To Make It to Tomorrow
By the time September 19th rolls around, he can finally walk without a limp. It’s very convenient that this just happens to be the first day of Quidditch practice. And apparently, the Gryffindors will be there too. Potter will be there too. Lovely.
His goal, at least, is clear: to make Potter’s experience as miserable as he can.
It's a sunny day, and the skies are a soft shade of blue. Hopefully, that's a good sign for what's to come.
___
When Longbottom falls from his broom before anyone else has even gotten off of the ground, Draco is shocked to see the attention Madam Hooch gives him for a mere fall. He's only broken his wrist, at the most. They’re both fools, the lot of them.
Luckily, in the midst of the chaos, Longbottom has dropped his Remembrall, and Draco sees his chance. Potter is just the sort of person who wants to play hero for everyone; there’s no way he won’t fall for this.
“Everyone’s to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing. Understand?” Madam Hooch says with a firm voice. “I see a single broom in the air; the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch.”
She strides off with the boy, leaving the class behind. It’s the perfect opportunity.
Draco smiles. “You see his face? Maybe if the lump had given this a squeeze, he’d have remembered to fall on his fat arse.”
“Give it here Malfoy,” Potter snaps. He’s taken the bait.
Malfoy tosses the Remembrall into the air and catches it as he speaks, “No, I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find.” He hops onto his broom and sneers at Potter as he flies upwards. The wind rushing past him gives him a thrill. He catches a glimpse of a mossy rooftop below. “How about on the roof?”
Potter doesn’t follow him, but it’s alright. He just needs a little nudge. “What’s the matter, Potter? Bit beyond your reach?”
And here Potter comes, hopping onto his broom and flying towards Draco. He flies so unsteadily that Draco wouldn’t be surprised if it’s his first time.
“Give it here Malfoy, or I’ll knock it off your broom,” Harry yells.
Draco smiles. “Is that so? Have it your way then!” He tosses the sphere into the air, and it tumbles down towards the green lawn below, quickly growing smaller as it sinks into the distance.
He doesn’t expect Potter to dive, of course; that’d be stupid and downright dangerous. That’s why it comes as such a surprise when the boy shoots past him on his broom and catches it midair. He.. catches it, in mid-air. What the bloody hell?
The class runs towards Potter, cheering so loudly Draco can hear them midair. Draco floats there for a moment, disbelieving and watching as Potter embraces them. He makes a small noise in his throat. Of disgust, of anger, of jealousy.
As he nears the ground though, he sees Professor Mcgonagall standing before them. “Harry Potter! Follow me.”
Maybe Potter is a hero to the students, but to the professor, not so much. Draco hopes she’ll scold him harshly and feels a rush at the thought of her reprimanding him. Maybe he’ll finally be rid of that self-centred idiot.
___
Only a day later, Draco finds that Potter was rewarded for his flying and given a Nimbus 2000 under special conditions.
The same day, he receives an angry letter from his parents and tears it to shreds. He despises Potter.
___
Somehow, the boy manages to have everything that Draco doesn’t. Affection, luck, talent, love.
That night, Draco takes the ripped-up papers, places them over his stomach, and lights them on fire. Pins stab into his skin and dig deeper with each passing moment. He bites down on his arm to hold back a scream. The only thing left by the end is a small scrap that’s floated down onto the floor and pale bubbles rising from his skin.
“I would have replaced Potter with you as my son, if I could.”