Unforseen Alliance

Ron and Pansy sat in their den, chamber music playing softly in the background. Other then that and the tiny voices of the chess pieces, all was quiet in the residence.

"Check," said Ron quietly, after ordering his piece to its place.

Pansy glared at him and opened her mouth to respond when there was a soft knock on the door. She turned to direct her glare furiously at the house elf that was interrupting her quiet time with her husband.

"Tilla! What have I told you about disrupting between the hours of seven and ten?" she snapped.

Ron reached out and placed a calming hand on Pansy's. The elf fidgeted most annoyingly and Pansy gritted her teeth.

"Tilla is begging Mrs. Weasley's pardon, ma'am, but Tilla has been sent to get Mrs. Weasley, ma'am. Mr. Malfoy is in the fire and he is saying so, ma'am."

"What does that git want now," Ron complained.

"He is not saying Mr. Weasley, sir," replied the elf.

Pansy sighed and rose from her chair, leaning down to place a kiss on Ron's forehead. "I'll be right back, love."

Her husband nodded and she exited the room, her heels clicking on the stone floors as she followed the elf. They only kept one fireplace open for Floo and that was the one in the study, which was where she was going now.

Back in the den, Ron watched her leave before returning his gaze to the board, his mind drifting into a world of chess strategies and mappings. Therefore he didn't notice that Pansy was back until she cleared her throat and he looked up to find her seated in her chair again, ready to continue the game.

"So what did Ferret Face want?"

Pansy made a disapproving face. "Nothing, dear."

"Malfoy doesn't call for idle chit-chat. He wanted something."

Pansy mumbled something intelligible and ordered her piece to move, knowing there was no way she could beat her husband at the game of chess this time, despite the many times before when she had. Ron frowned at her and ordered his final play.

"Checkmate," he said, still frowning. "It just sounded like you said he wanted a fairy's headdress. What does that mean?"

"I said he wanted Harry's address," she corrected him, and shut her eyes, ready for his response. "Apparently he'd forgotten it."

"What? What does he want that for?"

"To visit him, or send a letter, or something vaguely resembling contact. I don't quite see how it's any of your business, Ronald Weasley," she snapped, not really feeling in the mood to deal with her husband's ranting.

"Not my business? Harry's my friend and you just gave that white-haired git the ability to drop in on him whenever he feels like it!"

Pansy smirked. "Ron, darling, you know that Draco hasn't been a git for ages. When are you going to sacrifice your pride and admit he's not that bad of a guy anymore?"

"Never," grumbled Ron, irritated.

"Right, I'm going to say one thing and then I'm going to go up and take my bath and I don't want to hear any ridiculous arguments to the contrary," she stated firmly, standing from her chair and heading towards the door. "Perhaps Harry would like Draco to drop in on him once in a while."

And with that she left the den leaving Ron quietly mulling over what she said, before shaking his head with a scrunched up face and leaving the room as well.

****

Harry awoke Saturday morning and immediately shuffled his way to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him like every morning.

The girls were awake already, as he could tell by the blaring volume of the television. To be honest, he was surprised they weren't still sleeping. The weekend before they'd been at Molly Weasley's and now they were spoiled with late sleeping and staying up all night. In fact, the night before they'd had a late-night movie party in which they had stayed up watching Disney movies until the early hours. Harry had drifted off at 12:30, somewhere near the beginning of Winnie the Pooh's Grand Adventure, which he hadn't really found all that grand. There was now, no doubt, a huge mess littering the floor, sleeping bags, blankets and pillows, along with scattered popcorn and movie boxes.

Harry groaned groggily as he exited the bathroom, made his way into the living room, and studied the scene that lay before him.

Yup, living room was definitely a mess, the girls were mesmerized by whatever was on TV but something didn't fit...There was something odd about it and Harry's sleep fogged mind was trying to decipher that...then it clicked.

