A/N: Okay...well, I know this took a long time. But I hope it's been worth the wait, and I'd like to thank those of you who've had the patience to deal with it instead of sending me reviews that threaten my well being...ahem. Anyway. I'd like to say, first of all, that I know very little about soccer, but I refuse to do research for a fanfic, which I've been writing just for fun. So if I've messed up positions and the whatnot...deal with it. Feel free to correct me, but I doubt I'll change anything...because...I don't care enough
Chapter Ten
"Christ, Hermione. You should be damned grateful that I come over every morning to help you with this. Honestly, those pants and that blouse? What are you thinking?" Harry shook his head disapprovingly, eyeing the cream yellow trousers Hermione had chosen to wear with her bright green turtleneck. While she flushed and muttered something insulting under her breath, he began to rummage through her closet until he came upon an identical turtleneck in brown. He tossed it at her and looked away as she pulled off her earlier choice.
"I thought the green went perfectly," she said from behind him, voice muffled by the sweater.
"Which is why I'm here," Harry replied, glancing down at his own perfectly matching clothes, "to tell you that you thought wrong."
"Thanks, I guess," Hermione scoffed, checking her hair in the mirror. She pushed a few stray strands into place and grabbed her purse off her dresser. "Ready?"
"As ever."
"So how's work going?" she asked as she backed the Wrangler out of the driveway carefully.
"Bloody awesome," he crowed, digging out a fresh pack of Salem Black Labels from his coat pocket. Remus had been throwing in cartons of cigarettes along with his weekly pay, and every week Harry received different brands. Some were horrible, like the 305s he'd gotten his second week, but some were even better than his beloved Newports, like the vanilla cloves and the Salems. He looked forward to the experience more than he looked forward to his minimum wage.
"Remus is the greatest," he continued, cranking down the window and lighting up. "If he were like, twenty years younger, I'd grab him like that. Fortunately or unfortunately, I think I'm beginning to see him as a sort of father figure, so whatever. He pays me on time, he gives me my fags, he tells the best dirty jokes—he's just really cool. I'm so lucky to have scored such a job, you know?"
"I've heard rumors that he's gay," Hermione supplied. Weeks ago, she would have said it timidly or not at all, worried that she'd offend someone. Now, she spoke as if of the weather. Harry smiled.
"He is. He has a boyfriend, and they've been together for years, but I've never even seen him. I wonder what he's like…tall, dark, and handsome, I bet. That seems like Remy's type."
"Remy?" his friend repeated, amused.
Harry shot her a look and she held back her chuckle, wisely.
Hermione crept into her usual parking spot, thinking about how quickly the month had gone by. It was only two days until winter break, and Harry had really adjusted. He was still relentlessly pursuing the blonde-haired beauty everyone considered the straightest guy in school, with no signs of discouragement at Malfoy's cold responses and occasional outright barb. He was happy at his job, and he'd made many friends. It was said that Dean Thomas had quite the thing for him, which Harry completely ignored. He'd gained a reputation for outsmarting Mr. Snape, much to everyone's delight, and his grades were passing in every class. As for herself, her popularity was sky rocketing, though not in the ruling cliché of jocks and cheerleaders—they disliked her more than ever, it seemed. She'd been spending a lot more time with Ron, and was blind to the adoration he held for her, though she felt the same for him. Overall, Hermione was happier than she could ever remember being before, and she knew that she had Harry to thank.
"—and Dean told me that soccer tryouts are after vacation, so I was thinking of giving it a go," Harry finished, apparently having been talking for awhile.
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "You play soccer? I had no idea."
"Oy, I love American soccer." Harry paused to do a somewhat ridiculous little parody of kicking a soccer ball around and Hermione giggled.
"You are the strangest person I have ever met, Harry Potter."
"That a good thing?"
"The best." As the first hour bell rang, Hermione leaned forward and gave Harry a brief, warm hug. "I'll see you later, Harry. Are you working today? I'd like to hang out."
"I am, but if you'd like to stop by the store around eight, we could go out for a cup at the Java Hut."
"Sounds great. Bye!" Hermione dashed off, eager to get to class, as always. Harry smiled and began to make his way to history.
