pro quidditch player au.
they’re something like rivals at Hogwarts so it’s almost a rude awakening when the Tornadoes draft them both as soon as they’ve graduate and suddenly they find themselves stuck working together as teammates, him a chaser, her a beater, even though he’s fairly certain she’d rather see a bludger hit him square in the face any day -- the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been bitter, tooth and claw, none of the amicable competition that existed between the other houses; no, James and Emma have never had room for fondness or mutual admiration
but they’re professionals now, and they’re expected to behave and work together and set aside their differences. it shouldn’t be easy, but James has only ever really held a grudge against one person, and Emma’s never done anything against him except be a better quidditch captain, except win the quidditch cup for Slytherin in a painfully close game, which smarts and stings but doesn’t hurt
what’s worse, it turns out they are a well-oiled machine when they’re working together. they share a common vocabulary, somehow, when it comes to strategy, and it’s not long before they’re finishing each other’s sentences when planning plays, not long before she narrowly saves his beautiful, smug face from a direct hit by a bludger, and when he thanks her, after the game, she smirks and says well, I’d hate for you to fuck up your only good feature, Potter
they get drunk, one night, after practice. a few months into their first season as teammates. it’s the best way to put their past behind them and bond, to give things a fresh start. you know, she says, six drinks in, a wide smile on her face that he’s never seen before. I used to like you. back in school. you know, like you. he doesn’t know how to respond to that, she catches him completely off-guard, and as he flounders, mouth gaping as he searches for a proper response, she pats him on the shoulder and says, don’t worry, Potter. now that I know, you, I know I can do better
quidditch is a dream, it makes him feel human when everything else goes wrong, and Emma is... a miracle, on a broom, faster than him and sharper than him, and alongside developing the give-and-take of teamwork that they need to make the Tornadoes the best team south of Sheffield, there’s a friendly competition to it, too. she’s better than him and it makes him want to be better-- not so he can beat her, not so that he can be better than her, not anymore, not like when they were in school -- but so that he can be worthy of standing beside her on the pitch and feel proud, so they can win a game and smile at each other across the celebratory team huddle, and think, look how far we’ve both come