Draco Malfoy was settled on the floor in front of the couch between Kimberly and Asia, Brittany settled on his lap, all of them surrounded by sleeping bags and blankets of purple and pink and pillows of the same colors. Cordelia was lounging behind them across the couch and Shakespeare and Plato were panting contentedly on a sleeping bag. Of course Draco would be the first to notice Harry's presence and the blond man smirked, taking in his appearance: severely bed-draggled hair, a pair of red-plaid pajama pants and a wrinkled white tee-shirt.

"Good morning, Potter!" he said in an overly cheerful tone.

"Gngh," Harry barely managed as he shuffled further into the room. "What are you doing here?"

"I had some things to do over at the shop and I thought I'd get them done this morning, instead of waiting until Monday, you know? I was heading over there and I thought I might as well stop over here and drop off those MCD's you wanted to borrow while I was at it. Of course when I showed up, you weren't awake yet, and the girls invited me in to watch cartoons and I just couldn't resist."

Harry blinked, his mind trying to register all that, and said nothing as Draco reached back and took the bowl of stale popcorn from Cordelia and took a handful before handing it back. The blond man swallowed and continued.

"I've been here for about two hours now. My roommates won't let me get a telly. I haven't watched Saturday morning cartoons since I lived in the States...I'd forgotten how violent they were." All of this he said with his eyes never leaving the TV.

Harry blinked again; still standing slightly shocked in the doorway to the living room.

Draco went on to state that the coyote that was constantly chasing 'that bird' vaguely reminded him of himself plotting against Harry. Had Harry been coherent, he probably would have laughed.

Instead he took a few more steps into the living room and collapsed into the unoccupied armchair. He was dimly aware of his state of dress, and the fact that he cared at all was slightly disturbing.

Finally he thought of something to say that made sense.

"Girls, what did I tell you about letting people into the flat when I'm not here?"

Asia veered her eyes away from the television long enough to look up at him in surprise. "But you were here, Dad, you were just sleeping," she stated matter-of-factly.

Harry had to agree that she had him there. He cursed himself for being out-smarted by a child, not for the first time.

"Then from now on, don't let anyone in unless I'm here and awake." He didn't mention that if someone did come to the door they should wake him up, because in all honesty he didn't really want to be woken up.

Draco turned to look at him, seeming mildly affronted. "You object to my presence?" he asked.

Harry sighed; it was too early in the morning (noon) to have a sense of humor. "Not yours, no. But what if it'd been some vicious psycho killer instead?"

"Vicious psycho killers don't knock, Dad," stated Cordelia from the couch, not looking away from the TV as she popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

"She has a point Harry," Draco offered.

Harry glared, but there was no menace in it. "Nobody asked you."

Draco shrugged and scooted over to make a spot between himself and Asia. He patted the carpet, eyes still glued to the TV. Harry debated for about a second before giving in and plopping down to watch TV, reaching back for a handful of stale popcorn from the bowl.

He ate a few pieces, decided that stale popcorn was very nasty, and on a whim, threw the rest of the pieces at Draco.

"Hey!" shouted the blond. He then high-jacked the bowl from Cordelia and proceeded to retaliate.

It soon progressed into an all out popcorn war. Draco, Brittany and Cordelia on one side of the couch, and Harry, Kimberly, and Asia on the other, with the couch cushions propped up around them for good measure.

Harry was beginning to wonder if he'd ever have an encounter with Draco that didn't include a food fight. This one was a bit more one sided then the last however due to the fact that Draco's side had the bowl of popcorn, and all Harry's side had was the bits they retrieved after being hit with them.

The war finally ended when Harry's side surrendered; a white sock tied to the remote control was waved.

However, when Harry went forth to shake hands with Draco, Draco proceeded to overturn the entire bowl (mostly containing seeds and butter-grease) onto Harry's head. Draco's team began dancing around the living room shouting things like 'We're unbeatable' and 'We will never surrender,' half of which was shouted by Brittany who didn't even understand what she was saying, and all of which was pretty ridiculous as it was quite obvious that they'd won anyway.

