isn't he the one who pulled of the heist last year with getting Crowley's skin to change colors?" Dean said with a guffaw. "And Crowley couldn't figure out the counter curse? That was hilarious."
"You wouldn't think it was all that funny if he'd done the same thing to you a week previously to try it out," Castiel shuddered at the memory.
"Ouch," Dean winced. "Not fun."
"At all," Castiel agreed. They had approached the castle at long last, and Castiel was almost shocked to find he was disappointed as he walked through the double doors next to Dean. He had been enjoying the conversation, strangely enough, which was extremely odd. He usually didn't particularly enjoy conversation with anyone, let alone someone like Dean. "But then I charmed his hat to sing Celestina Warbeck for a few months, so we were even."
"That's great," Dean let out a laugh, which didn't make Castiel pleased. Not even a little bit. "I hope it was Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love, also known as the worst song in all of existence."
"You know the title?" Castiel's lips quirked up into a smile while Dean's face turned pink.
"Shut up, Novak," He pointed a finger at Castiel, though they both knew it was jokingly. "I'm warning you."
"I'm very afraid," Castiel raised an eyebrow sarcastically. For some reason, Dean found this funny, because his smile suddenly became so much brighter. It dimmed a moment later, however, when they reached the staircase that led toward Gryffindor Tower.
"Well, g'night," Dean said as he hopped up onto the first stair. "I'll be at tryouts in the morning. Try not to let Sam freak out too much."
"I'll try," Castiel lifted his hand as a parting gesture. "See you then."
"See you!" Dean called as he started up the staircase. Castiel turned away and headed in the other direction toward Ravenclaw Tower, and for some reason beyond his comprehension, he couldn't seem to stop smiling.
