Chapter Text
It became clear in a matter of days that Hufflepuff was not willing to let one of their own fall down. Ilya struggled in classes because of his English, but Marly and several others helped him with the homework every night. Marly had also remembered something about a girl in Ravenclaw being Russian, and the hug Ilya gave Svetlana was borderline violent. They had lost touch when her family moved years ago, and it was a surprise to both of them to see each other here. Even barely two weeks in, she was already helpful in improving his English, but he was mostly just happy to see her again.
He kept seeing the boy with the freckles and his red-headed hanger-on all over the place, too. Not that it was anything special to note, of course. He saw all the Slytherins all the time. In fact, he saw all the Ravenclaws more often than he saw Hollander’s freckles. So seeing Hollander was boring, and nothing to think about.
Ilya's most pressing issue, though, was that he missed flying. At Durmstrang, even the first years had access to their brooms during free periods, and he’d spent much of his time flying around the expansive grounds. After…well, after everything, Ilya had thrown himself into quidditch even more than he had before he’d started school, and had spent nearly this entire summer in the sky. By the time Hufflepuff tryouts rolled around, Ilya would have done anything to get back on a broom.
The anger from his father over being a Hufflepuff was palpable, but Ilya was grateful he would never do something as demonstrative as send a howler. For once, Gregori’s obsession with decorum and appearances was actually helpful. Privately however, his father did not hold back, and, in combination with Andrei’s own cruel letters, Ilya was glad his family had no jurisdiction at Hogwarts.
The students around him were talking excitedly, but Ilya wasn’t bothering to listen until Marly nudged him, nodding towards an older brunette boy that had stopped in front of the group.
“As most of you likely know by now, I’m Cedric Diggory, your new Quidditch captain starting this year. Unlike the other houses, we hold open try outs every year. If you have a spot you would like please let me know at the end, but, in the interest of fairness, I want everyone to try out for every position. Coach Wiebe is here so we can use one bludger and start there.”
Ilya was pleased: it sounded like he would be on his broom for a while. He’d watched the Slytherin tryouts yesterday, with Svetlana translating, and the students had been doing a lot of standing and waiting before flying for 5 minutes and getting eliminated for the stupid things.
It seemed that if you sneezed in front of the Slytherin captain it would get you kicked off the field. All except the rat-faced Malfoy. Ilya wasn’t sure what Malfoy had done to get a position on the team, and he wasn’t going to ask. The only thing he knew from coaching him over the summer at his father’s insistence was that Malfoy was a mediocre flyer.
However, he had liked watching Hollander flying. He told himself it was because it seemed like the only person who could match him for skill. He ignored that he kept thinking about his small smile and sparkly eyes.
Shane sighed as he, Rose, and Hayden spotted the dozen or so yellow and black clad students standing around Coach Wiebe and Diggory on the pitch. They’d grabbed their brooms and rushed to the pitch as soon as they got out of class, but, unfortunately, Rose had been right.
The girl in question laughed. “I told you Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would be using the pitch today.”
The sound Hayden let out was almost a whine. “I finally get to fly whenever I want, and the pitch is taken for the rest of the week?”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “Hay…de Hayde, you flew with me all…the time last year.”
He huffed petulantly. “Well, yeah, but that’s only because you were on the team and the professors let it slide cause we were with you. This year, I can fly on my own!”
Rose gave him a consoling pat on the back, but she was still smiling. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be done hogging the pitch by Saturday, since only Ravenclaw is left to go.”
Hayden groaned. “Ugh, fine. Let’s go see if…” His eyes caught on something on the pitch and Shane watched as he forced his suddenly bright expression into something neutral. “Uh, I mean, since we’re already here, we may as well watch their tryouts, right? See what we’re working with. Scope out the fresh meat, yeah?”
Shane frowned. “I don’t think…they’d have any fre…have any fresh meat at a tryout.”
Rose took each of their hands in hers and continued walking towards the pitch. “One: He means look at the newbies. Two: Hayde, you’re also fresh meat. Three: Yes, we can go watch Jackie tryout.”
