Of Lions, Serpents, and Eagles
“He can’t have asked you out already?” Draco shrugged as he waved his wand and flicked a stone across the Lake, much to Ron’s displeasure as he himself had been spending half an hour now doing it the ‘muggle way.’ “Yeah well unlike some other Ravenclaw I know, Anthony likes to be outgoing and make actual moves, instead of just blushing whenever Professor Potter corrects her wand movement.” He smirked as he watched Harry’s face turn red then lower itself further over the Astronomy chart he was scribbling, then flicked a second rock, just for Ron.
“Cho did just break up with Cedric, Draco.” He rolled his eyes at Hermione’s reminder, sitting up straight against the beech tree they sat below and frowning at her darkly. “Yeah, a solid three weeks ago. Harry, at this point I think she’s just seeing how much you really want her because this is excessive.”
“It is not!” Hermione had managed to maintain focus on doing Harry’s homework for him (something they had compromised on due to Harry wanting to focus more of his time on the forty-two kids he’s trying to teach and less on the mountain of homework that never seems to go away) and kept her eyes on the essay, but now she raised it to glare at him, face pink, and he instantly knew he had misstepped a boundary without the need for her to continue. “It is perfectly respectable to wait months, maybe even years, before making a move on another boy. Cho’s break up came out of nowhere, and Cedric has looked like a sad puppy ever since, always trying to get her attention. Can you blame her if she’s feeling a little guilty, and Harry just makes her feel worse?”
“He didn’t mean it like that, ‘Mione,” Ron called from the bank of the lake, already jumping to prevent an outburst he no doubt knew too well this group didn’t need. “He was just trying to make fun.”
“Well, he shouldn’t be,” Hermione shifted on the grass, looking ready to hunch over Harry’s work and forget about it all when she spotted what the same boy was doing across from her and reached out a hand. “And Harry, you got Europa wrong again; you swapped it with Callisto. Maybe try and study Jupitor’s moons some more, you keep getting different things wrong.”
Harry stared at the chart, then at her, then screwed up his mouth in a scowl and threw the thing aside. “Can’t you just do this for me? Can’t you just prepare all my stuff for me? Ernie keeps doing extra work and Hannah keeps trying to beat him in meetings and I think Luna gave Justin a black eye which is gonna make us look suspicious and - What are you even doing right now?”
Hermione, who was now wincing as if expecting to get struck from Harry’s gradually elevating voice, looked down at the paper in her hands then back at him. “I’m writing your Potions essay.” His shoulders instantly slackened.
“Oh, well do that first, because that’s due tomorrow.” Hermione scoffed but continued to work, now even more upset than she had been with Draco, and Ron turned around after skipping another rock to frown at the group.
“Can we get back to the original topic of discussion?” The boys lifted their heads in confusion and Ron rolled his eyes, looking very Hermione-esque as he waved a hand with a rock instead of a book in it to specify, “Malfoy’s going on a date…?” Draco went pink and Harry frowned and turned to face him.
“Yeah, I’d like to know more about that too…” He said, putting aside his star chart, surrendering any hope of being able to complete it that afternoon, and instead facing his friend. “When did he ask you? When are you going? You haven’t really talked much since--”
“Harry!” Harry froze in his ramblings to look over at Ron, who had clearly taken notice of how Draco was growing more red every second even though he didn’t, and licked his lips, muttering, “Sorry,” awkwardly as Ron shook his head, then waved a hand at Draco. “Well, Malfoy, what is it?”
Draco shrugged his shoulders, shifting against the tree, then saying, “We’ll be going for a date during the Hallowe’en Feast in the Room of Requirement; Dobby says he’s going to prepare it nicely for us. We’re just trying it out, don't get too excited!” He had to add this, for Harry and Ron were grinning wildly at each other, but when they turned back to Draco they shut their mouths tight, barely hiding grins.
“Oh we won’t!” Ron exclaimed while Harry said, “Scouts honor!” whatever that meant, and Ron skipped his last rock extra hard across the Lake, this time ten times, making Hermione look up from her book and smile as well, nodding to him. “Good throw, Ron.” She said, and Ron’s ears turned a bright red as he muttered, “Thanks.”
-*-*-*-
Draco was very distracted throughout class on the thirty-first, thinking of his upcoming date. Yes, he’d never been on a date before, or had a boyfriend, but he did take Marietta to the Yule Ball and managed to have a good time with her despite not being interested, so he had to have some idea of how things are meant to go, right? The thoughts and fears of how the date was going to go plagued him all throughout classes, even following him down the stairs to the dungeons to get ready, hammering into his skull as he combs through his platinum hair.
He became more meticulous in his appearance than he ever had been before, even for his parents biggest gala when his was eight, where he had been stuffed into a tight tunic and cape clasped to a high collar which choked him badly and Narcissa had apologized for thoroughly when the night was through and she spotted the bright red mark it had left around his pale neck. He had a sinking suspicion she’d most likely been fit in worse robes than those, however, but his young pride had only considered his own scars at the moment.
Now he gets to add it to the list of things on his mind as he clasps the final of three pins on his black cape, adorned with intricate web patterns and a spider magically crawling across it on its own. The cape is draped over a matching black tunic with not even close to the same high collar as the one from when he was eight, but Harry told him to avoid high collars when he’d ran off to get ready because apparently the collar from the Yule Ball made him look like a Vicar. It was traditional, but for some reason Draco found himself highly valuing Harry’s opinion and had quickly stuffed all his high collars away (though he had no clue what a 'Vicar' even was).
After finishing with combing his hair not quite his usual slicked back style, but combed over to make a nice swoop in the front, Draco took a deep breath and looked at his reflection closely, as if psyching himself up.
Anthony was the boy who had given him the feeling he had longed to have again with Harry and the others for weeks. Anthony had made him laugh so hard he cried, while Harry…
It felt as if Harry only made him cry.
There was nothing for it; He needed this date to go perfect so he could have Anthony by his side and feel as he so longed to feel every day. With that in mind, he turned and swung the bathroom door open, and marched out of the dorms, then the Common Room, on the way up the moving staircases to the Room of Requirement, early, but he needed to be.
