Quidditch Brooms
“You spent seven hours in his room and you didn’t kiss?!” Pansy groaned, leaning back on one of the Slytherin couches.
Draco blushed, “Shut your mouth, he doesn’t like me that way.”
“We’ll he clearly likes you a little, you left the Gryffindor Common room at four in the morning,” Blaise teased.
Draco waved a hand at him. He couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed he didn’t steal a kiss from Harry last night. Especially when they were so close.
“He invited me to the Quidditch game this weekend.”
In return, Draco was greeted with squeals.
“He totally just asked you on a date,” Pansy shouted, falling back onto the couch and hugging a pillow. She was acting as if this were her own boyfriend. “Draco, you have to say yes.”
“I already did, and it’s not a date,” He replied, folding his arms.
“That sounds like a date to me,” Neville said, appearing behind one of the couches. Draco knew he and Pansy were still keeping their relationship a secret, and with all the Slytherins in the room with them they couldn’t be affectionate, but he saw Neville give her a soft kiss on the cheek anyway.
“It’s not a date, it’s just a hang out. As friends,” Draco emphasized. He couldn’t lie that he too thought of it as a date, but he knew it definitely wasn’t. “I don’t want to push it, what if I ruin my chance?”
“Then you get surgery,” Pansy muttered.
“Pansy, please!” Draco hissed. “Shut your trap about surgery, I won’t do it.”
The group continued to pester Draco about his up coming definitely not date with Harry. The hours swept by, and soon night arrived. Draco rushed off to bed to avoid anymore teased from his friends, falling down on his silk duvet in exhaustion. He so desperately wanted to see Harry again, even if this whole date idea made his legs shake every time he thought about it.
Draco settled into bed quickly, falling asleep sooner than he expected to.
He always enjoyed waking up from dreams of Harry. They were peaceful, and they gave him hope.
Unfortunately for Draco, he had no time for dreaming this evening. He awoke in a panic, the choking of his lungs making him much paler than he already was. He was shaking and practically clawing at his neck for air. He felt as though he were going to vomit.
Not wanting to make a mess of his own private bathroom, he rushed out of the Slytherin common room. He just needed to breathe. He hoped and prayed no one would be patrolling the halls. The last thing he needed was for a teacher to see him like this.
In a decision of mere panic he ran straight for the prefects bathroom. Hopefully Myrtle would be resting and wouldn’t catch him like this. The flowers attached to his skins were practically on fire, pulling and tugging at his flesh. He would have cried out if he could breathe.
His stomach jabbed him in every way possible. In an instant he rushed to an open toilet, a hand on the wall as he hurled. His tongue burned and his mouth felt pained.
It was hard to recognize just what he was tasting.
Blood.
He was tasting blood.
Taking a shaky breath, he opened his eyes. A pool of blood swirled in the toilet, rose petals swimming aimlessly.
“Is someone in there?” Shit. Shit! The one person to stumbled upon him just happens to be Hermione Granger.
Could he hide? No, too suspicious. Could he lie? Yes.
He stepped outside the bathroom stall, shutting in firmly. And there she was, stepping into view.
“Malfoy? What are you doing out this late?” It wasn’t an accusing tone, like Harry or Weasley would present, but rather mother-ish. Draco’s knees gave in and he held onto the wall for stability, an awkward chuckle escaping his lips. The brunette stared, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“You threw up.”
“And?”
Granger tilted her head. Draco recognized that look. It was the one she gave to Harry and Weasley so often. “That’s serious, Malfoy. Are you sick?”
“I think I caught a bug from one of the other Slytherins, from how much time i spend with them it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Draco lied, smiling. His smile tasted of blood. If he wasn’t so focused on getting away with this lie, he would have vomited once more. “And I could ask you the same question, why are you wandering around so late?”
“The usual prefect who scouts tonight is visiting his parents for the week, so Professor Snape asked me to fill in.”
“Sounds unlikely.”
“It’s not.”
Silence. Draco fixed his facial expression, giving her a scowl. There were times like this when he felt so embarrassed for how much he admired Granger. She and Draco certainly matched as far as smarts, but that wasn’t what made him so jealous. She was teflon, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. She could be witty and kind all at the same time, which Draco never seemed to master.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked. Her question pulled him from his thoughts.
