"This broom might be the worst thing I ever laid eyes on," Draco said bitterly, staring down at the chipped wood beneath his hand. "I'm going to die today, Harry. It's finally going to happen; this broom is going to be the death of me."
"Oh come on, Malfoy. Don't be a spoil-sport; you'll live. Let's go, I want to get up in the air—it's been ages since I was able to."
Harry's voice was tinged with excitement, and even the sight of the old, tattered brooms did nothing to lessen his evident eagerness. In fact, it had only seemed to increase once his hand had taken hold of the object, his eyes glinting dangerously at the small light from the moon.
Draco huffed but listened to him, swinging his leg over the small piece of wood.
"If I die by falling off this...thing, I'm blaming it on you," he warned before turning and shooting off into the sky, a grin plastering his face the second his feet left the ground.
It didn't take long for Harry to follow him, Draco hearing the sudden woosh behind him as he too lifted off the ground and soared into the sky. The wind was cold on his cheeks, and he knew that even with the previous warming charm he had cast, they would still be a chilled red once he got back down to the ground.
Draco whooped, speeding up on the broom and turning just like Ron had shown him in a dizzying spiral towards the earth. He pulled up earlier than he would have on his own broom, though, for the fact that the flimsy little thing was wobbling beneath him precariously, and as much as he had joked with Harry, he really didn't feel like dying from a large fall.
Harry was not far behind, watching Draco whirl around with a fond smile on his face. Once he got his balance under control, he flew up to him, not trying to hide his joy.
"This is going to be fun," he huffed out, breathing deeply after his little show. "You have the snitch?"
Harry smirked, taking out his wand, holding onto the broom with one hand as he cast with the other.
"Accio snitch."
A small orb of blinding gold zipped through the black sky, Harry reaching up and catching it with precision and accuracy that only a seeker could have.
That reminded Draco.
"Hey, Harry?"
He looked up at the words, face relaxed at the height they were in the air. "Ya?"
Draco chewed his bottom lip. "I heard someone say that you were the Gryffindor Seeker in that game a few weeks ago, but you weren't on the field that day." He hadn't asked a question, but it lingered behind his words all the same.
Harry tilted his head at something behind Draco like his thoughts were drifting into a memory. "Umbridge took away my flying privileges."
Harry hadn't even given Draco a chance to breathe. "She did what now?"
His anger for the women—somehow—managed to grow sharper every day. It was a miracle things hadn't started exploding.
"Don't worry—based on the other things she's done, things hardly compare anymore. It's just," Harry's face twisted up, "flying and quidditch was my only escape and she took that away. Forgive me if I am a little angry."
"Trust me. If I were you, I would not have been able to refrain from cursing her into oblivion and beyond."
Harry looked at him, smiling at Draco's not-so-subtle protectiveness.
"I'm sure the day will come. And if it's not me who does it, I'm sure the cursed DADA position might help it along a little bit more."
Draco, as much as he wanted to ask what that meant, had been sitting uncomfortably on his broom in the sky for much more than what was an acceptable amount of time and wanted to see Harry fly already.
Also, he had had enough sitting on intolerable seats to last him a lifetime.
"Well, enough talking. Let's get to flying—my hands are about to freeze in this wind."
Harry smirked, allowing the fluttering wings of the snitch to unfurl in his hand before letting the small ball flit away like a crazed mosquito.
"Close your eyes, and on the count of ten, we play."
Draco nodded, and they both shut their eyelids against the howling wind. Harry began the countdown, starting from ten and drifting down the numbers until, finally, he hit one.
Draco let himself blink for one moment in the dark light of the sky, then shot off in the direction he had seen the snitch go when it had first darted out of Harry's hand.
The cold wind was gnawing on his face, and the broom beneath him was not used to such sudden speeds for it teetered dangerously. Draco knew that he could not allow himself to fall, because as wonderful as Madam Pomfrey was, he doubted she would be able to fix him up in enough time for Umbridge not to notice and start grilling him with questions. After all, the last thing he needed was even more suspicion pinned on his back from her.
Harry appeared to have taken a slightly different approach to find the snitch, his slow and steady figure in the distance proof of that.
For all that Draco had gone speeding off, Harry had stayed at a leisurely pace, appearing almost bored. And once Draco realised he would never be able to find the small object in such low lighting, he sighed too and slowed down considerably.
"Where are you, you little bastard," he whispered at where the snitch had flown off. The only answer he got back was another gust of harsh air.
Draco knew his hair was going to be an absolute disaster after this, and his fingers were itching with impatience for the snitch to be triumphantly clutched in his cold hand. Harry by now was on the opposite side of the pitch, and Draco could hardly see him.
He wondered if there was a spell that gave someone night vision because it would certainly help immensely in his search. And he was going to win if it was the last thing he ever did—although Draco really hoped it wasn't.
He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed when something zipped past his ear.
At first, he had thought it was a fly and wondered what it was doing this high in the sky at this time of night, when, through the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of gold.
There.
Harry was still lazily circling the other side of the pitch, and Draco took his chance. He turned fully on the broom, careening to the side before peeling after the snitch with a whoosh.