He needed to make sure the Room was ready, and it was. The cushions had been charmed by Dobby to be covered in bones, spiders, and pumpkins, and Jack-O’-Lanterns floated around his head, carved and lit on the inside, glowing menacingly or joyfully. A center table had been set up and plates laden with slices of shepherd’s pie and goblets filled to the brim with butterbeer. With just a little fidgeting of the tablecloth and the removal of a banner reading, “HAPPY FIRST DATE” (Dobby didn’t know any better, he didn’t hold any grudge against it) the Room was perfect for the date, and so Draco sat down at the table and waited.
Just a couple minutes before 7:00 the door slowly opened and Anthony himself stepped inside, smiling awkwardly, a light blush on his cheeks. Draco hoped he wasn’t blushing too badly either; he looked very handsome. He had dressed himself in bright orange dress robes trimmed with black around the collar and sleeves, and his curly hair shined with gel under the light of the Jack-O’-Lanterns. After a moment, he broke out into laughter, which only made him more beautiful, but Drac felt embarrassed in a second, shifting awkwardly in his seat and adjusting his cape.
“What is it?” He asked and Anthony quickly ended his laugh at the clear worry in his voice, waving a hand and saying, “No, not you, you look… Wow. But, you were all red in the face and you looked like a tomato!” He started to laugh again though now Draco gave a shaky smile and covered his face, trying his best not to join him in his chuckles as he took the seat across from him.
“Shepherd's pie? You have good taste, Mr. Malfoy.” Anthony said, picking up a fork, and Draco rolled his eyes after finally composing himself to become his usual pale and not a tomato. “Don’t call me that, please. It’s Draco.”
“What’s wrong?” Anthony looked up from cutting a piece of his first slice of pie and raised an eyebrow. “You always call people by their last names.” Draco frowned because, well, he wasn’t wrong, but there was a lot more to it than just choosing to call people “Abbott” and “Corner” instead of “Hannah” and “Michael.”
“It’s… Built in to me, sort of. Seeing people based on their family, standing, and blood, a.k.a last name. I’m trying though. I call you Anthony, don’t I?” The Ravenclaw beamed, seemingly very pleased to hear that he got the ‘honor’ of a first name from Draco, and the Slytherin decided here was his chance to ask a question that was plaguing his mind since meeting him formally on the train, “Why did you introduce yourself to me on the train? Are you like… Did you have a crush on me then?”
Anthony’s face flushed so he stuffed it with pie bites, then, following a long swallow he said, “I’ve had a crush on you since the First Task, though I guess before that, since Third Year was when I first started thinking you were attractive during Ancient Runes. We hadn’t really crossed paths before then.” A pause, then, “What about you?” Draco felt his own face tinge pink as he lowered his face to his plate.
“I--er--Quidditch tryouts,” He ended up sputtering, not wanting to admit that in Third Year when he was first discovering he was gay he had a crush on practically every boy he had a class with, including a certain Ravenclaw in Ancient Runes. “Yeah, then. I was… caught off guard, really, by how you would stay in the rain to talk to me.”
They fell silent for a moment after that, eating their pie, faces both flushed red, before Anthony glanced around at the Room and shifted in his seat to ask, “So… how are you doing with our Hogwarts Order of Defense? Learning a lot?” Draco frowned, not wanting to reveal he wasn’t really learning much yet, as he had already learned all of this with Harry, so settled on saying, “I’ve gotten a much better handle on each spell through the practices, yes.”
If Anthony was skeptical of that response, he didn’t show it, instead merely taking a sip from his goblet and waving it casually, sloshing the liquid inside, saying, “I think I’m doing better with Protego than Expelliarmus. Do you think you could try and teach me to do it non-verbally this week?” Draco shrugged, managing to smile shakily and nod, “Yeah, I’ve seen you. You’re really good. Might try and focus on your posture, though; it may seem ridiculous with a wand but your posture reveals everything to your opponent on how you're going to attack, so you should always remain in a straight backed, neutral position.” Anthony nodded slowly, and Draco was grateful for him lowering his head to put pie on his fork, so he completely missed the shaky exhale and wide eyed expression on his face.
That had been what Barty Crouch Jr had taught him, nearly word for word. Should he be passing that on to others? Could that even have been a correct means of dueling, or the ‘Death Eater way?’
The thought made his stomach turn, so he pushed his plate aside, and at Anthony’s raised eyebrows he simply lifted his goblet and waved it in the same way he had casually, mumbling, “Not hungry,” and taking a long sip.
“Are you excited about the Quidditch season?” Anthony asked then, and Draco immediately brightened, because he knew Quidditch usually distracted him easily, and now would hopefully stop him from worrying about Crouch Jr. He nodded a little too enthusiastically, and Anthony grinned, continuing, “Yeah, me too. A whole year without it was pretty tough, but I actually think Ravenclaw’s got a chance this year. Did you see Padma Patil’s flying? It’s totally going to knock Sally Smith out of the sky. Plus, Cho’s been getting a lot better with speed and we think her breaking up with Cedric will improve performance against Hufflepuff. But what about you? How is the Slytherin team doing?”
This truth was Montague’s captaining was resulting in a lot less practices as it was his belief that Slytherin was sure to win due to his inflated ego and pride. But that didn’t stop Draco from going out on his own to practice, or responding to his date's question with, “Just you wait for the game this week. I’ll be the one knocking Potter out of the sky.” Which was exactly what he did have planned, after all. He and Harry had been taunting each other about it for all of October.
They fell into easy discussion then, unlike the stiff banter he had with Harry lately where he couldn’t really tell if the taunting was menacing or mischievous, and simply talked on and on about the upcoming Quidditch season and their predictions for how it might go.
It was only when Anthony leaned back in his seat, plate scraped clean, goblet empty, lamenting as a Jack-O’-Lantern passed over them on how all the Quidditch talk was making him want to jump on a broom and feel the air flying past him while he shot through the air that Draco actually took in the fact that they were inside the Room of Requirement and possibly could do just that, and shot out of his seat with a grin.
“What’re you--”
“You want to fly right?” After the fact, he’d realize his wide eyed expression of excitement was most likely the reason Anthony initially recoiled as if frightened, but when he stretched out a hand and gestured the other around them, explaining, “We can make it into whatever we want,” his date grinned and nodded, taking his hand and running with him out of the Room, waiting patiently as Draco passed back and forth in front of the stretch of seemingly blank wall, wishing desperately for a Quidditch field to play with his date on.