All the while, Harry was attempting not to seethe at his former enemy, who even after so many years, had not learned that gloating was not the way of being a 'good winner'.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco asked snickering and swinging an arm over Harry's shoulders.

"I need a shower," said Harry tonelessly. He watched as the girls once again became entranced by whatever it was that played on the television, still beaning each other with pieces of popped corn once and awhile.

"Yes. You smell like butter and you've got little seeds in your hair," agreed the blond, accentuating his point by plucking a small seed from Harry's now greasy hair. "The Snape-look suits you, Harry."

"Does not," said Harry scowling. "Besides, it's your fault."

Draco laughed and removed his arm, releasing Harry. "You're right," he said, then frowned. "I've got to get going, I really should have been at the shop by now."

"You're leaving?" Harry asked, and then realized how disappointed he sounded.

Pale eyebrows raised into Draco's hairline. "You want me to stay?"

"Erm... not exactly," Harry stuttered, wondering why on earth he was blushing like he was. "Only that I was about to make pancakes for the girls, and I thought you might want to stick around."

He had, of course, been planning no such thing.

"If you think there will be enough...I guess I could stay for breakfast," said Draco smiling cheerfully and plopping down on the couch next to Cordelia to continue watching cartoons. Plato leaped onto the couch and settled into the blond's lap.

Harry shook his head in bemusement and headed into the kitchen to start on the pancakes he had somehow talked himself into making for a reason he couldn't figure out. He sincerely hoped that he had all the ingredients.

A quick check of the cupboards and the fridge told him he did. Breakfast was interesting, if not a bit traumatic for Harry. The six of them sat around the wooden table munching on pancakes, chattering about various things. But then Cordelia spoke up.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she asked hesitantly.

"You can call me Draco," he said, smirking amusedly at her as he sipped on his pumpkin juice.

Cordelia blushed. "Okay...Draco. Melissa Flint told me that the Malfoys were really powerful dark wizards until the youngest heir turned into a que-"

"Cordelia!" Harry burst out, scandalized, thankfully cutting her off before she could finish. He glanced worriedly at Draco who, instead of looking angry or uncomfortable was staring calmly back at the young Slytherin.

"That's what she said!" Cordelia yelled at her father defensively. There was a pause in conversation.

"Queer?" asked Draco softly. Cordelia nodded, looking slightly ashamed. Which, Harry thought, glaring at her, she should be.

"I-is that you?" she asked, not meeting his eye. The other girls were all peering at Draco too, silently soaking in the conversation. Their facial expressions were not shocked and Harry guessed that they had probably discussed this amongst themselves already.

Draco nodded, smirking at the young girl. "It is. Except that I am no less powerful than I would have been, had I been attracted to women. Do you understand?"

Cordelia nodded again. She opened her mouth, probably to ask another question, but Harry cut her off.

"Why don't you four start on the dishes?"

The Potter girls groaned.

"But Dad, you can do them with magic!"

"No 'but dad's. You all need to learn a little responsibility. You can't rely on magic for everything."

"Truer words..." Draco put in with a sigh and stood up.

Harry walked him toward the door.

"I apologize for Delia, she should know better than to say things like that."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the closed front door lazily. "Don't, she was curious."

"Still, she should know better than to pry," said Harry earnestly.

"Okay, Dad," Draco shot back, smirking.

Harry pretended to ignore the prod and smiled. "Thank you for dropping by the MCD's. Though I probably won't get a chance to listen to them until after Hermione picks up the girls tomorrow."

"It was no problem. You more than made up for it with breakfast. I'll stop by sometime next week to pick them up, if that's alright?"

"Sure," said Harry, distinctly not meeting Draco's eye.

Draco smirked amusedly but didn't say anything. He stopped leaning against the door and opened it a crack.

"Go take a shower, Wonder Boy, you still smell like butter."

Harry snorted. "Don't call me Wonder Boy."

Draco smirked again and slipped out the door, leaving behind a slightly bemused, slightly confused, Harry Potter.

