Chapter Text
“I’m telling you, somebody is going to die.”
“Nobody’s going to die, Steve.”
“Listen, if you don’t put a stop to this, I will.”
Hopper sighs, setting his fluffy purple quill - which Steve isn’t even going to question at this point - down on his desk and pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He mumbles something beneath his breath that isn’t audible enough for Steve to decipher completely, but it’s not exactly complimentary towards him, that much is clear. Hopper turns in his chair, lifting his gaze to Steve and looking wholly unimpressed.
“I told you, kid,” he says sternly. “I can’t do any more to change it than you can. You saw what happened last year. Ravenclaw and Slytherin accidentally double-booked the pitch for tryouts, both refused to leave and both Captains ended up in here with broken noses. They’re not risking that shit this year, so you can all try out at the same time and no one has an advantage.”
“So the solution to your teams clashing heads when on the pitch together is to put all the teams on the pitch together at the same time?” Steve scoffs. “Yeah, that’ll work. I’m telling you, there’ll be bloodshed.”
“Well, I guess you won’t know until it happens, will you?” Hopper says absently, having turned back to his report.
“You’re not being very helpful,” Steve says irritably, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring lightly in Hopper’s direction.
“Then it’s working. I told you, I don’t have a say in this, your headmaster and your flying instructor made the decision between themselves. There’s nothing I can do. Now get out of my office, I’ve got shit to do.”
“You’re supposed to be my Head of House!” Steve exclaims. “I’m supposed to be able to come to you for help with this shit!”
Hopper sighs in visceral exasperation. “Yes, and you’ve come, and ranted, and whined, and yet… I still can’t change shit. So grow up, get to your tryouts and just be the bigger person about this, would you?”
Steve stays exactly where he is, leaning against the doorway to Hopper’s office and staring him down. Tryouts don’t start for half an hour.
“You seriously think putting Carver and Hargrove back on the pitch at the same time won’t end the same as last year?” he presses. “And I’m self-aware enough to know I’ve also got a temper - ” Hopper snorts at this. “ - even Brenda Taylor gets pretty goddamn passionate about quidditch, and that’s not even mentioning all the other players, and all the new prospective tryouts, and - ”
“Steve.”
“Yes?”
“Get out of this hospital wing before I give you a reason to stay.”
Steve sighs, but finally obliges, pushing off from the doorway and heading for the door. “You’re the worst, Hop.”
“Have fun!” Hopper calls wryly. Steve ignores him, slamming the door shut a little harder than he really needs to. He glances at his watch. Still twenty five minutes until tryouts. But as Captain, he really should be there as soon as possible. Even if only to make sure that asshole Hargrove doesn’t do something fucking stupid before he arrives - like rig the tryouts or scare off all of Steve’s potential players. Steve wouldn’t put it past that son of a bitch to play as dirty as possible. With a pang, Steve realises that Max is probably there, waiting for tryouts to begin, having to face her stupid stepbrother without Steve having her back. He hastens his pace through the corridor at the thought.
Steve’s passion for quidditch had earned him Captain at an unusually young age. He had been on the team since he first tried out in second year, and after Jones, a steadfast seventh year Keeper, graduated, Steve entered his fourth year with the title of Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. He hadn’t been the eldest on the team - probably not the most talented either. But when Hopper and Powell had granted him the position, they had explained that his enthusiasm for the game and his unwavering sportsmanship and support of his teammates had earned him the title - it had taken an explosive breakup with Nancy, a good row with Tommy and Carol, and a lot of quality time with Dustin Henderson for Steve to finally learn how to apply this sportsmanship and supportiveness in situations off the pitch. So Steve had thrown his everything into the game from that very first day. The older students on the team heavily resented him - not only because they had been supposedly robbed of their chance at Captain, but because Steve broke the unspoken rule established by Jones. He stopped choosing his team based on their gender and started selecting them for their skill. As determined and likeable as Jones had been, he did tend to favour male Quidditch players over the female ones, and Steve, while still an absolute douche at this age, had enough integrity to completely dismiss that. He had been with Nancy at the time - he knew firsthand how much stronger than men women were. So when Carol Perkins, his then best friend, had tried out for the first time - because she’d never had the guts to while Jones was Captain - and outflown every other chaser on the pitch, he hadn’t even hesitated to put her on the team. And when a then shy redheaded second year named Max Mayfield had tried out for keeper and stopped more shots than anyone else, he had immediately replaced the sixth year bloke who was already there. The next year, when Nancy’s friend Ally Zhao gave tryouts a go and demonstrated chasing moves even Steve had never heard of, she was the first on the roster. Over the years he had built a team that was an unstoppable force, and had earned the grudging respect of those older than him, thanks to the Quidditch Cup they had won in his fourth and fifth years. Now, it’s his last year here, his last chance to win the cup - to take it back from that smug bitch Hargrove - and by Merlin is he gonna make it count.
