“What?!”
Draco’s and Harry stared at each other with a form of disdain reserved to lifetime rivals. Harry’s strong, boxy build easily dwarfed the slim, lean streamline of the pale boy at his odd. Still, Draco glowered at Harry through platinum curtain bangs as if the brunet were something he had scraped off his shoe. Dumbledore looked pleased with himself, as he usually did after handing out a decree that flipped students lives upside down for favor of plot.
“Your teams will simply have to share the field until further notice.” Professor McGonagall said simply. “After the events of the Triwizard Tournament, much of the grounds have been destroyed. You both should be grateful there is any area or time left for your sports at all.”
Despite the sharpened point of their Professor’s words, Harry and Draco still shot glares at each other from their spots in chairs across from the Headmaster’s desk. They were far from happy.
“Are you kidding me?!” Alicia seethed in the locker room later that day.
“We’re sharing with those prissy runners?” Fred moaned.
“They won’t let us have any fun!” George groaned.
“One of them is going to get hit with a bloody bludger and blame us.” Grumbled Dean, leaning back against the lockers. Harry rolled his eyes, pulling on his Seeker gloves.
“We just have to deal with it.” He said bluntly, placing his hands on his hips. “Don’t try and run them off. I’m sure they like this less than we do.”
With grumbled and clunking of brooms, the team made their way out to the Quidditch field where they found a group of long-legged, scantily-clad teenagers sitting on the grass, hoodies, gym bags, and water bottles scattered about.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked incredulously, gesturing to the gear haphazardly cluttered on the plush grass. Draco whipped his head around, along with a few of the other students, turned to look at Harry. The long, blond ponytail that trailed like a snake down to his hips nearly hit Crabbe and Goyle, the team’s ‘water boys’ in the face.
“We’re stretching, Potter.” Draco growled. “Is that a problem?” Harry folded his arms.
“It actually is.” His voice held an equal amount of venom. “Dumbledore said we had the field and you had the path around the field.”
“Why do you need it anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in the air?” Draco sneered, standing in one fluid motion. Harry bristled. He couldn’t risk a fight. He could not be sent back to the Dursleys’ with his tail between his legs after being suspended.
“You’ll get hit.” He said simply through gritted teeth. “The bludgers stay on the practice field, but they don’t know the difference between bystander and player.” Draco rolled his eyes and gestured for his entourage to stand. With a huff, the group of Slytherins moved to the edge of the track field.
Harry had never made a worse decision in his life. The track team started running just as the practice blunders were being tossed around. Harry was on his broom enjoying the wind whipping through his hair when he eyes landed on long, pale legs. He had to turn his broom sharply to miss the Teacher’s lounge.
“Are you okay?” Fred and George squinted up at him together.
“I’m fine.” Harry grumbled. He did *not* wasn’t to say that his distraction belonged to Draco-bloody-Malfoy. He looked like a girl from behind! With that long hair, those skimpy shorts, the delicate features-
And Harry was into girls.
Only girls.