****

Harry's single-story flat was relatively simple, all of it covered with the same pale beige carpet, save the kitchen, which was laid with a similar tan-ish vinyl tile.

The entire room was decorated in various blues that never matched completely but enough so that it looked somewhat coordinated.

Harry was just settling into the couch on Sunday evening after the girls had been Flooed off home, contemplating putting one of Draco's Elton John MCD's into the player when the fireplace started rumbling in a way that indicated someone was about to Floo in.

He stood, facing it, wondering who could be coming to visit him at this time of day. He was, understandably, completely thrown when what looked like a rope fell onto the brick, un-lit fireplace. He was even more surprised when the 'rope' slithered out onto the living room carpet. This assisted him in realizing that it wasn't a rope at all, but a snake.

It came to a stop at his feet and rose up, beginning to hiss softly. Harry heard it loud and clear.

"Are you Harry Potter?"

"I am," Harry replied hesitantly back in Parseltongue.

"I come bearing you a message, Harry Potter," it hissed.

"From who?" Harry hissed back, completely baffled.

"That is classified information," it said firmly.

Harry frowned, becoming increasingly confused. "What message?"

"You are to give yourself up to my master without struggle, and nobody will be harmed."

"And how am I supposed to 'give myself up' if you can't tell me who it is I am giving myself up to?" he asked, frown deepening.

"I do not know, I come only to deliver the message. I do not answer questions."

"But-" Harry began, but it was too late, the snake disappeared with a pop, startling him enough to jump.

He was silent a long moment as he fell back onto the couch again with a flop.

"Huh..."

He was at a complete loss. He could make neither head nor tail of what the snake had meant. Give himself up? Of course it couldn't be Voldemort...the man was long dead. Yet who else would send a snake with a message? Who else would be able to speak with a snake in order to communicate the message? It simply didn't fit.

'And nobody will be harmed,' the snake had said. Surely his friends and family weren't in danger. Whoever it was, they couldn't be very intelligent if they'd sent a message to him to give himself up and hadn't told him to whom.

Perhaps it was just a prank, but even then, it had to have been someone with the ability to speak Parseltongue. It was nearly an extinct talent these days. In fact, the only person Harry knew of to have it other than himself was his own daughter, Kimberly. It had been quite a shock to him when he'd discovered her conversing with a garden snake in the backyard when she was four. Somehow he had managed to keep it secret from everyone except for her sisters...even Hermione didn't know.

Harry shut his eyes to consider it all, but soon he was fast asleep. He would wake the next morning with a crick in his neck, still worrying over what had happened.

****

The next day, as Harry sat at his desk, shuffling through the papers on broom stick regulations that Seamus had sent over for his approval, he contemplated telling Ron or Hermione about the incident. He really didn't want to work anybody up over it, especially if it turned out to be some stupid prank. However, his mind kept pushing for him to be safe, rather than sorry.

But he simply couldn't put the effort of thought into it, not with the moving of the World Cup Quidditch pitch in a couple days and also with the match itself to plan for. This would be the first time England had hosted the Cup since Harry's fourth year, and he planned on paying a bit more attention to it than Ludo Bagman had.

In the mind of Quidditch, he also had to do some practicing. The M.G.A.S. monthly Quidditch game was taking place that coming Saturday. Every month the Department of Magical Games and Sports held a Quidditch game. It was always a nice change from seeing the others in an office-centric atmosphere, and a good work out as almost all of them had played Quidditch at one point, but never really got the chance to play anymore.

Harry heaved a sigh as Nora clicked into the room in her high-heels and dropped another giant folder on his desk.

"The reports for the Quodpot teams from Jerry Hayes, Mr. Potter," she said giving him a cheerful smile.

"Oh, thanks," Harry stated, not without sarcasm.

With another sigh he pulled the folder toward him and flipped it open, scanning the contents.

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

Harry glanced up at his secretary. "A cup of tea would be nice, if you're not too busy."

Nora just smiled at him. "Of course I'm not. You hardly ever give me any work, I've got to do something," she chided him before disappearing out the door again.

