Bulgarian National Quidditch Team players: Chasers- Vasily Dimitrov, Clara Ivanova, Alexi Levski. Beaters: Harry Potter, Ivan Volkov. Keeper: Lev Zograf. Seeker: Viktor Krum
Summary: Our young hero, battle weary and fed up, has a run in with his old quidditch captain that opens a door to a whole new world. Deviates from HBP and DH.
AN: THIS CHAPTER HAS A LEMON. I WILL BE MARKING IT OUT, FEEL FREE TO SKIP OVER IT IF IT'S NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA, OR IF YOU'RE UNDER 18. It's not a very explicit lemon, but I'm not taking any risks.
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this, I'm glad its brought some enjoyment to your lives!
The second month found Harry with enough energy between practices to actually be useful for something other then sleep. He fell into a pattern of growing contentment, happy to get up and work his body to its limits. He found himself eating nearly three times as much as he had before, though he wasn't gaining any excess weight. His muscles were firming up nicely though, and he was even starting to feel more energized then he ever had before, despite the grueling practices.
He was happy, there wasn't really much he could think of that could make life better then it was. He should have known of course, that it wouldn't last forever.
The first game was against Finland. It was a mere four degrees Celsius, and the ominous clouds threatened rain. Despite the horrible weather the stands were packed- fuller then normal, according to Coach. About 33% fuller, actually- even taking into consideration the higher volume that the first game normally brought.
They dawned their scarlet gear in silence, each focused on a different aspect of the game and gathering themselves. Harry smiled, a flashback of dawning his fairly similar Gryffindor robes for that first game all those years ago. The butterflies were the same now as they had been back then.
A friendly hand clapped his shoulder, drawing him from his memories. He looked over his shoulder to see the bulky form of the seeker standing behind him. The man shot him an encouraging grin but didn't speak. He nodded across the room where the rest of the team was gathering for their pregame pep talk.
"All right team, first game of the season. You've worked hard and trained hard. You've conditioned and you've sweat and you've bled for this. You're ready for the season. Zograf! I've seen you stop ever attempt at a goal during a seven hour game against one of the top ranked teams in the league. A complete shut out. You're very possibly the best keeper out here."
"Chasers! You've been together for eight years. You've been to the world cup together. Finland doesn't have that advantage. Conway is new this year, and Browne was last year. They don't have the dynamic, the trust, that you do. Use it. Potter- You're new. You're inexperienced- a greenie. They are already counting you out. The weak link. They don't understand that I wouldn't have a greenie on my team if he wasn't bloody fantastic! You and Volkov knock them from the air! Krum! Eyes sharp, hands quick- keep your head in the game."
"This is our season! This is the year we take the world cup! To victory!" The team let out a roar of agreement and their loud jostling voices continued until they had taken their positions in the air.
The game was fierce. Harry had viewed numerous quidditch games over the years but viewing and being in the middle of the chaos were incomparable. Even training and mock games couldn't fully prepare him for unrelenting viciousness that surrounded the players from the moment the balls were released.
At first it seemed the two teams were fairly evenly matched, each scoring in succession for the first fifteen minutes or so. The first fifteen minutes had been for the players on the Bulgarian team to observe the inner workings of their competition. They watched for plays, watched how Finland interacted with each other, how involved the beaters were with the chasers, which goal post their keeper seemed to favor. Then they kicked things up. Over the next half hour the score skyrocketed from 30-30 to 60-170.
The match lasted about an hour and a half total, with Krum unremarkably catching the snitch. He had it in his hand before the other seeker realized he had found it. The ending score was 110-420. They would have won the match with or without the snitch, and the worst injury for their team had been a dislocated shoulder that was fixed less then five minutes of being back on the ground.
The locker room was full of shouting, cheering and loud talking. They had to quiet down for the debriefing with coach but the team was soon showered, dressed and ready to celebrate the start of a great season. They had to fight through the horde of fans and reporters that were waiting outside the locker room doors but eventually ended up at a place called Café Europa. Café Europa was not, in fact, a café at all, but a cozy place with a downstairs bar and an upstairs club.
The downstairs was pretty full when they got there but the team managed to get a table big enough for them. They were pretty famished and took a good hour to enjoy a delicious dinner and a pint or two before they really started celebrating. They finally headed up the stairs, somehow in even better spirits then they had been at the end of the game.
The club was pretty typical- flashing strobe lights, loud music (though how it wasn't heard downstairs was a mystery), a mass of sweaty, thrumming bodies and another bar with its own crowd. The drinks started flowing and the team lost themselves to the night.
