Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me unfortunately. Reviews always welcome.
Warnings: Mild slash, one instance of swearing.


Harry flies as if he belongs in the air, but Viktor Krum knows he is better. Not by much, but he still has the edge and that is what matters. He soars up to the England Seeker, effortlessly matching his pace and Harry tries to shout something at him.

The air resistance blows his words away and Viktor only catches a few – "Reckon… bastards… actually let… snitch…?"

He laughs anyway, guessing at the missing words. "I doubt it!" he shouts back, English accent much better now he has been living in England for a couple of years. "Is it mattering?"

Harry gives him a laughing thumbs up, and swoops underneath Viktor, brushing past him at an unbelievable pace, and Viktor takes this as a challenge, doing a couple of barrel rolls past the goals, ignoring the shouts of the spectators. This is only a practice, so neither of the two are too concerned with winning.

Later they lie on the pitch, Harry covered in mud and grass from where he ploughed into the ground earlier. Viktor pulls him closer and Harry relaxes. This is life for him and he can think of none better.

Rain begins to fall, and Viktor makes a face at the English weather. He doesn't move though, and neither does Harry.

"Y'know," Harry begins, and Viktor looks quizzically at him. A moment later the man laughs and shakes his head. "Ah, never mind."

"Tell me," Viktor challenges. Harry laughs again and Viktor is tempted to kiss him as he lies there, clothes slowly being plastered to his skin by the falling rain. He realizes he cannot be bothered however, and instead lets Harry fall silent by himself.

"I was just thinking how much I would have laughed," Harry says at last, "If someone had told me ten years ago where I'd be when I was twenty four."

"You aren't the only one," Viktor says. "I was thinking I would be with Her-my-own-ee –" he pronounces her name carefully, conscious of the time he has spent learning it, "Not with you."

"Is it a bad thing?" Harry asks, amusement playing on his face.

"Being with you?" Viktor says, and then continues as Harry nods his head. "Never."

He shivers as the rain continues to fall, and makes a face at the sky. "Living in England, however, is another matter," he says dryly.

Harry gets to his feet and shakes himself out – like a dog, Viktor thinks privately. "Come on then," he says with a grin. "I'm sure I can change your mind when we get inside."