lokifan: black Converse against a black background (Default)
[personal profile] lokifan
Part three, and the wordcount's jumped!

Title: The Third Day of Christmas
Warnings: none
Summary: Another gift, a game of Quidditch, and a confused Draco.
Disclaimer: Not mine, although I think I’m sometimes nicer to them than JKR is.
A/N: any suggestions for better titles will be gratefully received.

Part One
Part Two


27th December

Malfoy,

You were always a good opponent – off the pitch as well as on. It’s a shame our last time flying together isn’t the best of memories. Care to change that? You and me, one on one.

- HP


It was a Snitch.

Draco stared down at the little golden ball in his palm, watching the silver wings twitch and flutter as if it was itching to be flying. He felt as if it were catching, that sudden restless desire to be up, hurtling through the air and feeling the wind burn his cheeks. And Potter was offering a one-on-one game, a chance to finally beat him. Draco grinned fiercely at the thought of it, his fingers closing around the tiny ball and knowing victory at last.

But why would Potter do this? Since they’d both returned to Hogwarts in September, the two had studiously avoided each other. Their blistering hatred might have faded a bit, but only because it was muted under the hideous embarrassment of having saved each other’s lives. How was that any basis for a friendship?

And why now? Why this sudden burning desire for his company? Draco hadn’t done much to change Potter’s opinion of him. Maybe he was just lonely. Draco snickered to himself.

Still, why would he want to spend time with Draco? The wand was rightfully his anyway. Draco had been far too busy devouring the book to wonder about Magical Mechanics. This gift, though, this was something that needed dealing with. What the hell was Potter hoping to get out of flying with Draco?

Suddenly filled with righteous indignation, Draco headed for the Gryffindor common room still clutching the Snitch. He wanted an explanation, and he was going to have one.

The Fat Lady looked at him askance, and Draco withered a little under her glower, remembering telling her high-handedly that Headmaster Snape wanted him to be allowed in. He found himself looking at his shoes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked magnificently. “You’re the boy who – ”

“Yes, yes,” Draco muttered. Then he realised that he was cringing before a portrait. He looked up with a scowl. “Let me in! I want to talk to Potter.”

The Fat Lady and Draco eyed each other for a silent moment. Then she opened her lipsticked mouth and screamed, “intruder!”

“What?” Draco yelled over her continuing screeches. “What? I wasn’t – ”

The door swung open, and Draco was confronted with a pride of glowering Gryffindors, all with wands out and hexes ready. He was damned if he was going to be intimidated by anyone after facing the Dark Lord’s anger, though, so he picked the littlest one and gave him an acid glare.

“I want to talk to Harry Potter.”

Draco’s scowl apparently convinced the third year that the Chosen One was best equipped to deal with Draco; he scampered off. The others stayed, giving Draco deeply suspicious stares, which he returned with interest.

Potter’s voice rose above the mutter of the other Gryffindors. “Malfoy? What is it?” He came forward, pushing in front of the suspicious students to give Draco a friendly look. “Come on in.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, and then decided that if Potter thought he was going to be scared by the idea of being a lone Slytherin in the Tower he had another think coming. He clambered in through the portrait hole and followed Potter to the fireside, where the other seventh-year Gryffindors were sitting. Potter’s two minions gave both him and Draco an odd look, but the blond wasn’t paying attention.

“So?” Potter said. “What did you want to talk to me about? You want to play?” He smiled hopefully.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell did you send me the Snitch, Potter? That’s not – you can’t just do that! It wasn’t just returning something, or being friendly! You said you wanted to play Quidditch!”

“I do. You’re a good player.”

“Compliments now?!” Draco nearly yelled. “What the hell are you trying to pull?”

Potter seemed to be trying not to laugh. His whole demeanor was so calm that Draco felt rather uncomfortable. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Annoyance, rage, contempt, none of that would have wrong-footed him. This, however...

“Nothing, Malfoy. I just wanted to know if you wanted to play me with your new Snitch.” Draco saw no signs of mockery in his face. “You want a game?”

Draco’s mouth didn’t consult his brain. “Sure.”

Potter smiled widely. “Great. I’ll get my Firebolt.”

Potter’s Mudblood friend got up abruptly from where she’d been curled around Weasley. “Harry!”

“What?”

She looked between Draco and Potter, and Draco thought he saw a brief gleam of understanding in her eyes before she flopped back down with a huff. Potter looked at Weasley. He was glaring, but acquiescent. “Yeah, yeah, good will to all men and all that,” he muttered, though the look he gave Draco suggested anything but. Potter beamed, and pounded up to the dorm to grab his broom.