The door appeared, and Anthony opened it, revealing a similar stretch of green grass as when Draco and Harry had practiced flying around a dragon, only now there was no dragon, but a real Quidditch pitch, with goal posts and stands, as well as a wrack of plain brooms they didn’t recognize as a brand name waiting beside them. Anthony looked astonished for only a moment, beaming at it all, before turning to Draco, and he was taken aback only briefly by the glow of his freckles in the unidentifiable sun-like bright lights from above. Next second, he couldn’t really focus on anything because Anthony had suddenly lunged at him, pressing his lips against his.
Now, Draco had never kissed someone before. He didn’t know what to expect or how to react when Anthony started to kiss him, and was very thankful it seemed the other boy was just as awkward as he, but he did note how it felt to have the other boys lips on his, the realization that yes someone was kissing him, and the rush of excitement and joy that came with that. It all mixed together in his head but made him feel…
Brilliant.
He might have gotten on a broom then and flew through the air a bit, and he might have kissed Anthony some more. All he knew for certain was that for the rest of that Hallowe’en night, even when he hit the green pillows of the Slytherin dorms, his head must have still been floating through the clouds. At least that’s what it felt like.
-*-*-*-
Draco Malfoy and Anthony Goldstein were quickly known to the entire school as boyfriends the next day, and it seemed to be all anyone wanted to talk to the two about, throughout meals, breaks, and even classes. By the end of the day, it seemed no one would ever leave the two alone to simply walk around the school grounds holding hands. Not that Draco could really care, as he had more impending things on his mind regarding a match quickly coming on the 2nd.
“Lydia told me Slytherin’s new Beater’s couldn’t even find the field during their first practice. The Twins are gonna knock them right off their brooms.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they tapped them.”
“I hear Gryffindor’s Keeper is abysmal. That Weasley boy? I mean look at him! Do you really think he’s going to be blocking any Quaffles?”
“Malfoy always managed to stay neck and neck with Potter, even on a slower broom. You don’t think he’ll catch him off guard on a Firebolt?”
“No, he’s more likely to not know how to handle the thing. He’ll probably fall off!”
“You think it’ll only happen once? Fat chance.”
“Yeah, I bet we could even make a drinking game out of how many times he’s going to fall.”
“Ooh… Don’t let those four hear you; Anthony Jacked-stein might come after you for insulting his boyfriend.”
Draco turned in his seat to retaliate at the Third Years sitting behind them in the Library after that comment but Hermione was already prepared, hand flying forward to push him back in his seat while shooting Ron and Harry, who looked prepared to do the same thing, a warning glance. “We can’t cause any trouble, remember? Umbridge can’t--”
“To hell with Umbridge,” Harry grumbled, flipping a page in the Transfiguration book he was reading angrily. “All they’ve done is make fun of us. Can’t they just leave it? Focus on their own lives?” Draco shifted uncomfortably, slowly dipping his quill in ink then writing down the next couple of words.
“Harry, Granger has a point--”
“You stay out of this, Malfoy!” The Slytherin immediately recoils at the viciousness in his friend's voice, not to mention the use of his last name. “You were as much of a bully as they are, you know that,” He lowers his head to his book, gripping the sides of it so hard the scar on the back of his hand shines white. “Just… shut it.”
He did, then, but not without some very worrisome glances with Ron and Hermione.
The latter kicked his chair lightly and leaned in to whisper, “You better get finished on that essay, I suspect McGonagall won’t hesitate before giving extra work. Snape will let you off easy anyway, you know.” He did know, so he hurriedly finished the Potions essay, full well knowing he’d get an Outstanding whatever he wrote with the game coming up, and would have to work harder on Transfiguration, also because of the game, so instead of focusing on how Harry’s fists were tightening more and more or the fierce look in his eyes he didn’t recognize, he instead worked hard on his homework, which in fairness did it’s job of distracting him with it’s difficulty.
Hermione successfully managed to keep Draco’s attention off of Harry throughout the first day of November by saying they were going to be playing against each other and couldn’t get too close, but Draco had a suspicion that ironically she was doing it to preserve their closeness. Harry was changing rapidly, and the voices in his head (Knife in your back, knife in your back, knife in your back) were only growing. It seemed as if the best course of action had to be what he had first thought on King’s Cross, and what had been repeating in his mind ever since; He needed to separate himself from Harry.
He couldn’t say he really disagreed with parts of her logic, however. The desire to finally capture the snitch before his new friend was strong, and the grip of his new Firebolt made the possibility feel even more like a certainty, if he just blocked out all the gossip.
The same could not be said for Ron, who seemed to be losing any hope he might stand a chance against Slytherin, and the jeering and slander he kept getting came his way both in and outside of class certainly wasn’t helping. Draco almost wished he still had a free pass to make Snape start bullying until he realized even that wouldn’t help as Pansy was still making her taunts the greatest yet, and he didn’t need to be permanently scarred like Harry and Ron from a detention because he was standing up for his friend.
With Harry retreating into his quickly becoming norm of anger and Hermione worried one toe out of line would get her scarred too after all she had said to Umbridge, it seemed Draco was the only one who could step up for Ron, being a Slytheirn who could potentially control other Slytherins. He’d need something big at this point, however. From Harry’s reports Ron was doing abysmal in practice and getting worse every day, until the point where a week before the match, the only ‘saves’ he was making were deemed by him to be flukes, or made when no one was watching. That wasn’t a lot to go off of for Ron’s skill, so trying to help him improve seemed impossible at this point (besides, Draco already knew he was good, of course, even with eyes on him. His former ‘friends’ as well as some other sly tongues at Hogwarts had just beaten down his already small confidence).
It hit him in the midst of dinner however, surrounded by madly chattering Slytherins eager to enjoy the game tomorrow, exactly what to do.
“Draco’s bound to beat Potter tomorrow, c’mon,” Gregory was saying while Vincent counted out his galleons, judging what bet he wanted to make to Blaise. “He’s got a Firebolt. With that he’ll be like… The King of Quidditch, or something.”
Draco froze in the act of raising his fork to his lips whilst Pansy started to laugh rather loudly, poking Gregory in the shoulder and mocking, “‘King of Quidditch?’” with a wide smirk. He paled. “It was the first thing that came to mind…”
“The King!” Draco sprung from his seat and caused his friends to nearly jump out of their skins from it, but instead they softened quickly for Pansy to be able to say, “Yeah? Don’t tell me you actually like the nickname…” But Draco shook his head firmly, grin spreading across his face with every second. “No… No, not for me. For Weasley!”
