"But please, Professor Barrow," Jimmy pleaded, and leaned on his broom, his lips even poutier than usual. "You know I'm better than Parks, just gimme a chance, would you?"
"It's not up to me, Kent," Thomas said for the thirteenth time. "Crawley's your captain and Crawley tried you out already."
"Edith Crawley as team captain," Jimmy sneered. Thomas rolled his eyes, but bit down on a smirk. He strapped the bludger back into its trunk, kneeling in the grass, and looked away from Jimmy who wore his robes slightly undone, revealing a triangle of golden skin.
He's seventeen now, the devil in Thomas's own mind reminded him. Thomas knew Jimmy was seventeen because he had said so loudly several times in the Great Hall at breakfast while glancing surreptitiously at the professor's table where Thomas sat, trying to ignore him.
It didn't work.
Thomas had entertained more than one fantasy about stealing into the Slytherin dormitories late at night to steal a kiss from the fetching young Jimmy Kent. It wouldn't have been difficult; he was Slytherin's Head of House after all.
He didn't think that would end well though.
Truly, there had already been quite enough trouble between them in Jimmy's sixth year. The boy had followed him around after classes, tossing him flirtatious looks, and Thomas should have bloody known better. Yet one afternoon at Hogsmeade, squiffy from the butter bear, Thomas had knocked into Jimmy while stealing a smoke behind Honeyduke's. Jimmy had been standing so close and looked so good in his civilian clothes (fitted everyday robes with deep blue accents that set off his eyes), that Thomas had found himself leaning in for a kiss. Which was when that blasted troublesome Hufflepuff, Nugent, had happened to be passing by. Jimmy had jerked in surprise and run off. Whether it was because of the fumbling attempt at a poorly thought out romance from a professor or because of Alfred's presence, Thomas had never been sure.
But from what he could gather, it was only by Jimmy's insistence, that Thomas had not been found out and sacked. He had seen the two students arguing in hushed whispers, tossing him angry glares. The whole thing had made him feel like a lecherous old man. After that had followed a year of awkwardness whenever they crossed paths.
But the way Kent had been looking at him lately...
He was suddenly friendly, even more flirtatious than before, and shamelessly solicitous.
Thomas stood and brushed the grass off his robes, squinting in the sunlight. "I'm told you've tried out for quidditch every season since your first year, Kent. And you're still rubbish. But you're always hanging around the quidditch pitch."
Thomas had only worked at Hogwarts for two years. He was thankful for that. He didn't want to think of Jimmy having been his student when he was a snot-nosed eleven year-old.
"I'm very persistent," Jimmy said, walking backwards in front of Thomas as they headed for the broomshed. "Well, at first I was. Then it was just a lark. Now..."
"Now what?" Thomas mumbled. Jimmy's mouth went funny in that adorable way he had and Thomas frowned into the sun.
"Now I suppose it's just an excuse to be around you," Jimmy said in such a rush that Thomas almost didn't understand him.
Thomas's heart thunked in his chest. "You ought not say such things."
"Oh, you're one to talk," Jimmy said with a snort. Thomas grimaced and threw open the door to the broomshed, half-hoping Jimmy wouldn't follow him and half-praying he would.
"Kent," Thomas said gravely, and couldn't think of a sentence to follow it.
"Barrow," Jimmy said, mimicking him.
Thomas set the quidditch trunk down and took away Jimmy's borrowed broom to rest it next to another second-hand Nimbus. He stooped to nudge the trunk into its proper place and when he stood, Jimmy was in his space, standing between his arms and looking up at him with a cheeky grin and Slytherin eyes.
"I always did fancy you from the first moment I saw ya," Jimmy said. Merlin, the boy's voice was deep. Thomas should've stepped back. He really should have, but he did not. "I-I was just nervous-"
Thomas said, "I shouldn't have ever done that."
"No, I know that, but I did want you to."
"Kent-"
"I'm seventeen now," Jimmy said. Thomas couldn't think of a response to that. Jimmy nudged Thomas's ankle with his boot. "Every time I ride a broom, you know, I'm really thinkin' about you riding me-"
"Ah!" Thomas couldn't help but smile if only for the sheer comedy of the situation. He felt Jimmy's breath on his cheek.
"I know a charm that makes magic between two people instantly," Jimmy whispered.
Thomas wondered when exactly the blushing, nervous sixth year had become a seductive seventh year ready with the come-ons.
But Thomas did not step back.
"And what's that?" Thomas said.
Jimmy leaned in a little closer, and their lips brushed before he whispered, "Accio, gorgeous professor-"
Thomas kissed him and Jimmy didn't jerk in surprise, instead he grabbed at Thomas's robes and they stumbled to the floor.
"You're still not on the team," Thomas said breathlessly, as Jimmy kissed a trail down his chest.
Jimmy chuckled into Thomas's skin and before taking Thomas in his mouth said, "Oh, I know that, I'm rubbish at quidditch."
