Archive of Our Own ^beta

“What is your problem?!” Keith snapped once he reached him, glowering at Lance.

Feeling a jolt of concern and fear, Lance spared him a glance before looking back at Hunk and Pidge. “What do you mean?” he asked, twirling his wand between his fingers. Technically, he shouldn’t have had it out between classes, but he knew James wasn’t around to scold him so he was ignoring that particular rule.

“You told Nyma about my nightmares!”

“No, I didn’t,” Lance retorted. He knew he hadn’t, even if he tended to answer Nyma’s questions without thinking. Apparently, she was part Veela and Lance always got affected by that part of her, no matter the situation. But those nightmares… Keith had been so upset that Lance had resolved never to tell anyone what he dreamt about, despite Lance’s uneasiness about Keith’s refusal about going to Professor Alfor.

However, it was their fifth year at Hogwarts and finally - finally! - some of the Gryffindor Quidditch players had graduated, making room on the team. In particular, the Seeker had left, and Lance had been eager to try out for it. Keith had gone along as well, flying being something they both agreed was amazing. And, of course, Keith had managed to snatch the Snitch half a minute into their trial game. So, once again, Lance had been beaten by Keith at something.

So, maybe, perhaps, Lance had decided to complain to Nyma about Keith. Nyma had been unimpressed, as the Slytherin so often was. She had encouraged him to rant about Keith, though, and Lance had been all too happy to voice all his complaints - and some of his non-complaints, such as comments about his ‘stupid’ hair and his brusque manner of dealing with people. Lance may have also mentioned Keith crying out in his sleep and waking in a panic, sometimes in tears. Which he may or may not have regretted, not that he currently wanted to admit it.

“Then why did she just come up to me to give me ‘charms’ for it?” Keith demanded, his hands clenched into fists. Lance tried not to flinch away when he spotted that; Keith had grown up with Muggles and was known to resort to physical violence rather than his wand when he got suitably riled up.

“I didn’t tell her about the nightmares,” Lance insisted.

“Lance…” murmured Hunk but Lance ignored him, eyes locked on Keith’s furious ones.

“I might’ve mentioned how you always wake me up at night and interrupt my beauty sleep. Look!” He pointed at his face, specifically just under his eyes where he had dark circles from the restless night they’d both had. “This is what you’re doing to me, Keith!”

For a moment, Keith surveyed Lance’s face, a worried frown replacing his anger. It made something strange shoot through Lance’s body, something sharp and shocking. But he didn’t have time to wonder at that, for Keith’s frown deepened and the anger was back. “You didn’t have to tell her that!”

“Yeah, well,” said Lance, dismissively. His heart was clenching and he wanted to end the conversation. Somehow, the more Keith glared at him, with his clenched teeth and his hard eyes, the more Lance felt guilty and sad. And he didn’t want to feel that for the guy who’d stolen his spot on the team! How many times had he told Keith of his dream to be the Seeker just like his eldest brother? Instead, he was stuck with being a Beater for the next couple of years.

“Seriously, Lance, what the fuck is your problem?!” Keith exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You’ve been acting weird around me since the start of the year! And I know it’s just me ’cause you were just talking to Hunk and Pidge.” He gestured at their friends who Lance had almost forgotten were there. Both of them were watching the exchange a couple of feet away, Hunk grimacing and Pidge exasperated.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Lance retorted.

“Clearly, there is.”

“Maybe I just don’t wanna see your mullet every day,” Lance snapped.

That threw Keith for only a second before he drew himself up. Despite being shorter than Lance by an inch or so, he looked down his nose at Lance. “Really? I thought we were over this. You’re being childish.”

“‘Childish’? I’m not the one who hates Nyma just ’cause she’s a Slytherin!”

“Guys…” Hunk tried to interject but Lance barely heard him when Keith was shouting back at him.

“That’s not why at all, idiot!”

“Oh, so now I’m not smart enough to be friends with you?” Lance hissed.

“That’s not what I said.”

“It was insinuated!”

“Why would I think that?!” Keith cried. “We get similar grades!”

Lance scoffed. “Now who’s stupid?”

“Hey!” growled Keith, his hands clenching and unclenching. Catching sight of them made Lance realise that he was clutching his wand tightly, prepared for a fight.

“That’s probably because of how long you insist on practising for,” Lance commented, waving his wand expressively. Thankfully, though he was angry and upset, he didn’t manage to make the courtyard explode.

