The Quidditch Match
“Good luck.” Draco said to Blaise in the room - Blaise stood in front of their mirror for a long time, Theo and Draco already out and down the hall by then.
It didn’t look like Ron was faring any better. He was shaking and darting his eyes everywhere, legs constantly bouncing. Draco couldn’t resist. In the hustle and bustle of the morning excitement, nobody noticed a Slytherin slipping in next to the Gryffindor trio. “How is everyone this fine Saturday morning? The sun is out, the birds are singing and look,” He pointed to the Slytherin table in wonder, “We’re going to win.”
Harry smirked and so did Ron, exchanging a look that Hermione wanted to get in between to tell them to stop it. “If you’re so confident, when we win, you have to join me at the Gryffindor afterparty dressed in everything Gryffindor.” Harry teased.
“Fine.” Draco shook Harry’s hand, “And when Slytherin wins, you have to do the same.”
Hermione eyed Harry before turning to Draco, “Slughorn is hosting a party soon.” She started. Hermione hoped Harry would take the hint and spit it out before Zabini got in first.
Draco knew about these Slug Club meetings, because Blaise would go on and on about how superior he was to Theo and Draco because he was in the club. He was considered as influential. Which, Draco helpfully pointed out, was only because his mother got rid of husbands like Weasley does chocolate frogs, and that he is rich. He also knew about the party, because Blaise tried to ask him, saying “It would be much more enjoyable with you by my side, tesoro .”
And Draco shut it down, replying, “Well I guess your evening will be noticeably disappointing, then.” Blaise smirked. He would admit he was flirting with Draco, but he and Potter were not official. Why should flirting be off-limits when it’s obvious to Blaise Draco has no emotion towards him other than friendship? It was fun, especially when Potter burst Weasley’s pie one dinner, not noticing as Weasley jumped from his seat because of how hot it was.
“Blaise may have mentioned it.” Draco shrugged, trying to be as blasé and careless as he could.
Hermione and Draco glanced at Harry, who stuttered through syllables. “Do you have something to ask Draco, Harry?” Hard, she kicked Harry’s shin.
“Ah!” Harry reached for his leg, soothing it over, “I wanted to ask if… you’d go to Slughorn’s party with me?”
“Harry,” Draco smiled bright and Harry’s hopes soared, “If that’s what you call an invitation, you’ll be dancing with yourself.” Smugly, Draco patted Harry’s shoulder and walked to the Slytherin table, hearing Hermione’s ‘Oh, Harry’ sigh when he walked off.
As the Hall got busier, it got noisier. Louder than normal, and Draco assumed it was because of Quidditch. He could understand it, and now he finally understands all of the rules he is ready for Slytherin to destroy Gryffindor. “You’re going to do great.” Draco reassured, but wasn’t entirely sure since Harry was apparently the best Seeker at this school. Really, it was up to the Chasers to get 150 points ahead.
“I don’t know, dolce . ” Blaise only poked at his food looking down to hide his smile, “Maybe if you fed me I’d feel more up to it.”
Theo rolled his eyes but laughed and Draco just chuckled, “Your body will begin to wither away.” He said wistfully.
They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium covered in solid red and gold, the other a slick silver and royal green. “Captains, shake hands.” Hooch said, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart.
The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away.
Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, looking for the Snitch and keeping an eye on Zabini, who was zigzagging far below him. Instead of finding the snitch, Harry found Draco cheering, standing next to Florian looking reluctant to be there. To try and get him into the spirit, Draco gave Florian a mini Slytherin flag and tried to get him to wave it, only for Florian to hiss at him. Well, it was one of the funniest things Harry and Draco had ever seen.
Then, a voice snapped him out of the moment, a voice that was jarringly different from the usual commentator’s.
“Well, there they go, and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team. But of course a close personal friendship with the Captain does help.”
Like to see you get on a broom this year, Smith. Thought Harry, shaking off the jeers and applause from the Slytherin’s. I fly laps around you.
“Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt on goal. It’s Urquhard to Harper and he is streaking down the pitch and-” Harry’s stomach turns over, unable to watch. “-Weasley saves it, well, he’s bound to get lucky sometimes I suppose…”
That’s right Smith, he is. Harry murmured to himself. And that was when Zabini flew beside him, giving a similar smile to the ones Florian gives him (more a smirk than a smile). The smile that Harry imagines on a bludger as he bats it away so hard the bat splits perfectly in two. “That’s the first sign of insanity, you know.”
“What?” Harry bit through gritted teeth, scanning the pitch for the snitch and not giving Zabini a second thought.
“Talking to yourself.” Blaise mockingly sighed, “I don’t think Draco will be as interested in you if he knew you were insane.”
“Watch your mouth, Zabini.” What Harry would do if he had his wand right now.
“Just teasing, Potter, just teasing.” Then, Blaise flew away. Badly, Harry wanted to knock him off his room as he passed, grabbing the broomstick Zabini was on and yanking it away. Not to kill him, just to severely injure.
