lomonaaeren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lomonaaeren) wrote2024-11-22 09:42 pm
lomonaaeren) wrote2024-11-22 09:42 pm
Entry tags:
[Songs of the Stormy Season]: Not With That Attitude, 1/7, Harry/Adrian Pucey, PG-13
Title: Not With That Attitude
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Adrian Pucey
Content Notes: AU, angst, Quidditch, romance, references to violence and character death
Rating: : PG-13
Summary: Adrian Pucey is the one person on the Slytherin Quidditch team who seems to want to win fairly instead of cheating. He and Harry form a friendship, and eventually something more, based on the sanctity of Quidditch.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “Songs of the Stormy Season” one-shots and short chaptered stories being posted between Halloween and the winter solstice. This is based on the request of several people for this pairing, and off a line in canon that Pucey doesn’t cheat.
Not With That Attitude
“Potter.”
Harry turned around warily. He’d come out to fly on his Nimbus and just be by himself for a while. Losing a bunch of points because of Hagrid’s dragon had made a lot of the Gryffindors hate him.
One of the Slytherin Chasers was hovering on his broom nearby, staring at Harry. He had dark hair and a kind of flat forehead and was maybe a year older than Harry.
Harry didn’t remember which one of the Chasers he was. His game against Slytherin had been so chaotic that he thought just recognizing the bloke as a Chaser was pretty good on his part.
“Yeah?” he asked, when he realized they’d both been drifting in silence for a while.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just flying.”
“Not training?”
“No.”
“Want to?”
Harry blinked at the Chaser. “Why would you want to? Your teammates were already going on about how my winning our game wasn’t fair.”
The Chaser grunted. “I want to win based on talent, Potter. You’ve got that. So we need to get better to beat you. Flint’s always talking about cheating and the like, but what does a victory matter if you don’t earn it?”
“That’s—sort of an unusual attitude for a Slytherin, isn’t it?”
“Do you want to train with me or not, Potter?”
“Fine. But what’s your name? I can’t remember.”
The Chaser grinned a little. “Adrian Pucey.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Snitch that made Harry’s eyes widen. Then again, he’d heard that a lot of the Slytherins were rich, and he supposed that he would just carry a Snitch around too if he had one. “We’ll release this, and you’ll try to catch it while I try to block you.”
“But how does that benefit you? Chasers don’t block the Seeker.”
“Speed. I can get better at blocking in general with someone as fast as you than with the other Chasers on the team.”
Harry supposed that made sense. And he also couldn’t remember Pucey committing any fouls in the last game, either.
“All right. Come on.”
*
Pucey was good on a broom.
Harry hadn’t expected to be impressed just because Oliver was always saying that the Slytherin team wasn’t that great and the Gryffindor team was better, but Pucey really could fly. Sometimes he almost seemed to be communicating with his broom, the way he twisted back and forth and got in front of Harry just when he was reaching for the Snitch. And he wasn’t afraid to hang upside-down and wave his hands in front of Harry without touching him, either.
“That doesn’t count as a foul,” he argued when Harry brought it up. “Not unless I actually touch you or the broom.”
Harry supposed he should spend more time with Quidditch Through the Ages. But at least he would have some experience with that in his next game.
He and Pucey zipped back and forth until they were both tired, and Harry had caught the Snitch five times and Pucey had blocked him seven times. By the time that Harry landed on the ground again, panting and shaking his head, he was exhilarated. It was nice to not think about Nicholas Flamel and the three-headed dog for a while.
“Thanks, Pucey,” he said, as he handed the Snitch back.
“Next Tuesday evening at seven?”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed instantly. He would be able to sneak away if he just said that he wanted some time to clear his head. Hermione was very in favor of people clearing their heads and relaxing if at all possible.
“Good. See you then, Potter.”
Pucey flew back towards the school on his broom, and Harry went to shower. He expected to get pounced on by Oliver as soon as he got back to Gryffindor Tower, and it would be best if he could show that he hadn’t actually been sweating.
*
“Potter.”
Harry opened his eyes slowly and turned his head. Pucey was standing next to Harry’s hospital bed with a mighty frown on his face.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, slurring the words a little. He was still pretty tired after his confrontation with Professor Quirrell and the shade of Voldemort hiding in the back of his head. Just thinking about it made him want to huddle under the blankets and never come out.
“Heard you got injured.”
Harry eyed Pucey. “Yeah. You know the details?”
“Not all of them.”
And Pucey’s set jaw and closed expression said that he probably didn’t want to talk about them. Harry could understand. Slytherins would have a different perspective on Voldemort than anyone else.
But Harry didn’t talk about “normal” Slytherin things with Pucey, just Quidditch. “I’ll be well enough to do one more practice match before we leave for the summer.”
Pucey’s jaw relaxed a little. “Yeah. That was what I came to ask about.”
“Wednesday at nine?”
“Good for me. Be there.” Pucey hesitated, then reached out and knocked his fist so lightly against Harry’s scar that it didn’t hurt. “And try to keep your head in one piece, all right? You’re not going to be good for Quidditch if it’s broken open.”
“Yeah. Same to you.”
Pucey nodded to him, hint of worry already gone, and slipped out of the hospital wing. Harry lay back on the pillow with a little smile.