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Harry was having a wonderful day that included acing his chemistry test and making Snape seem the fool, and flirting wildly with Dean, for no particular reason. It felt good to flirt, even if it was with someone he considered just a friend; honestly, he hadn't expected Malfoy to be so hard to crack, but that poor boy was, in Harry's opinion, so deeply oppressed in his bland, wealthy suburban life that he wasn't just in the closet—he was buried so deep he was suffocating. Luckily for Draco, Harry had always had a bit of a hero complex, and was more than willing to save him.
So Harry was in a good mood, his usual loud, charming self, by the time P.E. rolled around.
He never did much of anything in P.E., because everyone was always playing basketball, a sport he was less than fond of. His other option was dodge ball, and though he rather enjoyed whacking people with kick balls, he didn't like getting whacked himself. Therefore, every class thus far was spent huddled in a corner of the ridiculously cold gym, chatting with his friends and eyeing Malfoy suggestively, making no attempt actually participate.
But when Harry entered the gym today, he was surprised to see that the basketball hoops had been removed and Ms. Hooch was standing in the middle of the court, waiting for the rest of the class to file in. She was cradling a soccer ball. Harry began to bounce around excitedly, earning more than a few indulgent looks.
"All right, settle down everyone!" the younger coach Oliver shouted, entering the gym. He waited until it had quieted and joined Ms. Hooch in the middle of the basketball court. "We're doing things a little differently today. As many of you know, soccer tryouts are coming up after winter vacation, for both the girls' team and the boys'. However, I'm too excited about the upcoming season to wait, and I want to see some of you who might be considering trying out play today. This is by no means a tryout—I just want to get a feel for your talents, and mull over it over vacation. I'll also be able to tell you whether to try out or not." He paused, listening to some students groan with a smile. "Don't worry; those of you with no interest in soccer don't have to play. You can watch from the sidelines, but please, no booing or taunts—let's have a respectful game, okay? Everyone who wants to give it a go, form a line."
Out of a class of twenty-nine, eight students lined up while the rest crowded to the edges of the gymnasiumSeamus, Dean, Harry, Ron, a tall, lanky girl named Katie Bell, a boy Harry had heard referred to as Terry, Malfoy, and one of Malfoy's sneering, arrogant friends, Blaise Zabini. Harry grinned manically at Malfoy, not deterred when the boy rolled his eyes and ignored him.
Oliver sighed. "Well, this isn't quite the turn out I was hoping for, but we've got enough from the other classes that this could work well enough. Teams of four, obviously—Mr. Malfoy, you're captain, and Mr. Weasley, you, too. Ready?"
"Blaise," Malfoy said immediately.
"Harry," Ron continued.
"Terry."
"Seamus."
"Ugh…" Malfoy's face twisted as he reluctantly ground out his next choice. "The…the Thomas boy." Dean sighed dramatically, eliciting giggles from the watching crowd of students.
Ron glared at the pale boy. "Katie," he hissed, obviously put out at having one of his best friends on the opposing team. Katie Bell flashed him an annoyed look as she joined the small team.
"Alright; usually, I'd allow you to work out a game plan; however, I want to see how you cope with your teammates without any advance planning. So…Mr. Potter, Mr. Boot, center 'field', please. Everyone else, try to position yourselves as best you can with such minimal players."
Harry practically ran to the center of the court. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline thrumming through his veins, the thrill of the game he loved and hadn't played in months. He offered his hand to Terry, who was looking at him with a somewhat unfriendly eye. After a moment of hesitation, the other boy took it, squeezing a bit too hard. Harry's grin only widened, unnerving the smaller boy.
The silence of the gym was broken by Ms. Hooch's whistle.
Harry's foot shot out and slammed the soccer ball past a startled Terry. Expertly, he weaved around his opponent and began tapping the ball across the court, following with a speed that was surprising to those around him. Gym sneakers squeaking across the polished floors, he breezed past several desperate attempts to stop him as he headed for the goal. Zabini watched him with wide eyes, hands held up and ready to catch the ball. Laughing, Harry allowed some distance between the ball and himself before sliding forward with a solid kick. The ball whizzed over the goalie's head and hit the net with a satisfying smack.
He paused to do a small victory dance before the ball was tossed back and the game began in earnest.
