Forced Collaboration

Excitement buzzed through the halls of Hogwarts as the first Quidditch match of the season approached—Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. It was a classic showdown, and while it didn’t hold the intensity of Gryffindor-Slytherin matches, it was still bound to be a thrilling game.

At breakfast, Harry and his friends found themselves at odds over whom to support. Ron, naturally, leaned toward Hufflepuff, citing his longstanding dislike of Slytherin’s aggressive playstyle. Hermione, on the other hand, simply rolled her eyes and said she would be watching objectively, while Harry remained undecided, absently picking at his toast.

That indecision didn’t last long. As they made their way toward the stands, they crossed paths with Draco, Theo, Pansy, and Blaise, all already dressed in green scarves, clearly on their way to the Slytherin section.

Pansy smirked. "Oh, look, the golden trio. Don’t tell me you’re about to cheer for Hufflepuff? That would be tragic."

Blaise chuckled. "Come on, Potter, Weasley. Surely you can spare some support for a team with actual talent?"

Theo grinned. "Besides, you wouldn’t want to see Malfoy lose, would you?"

Draco, standing slightly apart, shot Theo a glare but didn’t refute the comment.

Harry hesitated, glancing at Ron, who looked like he wanted to argue. But before he could, Pansy added in a teasing tone, "Come on, Harry. It’d be a shame if our star Seeker thought you were against him."

That got a reaction out of Draco. "I don’t care who they cheer for," he muttered, though his posture betrayed his nerves.

Still, the moment settled something. Hermione sighed, shaking her head with a small smile, and Ron, with a dramatic groan, relented. "Fine, but only because I want to see a good match."

As the team took to the field, Draco’s stomach twisted with nerves. It was the first match of the year, and as Slytherin’s Seeker, there was pressure to perform well. The expectations were even higher after their rigorous pre-season training.

The stands were packed, with green and yellow banners waving high. The roar of the crowd was deafening as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, signaling the start of the game.

Draco soared into the air, eyes immediately scanning for the Snitch, but he also kept track of his team’s movements. Slytherin’s Chasers were aggressive, passing the Quaffle with practiced precision, while Hufflepuff’s Keeper put up an impressive defense.

Meanwhile, the crowd was getting increasingly animated. Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sitting near Theo and the others, and despite himself, Harry was drawn into the match. He found himself yelling when Draco made a sharp dive to avoid a Bludger, and even Ron begrudgingly admitted, "Alright, that was a solid dodge."

As the game progressed, tension mounted. Hufflepuff was holding their own surprisingly well, keeping the score close. Then, suddenly—

Draco spotted it. A glimmer of gold near the far goalpost. Without hesitation, he shot forward, the wind whipping through his hair as he pursued the Snitch. Hufflepuff’s Seeker was right behind him, matching his speed.

The stadium held its breath as the two Seekers raced neck and neck. The Snitch darted erratically, zigzagging between players, forcing Draco to swerve dangerously close to one of his own Chasers. His heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through him as he stretched his hand forward—

And then—

A Bludger, completely unseen, slammed into Draco’s side with brutal force. The impact sent him spiraling off course, his grip loosening from the broom as the world tilted violently around him. Gasps erupted from the stands as he tumbled downward, completely out of control.

Harry’s heart clenched in fear. Without thinking, before any professor could react, he yanked out his wand. "Arresto Momentum!" he shouted.

Draco’s fall slowed instantly, his descent turning into a gentle glide until he was safely lowered onto the ground, where Madam Hooch and the rest of the team rushed toward him.

For a long moment, silence hung over the stadium. Then, murmurs spread like wildfire, astonished whispers carrying through the crowd. Even Slytherins, normally hesitant to acknowledge anything Harry Potter did, looked stunned.

Draco was barely conscious, groaning as Madam Hooch and Madam Pomfrey assessed him. Within seconds, he was being levitated toward the castle.

Harry sat back down, eyes locked on Draco’s retreating form. His mind was racing, barely registering his friends’ concerned glances. No one questioned him immediately, though Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing looks.

