Arthur didn't mind watching Quidditch games, honestly, he liked the excitement and the cheering and supporting his friends, perhaps forced a bit by Ariadne at first, but he was under no duress from her now.

Watching his boyfriend play, however, was close to a completely different story. And not because of Eames' body or athleticism was turning him on or some such nonsense, (His quidditch pads and robes were far too bulky to be revealing in the slightest, and didn't lend much to the eye to begin with.) mostly because of the simple fact that Eames was in a different House than him, and that was a beast Arthur hated to tackle every other Saturday.

It wasn't too bad if Ravenclaw wasn't playing, to be honest. In those cases, Most of the house would either not show up or chose a side, and the Ravenclaw booths would be awash with swirls of green and crimson, if the case were Slytherin vs Gryffindor. In those cases, Arthur could wear as much green-and-silver as he wanted, Shout for his favorite keeper as loudly as he wanted, even make signs saying things like "You got this, babe" with a caricature of a winking man on it, or some sort of pun Ariadne had written for him the night before. (Arthur wasn't overly creative when it came to Quidditch puns, so he typically left them to her.)

No matter who was playing, or more importantly, who won, Arthur would wait outside the Slytherin locker rooms for Eames to emerge, probably half-properly dressed but freshly showered, and they would sit down with the rest of their friends in the Great Hall for dinner.

This time, however, Arthur was left waiting until the entire Slytherin Quidditch team had left the locker room, all but Eames. And just when he was wondering where on Earth Eames had gotten off to, a gloved hand cupped his elbow.

Arthur jumped about 10 feet. "Jesus, Eames, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry, love." Eames smirked. He was still in all of his quidditch gear, and still sweaty and unkempt from the game.

"What are you doing?" Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're not even dressed!"

"Mind helping me?" Eames purred, the tip of his tongue peeking out to wet his lips ever so slightly. Before Arthur could protest, Eames was dragging him into the Slytherin locker room, which was emptier than mass on Monday, and towards the sectioned off area obviously meant for showering.

"Eames, we shouldn't be here." Arthur whispered as if someone was going to overhear them.

"That's what makes it so fun, love." Eames ran his now de-gloved hands through Arthur's windswept hair.

"What are you planning?" Arthur grabbed both of Eames' wrists, but made no move to stop him.

"I was planning on getting ready with you." Eames planted a sultry kiss to Arthur's bottom lip before pulling away to strip off his Quidditch pads. "Will you join me?"

"You want me to… to shower with you?" Arthur swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous.

"That's where the fun comes from, love." Eames winked before going for Arthur's robes.

Arthur let him remove his robes and the slytherin scarf he'd stolen for such an occasion, kissing his neck and his collarbones slowly, sensually. Arthur's jaw dropped and let out the smallest, most pathetic whine.

"Is that a yes, then?" Eames purred, straightening his back and chewing on his own bottom lip.

"We have to hurry." Arthur insisted, only to be immediately dragged into a stall, warm water already spouting out of the shower head. "Jesus!" He shivered in surprise.

"I put warming charms on it; is it still cold?" Eames asked, stripping off his final layer and stepping in after Arthur.

Arthur turned his gaze away quickly. Eames was naked. Naked with him. In the same general area.

Oh, fuck.

"You alright, love?" Eames asked, washing himself quickly and watching Arthur's back as he too slipped off his boxers.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm…" He trailed off, ears prickling. "Did you hear something?"

Both of Eames' hands found their way to Arthur's hips, and he sidled up behind him. "Nothing but our hearts beating as one, love."

Arthur spun in his grasp, nearly slipping on the slick shower floor. "Really, Eames? How do you come up with this shit? Do you read too many Nicholas Sparks books or-" He cut himself off again at the faint sound of wood creaking. "Okay, I really heard something that time." He shoved at Eames' chest with one hand, using the other to cover his manhood from Eames' gaze.

"You're being paranoid, Darling." Eames kissed his cheek affectionately, but Arthur was already most of the way out of his grasp, and going for his soaked boxers.

Just in time, too, as Saito, the Slytherin Prefect, walked into the communal locker room shower, his hands on his hips and a stern frown on his face. "Mr. Eames. This is a communal space."

"Shit." Eames muttered, turning off the water and rushing for his clothes. "No harm done, Saito."

"Get out."

"Right, right, of course, We'll just be going now-" Eames gathered up all of his things, including Arthur, and darted away.

"Ten points, from each of you!" Saito shouted after them.

"I don't know why I ever listen to you…" Arthur growled as he dressed quickly and rushed out, leaving Eames behind, half dressed and destitute.