Harry found himself encased in the middle of the dance floor with another faceless stranger pressed against his back. He had danced with several already, though they tended to find someone more interested when they were unable to gain his attentions. He wondered briefly how long this one would try as he allowed his head to fall back, eyes still closed, when a pair of rough hands managed to find a very sensitive spot on the underside of his hip bones.
The nameless man felt the jolt the first time and dug his fingers in, hoping to get an even better reaction. Harry groaned quietly, the alcohol making him just fuzzy enough to forget not to enjoy it. The man pressed even closer, his bulge pressing demandingly against the small of his back. Rough hands stroked up his taunt abdomen, his shirt having been discarded to the small table Viktor and Zograf had domineered some time ago, and even further to brush against peaked nipples. Harry groaned again and lowered his own arms to hold the mans hands back against the oh so pleasurable flesh of his hips.
He could feel the stranger smile against his neck before teeth nipped under his jaw. A throat cleared loudly in front of him and Harry opened his eyes to see who wanted his attention. It took a second for his eyes to focus. "Oliver!" He finally exclaimed. He pulled free of the man behind him and through his arms around his friends neck. A deep chuckle filled his ear and strong arms wrapped around him in return and lifted him off the ground.
"Wait." Harry said as he was set back on his feet. "We're in Finland. What are you doing here?" He asked, finally noticing that Oliver wasn't alone.
"Oh, our match was over quick- only lasted 45 minutes. We knew you were playing your first game today and we weren't about to miss it!"
"Aye! Good job kid! But just wait- we're going to slaughter you when our teams play!" Blake, the Puddlemere beater, growled jokingly.
"The rest of the teams around here somewhere. We figured this was as good a place as any to celebrate! And we hadn't seen you in a couple of months!"
A hand gripped his arm painfully and pulled him around before he could reply. He finally got a look at the man he had been dancing with and felt himself shiver. The guy was tall- at least 6'2", with short black hair and stubble across his square jaw. His muscles were bulging out of golden skin and his hands were big enough to nearly enclose his upper arm. "Do you mind?" The man growled at Wood. "We're busy."
"No." Harry stated, voice confident and hiding his annoyance. "We're not." He wrenched his arm out of the other mans hand, ignoring the sunburn like feeling that over took the abused skin.
"Yes, we are." He was getting angry. "I'm so sick of stupid little sluts thinking they can get a man all riled up and lead him on- and then just walk away. It doesn't work like that." He gripped Harry's slim wrist this time and started pulling him out of the crowd and towards the stairs.
The smaller man waved Oliver off as he started to step forward and allowed himself to be pulled until they were in front of the stairs. There was a very small alcove on either side and Harry wrenched the man sideways until he was backed into it. "What's your name?" He asked, stroking down the mans stomach.
"Jussi. I'm Harry. Now." He reached the bulging manhood that seemed to have grown with his anger. "I'm here celebrating a victory with my team. I am having a good time dancing. Now, you came up to me. You started dancing with me." His grip was getting tighter and tighter. I have no intention of going home with anyone here or anywhere else. If you grinding you cock against my arse left you with a problem then you should go take care of it." The man whimpered as his grip grew tighter still. Harry lowered his voice. "I am not a slut. I am not leading you on. You're lucky I even let you touch me as much as you did. You're going to leave here, and let us finish our celebration in peace." He tugged on the softened flesh painfully. "Yes?"
The bigger man nodded, face scrunched. As soon as Harry released him and stepped back the man grabbed his sex protectively and practically fled down the stairs. Harry shook his head in disgust and wiped his hand on his tight dark jeans. A laugh in his ear and a friendly clap on his shoulder brought him back from his own angry thoughts and back to the fun.
The next morning was spent in a miserable ball on the couch, nursing a pot of tea and trying to rid himself of the terrible handover that had taken root in his skull. He didn't have any hangover potions, not after the spiel about no drinking at the start of practice. The pain potions he had from that first month he knew wouldn't help this kind of pain and so he settle for the muggle pills he kept. They took time, however, and Harry stayed in his woeful position until they either kicked in or he dehydrated his body.
He had plans to meet with Viktor for lunch at 1:00 and discuss his first game, and he was determined to make it. 12 o'clock came around and he drug himself up the stairs to soak in his Jacuzzi tub for a bit, hoping it would take the ache out of his muscles.
He was dressed and seated at their prepicked café by 12:55, large sunglasses in place despite the cloud cover. One o'clock came, then 1:10... He was on his second cup of coffee by the time his company arrived at 1:15, and the man did not look very happy.
"Hey. I was starting to think you weren't coming. What happened to you last night? You disappeared."
Viktor stared at him for a long moment. "I didn't think you vuld notice." He finally said.
"Of course I noticed." Harry frowned. "Where'd you go?"