Harry stared at the door with a frown on his face. Several times since the big dinner party at Ron's, Harry had contemplated why exactly it was that he hadn't dated anyone since Hermione. It wasn't as if he'd never had the opportunity, Seamus and Ron had attempted to goad him into asking Nora out, as well as a few other women around the office (which he didn't really think was a good idea; could make for a tricky situation if things turned out badly).

Ever since his discussion with Draco on the subject of dating he couldn't help but examine the matter further, trying to discern what it was that held him back from dating.

So far all he'd come up with was that he just wasn't interested, but that wasn't true precisely either. Harry couldn't count the number of times he'd wished there was somebody else there with him at the flat, or that he had somebody to share nights out with. No matter how badly he dreamed of it though, when it came down to going after what he wanted...he hesitated. Somehow it would just never seem right.

It seemed a great cycle of counter production, one that he really couldn't find the will to break. And perhaps, things had been the same so long that he really didn't want to change it. But then again, that could just be an excuse to take no action on the matter.

Harry snapped out of his musings when Nora returned with his tea. He smiled and thanked her, considered asking her to join him for a second and decided against it a second later, allowing her to walk out the door. A classic example.

He was beginning to realize that for as much as he loved the comfort of his life, things were beginning to settle down around him. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to settle down just yet.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, sipping the tea and turning to the Quodpot team reports. "'Mione was right. I can't be content to live a normal life."

What Harry didn't realize, was how not-normal his life was about to become.

****

The week seemed to creep by and the work seemed to bog him down more and more. On a last ditch attempt for sanity, Harry had dinner at Ron and Pansy's Friday night.

It was a nice change from the take-out he'd been having. Pansy was a perfectly wonderful hostess: a quality, Harry was surprised to find, that most Slytherin's prided themselves on. After dinner in the den, Pansy brought up a topic of conversation that had been hovering over all of them all night.

"So, Harry, Draco Flooed me the other day for your address; I do hope he got in touch with you?"

"Oh," said Harry, mildly shocked that Draco would go to all that trouble simply to lend him some MCD's. "Yeah, he stopped by last Saturday."

"Good," Pansy said cheerfully and Harry quirked an eyebrow. Pansy had an odd look in her eye...

"I know that look," said Ron, and Harry was amused to see he had a resigned look on his face. "Now what are you thinking and/or plotting?"

"Ronald Weasley, I am most certainly not plotting. How dare you accuse me of something like that," the woman exclaimed, looking offended, but Harry noted the twinkle in her eye.

Ron scowled. "If it involves Malfoy at all you can leave me out of it, you understand?"

Pansy sighed and opened her mouth to speak, Harry got there first.

"What do you have against him, Ron?" he said curiously.

"Harry, you've gone nutters. Remember? Luring us out of our dorms to get us in trouble in the middle of the night, pranking us non-stop, insulting us?"

Harry was amused. "He was an incessant little prat, wasn't he?"

"Of course he-Harry, why are you smiling?"

"Because I also seem to remember your current wife assisting him in quite a few of those pranks and insults. Not to mention the retaliation was just as bad, if not worse, in most cases."

Pansy grinned at him. "Oh thank you, Harry! You know I've been trying to get that point across for years and he is still over-flowing with hate for poor Draco."

Ron scowled, but he seemed quieted on the subject.

Harry had to fight not to snicker; despite what he'd just said, he highly doubted Draco would take kindly to being referred to as 'poor', in any sense of the word. He then realized that since his defense of Draco, Pansy was beaming at him unnervingly. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, wondering what the cause.

"Ah bugger," said Harry standing abruptly. "It's almost midnight, and I have the match early tomorrow afternoon. You know how I like to sleep."

"You're still doing the matches?" asked Ron, in a way that sounded as if he was jealous that Harry got to participate in a Quidditch game on a regular basis.

"Of course; it keeps me on my toes. Never thought I'd get stuck with a desk job..."

Ron stood as well, patting him on the shoulder. "Good luck, mate."

At the door Harry thanked him, bid goodbye to Pansy and waved at Marigold and Violet who were peaking down at them through the bars of the staircase. They waved back, not at all ashamed of their spying. Harry was surprised that neither of them were in Slytherin (instead both resided in Ravenclaw).

He made his way to his car and he was soon home and climbing into bed. He was exhausted, but finally the rest of the week and all the work he'd done could slip away and he was left with the prospect of a sporting Quidditch match the next day, and a weekend to relax.

****

Saturday morning, and Harry was running late. He skidded around the bend from the hallway into the kitchen, trying to buckle his arm guards and not spill coffee on his freshly-clean Quidditch robes simultaneously.

"Oi, Harry! Harry!" a voice called from the living room and Harry poked his head back through the kitchen door. Angelina Johnson's head was hovering in the fireplace. Angelina was a chaser on his team. The teams were divided into the bosses, and the underlings. It actually proved to work well as where the older team had more experience long-term wise, the younger team was usually fresh out of Hogwarts, and had been getting much more practice than the other.

Harry frowned, was he that late that he was holding up the game?

"Sorry, Angie, didn't see you there. What's up?"

Angelina sighed sadly. "It looks like we have to cancel the match, Harry."

"What!? Why ?"

"Shay's sick; apparently it's the flu. Poor guy can't even get out of bed. And you know we can't play without a keeper," she stated miserably; Angelina had always loved the monthly matches, though in the long run it was poor compensation for choosing not to play Quidditch professionally.

"Shit, bugger," Harry cursed, slamming his coffee cup down on the end table by the couch. "You're telling me you can't find anybody to fill in?"

"Not on this short of notice. The game is in fifteen minutes and nobody from the department wants to do it, as we've lost the last three months."

"What about somebody who's not in the department? Surely just a fill in wouldn't have to work for us..."

"You're the captain, Harry, not to mention the head of the department," she said with an amused smile.

"Brilliant, so the match isn't cancelled. I'll find someone to fill in for Seamus," Harry stated cheerfully.

"Good luck," Angelina said, still looking amused. "I'll let the others know. And hurry up, you're already late!"

With a laugh, her head disappeared from the fire. Harry frowned the minute she was gone.

Brilliant indeed. Nice work, Harry. You've got less than fifteen minutes to find someone to play keeper. How the hell are you going to do that?

Somebody knocked on his front door. Harry jumped visibly and went to open it. It was Draco.

I am the luckiest wizard on the planet, Harry thought

"Hello, Potter, just stopping to pick up-Why are you wearing Quidditch robes?"

He stood in the entryway, frowning at Harry's attire. Harry grinned at his luck, grabbing hold of Draco's arm and dragging him into the apartment.

"Do you know how to play keeper?"

"Erm...yes. I can play most positions. Not very good at playing chaser though..." he mused. "Why do you ask?"

"The M.G.A.S. monthly Quidditch game. Our Keeper's sick, and I have to find a replacement. You just happened to wander in at the right time."

"The wrong time you mean. Harry, I haven't played Quidditch in years. I can't do this," Draco refused shaking his head.

Harry frowned. "I'm not going to be able to find another replacement in fifteen minutes. You've got to do this." He paused, knowing he couldn't avoid saying it any longer. "Please?"

Instantly Draco's trademark smirk appeared. "Hmm...I suppose since you've begged me so, Potter, I could...for you," he added.

Flustered for some reason, Harry began to bustle them out the door. "We'd better go now, before we're any later. We'll find some robes for you at the pitch."

"Where is it?" asked Draco curiously as he and Harry exited the apartment. Harry just grinned.

****

"Bloody hell," the blond gaped, gazing around the gigantic stadium. "You get to play on the Cannon's pitch?"

"It is one of the advantages," said Harry, beaming proudly. "Come on, let's get you suited up."

He pulled Draco into the locker-room where the team was buzzing around looking panicked. When Harry entered they all turned to him with hopeful looks.