The walk back to Gryffindor Tower was eerily quiet. When they entered the common room, Harry, desperate to occupy himself, suddenly blurted, "We should finish our Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment."

Ron blinked. "You want to do homework? Now?"

Hermione looked equally surprised. "You never volunteer to study first, Harry. Are you alright?"

"I just—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. I just feel like doing something."

That was enough to tip them off. Hermione gently placed a hand on his arm. "You’re worried about him, aren’t you?"

Harry hesitated, before muttering, "I just—He could have been seriously hurt."

Ron crossed his arms. "Mate, you saved him. That was brilliant."

"Yeah, well…" Harry shrugged, suddenly overwhelmed. "I’ll be in the library."

His friends followed, and to their surprise, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy joined them, settling into an unusual but not unwelcome study session. The tension that had defined their past interactions had lessened, even if some unspoken things remained.

After a while, Professor McGonagall entered the library, her eyes landing immediately on Harry.

"Mr. Potter," she said, her voice measured but carrying warmth. "Your reflexes today were impressive. You acted quickly, and I must say, I am proud of you."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I just… it was instinct."

McGonagall nodded. "A good instinct. You’re becoming a fine wizard, Potter. I came to inform you that Mr. Malfoy is stable, though he has a significant concussion. Madam Pomfrey believes rest is better than a potion in this case."

Harry looked away, nodding. "Alright."

McGonagall’s lips twitched slightly, as if she knew something he didn’t want to say. "In an hour, you may visit if you wish. Your friends may accompany you. It seems you've formed quite the group."

With that, she left, leaving Harry staring at the empty space she had occupied, his thoughts swirling.

For reasons he couldn't fully understand, he was already counting down the minutes.

Once visiting hours began, Harry and his friends made their way to the hospital wing. Draco looked disoriented but managed a small smirk when he saw them enter. He still remembered the strange sensation of Harry’s magic catching him, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to thank him.

Sensing the tension, Theo, Pansy, and Blaise quickly made excuses to leave. Hermione and Ron followed, giving Harry and Draco a knowing glance before disappearing down the hall.

Draco shifted slightly, wincing. "I suppose I should say thanks."

Harry shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. "Just making sure my project partner doesn’t die before I get the chance to kill him myself."

Draco let out a weak chuckle but then, to Harry’s surprise, his expression wavered. In a barely audible voice, he admitted, "I was really scared."

Before he could stop himself, his eyes welled up with tears. The stress of the past few days, the match, the near-fatal fall—it all came crashing down on him.

Harry, caught off guard, hesitated for only a second before moving to sit beside him. "Hey, it’s alright." Awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders, offering comfort.

Draco let himself lean into it, trembling slightly. The weight of everything pressed on him, but somehow, having Harry there made it easier to breathe. When his tears finally ceased, he mumbled a soft, "Thank you."

Almost immediately, exhaustion overtook him, and before Harry could move away, Draco had fallen asleep against him. Harry, unsure what to do, tried shifting slightly, but the moment he did, Draco instinctively tightened his grip, making distressed noises. Harry sighed, resigning himself to staying put. Almost unconsciously, he found himself brushing his fingers through Draco’s hair in a soothing motion.

Hours later, Madam Pomfrey’s gentle but firm hand woke him. "Mr. Potter, I need to check on Mr. Malfoy."

As Draco stirred, blinking blearily, he caught sight of Harry still at his side, now sitting in a chair and absentmindedly writing on their Defense Against the Dark Arts parchment.

Madam Pomfrey gave Draco a once-over before declaring, "You’ll need to stay two more days. Rest is the best remedy."

Harry glanced at Draco. "I can ask a house-elf to bring food?"

Draco, still drowsy, nodded. A quiet dinner followed before Draco, exhausted, closed his eyes again.

Harry, content in the peaceful silence, leaned back in his chair—and before he realized it, he too had fallen asleep beside Draco’s bed.

It seemed that, despite everything, they both found a rare sense of security in each other’s presence.