“Is that what this is about?” Keith demanded, folding his arms. “The Quidditch team?”

“No,” Lance insisted.

“You just hate that I got made Seeker and you didn’t.”

Heart sinking, Lance frantically shook his head. “That’s not it-”

“It’s not my fault you can barely fly!” Keith exclaimed, throwing a hand in the air.

Everything stilled. For a moment, Lance thought someone had just discovered a way to stop time or had Petrified an entire courtyard of students at once. He soon realised it was only because his heart had stopped with those words, the ones which cut straight to the heart of the matter. Hunk and Pidge both knew how he felt about the Quidditch situation so, beside him, they were both holding their breaths, waiting to see what would happen next.

“You can’t-” Lance breathed.

“I’m right, though. Right?”

Keith’s intense stare had Lance hunching in on himself. He even stepped back till he bumped into the corner of the wall behind him. How could he argue with that? “I…” he began, weakly.

But Keith didn’t give him a chance. His fellow Gryffindor spun on his heel and stormed off, pushing his way through the gathered crowd just as the bell rang for the next set of classes. Other students watched him go or stared at Lance before they moved off, gossiping behind their hands. Lance couldn’t move: he was sure someone had performed the Full Body-Bind Curse on him.

A hand on his elbow startled him into turning. Hunk and Pidge were still there. Pidge had her arms folded and an eyebrow raised, though there was something in her eyes that suggested that she wasn’t judging him - too much. Meanwhile, Hunk looked very worried, tugging at his yellow-lined robes in nervous habit.

“Are you okay, Lance?” he asked. Of course Lance’s best friend would know how much that had hurt. Then again, Lance hoped he didn’t know the extent of it.

So he grinned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Keith was just being a jerk-”

“Actually,” said Pidge, lowering her arms, “he’s right. You have been acting kinda weird. And it’s not just the Quidditch thing.”

Blinking, Lance frowned at her. “What’re you talking about?”

Pidge sighed. “Whatever. But Keith’s not in the wrong this time, Lance.”

A sharp stab of guilt had Lance grimacing. He turned his head away in a vain attempt to hide it. “I…” Lance stopped and surveyed the courtyard. “Ah! We’re gonna be late for class!” he exclaimed.

“Oh. Yeah,” said Pidge, sounding unconcerned.

“Urgh, Hunk, quick - we’ve got Kolivan!” Lance declared, tugging at Hunk’s arm.

“Oh, no!” Hunk cried, stumbling after Lance’s long strides. “He’ll take points off us for sure!”

Lance pulled a face, not looking forward to that. There was also the prospect of having to sit next to Keith for the entire class. Or, worse, having him purposefully sit elsewhere today. His heart ached and he knew he’d have to apologise - and soon, if he didn’t want this to spiral out of control...

Later that night, Lance lay in bed, curled up on his side. He was trying not to stare miserably at Keith’s bed but he kept jolting from his thoughts to find himself blinking at Keith’s drawn curtains. It made Lance’s heart ache: Keith always kept the curtain on Lance’s side open so they could whisper to each other in the middle of the night.

He hadn’t spoken to Keith since their argument. In Defence Against the Dark Arts, Keith had kept his eyes on Professor Kolivan and his notebook, refusing to even glance in Lance’s direction. Not feeling as cheerful as he usually did, Lance kept his head down as well, not even making his usual quips throughout the lesson. Everyone noticed and the tension had risen till Kolivan slammed his hand on his desk, scaring Hunk enough that he made a high-pitched squeak. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had laughed in relief: Keith had only pursed his lips as if he was annoyed at the interruption.

Afterwards, Keith hadn’t been at lunch or at dinner and Lance had the feeling he’d gone to the kitchens to get the food directly. When he, Hunk and Pidge went to the library to study, Keith didn’t turn up. And, when Lance went up to the Owlery, he didn’t find him there either. In fact, he didn’t see Keith until he was getting ready for bed and the boy himself stormed across the room to his own one. Lance had barely opened his mouth when Keith tugged the curtains closed with a dangerous swishing noise.

Knowing it was all his fault, Lance curled his legs tighter to his chest. How could he be so stupid? How could he let something so unimportant hurt their friendship? Sure, it had been important to Lance, but was it really worth this emptiness in his chest? And why - why - had he told Nyma about Keith’s crying? That was something he should never have done, not even in an attempt to make himself look cool.

He definitely wasn’t cool, not after this.

With a shuddering breath, Lance realised that he could feel something wet sliding down his cheek, heading for his ear. He sprang upright and clamped his mouth shut, trying not to let any sounds out. There was no way he wanted to wake anyone up to find him crying . Merlin’s beard, he’d never hear the end of that . He especially didn’t want Keith to hear him and pity him enough to forget what he’d done. So, as quickly and quietly as he could, Lance slipped from bed, stuck his feet in his red-and-gold lion slippers and tip-toed out of the room.

Down in the common room, the fire was low, though it still crackled and flickered. With the lamps and candles snuffed out, the shadows danced around the room. All the armchairs and pouffes and couches looked as comfortable as always, every one of them conforming to the red and gold colour scheme. Tables provided an obstacle course to reach the best seats and Lance had to twist his body to move between them. In the portraits, their subjects slept. Well, most of them at least: there was a clattering sound from one of them and Lance was able to glimpse what looked like a party group fleeing from a little, pointy-chinned man’s background. He yelled and followed them, leaving Lance alone to curl up on the large couch.

Drawing his knees to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and buried his face in the barrier he had created. There were still tears falling down his face and he let them, sniffling and hiccuping as he tried to keep the noise down. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. What had he done? Would he be able to apologise to Keith? And would Keith even want to hear it?

Was this the end for them?

An idea occurred to him and he blinked, sniffing as he drew away from his legs. Could he get Shiro to help? Keith seemed to look up to him and confided in him. But would Shiro be willing to help Lance when he was the one who’d ruined things to begin with? Maybe Shiro would blame Lance entirely and look down on him. With another sob, he pressed his forehead against his legs again. It was hopeless. He was done for.

“Lance?”

The careful voice made him jolt and, without thinking, he looked up. Keith was standing at the other end of the couch, his hair dishevelled from lying in bed. His red-checked pyjamas were a little twisted; one side of the shirt had ridden up to reveal his hip. Somehow, he looked wide awake - though that probably had something to do with his wide eyes, now that he could see Lance’s tear-stained face.

Quickly, Lance raised an arm to rub at his wet cheeks. “Keith? What’re you doing up? Did…?” He trailed off, wanting to ask if he’d had another horrid nightmare but aware that that could bring up their earlier argument.

“What… I heard you get up,” Keith explained. “What’s wrong?”

Looking away, Lance stared at the fire, watching the way the flames fought for survival. “I. It’s.” He glanced back at Keith to find him frowning in concern. “It’s nothing to worry about. Really,” he added when Keith raised an eyebrow.

Keith sighed and moved forward so he could drop onto the couch beside him. “Lance. About earlier…”

They looked at each other. Keith’s expression was pained and Lance knew his was the same. His traitorous body even let one last tear fall. Lance made an aborted movement to wipe it away and stopped when Keith shifted infinitesimally closer. He seemed to stop himself before he could get into Lance’s personal space.

“I, um,” Lance began.

“Well, er,” said Keith.

Both of them stopped. Lance surveyed Keith’s grimace and found an apology. Or, rather, he realised that Keith had probably been awake if he’d heard Lance get up. And, if he’d been awake, perhaps their argument was bugging him, too. He couldn’t help but smile and lowered his eyes in case that would annoy Keith.

“Anyway,” said Keith after a moment. Maybe he had seen Lance’s pathetic attempt at an apology, as well. “Are you really that bothered about me being Seeker?”

Hoping to dispel the weird atmosphere that had settled around them, Lance shoved at Keith’s shoulder. “C’mon, man. I’ve been hoping for the Seeker position for years now. I’m just-”

“I could give it up, if you want,” Keith suggested.

Lance froze and stared at him, incredulous. “Wha-? No! That’s not-!” Stopping with a sigh, Lance rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s just that…” He chanced a glance at Keith and found an intent, serious expression on his friend’s face. “It’s nothing important.”

“Yes, it is,” Keith insisted. “If it’s upsetting you this much, you should tell me.”

He could tell Keith, Lance knew. But how would that help? It wasn’t Keith’s fault he was like this. And he didn’t want Keith to stop playing - Keith was incredible. There was no way they wouldn’t win every match with Keith on the team. Whereas…

“The team doesn’t need me,” Lance blurted out.

“Wha-? Why would you say that?” demanded Keith.

“I’m the only one who did the trial for the Beaters and they only needed one. And it doesn’t take that much skill to be a Beater.”

For a moment, Keith only stared at him in clear disbelief. It made Lance fidget, shifting where he sat. He looked back at the fire, noting that the flames had grown still smaller as they’d sat there. When nothing happened, Lance looked back to find Keith wearing his determined expression. He winced: that expression usually ended in trouble.

“That’s not true,” Keith told him. He stood and looked down at Lance, his face mostly in shadow. Lance blinked up at him in astonishment. “And I’m gonna prove it, right now.”

“What? What’re you talking about?” Lance asked, watching as Keith turned away. “And, besides, that’s not the only thing-”

“One thing at a time,” Keith said, turning back to him with a finger raised.

“Wait, where are you…?” Lance trailed off as Keith rushed off, hurrying up the steps to the boys’ dormitories. “Going?” he asked the room, confused.

“I’m not going anywhere, love,” said one of the portraits from the shadows.

“I was talking to Keith,” Lance explained.

“Keith who?” came the reply.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”

“Hm, okay. I’m going back to sleep so keep it down, please.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

Not long after, Keith returned with their cloaks draped over one arm and something held in the other. It looked like a cloak, except that it was shimmering and, when it shifted as he moved, Lance was sure he could see right through it. He gaped at it, unsure if he was seeing things. How had Keith gotten his hands on that?

“Come on,” Keith said, raising his hands slightly as if to show Lance the item.

“Is that- Is that an Invisibility Cloak?!” Lance hissed, to keep from yelling in excitement. “Where did you get that?!”

“Ah, um.” Keith looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight. “It was my mother’s,” he explained. “The orphanage I go back to in the summer had it locked in a trunk. Shiro came to see me this summer and he unlocked it for me and this was inside. And a weird knife.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about it?” Lance asked, though he made sure to keep his tone soft. He didn’t want Keith to think he was accusing him of anything.

Keith shrugged. “I… wasn’t ready.”

“Ah.”

A silence fell. Lance welcomed it, if only because he was able to think for a moment. Keith had been slow to trust him and the others in their first few years. It was still hard for him and Lance thought that it might take years for any of them to know everything about him. So his reluctance to tell them about the box didn’t bother Lance - too much. Besides, it was Shiro who probably knew him best. But what was that going to be like for Keith when Shiro left Hogwarts? And…

Wait.

Lance’s brow furrowed. Why on Earth had Keith brought the Cloak down here now?

“Come on,” Keith said then. “Let’s go.”

“‘Go’?” Lance echoed. “Go where?”

“The Quidditch Pitch.”

“Wha-? Keith! Are you crazy?!” Lance exclaimed only to get hushed by a painting. He ignored them and continued. “Even if we have a Cloak, we could still get caught! And it’s too dark at the pitch for it to be safe to do anything.”

“We’ll use magic,” Keith said, as if it was obvious.

Lance sighed, knowing that Keith was in that rare mood where nothing would deter him from getting the job done. “Oh, we are so gonna get detention,” he grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet, resigned to following him.

“Only if you don’t keep quiet,” Keith murmured as Lance stepped closer.

“Says you,” whispered Lance as he pulled his cloak on.

The fire popped and sputtered behind them as they disappeared from view, Keith rolling his eyes at Lance’s retort.

Somehow, they managed to get out of the castle without raising an alarm, bumping into Peeves or being caught by a teacher. They had seen Professors Coran and Iverson on their way and Keith had forced them both to sidle around them as Coran told Iverson some sort of story. Iverson looked like he was sleeping on his feet and Lance had to resist the urge to kick him on the way past. Once they slipped out of the front door and hurried across the lawn, Keith unlocked the broom shed and they grabbed their broomsticks. Keith collected the Gryffindor box of Quidditch balls, as well, and hauled it onto the pitch.

As soon as the box landed on the ground, Keith whipped out his wand and, before Lance could protest, he conjured up several balls of flame that he sent upwards to send light around the pitch. Which, Lance figured, could be seen from the castle if anyone happened to look out. When he turned to Lance, he helped himself to his own broom: a Firebolt. Fitting , Lance thought. Keith backed off by a few steps once he had it, gesturing upwards.

“You know how to conjure those targets you use in practise, right?” he said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Lance. “Are you gonna tell me why we’re here?”