Steve rounds the last corner and strides through the entrance hall to the double doors to the grounds. He marches across the lawn toward the pitch, running over his team in his head for the millionth time that day. Assuming he doesn’t see anyone better than his pre-existing team - which is highly doubtful - Steve will have himself, Carol and Ally in chaser, Max in keeper and Vickie in beater. Now that Bright and Peters have graduated, their spots of seeker and beater are vacant. The school is demanding he tryout all spots besides his own, but Steve knows the ladies of his team aren’t going to be beaten any time soon. He arrives at the pitch and jogs through the Gryffindor section of the change rooms until he emerges on the other side. He walks quickly to join the crowd by the nearest goalposts, glancing at his watch. Fifteen minutes until tryouts are scheduled to start. He’s made good time.
“Nice of you to join us, Harrington,” a familiar irritating voice drawls. Steve takes a deep breath to restrain himself from lashing out immediately. He turns to give Hargrove, dressed in his emerald quidditch sweater and leaning lazily against his upright broom, a cool look.
“S’fifteen minutes ‘til tryouts even start, Hargrove, get off my ass.”
Hargrove just smirks, cocking his head to the side teasingly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll all get used to you coming last.”
“Bet you’ve said that before,” Steve says savagely. A challenging gleam enters Hargrove’s eyes.
“Alright ladies,” Brenda Taylor cuts in wearily. “That’s enough. We’re here to play, so cut the shit.” Steve turns away from Hargrove, swallowing down his heated annoyance - that prick always manages to get under his skin. Steve turns his attention to Brenda, and to Jason Carver beside her.
“Now,” Brenda starts again, voice pompous. Here she goes, taking charge. Steve had gone with her to the Three Broomsticks once, and she had mentioned nothing but quidditch. The woman eats, sleeps and breathes the game - Steve would be surprised if there was room for anything else inside her brain. She certainly hasn’t done much to discount the idea. “I know Powell said tryouts aren’t meant to start yet, but we may as well start getting organised while we wait for Mr Bowman to get here. I’m gonna talk to my prospectives and sort them into their positions. I suggest you guys do the same.” She turns away with a bounce of her curly blonde hair.
Steve resists the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. Lucky Brenda’s here or he’d have no clue what to do - it’s not like he’s been doing this for years or anything. He snorts to himself, shaking his head in exasperation as he makes his way to the gathering of scarlet and gold-clad students. There aren’t many kids trying out for the team - probably since they know he’s happy with who he’s got - but there are still a few, dressed in various combinations of Gryffindor-marked uniforms and comfortable clothing ideal for flying, babbling loudly to one another. Steve nods to Vickie, who smiles in response, currently chatting with Carol and Ally. All are dressed in their quidditch sweaters, their names and quidditch numbers printed on the back. Max, drawing to Steve’s side, is wearing hers too. She huddles close enough to him for their shoulders to brush, looking troubled.
“Hey, you alright?” Steve says quietly. Max doesn’t answer. It doesn’t even seem like she’s heard him. Her eyes are glued to something over Steve’s shoulder and he doesn’t even need to turn to know what’s distracting her. He turns anyway, unsurprisingly finding Billy Hargrove at the end of her gaze, lecturing to the Slytherins trying out about something Steve can’t hear. Max releases a shuddering breath beside him and Steve steps around in front of her, blocking Hargrove from view. Her wide, terrified eyes finally slide up to meet his.