A pause, followed by a strange sputtering noise as several people struggled to hold in laughter, then they burst, and Draco was glaring at Vincent and Gregory’s confused, still faces. “C’mon, you know it’s catchy! You know it. Picture it,” He pushed some plates out of the way, glanced over at the staff table to make sure Umbridge was still encompassed in talking to Dumbledore and pointing down at her clipboard in her hands whenever she wasn't looking at him, he crawled across the table quickly to stand between his two former bodyguards and spread his hands out in the air for dramatic effect. “Weasley is our King.” He said slowly, hand moving with each word as if to visualize it in the air.
Pansy had stifled her laughs to listen along with several others, but now became the only one still laughing as she snorted at the title.
“‘Weasley is our King?’” Daphne repeated, looking confused, and he nodded, still grinning madly. “Yeah!” “Since when?” That was Blaise, and frankly, he didn’t have time for him right now but he still snapped, “Because he deserves some encouragement after all that bullying, okay? Now give me a rhyme.” before crawling back across the table and retrieving parchment, quill, and ink from his bag.
“Excuse me?” Theodore inquired beside him and then, on his other side, Daphne said, “‘Anything?’”
He tapped his quill against his chin then, after a moment, scrawled across the parchment.
Weasley can save anything,
He will block every ring,
Weasley is our King
“You should put something in the middle.” Gregory said, pointing at the stanza, and Draco nodded. “I agree. But what?” “That’s why…” He turned to Daphne, who seemed to be thinking hard. “...We all sing…” Draco starting to concentrate to, drawing an arrow in between the last two lines and writing:
That’s why all of Hogwarts sings:
“‘Weasley never lets the Quaffle in.’” Pansy had started to lean towards the parchment, and now blushed when she realized what she had thought was said aloud, and leaned back, shrugging her shoulders. “Or something like that…” Draco smirked, waving the quill in her direction whilst saying, “Now you’re getting it!” and writing down said line.
“‘He was born in a bin.’” Blaise remarked slyly, to which Draco glared harshly and growled, “You’re not getting it…” Maintaining his glare until Theodore set down his goblet and shrugged his shoulders whilst saying, “It’s a good rhyme.” But at the moment Draco didn’t care if it was the best poetry ever made; he needed something that would encourage Weasley, not beat him down. A crowd of Slytherins singing this song was bound to make him suspicious anyway, so the lyrics had to be straight forward.
Weasley never lets the Quaffle in,
He will make Gryffindor win,
So we all shall bow to him,
Weasley is our King.
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He never (didn’t; sing at the end of the game) lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
He picked up the parchment and held it at arm's length in front of him, and grinned proudly, turning it around to show the rest of the Slytherins around him, friend or otherwise, as some eavesdropping students had leaned closer to see what the commotion was about. He calmly waited for everyone to finish reading the lyrics before tucking it into his bag and standing, nodding at the doors that they should get moving back to the Common Room as well. As they walked, Pansy came up beside him out of seemingly nowhere, as she seemed to enjoy doing this year, smirking all too wide.
“Tomorrow’s going to be exciting,” She said, nodding along to her own words before side-eyeing Draco, as if checking to see that she was saying the right thing, “Isn’t it?”
She was. “Oh yes… it will be.” Draco grinned, before glancing back around at his friends following him, who had started to whoop and chant, “Weasley is our King!” certain at the sight of them that the following day's match would go very well. Weasley would protect the goals, but Slytherin would still win, of course. He’d have a clear conscience due to his good deed towards the Weasley family, Harry would start acting towards him the same way he had the year before, and he’d get the pride of finally catching the snitch before it culminating in a victory kiss from Anthony. Tomorrow will be exciting indeed.
-*-*-*-
Upon entering the Great Hall and glancing over towards the Slytheirn table to see just how rowdy and vicious they were going to get today, Harry immediately had to stop in his tracks despite having been leading Ron forward moments before by the sheer spectacle he was witnessing.
Pansy Parkinson was standing on top of a bench with her hands moving in something of a conductor's stance towards the kids sitting around her holding sheets of parchment, mouths wide and moving as if singing, though he couldn’t hear over the sound of the rest of the Hall. Next to her sat Daphne Greengrass, Tacey Davis, and Lydia Moon who also had their mouths wide open as if singing, but no paper seemed to be present and they weren’t paying her any attention. Following them were some other boys and girls chatting and when they saw the two Gryffindors they sprung out of their seats and started to wave and cheer, looking genuinely pleased and not at all mocking. This now stopped Ron in his tracks.
Behind them walked Draco, passing out what looked like handfuls of galleons, sickles, or knuts from a bag, and when he stopped and waved with a shining grin, the sunlight coming in from the window behind him lit up the silver, crown shaped pin on his robes. Harry couldn’t quite see what it read from here (Draco was always saying he needed a new spell update on his glasses, not understanding what a "prescription" was) but he was able to notice it looked like the whole Slytherin table were wearing them.
Ron looked a mixture between confused and angry, as if he wasn’t sure what the Sytherins were planning (and to be fair neither was Harry) but he was less green then before, so Harry took it as a good sign as he stepped forward and steered Ron off to an empty spot at the Gryffindor table.
Here, too, they were welcomed with cheers and waves, and Harry just managed to catch a First Year in green robes handing Parvati the same parchment all the Slytherins were holding before she turned and showed it to Lavender, giggling, and Harry chose to ignore her just for that annoying reason. Looking back at Ron, he had returned to his rather ugly green color in the face.
“I must’ve been mental to do this,” he said in a whisper so only his best friend would hear. “Mental.”
As Harry attempted to cheer him up by pointing out the trick he made the other day (which he was horrified to learn was an accident) he couldn’t help but notice those papers being passed along the table, Hermione and Ginny even coming over in full Gryffindor garb with the latter clutching one and grinning as if she knew something no one else did.
“Don’t ask her,” Hermione said as soon as she sat down across from them and Ginny ran to the Ravenclaw table to give a duplicate of the parchment to Luna, and another three to Michael, Terry, and Anthony. “I already have. Five times. She still refuses to explain why she’s so happy, or what on Earth is on those papers. How is he?”
She was nodding at Ron, so Harry, turning away from watching the Ravenclaw table as Anthony stood and ran to his boyfriend, answered, “He’s just nervous,” choosing not to focus on how Ron looked as if he desired to drown himself with the milk in his cereal bowl.
“Well, that’s a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you’re a bit nervous,” Harry was grateful, truly, that Hermione was also choosing to look on the bright side with these, as he didn’t know how he’d be able to continue watching Ron’s horrified face if not. He brightened at the sound of her words too, though, however little, raising his head just a bit and tugging the corners of his lips upward as much as he could. She beamed brightly back.
“Hello,” The group looked up at the familiar vague and dreamy voice of Luna coming up to them, and were instantly taken aback, including the frozen and haunted looking Ron. Atop her pale haired head was a massive hat shaped like a life-size lion’s head, making her stand out against the blue cloaked crowd behind her when combined with the elaborate red and gold striped robes she was wearing. “I’m supporting Gryffindor,” she declared, as if there was any need. “Look what it does…”
She tapped the hat with the tip of her wand, causing it to open its jaws and release a roar so realistic it caused a majority of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables to jump. She grinned quite proudly at this display, seemingly unfazed by the glares she was now getting from kids attempting to enjoy a morning meal. “It’s good, isn’t it? I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn’t time. Anyway… good luck, Ronald!” She drifted away.
“When you’re ready,” Angelina then announced her arrival swiftly with Katie and Alicia at her side, too soon after the shock of Luna’s elaborate headdress. “We’re going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change.” She seemed quite nervous, though not nearly as much as Ron.
“We’ll be there in a bit,” Harry assured her, turning to look her in the eye with as much confidence as he could muster and, as he turned, noticing those sheets of parchment had now reached the Hufflepuff’s, who were giggling with glee as they showed them to their friends. “Ron’s just got to have some breakfast.”
Minutes passed, long and drawn out, where Ron didn’t touch his fork or spoon, even as Hermione reached over to rest his hand on his and attempt to draw it towards the utensils. It was a lost cause, and so Harry gave in and helped him rise from the table, though was stopped from leading him away when Hermione grabbed him by the arm.
“Harry… Those badges…” She whispered, sounding both confused and… scared? He turned, alarmed at her voice, to follow her gaze and saw Draco pinning those crown shaped badges to his boyfriend, Ginny, and some other Ravenclaw boys’ chests and squinted to see what they read, as they were closer now.
WEASLEY IS OUR KING
His head shot back around to Hermione, who wet her lips and looked at him with deep worry.
“Wha -” “I don’t know, Harry, but it… Those papers…” She shook her head swiftly, letting go of his arm at last, which she had begun to squeeze a bit too tightly in her anxiety. “I don’t know. But it can’t be good.” She turned around to Ron, who was blinking at them dubiously, just now realizing they had possibly been engaging in a private conversation, and cut him off from a possible question by leaning over the table on tiptoe with a soft smile and pink cheeks.
“Good luck, Ron,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, then pulling back with a slightly pained expression, and Harry suspected he knew why. “And you, Harry -” “You didn’t have to do that.”
She looked over at Ron quickly in surprise as he lightly touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, frowning at her though his cheeks had turned bright pink. “I know you aren’t ready. Besides, I’m a loser anyway -”
“No you’re not!” The group all jumped out of their skins practically at the sudden arrival of Draco, puffing his chest proudly to display that badge and an all too familiar grin. A grin which always meant he was up to something. He stepped up close to Ron, to make sure the ginger saw the badge on his chest, and proclaimed, “You’re a King.” With a sly wink and a punch to the shoulder. “See you on the pitch!” He turned on his heel and hurried to catch up to the rest of the Slytherin team exiting the Great Hall after that, leaving the Gryffindor trio stunned silent.
“Go.” Hermione said sternly to Harry who nodded and pulled on Ron’s arm to drag him to the pitch, with each crown shaped badge they passed, and occasional note of song he was able to pick out among the shouts of encouragement towards Slytherin or Gryffindor, feeling more and more anxious about the game to come, and just what it might hold in store. He wasn’t the only one, as he couldn’t help but notice Ron’s face turning more green with each passing second.
-*-*-*-
“Malfoy,”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Draco?”
Draco turned to smile at Vincent at his side with a look that both thanked him for recognizing the two as equal friends now, not bodyguard and boss, and said he could continue. The shorter boy turned his head up to the sky to frown at the pearly white. His hands were fidgety as they tugged at his Quidditch uniform, still fresh and newly fit for him, the two on the front not yet worn and the ‘CRABBE’ written on the back not yet peeling at the letters. It was clear - and the all too new uniform simply completed the picture - he was still not all too comfortable with his new position on the team.
“Are you sure Greg and I can do this?” Draco’s eyes widened, because the vulnerability in his friend's voice caught him off guard in a second and he wasn’t prepared for those words one bit, fidgeting or not. Since when has he been brave enough to speak about insecurities? Since when did he even know what they were at all? “Blaise tried out, you know, and he’s been saying we only got in because of you--”
At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent.
“Hey!” Draco stopped in his tracks, feet crunching into the icy grass sharply as he placed a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. He could feel that hand pushing the darkness in his head back, his natural affinity for Occlumency, because he could not force himself to remember what his response to that comment had been three years ago. Not now. “Don’t say things like that. Blaise is a jerk, you know that, Gregory knows that, we all know that, so don’t listen to him for one second, okay? That goes for you too,” He called over his shoulder to Gregory himself, who blinked at him dumbly, clearly having not been paying the least attention to the conversation he wasn’t even in. Draco supposed that was far. “Sure, you two have been my friends since we were playing on toy brooms that didn’t even fly, but that doesn’t mean you have some sort of special pass onto this team, alright?”
Besides, Draco hadn’t even spoken to Montague once at tryouts; he was too busy in awe of Anthony Goldstein and how much he cared about him. Not that he was ever going to let someone know that, though, even if they had known him since they were playing on toy brooms which didn’t even fly.
The three continued down the frosty grounds to the pitch in a hurry, not wanting to get yelled at for falling behind from the rest of the team, and arrived just in time to glimpse the Gryffindor Team headed into their own box to change, before going into the Slytherins changing rooms.