“Yeah.” Keith gestured again. “Conjure up those targets first, though.”

Lance rolled his eyes at Keith’s melodrama but did as he was told. Murmuring the spell, he wove his wand in a simple pattern. Slowly, three smoky targets formed in the middle of the pitch. By the time he had finished, Keith’s attention had shifted to the box. He unlatched it and reached for the fastenings around a Bludger. Lance leapt forward to stop him, crying out as he reached for him.

“Are you mad?! It’s too dark for a Bludger!”

“It’s fine,” Keith assured him. “There’s plenty of light.”

“Which is only gonna get us-!” But Lance broke off when Keith completely ignored him and unleashed the Bludger. It shot up into the air, hung a few feet above them for a moment and then plummeted. Lance instinctively grabbed Keith’s arm and pulled him out of the way. Keith fell onto his side at Lance’s feet but Lance paid him no attention as he focussed completely on the Bludger. Once it was within a certain distance, Lance swung at it with all his might, making sure to do it at an angle so it would soar across the pitch while gaining height, rather than ‘bounce’ off the ground and return to them.

“Thanks,” said Keith from the ground.

“Idiot! It almost hit you!” Lance exclaimed, reaching out a hand to him.

“But you were here, so it didn’t,” Keith said with conviction.

That surprised Lance and he blinked at Keith as he helped him to his feet. “Well. I was expecting that. It always happens.”

“Still…” Keith’s voice was heavy with implication.

“Are we using these brooms or did you bring them out so we can hit away Bludgers?” Lance demanded, avoiding the topic entirely.

Keith eyed him for a moment but nodded. “Okay, come on. Before it gets back.”

Of course, by the time both of them were in the air, the Bludger had returned, aiming for Keith. Lance was, thankfully, between Keith and the Bludger and he shot forward to deal with it, swinging the bat with all his might. The ball flew off to make a circuit of the pitch. Turning to Keith, Lance made a gesture with his bat.

“What exactly are you wanting me to do here?” he asked Keith.

“What you always do,” Keith replied, waving at the targets. “Just hit the Bludger at each target.”

Still baffled at what Keith was up to, Lance shrugged. “All right, fine.”

When the Bludger returned to them, Lance was ready. He whacked it right through the first target and chased after it. Despite the speed of the Bludger, Lance was lighter and just a little faster. He overtook the ball, spun his broom around and slammed his bat into the Bludger. Lance had barely taken the time to aim but the Bludger still zoomed through the second target. Keith ducked out of the way and watched it go. But Lance had gotten used to the Bludgers with their practices and he flew threw the targets to shield Keith with his body. Just as he’d thought, the Bludger stopped, spun and returned the way it had come. Had Lance stayed on the other side of the targets, Keith would have either been forced to drop down or been hit in the face. As it was, Lance expertly dodged and swung at the Bludger in the same instance. The Bludger soared through the air - and through the third target. This time, the Bludger continued onwards, searching for easier prey. Lance hefted the bat and rested it against his shoulder.

“See?” said Keith, as if that answered everything. “You’re… You’re amazing. At that.”

Lance snorted. “It’s not that hard,” he said, dismissively.

“Then give me the bat.”

It took Lance a moment to realise what Keith had said. “What?”

“I’ll prove to you that you’re essential to the team,” Keith insisted. “Though, really, I shouldn’t have to.”

“I- That’s not-”

“It’s coming back.” Keith held out his hand expectantly.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lance could see that Keith was right. For a brief second, he was struck with indecision. Should he hand the bat over and let Keith take a whack at it - literally? Would there really be any point? With pursed lips, however, he did as he was asked and manoeuvred himself out of the way.

He kept out of the way as much as possible as he watched Keith. The first hit had the Bludger flying through the middle target. Keith didn’t follow it, though, and they both watched the Bludger turn and fly towards Keith, passing through the middle target again. Once it was close enough, Keith hit it - but without enough force. It veered off and flew through the edge of the first target. When it returned once more, Keith was more prepared for it and hit a bullseye on the last target. As soon as they’d watched it go through, Keith turned and flew towards Lance, handing him back the bat.

“See?” he said. “Nowhere near as good as you.”

Lance frowned at him. “Are you kidding? You got it through all three.”