“Max,” he rests his hands on her shoulders, rising and falling with her anxious breaths. She gazes up at him wordlessly. “You can do this. You’ve done it before. You’re the best flyer on my team, and you will be making my team, again, Max, I don’t care what Powell says. I don’t care if today is the worst you’ve ever flown, you deserve this spot. It’s guaranteed. No matter what happens. Alright?” This does seem to relax her somewhat.
“Alright,” Max says breathily. She visibly steels herself, gaze flickering between Steve’s eyes and Hargrove’s form over his shoulder. “Alright, I can do this. I’m gonna make the team.”
“Yes,” Steve affirms. “You are, whatever happens. So you know what? Forget about the team. Forget about tryouts, forget about the cup, forget about your brother. Just get up there and show them what you can do. Show him what you can do, even when he’s watching. Show him he doesn’t scare you. Show him you’re better than he is.”
Max nods slightly, jaw clenched and eyes hard. It’s the determined look she gets when they’re one goal away from a win, when they need a miracle to stay in it, when she’s decided she’s not gonna give up. She looks into Steve’s eyes and grins. He claps her on the back and pushes her away playfully. She stumbles, chuckling, before making her way to join Vickie and the others.
Steve’s had a soft spot for Max since the day she tried out. And ever since his strange yet somehow perfect friendship with Dustin had spawned last year, he’s begun spending more and more time with the kid, and growing more and more attached to her. He privately thinks she deserves a brother way better than Hargrove - someone who cares about her, someone who supports her, someone who lifts her up and pushes her to be the best she can. Not someone who takes out their own shit on her and punishes her for being herself. Maybe that’s why Hargrove manages to irritate Steve so much - not only is he an unapologetic asshole, but he’s an unapologetic asshole who lives to upset the people Steve cares about. Steve fucking hates him.
“Alright!” Steve bellows over the loud buzz of chatter. The prospective Gryffindor players immediately fall silent, watching him expectantly. “Gryffindors, welcome to tryouts. I’m sure by now you’ve all read yesterday’s Sleeping Dragon and know the drill. Seekers from all teams will be trying out together, followed by chasers, keepers, and then beaters. As you know, a spot on the team last year does not guarantee you a spot this year.” Steve sees Vickie’s lips twitching - she knows him well enough to know how much he favours his existing lineup, and how bullshit it is that he would ever change them up. He narrows his eyes at her subtly enough that hopefully no one else notices the shift.
“Okay, so, prospective keepers, please line up over here with Mayfield, chasers with Zhao, beaters with James and seekers with me.”
The crowd messily assembles themselves into the groups he’s asked for. There are two second years Steve’s never seen before trying out for keeper and a few third and fourth years he’s used to rejecting huddled around Ally and Carol as chasers. A couple kids he vaguely recognises are by Vickie for beater and only two kids, looking like they’re probably in fourth or fifth year, are beside Steve aiming for seeker. Not bad.
“Mister Bowman!”
Steve whips around at Brenda’s shout. Carver and Brenda are already making a beeline for the approaching figure, Hargrove ambling along at a frustratingly slower pace behind them. Steve hurries to join them, jogging across the pitch.
Brenda seems to be the only student at the school who calls Alexei Bowman, the Hogwarts flying instructor, by his last name. He’s instructed the students - including Brenda, multiple times - to call him Alexei to avoid any confusion between him and his husband - the divination teacher, Professor Murray Bowman. Steve has noticed this weird-ass trend of the staff being married to each other and hopes no more of them fall in love and take each other’s names because it’s confusing enough with two Professor Bowmans and two Professor Sinclairs.
The four Captains manage to reach Alexei at the same time, frustrated complaints overlapping;
“Mister Bowman we can’t possibly - ”
“ - lose any advantage - ”
“ - insight into the skill - ”
“ - conflict between two teams - ”
“ - doesn’t make any sense to - ”
“ - jeopardise our chances - ”
“ - frankly unfair, Alexei - ”
“Hang on a moment now,” Alexei holds up a hand, blinking rapidly and looking taken aback at all the shouting. “I know you’re not very happy about this arrangement. I’ve heard from all your Heads of Houses. But the decision’s been made.”