Over the next hour, Harry discovered that Draco Malfoy was a mean soccer player. He was good, and didn't refrain from using dirty tricks to get control of the ball. Harry was delighted with the look on his obsession's face, however, as Harry ran circles around him, never once succumbing to the vicious elbows and conveniently placed feet that Malfoy liked to shove out. At first, the aristocratic athlete's face was a mask of disbelief; as the game went on, it dissolved into pure fury.
With help from his teammates, Harry had nearly complete control of the ball throughout the game, scoring again and again. By the time Ms. Hooch blew her whistle, Ron's team had won by far, and Malfoy's team was torn between reluctant respect and seething anger.
Harry was perspiring lightly and panting, cursing the cigarettes that were weakening his lungs while knowing he wouldn't be quitting any time soon. Through his wheezes, he managed to smile at the cheering crowd, nodding at Ron, who was jumping up and down and yelling about the best plays he'd ever seen. Dean was gazing at him with something like worship in his eyes, and Oliver looked at though he'd seen the second coming of Christ. Shaking his head, the coach seemed to dispel some of his awe and proceeded to scream for silence.
When the gym was more or less quiet, Oliver grinned so broadly, it seemed as if his face might split. "Mr. Potter—please, for God's sake, try out. I've never seen anyone your age play as you just did. I definitely need you to be my main forward striker."
"I'd love to," Harry huffed, delighted and still gasping for his stolen breath.
"Mr. Weasley," Oliver continued, "I'd like you to try out, as well—maybe for a defender? You, too, Mr. Thomas, for midfielder. Miss Bell, you'll have to speak with Miss Hooch about your game after class, because she's in the charge of the girls' division, but you played very well. Mr. Malfoy, this was by far not your best game. However, I know you're a good, solid forward, and I know you'll be trying out, so I'll be looking for to you after vacation. Mr. Boot, Mr. Zabini, and Mr. Finnegan—I'll need a moment to speak to you privately, after class."
Collectively, the class winced; everyone understood that they were going to be advised not to try out, no matter how polite Coach Oliver was trying to be about it.
The bell rang, and the class rushed off to their respective locker rooms, Harry's friends chatting about the moves they he had used and how excited they were to have Harry on the team. Though he tried to protest, with false modesty, that he hadn't made it yet, no one was willing to listen and overrode him.
Most of the boys decided to just get changed and head off to the Java Hut for a celebration, but Harry begged off. "I have work in half an hour, and I'd like to take a shower first," he explained apologetically. Protests filled the locker room but Harry held firm, and soon they gave up, filing out with cheerful grins and high fives.
Finally alone, Harry stripped and headed for the shower room, which he had so far avoided using out of a strong need for privacy. Since he was the only one in the room, though, and needed to get to work fast without smelling disgusting, he didn't have much of an option.
He sighed in bliss as hot water cascaded down his body, just standing there for a moment. He reached for a bar of soap and began to sing loudly.
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After changing, Draco slipped into a bathroom stall, grimacing at the filth of the cubicle. He listened as Potter protested and stayed behind; he listened as everyone filed out; he listened to the rustle of Potter's clothes as they were dropped onto the bench. Finally, the sound of the shower being turned on filled the locker room, almost immediately drowned out by Potter's horrible, off-key singing. Then, Draco emerged from the stall, trademark smirk firmly in place.
Walking quietly, he made his way to the edge of the open showers, planning on giving Potter first the scare, then the most blistering, degrading string of insults, of his life. Nobody humiliated a Malfoy like Potter had today, and he had to pay. So what if Potter had played better than he had? He was having an off day, and that—that was the only reason Potter had beaten his team almost single-handedly.
Or at least, that was what Draco was trying to convince himself.
"Well, well, well," Draco hissed venomously, morbidly pleased when the green-haired boy spun around in surprise and cursed when he almost lost his footing. "If it isn't Potter—what a pleas…pleas…ant…"
Whatever insult he had been planning on delivering turned to mush in his mouth as he realized, with a mix of utter dismay and guilty lust, that Harry Potter was naked.
Why hadn't he thought of this beforehand? Why—why—hadn't he stopped to think for one fucking second that he was about to confront Potter when the boy was completely without clothes?
Naked.
Naked and soaking wet.
Naked and soaking wet, and absolutely, impossibly beautiful.
With a horrified start, Draco realized three things simultaneously: First of all, he was staring avidly at all he could see of Potter…which was everything. Second, Potter was grinning, and it wasn't friendly so much as predatory.