“Yes, I’m just-“ Coughing. It could only make matters worse. Draco quickly turned away as he choked. He covered his mouth as petals clumped into his hands, damp with blood. He shoved them into his pocket frantically.
“..Just not feeling my best.”
Granger shook her head and mumbled somewhat to herself, “Boys never want to share how they feel.”
Draco folded his arms at her comment. He could tell her how he felt if he really wanted to.
No he couldn’t.
“Well feel better, Malfoy. And get to bed,” She muttered, picking up something on the ground before turning on her heel and leaving the bathroom.
Draco opened the stall behind him. A pool of blood stared up at him. He knew he was getting worse. The better things became, the more he forgot he was even dying. It was moments like this that reminded him of his fate. He was only growing closer to dying.
A frigid shower was just what Draco needed to refresh. And soon it had become Friday. Fluffing, messing up, and then refluffing his hair continued on for about ten minutes before it was just perfect. Only for it to be messed up once more when he slipped a gray hoodie over his head. He paired the sweatshirt with a navy blue and grey flannel over it, the hood sticking out. Baggy jeans and the dark green converse Pansy gifted him for his birthday last year and he was all set.
He stared in the mirror. He was dressed like Harry James Potter.
He spun around once in the mirror, he should dress like this more often.
A knock appeared. Opening the door, Pansy jumped into his arms. “Are you ready for your date?”
“It’s not a date, Pans, I told you,” He said as he tried once more to fix his hair.
Pansy gave him a twirl. “You look adorable, he’ll definitely fall in love with you if he hadn’t already.”
Leaving his friend behind to fangirl, he rushed to the quidditch field. Crowds mixed with students and teachers made it simply impossible for Draco to find his way to the Gryffindor section. He shoved through chatty groups of girls and arguing boys.
A student jostled by him and knocked one of his flowers. He bit his tongue to conceal the tugging pain on his veins.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, he leaned against a pole. “Hey stranger.” A voice caught his attention.
To say he looked beautiful would be an understatement. Harry looked as if he’d been kissed by the sun. He was dressed in black corduroys, matched with a white turtle, a large jean jacket draped over his shoulders.
Draco choked. He couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Hi.”
Harry smiled, “Are you excited for the game?”
The crowd was growing louder, all trying to hear themselves talk over Lee. “The game is starting in ten minutes, take your seats folks!”
“What?” Draco hollered, trying to talk to the boy who was only two feet away from him.
Harry yelled back, “I said- are you excited for the game!?”
“Oh yeah!” Draco shouted.
Shoving through more people, Harry tugging Draco along by his sleeve, they found their seats. Harry patted at the bench next to him, “come sit.”
“Oh I never sit for Quidditch games, it ruins the fun,” Draco lifted his chin up sophisticatedly. “You would rather sit to watch this?”
Harry crossed his arms, “No, but the game hasn’t started yet, duh!”
The game had begun, and all Harry and Draco had been doing was awkwardly bumping into each other. Whether it be their hips, their elbows, their wrists, you name it. The butterflies in Draco’s stomach left him speechless. All he prayed was that he wouldn’t begin to cough.
“Who do you think will win?” Harry asked.
“Definitely Hufflepuff, their seeker is strong,” Draco replied, leaning against the barrier. He kept taking small glances at Harry when he had the chance.
And just like Draco had predicted, Hufflepuff won. The Slytherin followed Harry down the winding stairs to join the crowd.
“This was nice,” Harry smiled.
Draco nodded, “It was.” Then it fell quiet. The silence between the two was awkward, too awkward for either to handle.
“Would you.. would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?” Harry asked hesitantly. A second “date?” Draco’s head was practically spinning.
“Sure! Uh Yes! Definitely,” He stammered.
Draco insisted on escorting Harry back to his common room, as a thank you for tagging him along for the game. Giving him a small wave as Harry stepped through the painting, he couldn’t help but hop over every two sets of stairs before practically skipping back to his own common room.
Harry watched him leave with a smile, before his smile faltered as he reached into his pocket. He looked into the common room, Hermione perched on the couch with Crookshanks cuddle in her lap, nose deep in a book.
He took a deep breath. The object crumpling in his fist.
“Hey Hermione, I gotta ask you something.”