Yer a Wizard

Mike Lewis was eating his way through an imposant plate of beans and fried fish, a glads of pumpkin juice in front of him, the latest Daily Prophet, his Charms textbook and an issue of Transfiguration Today lain around his plate.

He was reading about the recent experiments lead about transfiguration and gender, when Stuart Richardson sat in front of him, smirking, taking some boiled eggs in a silver recipient, summoning an egg holder from the other side of the table.
Mike rose his eyes. Stuart was wearing his glasses, and a gentle smile on his lips.

"Bon Appétit!" He susurrated.

Mike almost swallowed his beans down the wrong tube and choked a bit.
Stuart laughed.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I am" Mike nodded, gathering his spirits. "So the Quidditch tryings are today?" He asked, looking at Stuart's dark red robes and the Nimbus 3000 leaned on the bench.

"Yeah. Since our Seeker is gone and one of our Chasers and our Keeper have graduated too, we need new members... You're not really a Quidditch person yourself, are you?"

Mike shrugged.

"I just don't play it. I enjoy watching it and supporting the team."

Stuart smiled satisfiedly.

"Cute."

Mike couldn't help but grin. Cute! Stu had called him cute!
Stuart started eating his egg, taking a glass of pumpkin juice too.
He looked at Mike, the fifteen year old boy eating his fish enthusiastically in the middle of all these books. He couldn't fathom how much he admired Mike's intelligence. He'd always been told Muggle-born people were less good at magic, but Mike was the living proof of the contrary. He was the most clever and bright wizard Stuart had ever met.
It was a wonder he wasn't in Ravenclaw.

Stuart had always wondered how it would be to be born in a muggle family. He was from a pure-blood one ; his father worked for the ministry, in the Department of Justice, and his mother was an ex-dragon keeper reconverted in
the Beast Division of the
Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
He was an only child, cherished by his parents : he lived in a small, comfy house in Caerphilly, actually not far from the Gaze family's Manor. His room back there was covered in Quidditch memorabilia, having been a Caerphilly Catapults supporter from age three. He'd been given a toy broomstick for his second birthday, and it was still in the room, leaned in a corner next to his actual broomstick when he was home.
He could remember the Second Wizarding War quite clearly. His parents were not for Voldemort but were not acting in resistance either. They reckoned it would be jeopardising small Stuart, who did not understand why he wasn't allowed to play with his Muggle friends anymore, or to go to school with them.
Stuart just stayed inside, cuddling his toy hippogriff as he heard screams of terror and laughs in the night. His parents would come back home white as sheets, locking every door and window in the house.
His father would do rounds in the night to make sure Stuart was okay. Later, Stuart had discovered Caerphilly had been subject to attacks on Muggles ; and that some of his childhood friends had been killed.

Stuart wondered if Mike's family had been affected by these murders ; after all Mike had been living not far from Caerphilly all this time.
He couldn't deny it : he was sixteen, his sexuality totally figured out, and god did he want Mike. The boy was brilliant, funny, handsome, and adorable. Could you ask for more? Besides, he knew Mike wasn't insensitive to his charms ; as well as half of the girls in Hogwarts.
Stuart smirked and leaned in on the table.

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"When the Hogsmeade weekends start, could you come with me have a butterbeer? I'll pay."

Mike blushed greatly.

"Sure!"

"Do you want to come see the tryings?"

"Absolutely! I love seeing the Second Years fail." Mike chuckled, finishing his plate and closing his books.

They both walked side to side towards the Quidditch pitch.
Stuart looked at the robe-clad young man, continuing to admire him, slowly letting his mind slip towards the erotic fantasy.
Stuart's eyes undressed Mike, every movement of his hips knotting Stu's stomach further on.

Mike climbed in the seating area, wrapping himself in a scarf ; the weather was already chill in Scotland at that early time of the year.
He watched Stuart walk towards the small group of Gryffindor students waiting for him. What a handsome type he was, with his wide shoulders and the tails of his scarlet Quidditch robe flying in the tough wind.
Mike watched as the tryings started.
The chasers were rapidly chosen. Stu stayed in, since he was the captain, and Tay and Simon were surpassing all the other concurrents. Mike noticed that Josh Franceschi was there, puffing his chest, Firebolt in hand.
Stuart pondered extensively as he watched the aspirants to the post of Keeper. There were Josh, a girl called Athena Woolsworth who was in fourth year, a small but fierce second year boy called Sonny Etchery, and sixth year Japanese transferee Taka Hishiroji.

Stuart decided on Josh, who was cheered by the group of friends who were attending the tryings a few meters away from Mike.
Mike felt a bit annoyed. Josh was a pretty boy. The way Stu looked at him was worrying ; and even if Josh was certainly straight, Mike knew that if Stuart's eye was attracted towards Josh, it wasn't looking at Mike.

The Seeker one seemed to gather the attention of everyone : the Seeker was always the star of the team. It was between Second Year Ross McNae, small Maximus Helyer from Josh Franceschi's groupies, Mike's dormitory colleague Eddy Thrower, and Rhiannon Gaelys, a fourth year blonde.

Max won the place, to his friends' glee. But Mike was still gazing at Stu, silently fantasising.
The last tryings were the Beater tryings. There were only two concurrents : Anya Snow, a girl in Stu's year, and Benjamin Jolliffe, a Third Year who was looking very excited.
Surprisingly Ben won. He was quick, as much as a seeker, yet he had strong arms. He was perfect Beater material, or so Stuart insisted on the way back to the castle.

Mike felt warm in his belly as he walked next to Stuart, and they came back to the common room. There, Simon had fallen asleep, an empty pumpkin juice bottle in his hand, all cuddled up in a blanket in an armchair by the fire.
Stuart smiled.

"I have to go give that to Way, see you later, yeah?"

He pecked Mike's cheek and fled, leaving the young man wide eyed.
Well, okay.
Mike sat in the armchair next to Simon, kicking off his boots, putting down his bag. He got out Transfiguration Today again, plunging back into the article.