Summer of Snarry: Fic - The Wizarding Archery Event Challenge: Summer of Snarry Title: The Wizarding Archery Event Author:centaury_squill Other pairings/threesome: none Rating: PG Word count: 730 Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *pre-slash* Summary: The summer of 2012 was one Harry Potter would always remember. A/N: When I was at university I briefly belonged to an archery club which used to practice on the college's lacrosse field on Sunday afternoons. This week I went to an Olympic archery event at Lord's cricket ground. Seeing a theme here, the Wizarding Archery Event was born.
"They'll ruin our pitch," Dean moaned.
Harry smiled at him sympathetically. Dean Thomas took his position as coach for the Marylebone Marauders very seriously.
"I never thought I'd say this, but Quidditch isn't everything, Dean."
"Who are you, and what have you done with Harry Potter?" Dean grumbled.
"Ah, come on. It's an honour to be chosen to host one of the events in the Wizarding Olympics."
"So you say."
*
Six months later, sitting among an excited crowd of spectators in the middle of the Marylebone Marauders' Quidditch pitch, Harry thought back to that conversation and smiled.
He'd worked tirelessly to bring about the first Olympic Games of the Wizarding world, using all his contacts, liaising with the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Games and Sports, even agreeing to present the medals in some events – although this, thankfully, wasn't one of them: he could just relax and enjoy himself. The final stroke of genius had been to time the Games to coincide with the Muggles' London Olympics. Nobody raised an eyebrow at strangely dressed characters in the streets, and the energy of the joyful Muggle crowds thronging the old city had an almost magical air about it.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"
As the Sonorus-amplified voice of the announcer rang out the crowd quietened somewhat, just a happy hum of anticipation rising from the two huge stands facing each other across the field of play.
The Wizarding archery event had begun.
Unlike in the Muggle version, which used static targets, the Games organisers had charmed various objects to move in unpredictable ways as teams of archers from competing countries took their shots in turn.
Next came artistic interpretation, won by a team of French wizards who spelled their arrows to perform an aerial ballet while simultaneously shooting down a flock of menacing crows conjured up by the Bulgarian team.
Part way through the final contest – a series of individual head-to-heads in which one wizard cast spells to defend his target against his opponent's arrows – Harry suddenly became aware that he was the object of intense scrutiny. He lifted his omnioculars and scanned the spectators in the stand opposite.
"No," he murmured to himself. "No, it can't be."
But it was.
There in the crowd opposite him, a familiar sneer on his face, sat Severus Snape, a man he hadn't seen for fourteen years.
*
Severus stared at Potter, who stared calmly back. The years had been kind to him: no longer the scrawny schoolboy of his Hogwarts days, but a mature male. Ironically, he'd first seen the adult in that annoying schoolboy on another occasion when a Quidditch pitch had been subverted to other ends: the Triwizard tournament. Potter had stumbled out of that maze, white-faced, carrying his schoolmate's body. And he, Severus, had felt his arm burn as the Dark Mark flared to life...
He found his hands were clenched into fists, forced himself to breathe deeply, to relax. All that was over now, long over. He doubted anybody here – apart from Potter – even remembered him from those days. Not for nothing had he disappeared abroad as soon as the Wizengamot had cleared his name. Mainly on Potter's evidence, he had to admit.
Severus sighed. Raw and hurting as he'd been at the time, he hadn't even thanked the boy. Well, he could rectify that now.
*
As the happy crowd of spectators left the field, chattering together in many languages, two wizards detached themselves from the throng and walked slowly towards each other until they met between the stands.
"Professor Snape," Harry said, holding out his hand. "It's good to see you back in England again."
"Mr Potter," responded Severus, taking his hand for a brief moment. "I gather you are largely responsible for organising these Games."
Both felt a frisson shoot through them as their hands met; both pretended to ignore it.
"Well, I wasn't the only one," Harry said modestly, "but I did my best."
There was a pause, then both spoke at once:
"Are you still –"
"I felt I should –"
Both stopped, laughed. The constraint between them disappeared.
"After you," Harry said politely.
"I felt I've been remiss in not thanking you for your part in clearing my name, all those years ago," Severus said. "Harry."
Harry's face lit up. "It was the least I could do," he said. "Severus."