"Just home. I didn't feel much like celebrating."
The younger opened his mouth to argue the ridiculousness of that statement- the man had been in just as good of spirits as the rest of the team- but he stopped himself. "Okay," He said instead, studying his grumpy counterpart. "but why didn't you tell anyone you were leaving?"
"It vasn't important."
"I looked for you for an hour!" he said incredulously.
"You were plenty vell occupied vhen I left."
"… Okay…" He said again and then shook his head. The somewhat awkward silence that fell was broken by the waitress coming and taking their orders. "So… What did you think of the game?" He asked when she left.
"It vas fine." Silence followed.
"That's it?! It was fine?" Harry's annoyance soared. His head was pounding, his stomach churning and his eyes were aching with lack of real sleep. His arm was stiff and sore from where it had taken a bludger and he was still a bit annoyed at the older man for disappearing. "Why are we even here if that's all you have to say?" He demanded in a loud whisper, reaching up to rub his temples.
Viktor stared at him silently for a long minute before he responded. "That's a good question." He said gruffly. He stood up and tossed a colorful wadded up lev* on the table. "I vill see you at practice."
"Vik!" Harry called after him. "Viktor!" He shouted again, ignoring the eyes now watching the two of them. "Damn it." He swore, half rising to his feet before he felt the ripple of apparition coming from the alley he had disappeared into. He dropped back into his chair and rested his head in his hands.
A soft thud on the table had him raising his head to take in the site of a dish full of warm croissants and a bowl of melted butter and honey to dip them in- Viktor's favorite. He sent a tight smile of thanks to the waitress and reached for one, hoping it would settle his angry stomach.
Practices over the next three days were a tense affair. It was odd indeed for the team to see the two of them not speaking, they usually spent the milling around in the locker room together. The practices themselves were rougher then normal and the team was exhausted by the time they headed for the showers.
On the third day Viktor bypassed showering all together. He gathered the cloths he had worn that morning and disappeared with a slam of his locker door.
"What is his problem?!" Harry finally snapped in annoyance, more to himself then anything but the team heard all the same.
Zograf glanced at him appraisingly for a minute before he tossed a magazine at him. It was dated to a couple of months before and a large picture of him and Oliver walking together filled the cover. He recognized it of course- it had been the night he had woken up in Oliver's bed after running into him at the bar. Harry looked mussed in the picture. His cloths had been from the day before, and cleansing charms could only do so much. His hair was messier then normal and circles were visible under his tired eyes.
'Harry Potter's Bachelor Status in Question?' was in bold print below the photo. He flipped through until he found the article- an article detailing the apparent love affair between the sought after Harry Potter and star quidditch player Oliver Wood. The article itself was rubbish; a sleuth of speculations and guesses, ranging from the possibility of a secret relationship dating back to Hogwarts, to a passionate reunion and unbreakable relationship.
The pictures that accompanied it were the only reason people could find truth in the garbage. The writer had managed to get pictures of the two of them from Hogwarts, pictures from the bar that night (including Harry sitting on Oliver's lap), the two of them leaving the next morning, and a couple of random times they had met up before Harry left to Bulgaria. He could see how a stranger would believe it. He tossed the magazine down onto a bench. "Typical garbage those mindless gossipers print. What, he doesn't think that's true, does he?"
"Vell he didn't- until lover boy showed up at the club last night."
"You've got to be kidding. Oliver's a friend. He was my quidditch captain back at Hogwarts. These pictures? We ran into each other at that bar. First time we had seen each other in years."
Zograf held his hands up in surrender. "It's not me you should explain too." Harry glared at the man for a brief second, but he knew it was true. Instead he turned and stripped. He showered and dressed in record time, forcing tired muscles to work faster and was leaving the locker room while most of the others were still under the water.
He apparated directly into Viktor's flat, knowing it was rude but too pissed to care. He heard the shower running and marched into the bathroom. "Vut are you doing here?" The deep voice snapped from behind the shower curtain.
Harry reached forward and jerked the material away so he could glare face to face. He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the other mans face. Despite the fact that they were naked around each other on a near daily basis and had seen each other in the shower, standing full frontal in front of this extremely well built man covered in soap suds and dripping was a whole other level.
He held up the magazine he had grabbed on his way out. "Is this why you've been such an ass the last few days?" He demanded. Viktor scowled at him before he tilted his head back to rinse his hair, ignoring him completely. He stepped out of the tub as soon as the suds were gone and wrapped the large handing towel around his waist. He pushed past Harry, still ignoring him, and trudged into his bedroom. Harry, wisely, decided not to follow him and instead sat on the arm of his sofa to wait.