“Alright, circle up, we all know Gryffindor's team, right?” Montague pointed his wand at the board beside him with magically moving pictures taped to it of each member of the team. “Johnson’s Captain, Spinnet and Bell are still Chasers as well as those Weasleys for Beaters, and Potter for Seeker. That Ronald Weasley’s been made Keeper,” while Montague’s grin was malicious here, Vincent pumped his fist and whooped whilst Gregory clapped and grinned, and Draco allowed himself a smirk, believing their facade wasn’t going to hold much longer anyway, why try to hide it.
Thankfully his Captain chose not to question this, and instead continued with his lecture; “The goal is to target Weasley Jr, obviously. Whether that is with Bludgers or Quaffles, we're gaining as many points as we can so even Potter catching the snitch won’t help Gryffindor. Got that? Good? Let’s go!” He pulled away the tent flap ceremoniously then, and the team bounded out in single file, whooping and pumping their fists, Draco trailing as his mind poured over how Montague seemed to not even consider him managing to catch the snitch before Harry a possibility.
He pushed these thoughts aside when he heard the roar of singing, though you couldn’t quite pick apart words if you didn’t know them already (or in his case, wrote them) over the sound of the cheering crowd that hadn’t yet been made privy to the song phenomenon or refused to partake in it. Still, when he glanced over at the massive, Slytherin green tower to his right, he could see Pansy conducting a choir of snakes, eagles, and a singular lion (he squinted and managed to pinpoint her as Weaslette laughing beside Luna, seeming to pay her own boyfriend no mind) with a grin that wasn’t sly or malicious, but genuinely gleeful. She seemed to be truly enjoying herself, so Draco managed to put on a grin as well, giving her the thumbs up and hurrying to stand at the end of the line of burly men that was his team.
Harry stood across from him, eyeing him darkly, and so he tapped his badge with a smart grin, sure he’d be proud of his work. His eyes simply narrowed, however, but before Draco could worry about the response Johnson and Montague had stepped forward, hands outstretched. He could tell the latter was attempting, to the best of his ability with his big forearms, to hurt the Gryffindor in anyway he could, but Draco had watched her for years now, even getting to know her on something like a personal level through Malfoy’s Hogwarts News with the Twins, and so wasn’t surprised one bit as she didn’t so much as wince.
“Mount you brooms…” His eyes flicked to Madam Hooch, who was raising her silver whistle as suspenseful-like as she could and threw a leg over his Firebolt cleanly, turning to lock eyes with Harry, eyebrows raising with mischief. He must’ve managed to maintain the same level of playful banter in just one look as they had kept throughout every Task last year, for Harry returned the look with a smirk and bent further down on his own Firebolt. Hooch blew the whistle.
The balls released all at once from the confines of their box and the fourteen players clad in scarlett or emerald shot into the white sky; Six chasers moved for the Quaffle as Fred flew towards the Bludger and reached it first, knocking it towards Pucey with his bat but missing when Crabbe managed to knock it in the opposite direction, causing Spinnet to have to duck away from reaching for the Quaffle and Johnson gaining it instead. Draco managed to break through all of this chaos alongside Bletchley, but broke off for a higher point in the sky as he zoomed for the goal hoops. He spared Harry only the briefest of glances as he rose as well to try and find a glint of gold among the stadium, but knew he couldn’t afford focusing on him in any other way. He needed to catch the Snitch, if for his own pride, or to prove he could to all who had been making fun of his inability to beat Harry during the past month, he didn’t know, but he needed to get that golden ball in his hand.
It was as if this incentive was like a drug overpowering him and suddenly, any sound of the chaos of the game was muted out - even the singing of the crowd could not be heard - it was just him going into tunnel vision, looking for that familiar glint of gold.
He didn’t even notice Lee Jordan’s commentary until he heard him mentioning his brilliant singing, and paused short in his zooming past the stands to listen beside the tower Pansy was conducting.
“Weasley can save anything,
He will block every ring,
That’s why all of Hogwarts sings;
Weasley is our King.
Weasley never lets the Quaffle in,
He will make Gryffindor win,
So we all shall bow to him,
Weasley is our King.”
With a grin as bright as sunshine, Draco glanced over at the goal hoops that King Weasley was guarding to see he had paused in flying back and forth in front of them to listen as well, and his jaw dropped open wide. In spite of himself, Draco released a laugh before bursting back into his flight over the stands with a new burst of speed, singing happily along with the crowds he passed over, still focused on trying to spot the ball of gold, but not quite tunnel visioning anymore.
“- and Alicia passes back to Angelina! But I’m more interested in that song… Is that… Pansy Parkinson conducting those kids? Professor, don’t you think -”
“- I think you should be focused on the game, Jordan -”
“Yes, but it’s quite catchy, don’t you agree?”
Draco certainly did, and it seemed the crowd was loving the song so much, only half of it cheered or booed as Johnson missed her throw towards the hoops, Bletchley passing the ball back to Warrington who made a quick fly towards Weasley.
In an instant, the king resumed his flying back and forth, and the song grew in intensity and strength as he readied his hands before him. Draco flew a bit closer without really realizing it and managed to see he was even grinning, lips moving as if to say, ‘Come at me.’
“Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He never lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.”
“- and it’s Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he’s out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead -”
Pansy had abandoned conducting, bending over the side of the tower to gaze at the game, and Draco could see Granger had now joined girl Weasley’s side, and was holding her hands together in something of a prayer as Weaslette clung to her shoulders tight, none of the kids in the crowd stopping their song.
“Weasley can save anything,
He will block every ring….”
“- so it’s the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team - come on, Weasley King!”
Warrington may have been two years above him with much more experience, but he stood no chance against the singing crowd. King Weasley dived, caught the ball cleanly between his hands before it could so much as choose a hoop to fly into, and tossed it back to Spinnet in one quick move, sending the singing crowd into an uproar of cheers, and even causing Draco to clap his hands and shout, “YES!” before wobbling on his broom and then choosing to compose himself, not at all eager to prove those kids in the library right about falling off his broom.
“And miss! Warrington misses the shot with a brilliant catch from our brand new Keeper! Maybe he is a King, Professor!” Even McGonagall couldn’t say anything to that as the song was pounded into her ears:
“WEASLEY NEVER LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
HE WILL MAKE GRYFFINDOR WIN…”
“- and Gryffindor back in possession and it’s Alicia Spinnet zooming below Slytherin Beaters to her goal zone -” Lee continued to try and yell over the now deafening sound of the singing.