Hayden blushed and stammered denials while Shane felt confused, but Rose just shook her head fondly and kept pulling them along.
Ilya glanced over at the motion on the side of the pitch and was briefly distracted, but when Marly nudged his elbow he mounted his broom. Being in the air was the best feeling in the world. All his father’s anger, his brother’s cruelty, the frustration of not understanding the people around him, and the lingering sadness ready to jump him at any moment was all left on the ground. He looped around Marly, getting a laugh from him. Even the thought of Hollander and his ginger girlfriend weren’t enough to ruin this for him.
They each traded turns with the beater bat, one person hitting while the others showed they could dodge it. Ilya was never really interested in the bludgers, but he could manoeuvre about them easily enough. Anything to be in the air again.
As the Gryffindor and Slytherins trio sat down in the stands, they got a few suspicious looks, but no one accused them of spying and kicked them out, so Shane considered it a win. The Hufflepuffs were taking turns on either side of the bludger, and Hayden started an excited commentary on how Jackie was doing. Shane could see her braids, held back in a ponytail, whip to the side as she narrowly avoided a bludger, and his eyes wandered over the rest of the students.
He wasn’t looking for anything, he wasn’t, but his scanning eyes immediately stopped when they landed on those golden curls. The boy—Rozanov, Shane had subtly confirmed the pronunciation of after the welcome feast—looked completely relaxed as he dodged every bludger shot in his direction.
“Look at the way she spun! It was so graceful. The bludgers have barely…Shane, you good buddy?” Shane didn’t even realize his mouth had fallen open slightly, and he snapped it closed at Hayden’s words.
“Yeah, o…f of course.” Hayden raised an eyebrow, but Shane resolutely returned his gaze to Jackie until Hayden and Rose did as well.
Ilya dodged the last few bludger swings and felt his interest go up when Diggory returned to the air with the quaffle. His mom had taught him to fly. As soon as he was able to sit on her broom he’d been in the air, her arm around him and her warm body against his back. When he had finally gotten his own broom they would toss a small quaffle between them. One of his regrets was she had never seen him play a real game. He would make her proud.
He fell in line with Cedric’s instructions. As they worked through the various plays, Ilya could already tell he would like this team. Diggory was firm but fair, and rather than berating someone and sending them away, he would offer advice and let them try again. Everyone was there for the love of the game, and even though they were competing for six spots and maybe a few reserves, it felt more like a team practice and less like competition. When he was instructed to try against a keeper select, he found himself enjoying the rush of it.
Jackie was doing really well at the chaser drills, as was another boy in their year, Cliff Marlow. Shane resolutely kept his eyes on the dark-skinned girl, but as the afternoon sun highlighted blond curls, he had a feeling Hufflepuff would have three second-year chasers this year.
The Hufflepuffs all traded roles again until everyone had a go at beater, chaser, and keeper. To Shane’s surprise, Diggory also had everyone try out for seeker. It was clear from his skill that he’d still be getting his old role this year, but Shane was impressed he was willing to let others try.
Ilya glanced over at the stands again as Cedric conferred with Coach Wiebe. He couldn’t see the freckles from here, but Hollander’s dark hair rippled and shone in the sunlight. His hand was still wrapped up with his girlfriend’s.
Cedric flew back over to where everyone was waiting, Ilya was glad they all hadn’t been ordered back to the ground he was hoping to spend some time on the broom.
“Alright everyone, our new team has been decided! Seeker will, luckily, still be me,” a smattering of goodnatured laughter, “Keeper: Wyatt Hayes; Beaters: Maxine O'Flaherty and Anthony Rickett; Chasers: Cliff Marlow, Ilya Rosanov, and Jacequeline Smith.”
The three in the stands watched intensely after Diggory called everyone into a group. They couldn’t hear what was being said from this distance, but he was holding a piece of parchment, and the students’ mix of excited and disappointed expressions gave Shane a good guess.