It was nice to know that someone valued him not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived or even because he was their best friend, but just because he was good at Quidditch. It was a small, good thing.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Adrian Pucey
Content Notes: AU, angst, Quidditch, romance, references to violence and character death
Rating: : PG-13
Summary: Adrian Pucey is the one person on the Slytherin Quidditch team who seems to want to win fairly instead of cheating. He and Harry form a friendship, and eventually something more, based on the sanctity of Quidditch.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “Songs of the Stormy Season” one-shots and short chaptered stories being posted between Halloween and the winter solstice. This is based on the request of several people for this pairing, and off a line in canon that Pucey doesn’t cheat.
Not With That Attitude
“Potter.”
Harry turned around warily. He’d come out to fly on his Nimbus and just be by himself for a while. Losing a bunch of points because of Hagrid’s dragon had made a lot of the Gryffindors hate him.
One of the Slytherin Chasers was hovering on his broom nearby, staring at Harry. He had dark hair and a kind of flat forehead and was maybe a year older than Harry.
Harry didn’t remember which one of the Chasers he was. His game against Slytherin had been so chaotic that he thought just recognizing the bloke as a Chaser was pretty good on his part.
“Yeah?” he asked, when he realized they’d both been drifting in silence for a while.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just flying.”
“Not training?”
“No.”
“Want to?”
Harry blinked at the Chaser. “Why would you want to? Your teammates were already going on about how my winning our game wasn’t fair.”
The Chaser grunted. “I want to win based on talent, Potter. You’ve got that. So we need to get better to beat you. Flint’s always talking about cheating and the like, but what does a victory matter if you don’t earn it?”
“That’s—sort of an unusual attitude for a Slytherin, isn’t it?”
“Do you want to train with me or not, Potter?”
“Fine. But what’s your name? I can’t remember.”
The Chaser grinned a little. “Adrian Pucey.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Snitch that made Harry’s eyes widen. Then again, he’d heard that a lot of the Slytherins were rich, and he supposed that he would just carry a Snitch around too if he had one. “We’ll release this, and you’ll try to catch it while I try to block you.”
“But how does that benefit you? Chasers don’t block the Seeker.”
“Speed. I can get better at blocking in general with someone as fast as you than with the other Chasers on the team.”
Harry supposed that made sense. And he also couldn’t remember Pucey committing any fouls in the last game, either.
“All right. Come on.”
*
Pucey was good on a broom.
Harry hadn’t expected to be impressed just because Oliver was always saying that the Slytherin team wasn’t that great and the Gryffindor team was better, but Pucey really could fly. Sometimes he almost seemed to be communicating with his broom, the way he twisted back and forth and got in front of Harry just when he was reaching for the Snitch. And he wasn’t afraid to hang upside-down and wave his hands in front of Harry without touching him, either.
“That doesn’t count as a foul,” he argued when Harry brought it up. “Not unless I actually touch you or the broom.”
Harry supposed he should spend more time with Quidditch Through the Ages. But at least he would have some experience with that in his next game.
He and Pucey zipped back and forth until they were both tired, and Harry had caught the Snitch five times and Pucey had blocked him seven times. By the time that Harry landed on the ground again, panting and shaking his head, he was exhilarated. It was nice to not think about Nicholas Flamel and the three-headed dog for a while.
“Thanks, Pucey,” he said, as he handed the Snitch back.
“Next Tuesday evening at seven?”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed instantly. He would be able to sneak away if he just said that he wanted some time to clear his head. Hermione was very in favor of people clearing their heads and relaxing if at all possible.
“Good. See you then, Potter.”
Pucey flew back towards the school on his broom, and Harry went to shower. He expected to get pounced on by Oliver as soon as he got back to Gryffindor Tower, and it would be best if he could show that he hadn’t actually been sweating.
*
“Potter.”
Harry opened his eyes slowly and turned his head. Pucey was standing next to Harry’s hospital bed with a mighty frown on his face.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, slurring the words a little. He was still pretty tired after his confrontation with Professor Quirrell and the shade of Voldemort hiding in the back of his head. Just thinking about it made him want to huddle under the blankets and never come out.
“Heard you got injured.”
Harry eyed Pucey. “Yeah. You know the details?”
“Not all of them.”
And Pucey’s set jaw and closed expression said that he probably didn’t want to talk about them. Harry could understand. Slytherins would have a different perspective on Voldemort than anyone else.
But Harry didn’t talk about “normal” Slytherin things with Pucey, just Quidditch. “I’ll be well enough to do one more practice match before we leave for the summer.”
Pucey’s jaw relaxed a little. “Yeah. That was what I came to ask about.”
“Wednesday at nine?”
“Good for me. Be there.” Pucey hesitated, then reached out and knocked his fist so lightly against Harry’s scar that it didn’t hurt. “And try to keep your head in one piece, all right? You’re not going to be good for Quidditch if it’s broken open.”
“Yeah. Same to you.”
Pucey nodded to him, hint of worry already gone, and slipped out of the hospital wing. Harry lay back on the pillow with a little smile.
It was nice to know that someone valued him not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived or even because he was their best friend, but just because he was good at Quidditch. It was a small, good thing.