“Of fucking course! It just had to be you here, of all fucking people.” Steve threw his hands up in the air. All he had wanted was to escape the awfulnogoodverybad stupid day he’d had, ignore the howler his mum had sent him, not think about the fact that his girlfriend of two years had dumped him because “Dating someone in another house was too hard. You feel it too, right Steve?” No he fucking did not feel it.
He just wanted to forget for the five minutes he could sneak away and smoke, but when he got to his usual spot, he just had to find Billy fucking Hargrove casually draped over the bench he wanted to sit on.
“Wow,” he drawled, slow and easy, as he sat up. “A Hufflepuff swearing? Are you sure that’s legal?” He looked Steve up and down, blue eyes seeming to catalogue everything about him and finding him lacking. And why wouldn’t he? He was Billy Hargrove, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, heartthrob of Hogwarts. What could he possibly see as potential in a washed out chaser, a disowned pure-blood, a fucking puffer?
“Up yours, Hargrove. Now fucking scram.” Steve moved towards him, trying to look intimidating.
He was pretty sure he just looked tired.
“Naw. I don’t think I will, Pretty Boy. You can sit though, if your precious constitution can stand me smoking a fag or two.”
Steve didn’t bother to answer the taunts thrown his way. Instead, he pulled out his own pack of Muggle cigarettes and wordlessly lit one up, practically daring Billy to say something.
“A Hufflepuff smoking? Now that’s definitely illegal.” Let it never be said that Billy was a coward. Should have been a fucking Gryffindor with that attitude.
Steve stayed silent, and without any verbal barbs to fight, Billy fell silent too.
It was almost peaceful.
Until he heard someone walking up behind them. Shit. Steve quickly vanished his half-smoked cigarette and tried to discreetly blow out the inhale he’d just taken. Billy must have heard them too, as he did the same thing.
They both turned around to see who was coming, and Steve sighed in relief. It was only Robin.
Stomping down the hill.
Right towards him.
Steve stood up to run, not wanting to deal with an angry Robin on top of everything else. But before he could make a break for it, she grabbed the back of his robes and threw him back down on the bench.
“Steve Harrington! Why did I, your best friend, have to hear from Tammy Thompson that you got another howler?” Steve looked frantically at Billy, hoping his presence was enough to stop her from ripping him a new one. He had promised to tell her next time his mum decided to remind him what a disappointment he was, to her, to the family, to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, all for getting sorted wrong. He was supposed to go to her, but all he had wanted was a smoke.
She wasn’t taking the bait though, staring only at Steve. He wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Hey dingus, I’m talking to you, and I’m gonna need a better response than I don’t know.”
“I didn’t know you were still talking to Tammy the Muppet?” He blurted out. Billy started laughing, hard, as Robin’s face turned bright red.
“I-I’m not. I overheard her talking to Tommy, who then told Carol, who told Heath- Damn it Steve, I don’t need to explain this shit to you. Word gets around, okay?” Billy was still laughing, full belly laughs. “Oh, for fucks sake, it’s not that fucking funny Hargrove,” Robin snarled. That shut him up, for a minute.
“Holy shit. I got a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw prefect cuss me out, in the same day? Must be a record or something,” he said, mirth still dancing in his eyes.
Robin huffed, and then turned back to Steve. “Really, dingus, you okay?” She asked him softly enough for Billy not to hear.
He nodded and whispered back, “Yeah, I just need a break Rob. Gimmie a little while, okay?” She leaned back and looked at him for a minute. Unlike Billy, he couldn’t tell what she was seeing.
“Okay,” she said softly before turning to head back up the hill. Steve turned away from her and dug out his pack for another cigarette. It was empty.
He was just pondering if he could transfigure something into a smoke when Billy leaned closer, hand out. Offering him a cigarette.
Steve took it and wordlessly lit it up again. He took a long drag before turning his head towards Billy. “Cheers, mate.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
They both finished their smokes in silence.
It was that same sort of peaceful.
--
He didn’t see Billy again for another two weeks. They didn’t have any classes together, at least not ones that Steve regularly attended.
It had been another shit day. Not a Howler, but a D on his mock History of Magic NEWT. So, he went back to his bench. This time Billy wasn’t sprawled across the bench, but instead sitting in the grass, leaning against it and staring at the lake.
Steve decided he didn’t need a smoke that badly.
--
It was a big day for Steve. His first Quidditch match since he took a Bludger to the head.
Of course it had to be against Bil- Slytherin. The Slytherin team.
Out on the pitch, he could see seven green blurs zooming around as they warmed up. All at once, the Hufflepuff team took to the air and began their own routine. Soon enough, Madam Hooch blew the whistle and the game began.
All of Steve’s nerves seemed to disappear, felt the simple joy of playing the game he had loved for so long.
It was a tight game, each team evenly matched. Steve was racing towards the posts when suddenly a green blur shot in front of him, swinging a bat and knocking the bludger he hadn’t seen coming. He dropped the quaffle, and a Slytherin Chaser caught it.
It had ended up coming down to the Seekers of the team, and Slytherin won, 50-200.
It had been such a tight game, Steve hadn’t really had time to process what had happened on the field, when a Slytherin Beater had knocked a bludger away from him? Billy had saved him?
He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized the Hufflepuff locker room had emptied until he felt a tap on the back of his head. Billy was standing in front of him, back in his school robes.
“You okay there Harrington?” He asked quietly.
“Um. Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”
“Had to make sure my Pretty Boy didn’t get brain damage.” Steve laughed it off before walking deeper into the locker room to wash off the sweat from the game, but the way Billy had said my Pretty Boy definitely wasn’t going to be removed with water.
--
It was three weeks after the Quidditch match, Slytherin had ended up going against Gryffindor in the House Cup, as usual. Gryffindor had won, and before he knew it, Steve was making his way down to the Slytherin locker room. He waiting in the corridor for all of the other members to leave, thankful and worried that Billy hadn’t been among them. He opened the door, only to find an empty room. The only noise was a shower running and Oh God Billy’s in the shower shit shitshitshit.
Before Steve could retreat, the water had shut off and Billy stepped out in a cloud of steam. Only a towel was wrapped around his waist. He shook his hair out of his face before catching sight of Steve.
“Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he managed to choke out. “It’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”
“Can’t. I’m not wearing any.” Billy gave his infamous smirk and sent a wink his way.
Steve was so fucked.
-------
For @charleslucid, thanks for the request and I hope you like it!! <3
Prompted from a list here! Feel free to send in your own!