Wind burned his ears with its biting teeth, but Draco was too focused on the little, hardly-visible ball in front of him to notice it. The snitch was a slippery thing, darting left and right and forcing Draco to have to make some quick manoeuvres in the small broom.
He wasn't ready when Harry came out from the top of the sky like a bolt of lightning, joining him in the chase.
Draco was quickly losing ground against Harry as the boy pulled ahead, metre by metre, inch by inch, until he was closer to the snitch by a whole broom length. Harry's arm outstretched in front of him, and Draco could only watch with a deep resignation and horror as his fist clamped over the twitchy wings of the ball into the palm of his hand.
"Shit!" Draco spewed against his better judgement.
He leaned back on the broom, causing the flimsy thing to halt perilously in the sky and would have sighed into his hands if they weren't clenching the broom in anger at himself. Harry swung around, his face blindingly bright with a smile in the dark.
Even in his state of stewing irritation at the fact that he had lost, seeing Harry happy that he had won was enough to loosen his annoyance just a little bit.
Only a bit.
"I can't believe I didn't get that! You were all the way on the other side of the pitch, how did you even get over here so fast?"
Harry smirked, tossing the snitch up in the air before catching it as it fell down again. "I don't know if you noticed, Draco, but we are on the other side of the pitch now. You managed to chase the snitch all the way to where I was already flying to you."
Draco blinked and peered around, his ire momentarily forgotten as he noticed that Harry was right; he had basically chased the thing right into Harry's hand.
"For next time—especially when you're in a match—always know where your opponent is."
Draco frowned. "But I'm not dictating where I'm going; the snitch is."
"You'd be surprised," Harry said with a mindless shrug.
His nonchalance reminded Draco that he had managed to lose, and his anger fired right back up again.
"This game was unfair—my broom's worse than yours."
Harry smiled with no small amount of exasperation. "Come on, just admit you lost."
Draco sneered. "Never."
"Fine, how about we switch brooms and try again?"
Draco narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before opening them and nodding after he saw that Harry was being serious."Okay. Best out of three. This time, I'm going to win."
Harry didn't bother to grace him with a response, instead, he smiled at him and flew down to the ground so they could switch brooms. Draco begrudgingly followed, hoping that the better broom—for that clearly must have been the problem—would help him win.
~*"*~
Switching brooms did not help.
Harry continued to beat Draco to the snitch game every game until Draco started to wonder how in the name of Merlin he was even on his quidditch team. Even Harry's assurances of him being the second best Seeker out there didn't help much to boost his steeply-falling confidence, although it definitely worked in making him blush.
Finally, after losing time and time again so much that the moon had moved to a completely different section in the dark sky, Draco caught the snitch.
When Harry let it go and he counted to ten, instead of zooming off like the previous attempts, Draco stayed where he was and let the snitch come to him.
Harry stayed near him as they searched through the inky black for the small glint of gold, but it was worth it to talk with him. Draco's eyes never strayed from where they were searching the pitch, though, even as the two leisurely conversed. Harry was too focused on the conversation to notice the snitch flying right near his ear. But Draco did.
He wasn't sure whether to just take a chance and go for it or to wait, risking the possibility of Harry winning again.
Draco decided to do a mix of both.
He flew slowly for a few seconds, biding his time for Harry to stop looking at him to search the pitch before shooting into action. Harry barely had time for his eyes to widen until Draco was hurtling towards him at a dizzying speed, hand outstretched and gaze locked on somewhere behind his right ear. By the time he got his bearings, Draco had already caught the snitch and won for the first time in the night.
"I got it!"
Harry didn't even look annoyed at the fact. Actually, he was beaming. "Other than the fact that it was absolutely terrifying to see you flying at me, you finally won!"
"Well, no need to sound so surprised by it," Draco said cheekily with a roll of his eyes, but no one could deny the grin on his face.
"Well..."
"Hey! I won didn't I?"
"Yes, after around five tries."
Draco shrugged, with a sharp glare at Harry. "Who's counting, right? Anyways, I think my nose is about to fall off from the cold wind up here, and I'm so exhausted that it won't even be the broom's fault if I fall to the ground. Take a break?"
Harry agreed with a very fervent sake of his head, lazily turning his broom to the earth as the two flew down together. Once Draco's feet neared the ground, he basically tilted his body sideways and plopped onto the ground in a tired heap, too fatigued to do much else but lay there, eyes blinking up at the sky dreamily.
Harry came and he too plopped right down next to him.
Draco closed his eyes, basking in the body heat emanating from Harry. For the first time in a while, he felt at peace. "I can't say I'm feeling that much better about winning the game anymore," he said idly, mind fuzzed over with the feeling of wanting to turn his head into the soft grass to sleep there. Harry hummed beside him.
"I wouldn't be so pessimistic—I don't think you give yourself enough credit."
"Hmh," was all he had to say back to that.
They laid together in silence.
This is what being calm must feel like, Draco thought to himself. What it means to be happy.
For Draco hadn't felt this sort of freeing feeling in a long time. He felt like someone had taken all his problems off his shoulders and chucked them into a river, and he watched as the current swept them away into nothingness.