When Jackie pumped her fist in the air, Hayden jumped up and screamed “YOU’RE THE MAN JACKIE, HELL YEAH!” into the mostly empty pitch.
He got a couple of head turns, including from the girl herself, and several students turned to giggle between themselves. Hayden turned bright red and sat back in his seat, yanking his hat over his eyes and slouching in his seat.
“I can't believe I just did that.” He looked ready to melt.
Rose patted his shoulder, and sent a shrug back to Jackie, who had started waving at the shout. “Well, I think she appreciated the enthusiasm.”
Shane stared between them with confusion, completely lost.
“I can never…understand half of what you gu…uys guys talk about.
Up in the air, Ilya half listened as Cedric spoke calmly, his grey eyes determined. He was still reading off the reserves and a shout from the stands had caught a few others’ attention, but Ilya was in his head.
Sure, his father hadn’t been happy about the sorting, but at least Ilya was on the team. As long as the team won, his father would get over the rest of it. After all, he never had to tell his father he hadn’t wanted to be in Slytherin.
“Make sure your parents send in permission before first practice. You can find all the robes you need in the catalogue from Madame Malkin’s. You are allowed to fly as often as you don’t have classes and if there is no other team on the pitch,” Cedric continued.
Hayden slowly turned from a tomato back to his normal self, and when the new Hufflepuff team started making their way to the ground, Hayden abruptly stood, giving Rose a panicked look.
“What do I do?”
Rose rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm.
“Let's go congratulate her where she can actually hear you. You coming, Shane?”
He still didn't know exactly what was going on, but he was pretty sure he'd rather be flying than get involved.
“Nah…I'm gonna stick around for a b…for a bit.” Rose gave him a nod and a hug before dragging Hayden away.
Ilya waited in the changing room until the rest of the Hufflepuffs filtered back into the castle and the few students in the stands had left. He stepped outside and leaned his broom against the wall. He settled next to it, pulling out his pack of clove cigarettes. With the first inhale of the thick smoke, his lips tingled with the clove oil.
Shane made his way onto the empty field, and was surprised to see that Rozanov was leaning against a wall, mostly obscured from the view of the castle. Shane frowned as the curly-haired boy breathed out a cloud of smoke.
He looked up when Hollander stopped in front of him.
“Y-you’re…definitely not suppo…osed supposed to…do th…at that at Hogwarts…” Shane murmured. He wasn’t sure what he expected Rozanov to say to that, and cursed himself for being such a prig as his first impression. Also, apparently all the speech therapy over the summer wasn’t enough to save him from talking to hot strangers. Whoa where did that thought come from??
Seeing Hollander this close, Ilya could finally take in more of his features. Distractingly beautiful, perfect skin, dark eyes, and wind ruffling his jet back hair. He flushed after he trailed off, making the freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks more prominent. There was also something charming about the way he spoke, even though it made it harder for Ilya to parse his words.
“Ok,” Ilya answered after taking a moment to translate the words.
Shane internally shook himself. Ok, just say what Hayden would say. Shane thought about Hayden’s outburst during the tryouts. He wasn’t completely sure what had happened, but he was pretty sure Hayden had done something wrong. No, say what Rose would say.
“I wanted to…meet you. Shane Hollan…Shane Hollander,” he extended his hand. Ilya wasn’t sure why he was trying to make conversation. He stared at the hand and felt his lips twitch a bit.
“Yes,” he placed the cigarette between his lips and shook Hollander’s hand.
“You’re an aw…you’re an awesome player to wa…tch watch,” he continued.
“I know.” So are you. He wasn’t about to return the compliment regardless of whether or not it was true. He took a final puff and dropped the cigarette, stomping it under his shoe. They stood next to each other for a long moment and Ilya noted that Hollander was shorter and more slight than him..
“I going fly.” Ilya picked up his broom.