“But not through the centre,” Keith pointed out. “You’ve got a far better aim than any of us on the team do, even Campbell. He just swings at ’em.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s ’cause it works for him.”

Keith shrugged a shoulder. “You’re still the more impressive Beater. I mean… You remember the times in practice when we’ve all been playing the three-a-side game? And you use the Bludgers to make people stop on their way to the goals? You’ve gotten those Bludgers so close that everyone’s hearts are always in their mouths. If that was Campbell or me, we’d be hitting the players rather than frightening them into stopping.”

Something like glee filled Lance’s chest. He’d never thought of his being a Beater as a good thing. Veronica had teased him when he’d told his family about becoming one instead of a Seeker. And some of the other Gryffindors had laughed and said that it was his own fault for being so cocky in thinking that he’d get the Seeker position. Lance had thought of it as a negative thing, but here was Keith, telling him that he thought he was skilled . It lifted Lance’s spirits a little before a thought occurred that had him frowning again.

“But that doesn’t prove my flying skills,” he said.

Folding his arms, Keith stared at the targets. “Hm,” he said.

Rolling his eyes, Lance said, “Don’t hurt yourself on my account.” He glanced at the targets and, when he looked back, he saw Keith nod once.

“Right. Okay. Let’s put the Bludger away.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Okay…?”

They flew down to the ground. A whooshing noise from behind told Lance that their old friend, the Bludger, had decided to follow them. Thankfully, they reached the ground before he had to bat it away to save them both from injury. He dismounted and glanced at Keith.

Without consulting Lance whatsoever, Keith pulled out his wand, held it aloft and said, “Accio Bludger.”

The box on the ground shifted across the grass with a straining noise and Lance had to plant his foot on it to prevent it from knocking Keith off his feet. “Are you insane?!” he exclaimed. “Why would you-?”

But he didn’t get to finish his question as there was a whooshing noise again and a dark, round shape came plummeting from the sky. Lance yelped and turned, unprepared to catch it. Thankfully, Keith was, practically leaping upon it when it got within range. The Bludger, of course, fought him, tugging at Keith’s arms as he struggled towards the box. Lance sighed and crouched, getting ready with the restraints so that, when Keith finally managed to get it into its little nook, Lance fastened them down over it. With an ominous rattling, both Bludgers tried to get free and Lance stepped back with a sigh.

“Those are rather annoying,” Keith commented.

Giving him an unimpressed look, Lance reached out for the box. “We should go back to-”

“No, wait. One more thing.” Before Lance could shut the lid, his fingers barely touching it, Keith flicked open the little compartment which housed the Snitch. “We can use this to prove your flying skills,” he said as he drew the Snitch out.

“What? No- Have you forgotten it’s the middle of the night?!” Lance cried. “It’s too dark to set it loose.”

“The fire’ll reflect from the Snitch - it’ll make it easier to see. And, as long as we don’t do any dives, we won’t get hurt.”

“No, it won’t! It’s not easy to see in the sun, let alone like this. And we could still get hurt!”

“It’ll be fine,” said Keith and let the Snitch go.

Off went the Snitch, its little wings fluttering. It hovered above their heads for a few seconds before fleeing. Lance groaned, watching it go until the shadows swallowed it. When he looked back at Keith, he was getting on his broom again. Making a ‘come on!’ gesture with his head, Keith turned his back on Lance and launched himself into the air. Tired now, Lance followed suit and was soon leaning on his broom, giving Keith sidelong looks.

“So, we’re really gonna sit here and wait for it to appear?” he eventually asked.

“That’s how the game’s played,” Keith replied, scanning the pitch.

“And then you’re gonna catch it?”

Seemingly startled, Keith turned towards Lance. “Wha-? Ah. Um, no, not quite. Well, maybe.” He glanced around the pitch before nudging his broom closer. “Whatever happens, we both need to try to catch the Snitch.”

“Keith, you’re gonna get it before me,” Lance pointed out, exasperated. “You’ve been practising for this, you’ve got the faster broom and you’re bet-”

“That doesn’t matter in Quidditch,” Keith insisted. “The broom thing, I mean.”

“But, like I said, you’ve practised-”

“So have you!” Keith exclaimed, startling Lance enough that he straightened up. “You’re always telling stories of how you and your family play Quidditch during family get-togethers and you’re always the Seeker.”

“That’s… not the same,” Lance mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat. He turned his head away, wondering why he felt self-conscious over something he adored telling people about. Was it because someone had actually remembered one of his stories?