He knew that the person who had done that was Harry—Harry was the only person to make him feel this way. The boy in question was lying beside him to his right, hands crossed over his stomach and eyes closed to the world.
Draco let himself stare.
A lone piece of his long hair fell into his eye as he moved his head to look at him, and he didn't bother to move it out of the way, lest it disturb the peace.
Harry's nose was sharp and angled, almost a perfect triangle except for the bump in the middle which obscured its shape. Draco loved it anyway. His cheekbones were high, but not honed like his nose. Instead, they were soft and red from the cold. Draco wanted to feel them. And his lips...they were the best part about Harry's face. (Except for maybe his eyes.) To anyone else, they might not have looked like much, but Draco loved the way Harry would purse them when he was thinking, how he scrunched his nose when he was confused, his eyebrows drawing in on themselves. He loved the dip in his top lip like someone had taken their finger and pushed down. Draco wanted to kiss him.
"I can feel your staring," Harry said, eyes still shut. His lips twitched up in the corner in a small form of amusement.
Draco couldn't stop if he tried.
When he didn't respond, Harry turned those beautiful eyes on him, something swimming in his gaze. He stopped when he saw Draco.
Draco didn't know what he looked like right now, but he assumed it would be quite a sight, hair an absolute mess and face awed like he had just seen an angel.
Harry looked like he had stopped breathing, mouth popping open in a soundless gasp. He also couldn't seem to stop staring at him.
Their lips were meeting before Draco could understand what was happening.
The two met in the middle, both leaning forward simultaneously, and Draco let his eyes flutter shut. He felt like he would never breathe air again. Harry's mouth was warm. Soft. Safe.
Draco leaned forward a little more. Their lips had locked together like magnets on opposite wavelengths. Like they had waited their whole life for somewhere to belong, and they had finally found each other.
The kiss was nowhere near perfect. It was messy, and Draco had no idea what he was doing—he was pretty sure Harry didn't either.
But yet, it was. And it was everything Draco had dreamed it would be.
He was the first one to pull away, mind scrambling to find purchase over what had just transpired. Over the fact that he had just kissed Harry, but more importantly, the fact that Harry had kissed him back.
He wasn't sure what to do with his hands—his first thought as he pulled away, and then the rest came rushing through like a cracked dam breaking, letting loose the floodgates.
Holy Merlin, mother of Morgana, and Circe's tits, I just kissed Harry Potter.
He couldn't quite grasp the thought.
Somehow, Harry appeared a lot less panicked, and a lot more serene. His mouth twisted into a smile.
"I've been wanting to do that for so long."
Draco blinked before finding that he had the sudden urge to laugh. It bubbled out of him, down from his stomach, up through his throat, and out his mouth. He couldn't help but grin. "You have no idea, Green Eyes. No idea."
Harry's brows furrowed in momentary confusion and he radiated amusement. "What?" He asked, and it sounded like he was about to laugh.
Draco's rambling and overbearing thoughts about what just happened came to a halt once he realised what he just said. He could physically feel his face pale then blush, based on the heat circling his cheeks. "Nothing," he remarked bashfully and had to turn away.
Harry must have noticed his evasiveness for he leaned in closer to him to playfully say, "I heard you just call me Green Eyes."
Draco turned back to stare at him. "You don't even want to know."
Harry grew more confused, and Draco sighed wistfully, splaying his arms out on the grass. He was admiring the stars as he spoke, and Harry, seeing that a story was coming, moved onto his side with his elbow on the ground as he faced Draco's side. He thought back to the very first time he had come out of the hospital wing with a certain sense of nostalgia twirling in his gut at the memory.
"I had literally just woken up and came out of the hospital wing having no idea where I was." His lips quirked when he remembered what had happened. "I had just walked out there, and I left poor Madam Pomfrey standing in the middle of the room wondering what had just occurred. You want to know what I said?" At Harry's encouraging look, he remarked, "I told her I was 'just going to go for a stroll around,' then had the nerve to say 'toodaloo' as I walked out."
Draco's face positively burned at the memory, remembering how he had gotten out of the bed and just left, when he didn't even know if he was healed. Beside him, Harry let out a snort mixed in with a chuckle, and he had to cover his mouth.
"You said toodaloo? Now I wish I had seen that."
"It's not my proudest moment looking back, but then I had just walked out and guess who I bump right into."
Harry's eyes widened. "That explains everything now. Merlin, I went to bed that night so confused. I don't think I slept at all."
Draco turned to him slightly aghast. "You couldn't sleep because I was acting weird?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," Harry grumbled.
"Wow. I didn't know you thought about me that much," Draco said—only half joking—with a grin.
Harry peered at him, suddenly serious. "I think about you every moment. In fact, it's widely unhealthy—I should probably stop."
Draco's breath left his throat. His next words were warped and filled with hope. "Can I kiss you again?"
Harry tilted forward with a shameless smile. "I thought you'd never ask."
Their mouths clashed again, this time soft and searching, and Draco felt like he was floating on a cloud that was drifting towards his sun.