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading by ten points: 60-10. Ron made some truly spectacular saves, ones Harry applauded. Ginny scored four of Gryffindor’s six, flying over to the Ravenclaws and brushing fingers with Luna to celebrate one time. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasley’s were only on the team because Harry liked them, and started on Peakes and Coote instead.
“Of course, Coote isn’t a stereotypical Beater build,” He said loftily, “they’ve generally got a bit more muscle-”
“Hit a bludger at him!” Harry called to Coote as he zoomed past, but Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Zabini instead, who was just passing Harry in the opposite direction. The thud Harry heard was music to his ears. (It was the bludger after that, that Coote aimed directly at Zacharias, who screamed like Mrytle and ducked.)
“Thinks he’s something special today, doesn’t he?” Said a snide voice, and Harry was nearly knocked off his broom as one of Slytherin’s Chasers, Antoni Hatfield, collided with him hard and deliberately. “Your blood-traitor pal…”
Madam Hooch’s back was turned, and though Gryffindors below shouted in anger, by the time she turned back around Hatfield was gone and with the Quaffle under his arm.
“And I think Zabini of Slytherin’s seen the snitch!” Said Smith through the megaphone, “Yes, he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!” There was joy in his voice Harry wanted gone.
Smith really is an idiot, Harry thought. But next moment, his stomach seemed to drop the fifty feet he was in the air - Smith was right. Zabini had not sped upwards at random: he had spotted the snitch and Harry had not. Accelerating, wind whistling in his ears so it drowned out Smith’s commentary, Harry pushed and pushed to catch up. Gryffindor were only fifty points up. If Zabini got there first Gryffindor had lost (and Harry would have had to enter the Slytherin common room)... and now Zabini was feet in front of him, hand outstretched…
“Oi, Zabini!” Yelled Harry in desperation, “How much did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?”
He didn’t know what made him say it, but Zabini did a double take, he fumbled the snitch, let it slip through his fingers and shot right past it: Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.
“YES!” Harry bellowed.
As Smith - reluctantly - shouted Gryffindor’s win, Zabini flew towards him. “Well played, Potter. Didn’t expect you to have any Slytherin in you.”
“The world isn’t black and white, Zabini.” Harry commented, flying off to join his team celebrating on the ground, hoisting Ron in the air. Slytherin scored the least amount they ever had in the past three years, and it was all because of Ron Weasley.
Oh fuck. Was all Draco could think when Smith announced the winner. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This meant he had to go to Gryffindor. To parade around Gryffindor Tower in a Gryffindor hat, jumper, scarf, face paint.
“I hate you, Potter.” Draco said, looking in the mirror. It wasn’t difficult getting him into the Tower because everyone was focused on celebrating. There Draco was, standing in front of the floor-length mirror in the bathroom, face painted in gold and reed squares. A spelled gold and red streak in his hair. A jumper and a hat, a Gryffindor flag tied around his neck like a cape. “I more than hate you Potter. If you were a dying child on the street I'd laugh in your scrawny little face.” He bit.
Harry chuckled, putting Draco’s arm around his waist as he tip-toed to rest his head on Draco’s shoulder, “I for one think you’ve never looked better.”
“ Piss. Off. Potter!” But he didn’t move away.
“Come on,” lightly, Harry kissed his neck once, “the party awaits.” Harry offered his arm, but Draco briskly walked past him to join the celebration.
Ginny and Seamus treated him like royalty, bowing when he came down the stairs. Ginny bowed, “We are not worthy of your presence, Prince Gryffindor.”
“Quiet, annoying peasant.” He looked down at Ginny and she hit his arm hard.
“What was that, your highness?” She tilted her head to the side, smiling in a fake sweet way. Before Draco could answer, she was spun around in Dean’s arms, loudly complimenting her and gushing over how fucking incredible she played.
Draco saw the light in Seamus’ eyes dim. “Don’t worry about it.” He said to Seamus, standing next to him, “They’re not a forever thing.”
“Ya think?” Draco had never heard such a thick Irish accent before and he loved it.
“Absolutely.” And he really did. “They’ve both got their eyes on different people.” With that, Draco walked off and found Hermione and Harry chatting away.
When he got closer, Hermione clocked and pushed Harry into the middle of the room, casting a sonorus on herself. “EVERYONE!” The noise died down immediately and she cancelled the sonorus. “Harry has something he’d like to ask a certain someone.” Some of the girls (in the year above and below) looked at Harry like it was them his question was intended for.
People formed a circle around Harry. Awkwardly, he shuffled around before timidly reaching between Romilda Vane and Patil for Draco’s hand. When Draco stepped into the middle, he was met with cheers and wolf whistles because of his outfit.
“Last time I asked, you said it wasn’t good enough. So here I am,” he stepped on top of a table, “asking Draco Malfoy to be my date to Slughorn's party.” The room broke out in murmurs as Draco debated.
He wasn’t really debating, he just wanted to make Harry sweat a little. “If I have to.” Draco grinned, walking to Harry and meeting him in the middle.
That night, before Harry went off to find Hermione after the Ron and Lavender debacle, Draco and Harry shared their first kiss. And when back in the dorms, Blaise asked what he was so cheery about, to which Draco said nothing, and told Theo in a hushed tone all about it.