“Yes, it is. Don’t sell yourself short, Lance.” Keith nudged him. “You’re better than everyone else who tried out. You’re better than Campbell.”

“Hm…”

“And I bet you could fill in for any spot on the team while I…” Shrugging, Keith nudged his broom away a little. “I might struggle in some of them.”

Lance laughed. “No, you wouldn’t.”

It was at that point that Lance - both of them, actually - saw something flash out of the corner of their eyes. Their heads turned in the same direction and Lance saw it, hovering by the middle goal. Both of them looked at each other. Then, without warning, they shot off, leaning forward on their brooms for speed.

Of course, the Snitch didn’t stay in the same place for long. It took off once they got within the standard distance for a Chaser to be from the goals to take a shot. For a moment, it dropped. Then, before either of them could think to change direction, it darted upwards and began to loop around the outside of the pitch. Both Lance and Keith chased after it, neck in neck. Despite its general path around the pitch, it kept zig-zagging or doing loop-the-loops. Lance and Keith copied it, expertly twisting around and up and down to follow it.

The rush of the wind and the excitement of the chase made Lance laugh with glee. When he chanced a risky glance at Keith, he found his friend grinning. Differently coloured stands swept by as they kept pace with the Snitch and each other. Slowly, they were gaining on it and the desire to win, just for once, had Lance’s heart thumping faster and faster.

Suddenly, the Snitch stopped and Lance thought one of them would be able to catch it. However, just before they reached it, the Snitch dropped, falling towards the ground, fast. Not thinking, Lance dove, leaning forward to make his broom go faster. Behind him, he heard Keith yell at him. Lance ignored him, convinced he would be able to catch the Snitch before he’d even really gone very far.

His trusty Nimbus 2000 gained on the Snitch. He was getting closer to it. Adrenaline rushed through him: it was no wonder that Keith looked delighted every time he had to dive. The certainty that he’d catch the Snitch grew on him, particularly when he stretched out his arm. Closer, closer - he could feel the Snitch’s wings hitting his fingers. Just a little further and he would be able to grab it. He closed that distance…

Cold metal beneath his palm-

And something heavy slammed into him from the side. Lance didn’t have the time to react, to wrest his broom away, before the thing drew him upwards and away from his well-earned glory. He cried out and struggled but there was a hand on his arm and, when he looked down, a hand on his broom handle, too. His heart was pounding and blood rushed in his ears so it took a moment for sounds to reach him.

“-think you were doing?!” Keith was saying, shaking him slightly as they rose up from the ground. Which, now that Lance looked, had only been a couple of feet from him when he’d been stopped. He hadn’t even noticed.

“I, uh-”

“I said not to dive!” Keith exclaimed, his voice strained. “You could have-!”

“Well, I-!” Lance began, gesturing with his free hand - only it wasn’t quite as free as he thought. As his heart calmed and he waved his hand between them, he noticed an odd tapping sensation on his palm. Said hand also seemed to be clenched in a fist - and was that a wing poking out? “I…” Lance stared at his hand.

“You caught it,” said Keith, breathlessly.

“Yeah…” said Lance, slowly. “I did. And you didn’t…” He looked up at Keith who averted his gaze. A smug grin grew on Lance’s face. “I actually beat you!”

“Mm.”

“I caught the Snitch before you, of all people!” Lance laughed. “I can’t believe it!”

“I can,” Keith said, glancing at him. “You’re a good flyer, a great Quidditch player and… Well, when you’re not spilling my secrets in spite, you’re an amazing friend.”

Lance flinched. “I’m really sorry about that, Keith. I just…”

“It’s okay, Lance. But…” Keith nudged his broom closer. “I wish you’d told me how you were feeling. I don’t want you to feel like that because of me.”

“I… I’ll try to,” Lance promised. “From now on.”

“Good. And when you do, I’ll be sure to remind you that you’re the coolest guy I know.”

Eyes widening, Lance knew he was blushing. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, especially as the night chill was beginning to set in. “You think I’m cool?”

“Yeah. Of course,” Keith replied, giving him an adorable smile. “But, uh, maybe it’s more cold, right now. Let’s get back to the castle.” He turned from Lance and flew down to the ground.

Lance took a minute to follow him: his heart had skipped a beat at that smile and he was frantically trying to figure out why he would react like that...