"Did you find anyone, Harry?" Angelina asked, approaching him. Then her eyes fell on Draco, standing next to him. She blinked, looking as if she were making sure she saw right the first time.

Also in the locker-room were the other four members of the team. There was George Weasley, one of their beaters, who headed the sect of broomstick regulations in collaboration with Seamus Finnigan. Cho Chang was there, she had taken a position as chaser since Harry had obviously gotten seeker, and also headed off the foreign liaisons sect of the department. Lee Jordan was present; he played their second beater, he worked their pitch regulation section and also worked as a go-between between their department and that of the Department of Planning and Development of Magical Establishments. And finally there was Jerry Hayes, their third chaser, a former Ravenclaw who had graduated a year after Harry and now headed the Quodpot segment of the department; Harry had always found him a rather odd bloke.

It hadn't occurred to Harry, until just now, that there was a serious lack of Slytherins on their team. He winced, hoping his decision wouldn't be questioned by the others.

"Erm, I'm sure most of you remember Draco Malfoy," Harry stated into the tension of the room. "He's agreed to play for us, due to Seamus' illness."

George was the first one to break the silence that followed that statement. "Brilliant, Harry! I'm surprised you found anyone on such short notice. Come on, Malfoy," he said cheerfully enough. "We'll go find you a uniform."

George steered Draco towards a room off to the side that held the extra uniforms and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Angelina was still looking shell-shocked.

"Harry..." she said quietly. "You're telling me you couldn't find anyone else?"

Harry frowned at her. "He's a friend of mine, Angie. He's nothing like he used to be...and he can play Keeper. You've seen him on broomstick; you can't deny he's got talent."

Angelina sighed. "Fine, fine. You're right of course," she said, giving him a weak smile. "Amazing how childhood rivalries will make you forget you're an adult in the blink of an eye."

Harry thought about that. It seemed that way to most everyone...everyone but him, in any case. He supposed he'd just had time to get used to the fact that Draco Malfoy wasn't as evil as the blond had always had everyone assume.

Harry took a deep breath and went to his locker, placing his gym bag with a fresh change of clothes into it. He unzipped the bag's side pocket, enchanted with a charm to make it large enough to fit his broom. He rummaged around for awhile before pulling out his favorite broom, he had quite a collection. He then waited for the team to gather round him as they always did.

Eventually they straggled over, Draco and George appearing last. Harry was pleased to see that they were being moderately civil, though he did catch that Draco was resisting the urge to sneer. Some things, like the Weasley-Malfoy rivalry, would never completely diminish.

They were all dressed in the Executive (as they called it) team uniforms; dark purple with shiny gold lettering. The Junior team would be wearing light purple, with silver lettering.

They all gazed at him with rapt attention and Harry went through his customary speech. Nothing new and nothing any other team captain hadn't done before. When he was finished the last thing he did was charm the back of Draco's shirt so it read 'Malfoy' and the team made their way onto the field in a neat line.

The stands held very few spectators spread out through the bleachers, mostly in the front rows of the boxes on eye level with the hoops, as seats were not a difficult thing to get in games such as these. Most of the seats were occupied by family of the team members and members of the Ministry from other departments.

Harry heard a faint but familiar 'Dad' and squinted up at the stands. He grinned and waved, seeing four small black-haired figures in a line in one of the boxes waving frantically. Next to them was a taller, brown-haired figure, Hermione. Harry was glad she'd brought the girls; it was nice to know they would be there to cheer him on.

The referee, a regular man whom Harry knew by acquaintance, blew the whistle for them to mount their brooms and he did so. He glanced around at his teammates to see that they did the same. Draco caught his eye and winked and he smiled back before the referee blew the whistle a second time, signaling them to take off.

The fourteen players took to the air in a blur of speed at the liftoff. Harry felt the familiar rush of adrenalin and he grinned, flying up higher above the pitch and watching the teams take their places on the field.