Brenda slumps in defeat, and Carver sighs, running a discontented hand through his hair. Hargrove’s jaw clenches. Deep down, Steve knew this - he had known it earlier while ranting to Hopper. It still hadn’t managed to snuff that last bit of hope that they would change it. Now it has. Shit.
“I understand your frustration,” Alexei says evenly, evidently noticing their collectively disappointed reactions. “But I won’t be changing my mind. Tryouts begin in five minutes.” And he takes a sip from his drink. Steve only then notices it’s in his hand, and subsequently realises it’s a cherry slurpee from 7/11.
Steve blinks in astonishment. He points at the slurpee. “Where did you get that?”
“I have my ways,” Alexei smiles mysteriously, taking another sip through the bright green straw. “Go prepare your players.”
Steve sighs angrily and spins on his heel, making for the huddle of Gryffindors. Someone nudges him fiercely from behind. He stumbles and turns, scowling, to find a smirking Hargrove.
“What’s wrong Harrington?” he teases. “Worried about your chances?”
“Yeah right,” Steve replies coldly. “Your ass is grass, Hargrove.”
Hargrove laughs, patting Steve condescendingly on the shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”
He winks and strolls away. Merlin, how Steve would love to wipe that smug grin off his face with a bludger straight to the nose.
The two of them had never exactly been friends, but they had gotten along, they had existed beside one another. But since Nancy dumped him and Steve pulled his head out of his ass enough to then dump Carol, Tommy H and the rest of his trashy friend group - Hargrove included - there’s been this weird tension between them. Hargrove went from tolerating him with the occasional competitive remark to relentlessly hounding him and making Steve’s life shit. Steve went from not particularly caring about Hargrove to having to constantly be aware of the prick’s presence. Steve hates him with a fiery passion - because Hargrove never gives him space to breathe.
He shakes off this anger, scanning the stands and resolving to focus on his team for the rest of tryouts. The lower half have filled up considerably, students from all four houses gathering to witness the tryouts. Nancy’s soft pink sweater draws his eye between Barbara and Jonathan and she sends him a small wave. He smiles and returns it awkwardly before quickly averting his gaze. He’s still not sure how exactly to make the transition from awkward exes who don’t speak to Head Boy and Girl who work together every day and actually live together. He’s attempting to compartmentalise the fact that on Tuesday they’ll not only have the first prefect meeting to run together, but also be moving into the Heads’ quarters. Where they’ll literally have no escape from each other’s company. Yikes.
Such thoughts are quickly dismissed as he catches sight of Dustin in the stands, accompanied by Mike - who still holds a vehement dislike for Steve - Will and El. They’re trying to start a wave, but it isn’t working past their small group. Steve chuckles to himself.
He arrives back at Max’s side, who sends him a grim smile, obviously guessing how well the conversation with Alexei went. He raises his eyebrows at her in response, not really able to muster the energy for anything else.
“Alright, seekers!” he calls, and the two fourth or fifth years straighten. “You’re up first. Come give me your names.”
Steve’s options for seeker are third year Jessica Forrester and fifth year Greg Mckorkle. From their stockier builds, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about either of them - most seekers were skinny, agile - but he jots their names on his roster, ushering them towards the other prospective seekers gathered by Alexei. Alexei begins talking them through how tryouts are going to work, intermittently drinking from his slurpee.
“Is that…?” Max squints over at Alexei.
“A 7/11 cherry slurpee,” Steve says flatly. “Yep.”
“How did he even get that here?” Max laughs beneath her breath at Steve’s exasperated look. “Right. You don’t know.”
“I don’t even want to know,” Steve sniffs, turning to watch as the snitch is released and the first tryout takes their turn. Several Slytherins tryout, and if Steve had to guess, he’d say Hargrove will go with Riley O’Connell, since he catches the snitch the fastest and demonstrates a pretty smooth dive - his roll isn’t excellent though. Steve takes note on the blank parchment attached to his clipboard to use that to his advantage. He may have complained about losing his own team’s advantage of hidden strengths and weaknesses, but it doesn’t mean he won’t still exploit the situation that’s been handed to him.