“SO WE ALL SHALL BOW TO HIM,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING…”
Draco narrowly missed Harry knocking him off his broom as he zoomed right past him in search of the Snitch, and had the smallest, intrusive thought he’d maybe been a little too close, but pushed it back into the rest of the dark cloud at the back of his mind as he dived lower to try and see if the Snitch had moved to somewhere closer to the ground.
“ - and it’s Warrington again,” Lee was shouting as loud as he could, voice becoming hoarse, “who passes to Pucey, Pucey’s off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - turns out you can’t - but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell - er - drops it, too - so that’s Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he’s off up the pitch, come on now, Ron, block him!”
To Draco’s glee, when he passed Crabbe and Goyle they were both singing along like he’d taught them and he could just see, flying up into the air and abandoning the ground effort, passing Weasley on the way, his King kick the ball up into the air, catch it, then chuck it with all his might across the whole stadium to the opposite end, where Angelina was waiting and caught it cleanly, turning and diving for the Slytherin goal hoops.
“WEASLEY CAN SAVE ANYTHING…”
“- AND ANOTHER SPECTACULAR BLOCK BY THE GRYFFINDOR KING!”
“THAT’S WHY ALL OF HOGWARTS SINGS WEASLEY IS OUR KING!”
Wholly confident in Wealsey’s abilities now, Draco continued back into tunnel vision in pursuit of the snitch, any glint of gold he found something he followed intently even if it was a fool's errand, not losing hope Slytherin would pull a win if he caught the Snitch even as - with the increasing hope that came from the roaring crowd and continuous ‘spectacular block’s - the Gryffindors scored one after the other, ten points after ten points.
“ - and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she’s past Warrington, she’s heading for goal, come on now Angelina - GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It’s forty-nil, forty-nil to Gryffindor and Pucey has the Quaffle.”
As Draco passed over the tower Pansy was conducting he could hear Granger shout, “You’re brilliant, Malfoy!” and felt his chest rise with pride and another burst of speed to his pursuit of the Snitch, but quickly, though he attempted to the best of his Occlumens ability to push the dark thoughts to the back of his mind, he realized the efforts were proving fruitless.
“ - Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey - Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good - I mean bad - Bell hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it’s Pucey in possession -”
“WEASLEY NEVER LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
HE WILL MAKE GRYFFINDOR WIN,
SO WE ALL SHALL BOW TO HIM,”
In a split moment which didn’t quite feel like an eternity, but as if time had frozen all together Draco saw it, clear as day, tiny and fluttering and sticking out like a gleaming needle in a haystack against the bright green grass; the Golden Snitch.
He dived all at once, the Firebolt plunging him with speed he’d never rode with before, and he became faintly aware that Harry was on his other side, a blur of scarlet and gold leaning as far forward as he could while Draco himself had laid himself flat against his broom. To his luck, when the Snitch skirted away to escape the two, it skirted closer to Malfoy, and so he got a couple inches on him. A couple, yes, but this close in the game, riding on the same exact broom types, inches were everything…
His hand sprung forward all on its own, stretching as far as it could towards the golden, winged ball, and he could feel his heart beating, he could hear his breaths coming out in ragged pants, but those inches were everything, and while Harry managed to grip a tight hold on his sleeve and tug him back his hand had already closed over the tiny, struggling ball.
He barrel rolled through the air from the force at which Harry had grabbed his arm, but managed to pull himself out of it by rising into the air and jutting his fist into the air, clutching the Snitch triumphantly with a wide grin, in complete disbelief still that he had even managed it. That he had truly won over Harry at last, and had triumph right inside his closed fist. He’d - they, Slytherin - had won.
As soon as his feet hit the ground he was being trampled by the team, but only wanted to be aware of Vincent and Gregory’s happy faces as they hugged him tight enough to break ribs.
“You did it, you did it, you did it!” Vincent was repeating over and over in his ear whilst Gregory chanted, “We beat Potter, we beat Potter!” quickly getting joined in the chanting by Warrington and Bletchley. Draco beamed, but caught sight, out of the corner of his eye, of Weasley landing on the grass and running towards him full speed, and managed to wiggle out of his crowd of teammates just in time to welcome his bone crushing hug. The crowd was so deafening (Slytherins losing their minds over finally having caught the Snitch before Potter whilst the rest of the crowd wouldn’t quit their singing) he couldn’t hear what Ron attempted to say, but also realized that was because his voice had gone rather hoarse, probably from whooping when ever he blocked the Quaffle.
He was able to catch a, “Thank you” and “You’re really brilliant, Malfoy” and “I should probably call you Draco now” in there but was once again distracted when he saw Harry making his way towards him out of his peripherals and turned and beamed at him.
“Harry, I did it!” He exclaimed, holding up the Snitch in front of him proudly. “Can you believe it? I didn’t think I could - Well, I wanted to, really bad, but I never imagined actually beating you -”
Suddenly, he realized, as he watched the Snitch twitch in his fist, desperate to get free, that this might mean his greatest dreams aren’t completely out of his reach. He always thought his longtime dream of becoming a Quidditch all star was impossible; that he wasn’t good enough, but Harry was the best Seeker he’d ever seen at this school, and would surely have a chance at making it big. But he had just out flown him! And it wasn’t a matter of who had the better broom either; they were riding the same broom. It had come right down to pure talent, hadn’t it Granger? And he’d still beaten him.
With his thoughts running wild like this, he didn’t notice the sour look on Harry’s face until he opened his mouth to speak, and then he immediately felt his pounding heart sink to the depths of his stomach at the dark tone in the other boy’s voice.
“Nice lyrics, Malfoy,” Harry said, taking a couple steps forward which for some reason made Draco step back, and glancing over at the still singing crowd. “How long did it take for you to write them? A day? Couldn’t have told me about this could you,” He gestured around them, then settled his gaze to glare at the badge pinned to Draco’s chest. “Didn’t think I’d want to cheer on my friend? He is my best friend, after all.”
“Oh,” Draco shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, eyes flicking to the badge as well awkwardly. “There wasn’t a lot of time, you see, I made the lyrics last night. We wanted it to be a surprise for Weasley, and--”
“We thought you were pranking him, Malfoy!” Harry yelled, nearly making Draco jump out of his skin and surely doing it to the now very uncomfortable Weasley King beside him. “We thought for sure this was a trap and you got Ron all worked up for nothing but laughs. But no,” He gestures to Weasley angrily, hand slapping his leg as it falls back to his side. “You run back to this sly serpent and hug him before you even get to me, your best mate. Are you really that chummy with each other now? I had to endure Umbridge’s detentions and write with my own blood until I got a scar that’s never leaving while you got a new best friend?”