Shane blinked in surprise as the other boy sent him—what Shane thought was—a smirk and shot off into the air. Shane admired his form for a few moments. He felt a strange stirring in his chest, probably caused by how impressive the other boy was in the sky, and climbed onto his own broomstick. Shane moved to the opposite end of the pitch and started running through warm-up drills.
Ilya was content to stay on his side while warming up. He kept an eye on the other end of the field. He didn’t like to make snap judgements about people, that made him think of his father, but the rest of the school seemed wary of the Slytherins. Knowing what he knew about many of their families, they were right to be; but still, Hollander and his family seemed decent.
Shane frowned at the sleek, polished handle beneath him. The Nimbus 2001 flew like a dream; it was sensitive to every movement, its acceleration was insane, and Shane absolutely hated it. Marcel handed one out to every member of the team after tryouts—a “gift” from Draco’s dad—and Shane had immediately disliked it. He’d accepted the broom when it was handed to him, too anxious to turn it down when everyone was thanking Draco, but he despised how it felt the moment he stepped on. The change had been too sudden, and he thought giving himself time to process would help him accept it, but hadn’t worked.
Without speaking they both started circling the field. Ilya had only seen Hollander fly in the junior leagues before he’d watched him at tryouts, but he was sure the other boy was a better flyer then he was currently letting on. He seemed to be almost fighting his broom. Ilya pushed himself to go faster, hoping to have an actual race. He wanted to see how Hollander handled a little friendly competition. Plus, maybe if he flew faster he would lose the look of annoyance, stress, and almost guilt on his face.
Shane practiced making turns and loops, frustrated with the way it was over-sensitive and stopped without any of the control he was used to. Modern Nimbuses just weren’t designed for kids, they were professional racing brooms, and with the way it vibrated with energy, Shane was half afraid it was going to randomly explode if he went under 50mph. Even worse, several of the commands were different, and it felt like switching to a game controller with new mapping unexpectedly.
He’d had his old Comet 260 since before moving to England, and he was tuned to it like an extra limb. Last year, he’d only had to use a school broom for a single flying lesson, and he was dreading having to use this new broom the entire year. He knew he was a good enough flyer to use this broom, but his emotions were getting the best of him and he stamped down the urge to scream. He felt ashamed of how ungrateful he was being, but he almost wanted to cry with how much didn’t want to use the Nimbus.
“Too hard with power, Hollander?” Ilya taunted even as he flew closer. The shaky movements when stopping and accelerating had Ilya concerned that Shane was going to unseat himself. There was none of the careful control he had admired on the small grainy screen of the family’s ancient TV (the one thing his mother had insisted on despite his father’s protests.)
Shane shot Rozanov an annoyed look.
“...No.” Damn it. Shane resisted the urge to facepalm his own reaction. “Focus…on yours…elf yourself, Rozanov.”
“Yes, then you close to fall off broom. You die, everyone is be saying is me,” Ilya responded. The continued jerky movements had his stomach clenching in sympathy. It couldn’t be a fun experience to be on that broom right now. His own cleansweep floating idly with the light breeze looked smoother then the absolute piece of perfection Hollander was abusing.
Shane went to shoot a glare at the other boy and was distracted by the way the sun highlighted the freckles and moles on his face. Rozanov raised an eyebrow and Shane looked back down at his broom. He took a deep breath and let the frustration and tension bleed out of him. He was an amazing flyer, he couldn’t be beat by this stupid broom, especially in front of Rozanov. He gripped onto the handle and took another breath, steadying the broom before suddenly leaning forward and smoothly shooting off away from him.
Ilya internally pumped his fist. He chased after Hollander now. Even on a superior broom he caught up with him. Still, Hollander was a good flyer and managed to block Ilya’s pass a few times. Knowing that the motion to descend on Comets would instead brake on Nimbus booms, Ilya counted Hollander’s muscle memory with Comets and dropped beneath to dart around him.