Ravenclaw don’t have any prospective seekers, since Carver takes the position himself, and there are only a couple second year Hufflepuffs willing to even try going up against Chrissy Cunningham, Hufflepuff seeker since second year who’s caught the snitch almost every game she’s played. She and Carver are Hogwarts’ very own sweethearts - Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seekers who’ve been publicly together since third year. Carver frequently uses his quidditch victories to soliloquise over his girlfriend, whether she’s in the stands or up there with him, and these vomit-inducing occasions are only another reason Steve wants to win the cup so badly this year.
Forrester flies well and catches the snitch moderately fast. Steve is almost tempted to pick her, since she’s a good player, and he prefers having women on his team because they’re less likely to butt heads about stupid things or be douches in the change rooms. But he can’t deny that Mckorkle is the better seeker. His movements are sharper and his eye is good - he catches the snitch faster than anyone except Chrissy. Steve flips to the last page of his clipboard - where the final roster is paperclipped. He scribbles Mckorkle’s name in the space for seeker.
Next comes the chaser and keeper tryouts - at the same time, as usual. Hargrove’s two best chasers - because obviously he himself fills one slot - are undoubtedly Candace Weathers, who had joined the team last year, and a second year named Xavier Gray. Weathers has always been a better shot than flyer, and Gray has a slight tell when he’s feinting which hoop he’ll aim for - both things Steve can use, and jots down. Only Beth Wildfire, in sixth, tries out for Slytherin keeper. She’s been on the team for two years now and Steve already knows her imperfections - she tenses right before she’s about to speed to the side.
Hufflepuff had lost all three of their chasers to graduation, but the most promising replacements are three newcomers named Esther Lowell, Lauren Mackaby and Elena Cortez. Steve subtly notes their assets and shortcomings on his parchment. Jennifer Hayes, in fifth, has been the Hufflepuff keeper for two years now, and her stellar tryout will surely reclaim her position. She often misses shots to her left hoop.
Carver’s thickheaded buddies Brooks, Adams and McKinney will no doubt reclaim their chaser and keeper positions, but a pleasant surprise comes in the form of Lucas Sinclair - Dustin and Max’s friend who Steve may or may not also feel slightly protective over - outflying almost every other entrant. Dustin and their other friends heartily cheer him on as he flies, doing the same for Max once it’s her turn.
Max is excellent as ever. The only shot she lets in is one of Lucas’, and Steve suspects that might have been on purpose, to heighten the chance for her friend to earn a spot on the team. Lucas hardly needs her help, since his flying is speedy and his aim is true. Steve almost wishes he was in Gryffindor. But Ally and (as much as he hates to admit it) Carol certainly make up for it. They both fly and score as well as ever, and the reinstatement of their positions is obvious.
As the chasers and keepers touch back down to the ground and the beaters get ready for their tryout, Steve, concentrating on filling in Max, Ally and Carol’s names on the final roster, is taken by surprise when a sudden weight crashes against his back. Arms wrap around him and he spins, met with a sweaty, beaming Max.
“Did you see that?” she puffs out, eyes bright. “I only missed one shot!”
“You were great!” Steve cries, ruffling her hair as she pulls away. Max glows in the glory of her performance, glows in the knowledge that she’s well and truly cemented her spot on the team. Steve steals a glance at Hargrove, whose gaze is sour and jaw is clenched, and feels a sense of triumph. Max had been so anxious to perform with him watching, so scared to give him another excuse to treat her like shit, and she had still managed to outperform every keeper on the pitch. Suck on that, Hargrove, Steve thinks spitefully.
“Okay,” Max says breathlessly. “Lucas and I are gonna go see the others in the stands.”
“Alright, Mayfield.” Steve goes to ruffle her hair again, grinning when she dodges out of his way with a breathy laugh. She jogs over to where an equally sweaty but equally elated Lucas is waiting by the entrance to the stands and slings an affectionate arm over his shoulder. They make their way to join the others, just as the first beater rises on their broom.