To Draco’s horror, Harry’s eyes had become red rimmed, his face tinged scarlet with fury, and his hands balled into fists at his sides looking ready to fight.
“Well, have fun with him, then! You clearly don’t need me anymore!” He turned and started to stomp away, but Weasley, foolish Weasley, stepped a couple feet forward and stretched out a hand, calling out, “Harry, wait, it isn’t like that -”
“YOU IGNORED ME ALL DAY FOR THIS?!” Draco felt as if his heart had crumbled right there when Harry turned to bellow this into his frightened face, but could only stand, dumbstruck, as Harry continued to yell. “HAVE FUN WITH MY FRIENDS MALFOY. I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN!” He turned to Ron now, throwing his hands up in the air in this wild fit of anger, “GOODBYE WEASLEY KING!”
He mocked a bow, turned on his heel, picked up his broom and kicked off the ground on it, zooming away with no thought to look back even as Weasley now bolted forward and shouted, “Harry!” after him repeatedly. Draco didn’t. He stood frozen, stiff, hand unconsciously rising to hold the badge on his chest, unaware what to even do without Harry’s comforting hand on his shoulder, guiding him forwards.
The hand loosened, the dark crowd in his mind grew, and no matter how hard he tried, no amount of Occlumency was going to push it back this time.
-*-*-*-
Was Harry going to apologize? Yes, he settled on thinking as he landed on a rock by the Lake, attempting to the best of his ability (and failing) to push back memories of the times the Quartet had laid on this beach, skipping rocks, talking about Barty Crouch Jr, or waiting for Hermione to go off on a date with Viktor. He’d apologize when he was sure those types of memories would be able to be replicated, even if Hermione was never going to get another date with Viktor.
He was truly guilty about what he’d said, but it had felt good to release all that anger too. He couldn’t yell at Ron when he was always near Hermione, and far be it for him to yell at Hermione after all she had gone through. She and Draco at least understood a little of the trauma of the previous year, but Ron couldn’t. So why did it seem all okay to him to make Draco his new best friend?
He wasn’t mad at Draco. He was mad at him forgetting him for a day to focus on a stupid song he didn’t even tell him about, sure, but after yelling to him about it he assumed he was fine now, because it was true the Malfoy boy probably only desired to heal the bridges between the Malfoy and Weasley clans. But Ron should’ve recognized when they were going beyond the boundaries of those bridges, and breaking into territory he only shared with Harry. He should have recognized he could have reassured his friend who had surely suffered more in the Graveyard than a ferret, instead of running straight to said ferret after he had won the game.
He had won the game, why would he even need a hug?
And that was another thing, though he couldn’t be mad at anyone but himself for it, he supposed; he’d lost. He’d gotten Quidditch again, hoping it would bring him the happiness it had in years prior, which he hadn’t gotten once all of this year or last (the Third Task certainly didn’t count because he was playing a Keeper) only for the Snitch to get stolen away from him, Gryffindor to lose, but Ron, Ron Weasley, the new guy, to have the time of his life blocking every Quaffle.
Why was it so hard for him to just be happy this year?
Consciously or unconsciously, he did not know, Harry picked up a large rock and chucked it as hard as he could into the Lake’s surface, where it smashed through the water and sank, causing a wide ripple and big splash. It was only when he heard a small, “Oh,” somewhere behind him that he regretted the movement, turning and seeing Cho’s beautiful visage behind him, staring wide eyed at the Lake, looking unsure if she’d made the right decision to come here.
“Cho!”
“Hi, Harry,” She said, deciding, maybe, that she did make the right choice as she turned her gaze to smile at him, and he returned it with a bright, blushy grin. “I saw you yelling at Ron and Malfoy and then you just… flew off. I wanted to know if you were okay, I suppose… Er - Are you okay?”
She was shifting awkwardly on her feet, clearly having not reached this part in her plan and unaware what to do next. He stood, wiping his rapidly sweating palms on his pants because she wanted to know if I was okay and stepping closer to her.
“I’m good.” He managed to say, convincing enough, as she gave a relieved smile. “Oh, that’s good! Great, I mean, that’s great…”
He started to get entranced by how her hair was sparkling in the sunlight, and realized only after a minute of awkward silence that it was snow, when she released a giggle that made his heart skip a beat and pointed at his nose. “What?”
“You’ve got something,” she stepped closer, using her sleeve to brush off the white fleck on the tip of his nose, an action which made him shiver from the brief moment of contact between him and her. She must’ve realized how close they were now too, as she went pink in the cheeks, slowly lowering her hand. She didn’t take a step back, however, or move at all. Instead she stayed still, gazing up at him, and he did her.
“You’re a really good teacher Harry, really. I’m doing much better at this stuff than I ever was before.” He wanted to say something in response, like how much improvement he was seeing in her at meetings, or just a simple thank you, but suddenly found his heart had leapt to his throat and was blocking him from saying a word. Instead he remained still as her face inched closer to his, and she whispered, “You had a great game today, too. I love watching you fly.”
She loves watching me fly.
He lowered his head to hers, and now there were just centimeters separating them.
“I really like you, Harry.”
One second he was looking at her dark eyes, the frosty air still biting at him, and the next it was as if her lips had filled him with warmth when they connected with his, and they were kissing, snow falling around them, the Lake sloshing at their feet, they were kissing, and suddenly it didn’t matter if Draco and Ron were best mates or not, because he was kissing Cho Chang. Beautiful, brilliant, super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot Cho Chang.
They separated after a minute that could have easily been an hour, and he exhaled shakily and smiled at her, wishing desperately that this wasn’t a dream, and that she really was an inch away from him, and they really had just kissed.
“Wicked.”
She giggled again, and he was sure, right then, feeling as if he was walking on air because of it, that this wasn’t a dream. The only thing that broke him out of this trance at last was when he looked over her shoulder and saw, lumbering out of his small hut and waving a big arm towards him, a familiar half-giant he hadn’t seen in months, who made him step away from Cho, give her a hurried, “Sorry, I have to go.” and bolt off towards him.
Hagrid was back.