Shane tilted his broomstick down to block Rozanov and nearly flipped over his broom as it came to an abrupt stop. The other boy laughed and threw a wave back towards Shane, who gritted his teeth and rocketed off again, behind and still a few meters above him. Shane scrambled to remember which motion on the Nimbus would let him dive. He felt the frustration building again, so as he and Rozanov raced around the pitch, he forced himself to relax into the familiar comfort of flight. He practiced the controls as they flew, and managed to catch back up to the other boy after another minute.
Ilya blocked the attempts to pass with ease and forgot an important rule. Blocking only worked if the other person remembered how to operate their own controls, specifically the brakes. Shane slammed right into him, sending them both spinning off, leaving Ilya to slow and sort out his trajectory.
Shane yelped as he careened to the side and barely managed to keep on top of his broom. He got stuck in an angled turn for a moment, before straightening himself. He steadied his hands and legs before flying back over to Rozanov, who’d completed the lap and was floating near the goal posts, watching him.
“Think this say I win, yes?”
Shane glares at him for a few seconds until Rozanov cracks a smile and they both start laughing. He tried to ignore how much he liked the other’s breathy laugh.
“Jerk. You could’ve…killed both of u…both of us.”
“Liar says person you crash is faulty,” he tutted. “Where is other broom? Yours Comet?” He watched as Shane tried a few different motions until the broom started to descend. His face relaxed slightly. Ilya joined him on the way to the ground.
“Ah, Draco—or, techni…cally technically his dad, I guess—got the team…new brooms, so I–” he gave Rozanov an inquisitive look. “Wait, how do you…know this isn’t my nor…my normal broom?”
“Watch Junior League. You did fly good. Was,” he paused, thinking of the word, “weird. Not what I thinking is right, see you be bad now. Think you is boring for Nimbus. Should use yours comet,” Ilya insisted as they touched down. He told himself he only wanted Shane on his normal broom so when Ilya beat him it would be fair and not because Shane didn’t know his own broom.
“I’m not boring,” Shane rolled his eyes, holding back a smile, then shrugged. “I don’t kn…don’t know. It feels rude…to not use the Nimbus. I’ll get used to i…used to it.”
“How rude? You not sell for gold, you only not using,” Ilya shrugged and pulled out a clove cigarette, lighting it with his wand. His eyes practically dared Shane to call him out for smoking and using magic outside of classes. “Use yours boring one: suits yours personality.”
Shane eyed the cigarette then sighed. “I still don’t know. It’d be…a waste, right? It’s objectively the better broom. And I think the…rest of the team think it’s cool that w…cool that we match, or something.”
Ilya watched as his eyebrows pulled low over his eyes and sort of lifelessly kicked at the dirt. It was surprising to him that Hollander didn’t see the easy solution here. Just don’t send it home. The Slytherin team is more likely to dismiss you for shitty flying then choosing not to use the broom. As long as you mount it on the wall and treat it like a status symbol they won’t care. They’ll think you don’t want to damage it. Ilya said none of this. He let out a cloud of spice flavored smoke, careful not to blow it at Hollander.
“No, Hollander, you make it sad!” Ilya raised his pitch in a whiny tone and poorly imitated a Canadian accent, “It will cry ‘nooo new broom no good, Hollander. Go to old boring broom, we are perfect match.’” He took another drag.
Shane rolled his eyes and bit at his cheek thoughtfully. “Maybe you’re right. But I already deci…ided decided to send my comet home…tonight.”
“Is gone now? Then who the fuck will know? Just not send away. Or send back yours Quidditch robes too. You fly that at practice and they kick you,” Ilya crushed the cigarette under his shoe.
Shane opened his mouth before closing it. He decided to ignore the swearing and quietly muttered, “I wasn’t…flying that bad.”
He let himself ponder while the blond boy scoffed. He really didn’t want to use the Nimbus. “I guess you’re ri…guess you’re right. Thanks, Rozanov. I ne…eded needed that.”
“Need shower. You wait and we walk together? Is close at dark, would not want you kidnap, yes?” Ilya knocked his shoulder into Shane’s.
Shane tensed slightly at the unexpected contact, but smiled. “Sure.”
*~*