The Hufflepuff beater position not filled by Brenda should undoubtedly go to third year Kyle Samson-Willis, someone Steve’s never heard of but resolves to keep on his radar. The kid’s got good aim and a strong hit. It’ll be hard to find his weakness.
One Ravenclaw beater slot will no doubt be taken by another of Carver’s dickhead friends, Andy Thomas. The other will probably be a fourth year girl Isla Osei - who Steve privately applauds and wishes luck to for being the only girl making it onto the Ravenclaw team.
Heather earns her previous place as beater, to no surprise and Steve’s own delight. His friend deserves the spot, she’s the best beater in the school. Sixth year Oscar Valdez is probably the next best entrant, so Steve wouldn’t be surprised if Hargrove picked him. Valdez has a powerful arm but his aim is lacking. Steve writes this down.
Vickie unsurprisingly regains her slot, joined by Mike Lewenski, last year’s reserve. He had always been a meathead who had no chance of coming off the bench, but he’s obviously worked hard over the summer. Steve adds both their names to complete his final roster. He’s happy with that lineup. He’ll post that on the common room noticeboard Monday morning.
Alexei wraps up tryouts - still sipping his cryptically-sourced cherry slurpee - and each Captain announces to the stands - where most players have migrated to by now - when their team will be posted. Said stands begin to steadily clear as students meander their way back to the castle. Steve remains behind, hovering by the stairs as Chrissy makes her way down from where she had been sitting chatting to some other seventh year Hufflepuff girls. She spots Steve and smiles, excusing herself from conversation and walking faster down the steps. She just reaches Steve’s side and opens her mouth to speak - when she is swiftly swept off her feet by Carver before she can. She squawks, letting out a false laugh as Carver spins her around, kissing her cheek as he places her back on her feet. Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes.
The other Ravenclaw boys gather around. Carver, instantly disregarding the now windswept Chrissy, turns and begins solemnly planning for the quidditch season. Steve grasps Chrissy’s arm and subtly moves the two of them far enough away from Carver and his band of douches that the strong smell of sweat and ego isn’t as overpowering. Chrissy sends him a thankful look. Steve doesn’t even know why she’s still with the guy - she clearly can’t stand him. Vickie and Heather, shouldering their brooms and looking exhausted, approach Steve and Chrissy, chatting amicably about each other’s form during the tryout.
“ - that last one, you had a really powerful hit, Vic,” Heather is saying, leaning beside Chrissy against the canvas of the stands. “And your aim was so good.”
“When you got that one from Carver,” Vickie responds eagerly as she sidles up to Steve and leans wearily into his side. “It was coming and I thought ‘oh shit, she’s not gonna get this one’, but then you did, you came out of nowhere and you totally cracked it, Heather, it was awesome. And Chris, you were so good, babe, better than ever.”
“Thanks Vic,” Chrissy says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She hates getting compliments. They know this, which is why they try to include her in the obligatory compliment sessions, but not extensively. Maybe if Carver paid more attention to his girlfriend than his hair, he would know how much she hates it when he dedicates his public spectacles to her.
“How’d you go, Steve?” Heather inquires, pushing her sweat-sticky hair back from her face. “Decided on a lineup yet?”
“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “It was relatively easy, since I already had most of my team.”
Vickie huffs out a laugh, elbowing him sharply in the stomach. “You big softie, you.”
Chrissy yawns, lifting her hand to cover her mouth. “I am ready for a shower and a hot cocoa. Kitchens tonight?”
“Ooh, good call, Chrissy,” Vickie says brightly as Steve nods fervidly and Heather lets out a longing groan at the suggestion of hot cocoa.
“I haven’t had a well made hot cocoa since June,” she whines, thrusting her hands out in front of her pathetically. The rest of them laugh, slowly making their way back up to the castle. Steve spots Hargrove walking by himself, dawdling behind the intertwined Carol and Tommy. He turns away, swallowing down the instinctive urge to call him over to walk with them. He doesn’t know why the thought had even crossed his mind - he doesn’t care about Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t care about him one bit.