In a few minutes, Draco had his Accio-ed broom over his shoulder and the two boys were heading to the pitch. It was cold outside, and Draco shivered as they emerged from the warmth of Hogwarts. Potter gave him a sidelong look. Draco put his nose in the air and Accio-ed his cloak and Quidditch gloves with all possible hauteur.

Frost crunched under their feet as Draco and Potter headed for the pitch. Once there, they gave each other a measuring look and mounted their brooms. The amiable, if slightly uncomfortable, atmosphere was instantly replaced by crackling tension.

Draco released the Snitch.

And they’re off! Draco kicked off with a yell, his stomach swooping. Potter yelled too, and they shared a look of ecstasy at being in the air. The Snitch had vanished, but neither boy was too bothered. They instantly launched into a round of aerial acrobatics, swooping and diving, tensing muscles and shouting taunts as they tried to outdo each other.

“Let’s see you match this!” Potter yelled, and launched himself straight down. He stopped himself inches from the glittering ground in a beautiful Wronski Feint, and flew back up to give Draco a smug look. His hair was even more windblown than usual, and his arms looked strong as they gripped the broom.

Where did that thought come from?

Draco gave him a Look and turned, searching for a flash of gold. This was a deliberately prolonged game, and he was surprised by the lack of anger in their usual competition – but he was still determined to win.

Draco suddenly jack-knifed, managing to do a very tidy somersault. Right way up again, he turned, pink-faced and beaming, to Potter. “That’s what gets the girls!” He was rather unnerved by Potter’s stare. Draco wondered irritably if he was even listening – his green eyes were intent, but –

Gold! Draco went after the Snitch in a flash, going flat on his broom as he chased the golden glint. He gave a whoop of joy at his head-start, and heard Potter growl with irritation. “I’ll get it, Malfoy, and you too!”

Draco wasn’t listening. He was gaining on the ball now, but Potter’s broom was faster. Come on – come on –

“YES!”

His fingers closed around the ball, and the thrill of victory shocked through his chest. He’d won! Draco had finally beaten Potter – been first to the Snitch, for the first time ever.

“Yes! Yes!” he crowed, doing a little victory lap around Potter, who was sitting with his arms folded on his broom. “I did it! Ha, Potter! You LOSE!”

“Yeah, fine,” Potter said with some irritation. “You wanna land now?”

They landed together, and put their brooms over their shoulders as they headed back towards the school. Draco’s gleeful grin had not lessened a bit. Potter glanced at him, and smiled a little. Obviously he was going to be a gracious loser. Well Draco wasn’t going to allow that.

“You lost, Potter! What will all your Gryffindor groupies say now, huh? They’ll say, ‘he lost’ and they’ll be my groupies and – ”

Potter was laughing! Draco frowned at him. He’d been expecting gritted teeth and clenched fists. “You’re not even annoyed,” he whined. “It’s no fun if you’re not annoyed.”

Potter laughed, the warm chuckle seeming to roll over every inch of Draco’s skin. “That’s because you’re not being mean,” he said. “I think you’re losing your touch, Malfoy.”

“Who’s losing their touch?” Draco said indignantly. “You lost the game! And who won? Me, me, me!” They were nearly at the foot of the great stone steps leading up to the Great Hall. Draco looked at them, then at Potter.

And he leapt for the stairs, running up them at top speed and bursting through the heavy doors before Potter came close.

He followed Draco in at a more relaxed pace, laughing. “You are so manically competitive, Malfoy.”

Draco snorted. “Right. And you aren’t competitive at all.”

“OK, you’ve got me there. But I am nowhere near as obsessive as you.”

“You are too!” Draco protested, not realising how childish he sounded until Potter laughed again. He was really starting to like that sound. He glared anyway, unleashing an acidic look that only made Potter laugh harder.

“Calm down, Draco.” He stepped closer, and Draco’s heart hammered in his chest. He stared at the other boy wide-eyed, not understanding why he felt so wrong-footed by the simple concept of Potter standing close to him.

“Draco,”he said quietly, those bright green eyes fixed on Draco’s grey ones. “You know what?”

“What?”

Potter’s smile split into a wicked grin. “Your hair’s a mess.”

“What!” Draco clawed at his hair. Bloody hell, no gel, he’d forgotten! “You bastard, Potter!”

Potter laughed again, his eyes showing brief tenderness. “See you soon, Malfoy.”

TBC


joomla visitor

If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting

Profile

lokifan: black Converse against a black background (Default)
lokifan

December 2024

S M T W T F S
123 4567
8910 11 121314
15161718 19 2021
22232425262728
293031    

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags