Title: Sweet Victory

Rating: T

Characters: Russia, America, Lithuania, China, Japan, Canada, Mexico, England, Ukraine, Belarus and a bunch of OCs

Pairings: Rochu, AmeLiet, eventual LietPol and RusAme

Warnings: Language

Songs: We are the Champions by Queen

Note: Hetalia fic with Harry Potter elements, just Quidditch.


"In a surprise victory over the French, the Russians are now the Quidditch World Champions."

America had one arm slung around Russia and another around Russia's boss. "We are the champions, my friend." He sang.

"America, you are not the champions, we are, da?" Russia said confused.

"I know. We'll keep on fighting 'til the end." He kept singing.

The crowd took up the song. "We are the champions, we are the champions, no time for losers 'cause we are the champions of the world."

"See, that's what I was doing."

The door opened and the American team ran in. They booed the French team as they walked in and cheered loudly for the Russians, who jumped at first but then smiled as their captain, the seeker, lifted the trophy for all to see.


Several months went by and Tony announced another species had invasion plans for the planet. They had agreed to play Quidditch with the champions so the Russian team prepared for a tough game with the fate of the world in their hands because if they lost the planet would be conquered.


"No pressure," America told Russia the morning of the game. The other sighed and laid his moonlight colored head of hair on the darker blonde's shoulder. America made to move a strand of hair that had fallen in Russia's eyes but stopped himself. It's not my place to, he reminded himself, he likes China.

Russia had watched America's hand come up and felt a little disappointed when it lowered. Do I care for him? I did catch him kissing Toris yesterday. He raised his head, allowing America to slip out and run to Lithuania. He watched them kiss, feeling something come to life in his chest. Stop them, interrupt them and kiss Alfred yourself, it told him. He should be yours.

Yao came up to him at that moment and kissed his cheek. He relaxed, now aware of how tense he was. "It's just nerves, aru."

"Da, must be just nerves." He turned to leave. "I have something to do for my boss today."

"You're what?" America said loudly.

"I'm sorry, Alfred, it's just that Feliks needs me and I do love him."

"Fine, Toris, just go."

He is out of the way, the creature in Russia's chest sighed. He put a hand over his heart and hurried out.


America sat next to Russia's boss. "Where's the big guy?"

"He had to work today."

"That sucks."

"I told him it could wait but he wanted to get it done."

The game began. Not even five minutes into it, America was on his feet. "That was cheating! Throw him out!"

"In an unprovoked attack, the Russian Keeper has been knocked out by the other's team Beater. The game is paused while she is taken to the infirmary and the reserve is brought in."

It continued, America screaming himself hoarse every time the other team injured somebody or cheated. The reserve Keeper was beaten to a pulp by both beaters. The game was paused while the Russians deliberated about their next course of action. The game was resumed.

"What's this? They have found another Keeper! I thought they only had the two! Oh! It's the Keeper for the United States in their robes! Ladies and Gentlemen, Matthew "Geronimo' Jones is now playing for the Russian Federation!"

"GERONIMO!" shouted America.

Sometime later, "The score now stands at Russian Federation 210, Gobble 240."

"Gobble?" asked an unimpressed official.

"I have no idea what they're called. Both of the American beaters are now in the air for the Russians. The Chasers are still going strong and the Seeker refuses to have his nose seen to."

The commentary continued for a while. "Could it be that the Snitch has been spotted? Both Seekers are now at the highest point of the stadium and the race is on. SHIT! I mean, did you see that? In a move of hostility the Gobble Seeker pushed the Russian Seeker off his broom! He was thankfully caught by his team mates. What does he have in his hand? It's the Snitch! They won! They won! The score is now Russian Federation 390, Gobble 340!"

America lost his voice.


Russia walked to the conference room, wondering if he could avoid this and sleep. He opened the door to find a party in full swing, several members of America's team wearing his team's robes and… America's face. He had run over and thrown himself at him, croaking something happily as he clung to his scarf. "YOU WON! YOU WON! YOU WON!"

DO IT NOW screamed the creature in his chest. Before he knew what he was doing, he wrapped his arms around the younger nation and kissed him, picking him up. England fainted. The whole room froze and stared as America kissed him back, the monster within him retreating.


Several hours later, they were sitting outside by a lake, watching the reflection of the ships retreating through the night sky. "Canada, Mexico and Ukraine have given us their blessings," America said, his head resting on Russia's arm. "England's drunk as a skunk and we won't get anything out of him until the morning. Belarus has already declared she's cursing us, or me, rather."

"Ah, of course, she is," was the reply. "I am just glad Matvey and Katyusha support this."