Five minutes passed before the other man reappeared and he came to stand in front of Harry, arms crossed and expression blank. "Vell?" He finally demanded when Harry didn't speak up. "Vhy are you here?"
"I'm here because I'm tired of tantrum."
"My tantrum?!" He scowled and took a step forward. Harry spoke again before he could continue.
"Yea, your tantrum. What else would you call it? I've been trying to talk to you for days. I had no idea why you were pissed or what was going on and then I find out it's because of a gossip rag? Excuse me for being a little peeved. I mean, do you really think I wouldn't have mentioned seeing someone after all this time? Do you think I'm that kind of person?"
"How do I know vut kind of person you are? Ve are teammates- that is all."
"That's all? Really."
"Yes, really. You haf a lover. Fine. Shag the vole bleeding Puddlemere team for all I care, but I'm not the kind of man that gets involved in other peoples relationships. You should leave, I haf nothing else to say about it."
"Shag the whole Puddlemere team? That's the kind of person you think I am? Let me tell you something, Krum. Oliver and I have never had sex. I crashed at his house after a night at a bar and we've gotten together a couple of times sense. He's a friend. I haven't been with anyone in ohhh… Seven months? Stupid me, I've had my eye on someone." He stopped and glared again, crossing his own arms and digging his nails into his flesh.
Viktor took another step forward, but this time with a small frown instead of in anger. "There are pictures…"
"Pictures of two friends walking together. And ok, honestly the night in the bar something could have happened- but it didn't. He's actually started to see a friend of mine. Did you ever meet Fred Weasley? Well, they're going on three months now. Gods, I figured you of all people would know better then to trust what gets printed in this garbage."
He took another step forward. Harry's knees parted slightly, unconsciously, so they weren't pressed against Viktors thighs. "You had your eye on someone?" He bowed his head, put peered up into green eyes through his lashes. "Does that mean you don't anymore?"
It was Harry that reached forward and grabbed a hold of the older mans belt loops and pulled him the last step, so that they were pressed fully together. He shrugged then, a mischievous smile curving his lips. "No… no, I've still got my eye on him. But he's going to have to work for me to forgive this lack of trust."
"I'm a hard vorker." He whispered, leaning closer.
"Mmmm." He nodded, staring into jade. Harry leaned up and their lips touched. They moved together slowly at first, savoring their first taste of what had been months in the making. Harry reached up and wrapped his arms around the broad chest, letting his blunt nails drag down the muscular back as he wrapped his legs around thick thighs.
The kiss grew more aggressive at the move, Viktor moved the hand that had been cupping his lovers face down his stomach and around to dig into the flesh of his butt. He grinded his hips against the budging hardness that answered. He left tempting lips to trail across his cheek, down his jaw and to his neck. He stopped at Harry's small gasp and tightened fingers and started nibbling on the spot that gave him so much pleasure.
He ran his other hand down from its position of his back to grip his thigh and hefted him effortlessly off the arm of the couch without warning. Harry wrapped his legs tighter around his waist and leaned down to kiss him. He was expecting to be dropped down onto the mattress when arrived but he wasn't- he was lowered reverently, Viktor moving with him so that their bodies never parted.
Cloths began disappearing and heated flesh was exposed. Viktor explored every inch of flesh as it was exposed, Harry silently vowing to do the same at a later date because he was not going to interrupt his lovers complete dominance over the situation. That didn't mean he was passive, however, and his hands and mouth (when his partner was in range) were constantly moving.
Their joining, when it finally came, was as painful as seven months of celibacy would be for anyone and Viktors sex was just as stocky as the rest of him. The pain faded and pleasure bloomed. Skin moved over skin, fingers groped, mouths moved and the air was filled sounds of ecstasy. Sweat pooled as their passion grew, movements became more sporadic and their verbal expressions grew louder still. Orgasm ripped through them scarce seconds apart and they fell into a tangled heap of panting, sweaty flesh.
***** END LEMON*****
Viktor pulled away with a wince and gathered Harry to lay on his chest, both still breathing heavier then normal. Harry absently ran his fingers over his lovers skin, deep in thought. His voice, when he spoke up, was quiet- hardly more then a whisper. "So… would you still not care if I slept my way through the Puddlemere team?" He asked some minutes later, trying to brush off his pounding heart as a result of their lovemaking.
He was pulled upwards until they were eye to eye and he wished for a second that he could take back the question. "I vould have cared even had none of this happened. I care a great deal for you and now that I have you I don't think I could to let you go. Vat I said vas spoken in haste and anger. I am sorry."
A smile bloomed across Harry's face. His eyes lit up with the happiness coursing through his veins and, after a lingering kiss, scooted back down to rest his head on a strong shoulder and bask in the glow.
*Lev- Bulgarian currency.