And third of all, Draco realized that, despite his best intentions, he was becoming very obviously and very rapidly aroused.
Responses for Reviews:
chekiita: I've yet to mention it, but Dudley is attending the local private school, because the Dursleys consider their precious boy too perfect for the "filth" of public school. As for Draco...I'm working on it. I didn't start this fic with a plot, so I'm sort of making it up as I go along. A great question, and thanks for your review!
Dahlias: Sorry, but I can't figure out how to fit the whole godfather thing in. Maybe later, when Harry leaves the Dursleys and goes to live with Sirius and Remus, the godfather role will come into play. Thanks for your awesome review.
OneMomentInTime: Directing? Hmm...I do enjoy yelling...and ordering people about...but no one would take me seriously because I'm a tiny little girl with funky hair and a bizarre fashion sense Thank you, though!
Kuramalovergirl: Sirius didn't know the Potters, and they never lived in the town. Sirius and Harry have already met, in an abstract way, because Sirius is Harry's study hall teacher. Thanks!
Ms-Wood: O.O So many demands, and so many I'm afraid I cannot comply with...sorry, darlin'!
novalights: YAY! My...third male reviewer! 3
Vladaia: Isn't AP a pain? I'm taking three this year, and while I love them...I hate them. If that makes any sense. Consider yourself revered, because when I respond to my reviews I usually delete them, but I'm saving yours because of all the fantastic possibilites you've brought to light. Muchas gracias!
Tubs...and Orlin: Wow, thanks to the both of you. I had to read through your review twice, trying to understand if you really were two people or if you were indulging in some sort of MPD. Lol, thanks!
HeadMaster-Alex: So what color did you dye your hair? You never talk to me on MSN anymore, you butthead! And, as always, thanks for your lovely review
xAnonyxMouseyx: You have my permission to quote anythinganything at allfrom my story and my review responses. I consider it the ultimate form of flattery!
misfit2008: Oh, wow, that's horrible. I know that nothing I can say will make this better, but I really hope everything turns out okay. Thank you for taking the time to review during a difficult time in your life.
yami-spirit: Holy shit, my FOURTH male reviewer! This is getting pretty intense. And you are the only one to have admitted you're gay. I would follow that little comment with something along the lines of, "Well, any guy that reads Harry Potter slash -must- be gay," but hey, I'm a lesbian and I'm reading this stuff. (No interesting female leads in HP, doncha know.) Thanks for reviewing, wonderful fourth male reviewer!
CherryStained: I did try to give Harry a personality (a lot like mine actually, minus the abuse, the talent, and the whole...guy thing). I love punk-Harry and hate a Harry without personality, or worsepure angst-Harry. I don't really know of any fantastic punk-Harry fics, however. Thank you for reviewing!
Madizon: Getting bettersurgery next month (eek) and then poof, no more problems and more regular updating! Thanks for the review, and for your concern. Drop me a line, email-wise, sometime.
Unattainable Adrenaline: Yep, Draco's the sub. Harry is, of course, the dom. Written anything else lately?
takes a deep breath-
Also, thanks to:
Savage Amazon, MorganEddasil, Katbell, Miss Moonlight, Kathy stgqvk, ura-hd, the person with no name, RavenEcho, MHSO2, Marakida, Prongsblack, Eliie37, Goldensong, Sakura of the Hp world, deathless one, darkangelfrmhell, ak-alterego, Benjis VIP, DariaStarr, skimmie, tatil, Keladry6, Indigo931, lampshadesrgreat, amber-eyez456, Mimbulus, TomFeltonFan-16, theTigersFire, Agnus Dei, Faren'sFowl, SmangosBubbles, twin 3vll w00t, monica85, SilverDragon161, Spideria, luvbug080688, Slash-lover, Rin Kanzaki, Hawkenten, itsasledgehammer, Prose, Driven to Insanity, Angels Whisper, lita-2003, DanishGirl, cuteandnice, saylie rain, wicca-magick, coriander, Lady Slone of Snow Mt, fudgebaby, Crystal Moon Dragon, Rise From Thy Ashes, vote-larry4prez, shinchansgirl, Mistress Vamp, Raven's Light, and last but not least, dea puella.
A/N #2: Allow me to clear one thing up: Sirius is NOT Harry's godfather. At least...not YET.