The referee released the balls and took to the air as well. The Bludgers zoomed off in opposite directions, each one circling a goal post and shooting off in haphazard directions. The Quaffle was caught immediately by one of the Junior teams Chasers and she tore off toward the Executive goal-hoops.

Harry ducked a Bludger and spun around to watch how Draco handled the position of Keeper. The announcer, none other than Ginny Creevey - freshly back from her honeymoon - kept a close commentary on the progression.

"GRIFFITH STREAKS TOWARD THE EXECUTIVE GOALS GUARDED BY...MERLIN'S BEARD! DRACO MALFOY, FORMER SLYTHERIN AND SEEKER, IS SITTING IN FOR SEAMUS FINNIGAN! LET'S SEE IF HE CAN LIVE UP TO SEAMUS' REPUTATION! OH AND HE'S CAUGHT IT! MALFOY CHUCKS THE QUAFFLE TO CHO CHANG AND THE EXECUTIVES HAVE THE BALL!"

Harry grinned. So far, so good; he took off to the other side of the field, his eyes darting over the expansive of pitch, always on guard for the snitch and keeping an ear out for the commentary simultaneously.

"CHANG PASSES TO JOHNSON, WHO PASSES UNDER GRIFFITH BACK TO CHANG AND THEIR AT THE HOOPS...OH! AND A BLUDGER HIT BY DENNIS CREEVEY DEFLECTS CHANG. THE JUNIOR'S DOUCET HAS THE QUAFFLE. EDDY DOUCET IS THE JUNIOR'S STAR CHASER AND BOY IS THAT EVER OBVIOUS BY THE WAY HE'S ZOOMING PAST THE EXEC'S DEFENSE!"

Groaning, Harry, went into a dive to bring himself a little below the playing activity. Doucet was the reason they'd lost the last three games, the boy was a natural Quidditch player, newly hired a little over three months ago. Harry constantly wondered why the boy hadn't gone on to play professionally. Of course, a lot of people had said the same thing about him.

"DOUCET FEINTS THE BALL TO THE RIGHT HOOP AND TOSSES IT THROUGH THE LEFT. SCORE FOR THE JUNIORS, TEN-NOTHING!"

Harry grumbled, as he flew up. Then he noticed the Junior's seeker, Miranda Grappelli, tailing him. She'd done that the last game too and it annoyed Harry.

Nothing like a little chase to start the game, he thought before taking off in a streak of loops, quick turns, and reverse directions. After about a minute he glanced back and sure enough the other seeker was hovering on the other side of the pitch, having gotten tired of the chase. Harry smirked, took off upward, and found himself hovering above the Executive's goal hoops.

"DOUCET PASSES TO GRIFFITH AND...BUT NO, HAYES INTERCEPTS AND THERE'S A CLEAR PATH TO THE JUNIOR HOOPS THANKS TO BRILLIANT BEATER WORK BY JORDAN AND WEASLEY. HE TOSSES...HE SCORES! WE'RE TIED AT TEN-TEN."

Harry cheered, drifted down a bit and caught Draco's eye, returning the wink from earlier. Draco smirked and nodded but his attention was on Doucet who was once again charging up the center of the pitch, flagged on either side by Griffith and the Junior's other Chaser, Joy Norman.

Harry swerved up and out of the way and as he did he saw it...the flickering of gold half-way across the pitch over Lee Jordan's head. A quick check told him that the other Seeker hadn't seen it...but she was closer. There was no way Harry would make it to the Snitch before her. With a sigh he took off toward the ground in the opposite direction in a blur.

"JOHNSON HAS THE QUAFFLE, DODGES A BLUDGER AND PASSES TO HAYES. HAYES IS AT THE HOOPS, HE SHOOTS, HE SCO-OH FOLKS THERE'S SOME SEEKER ACTION AT THE END OF THE PITCH! HARRY POTTER IS TAKING AN ASCENDING DIVE; HE MAY HAVE SEEN THE SNITCH! GRAPPELLI TAKES OFF AFTER HIM BUT SHE'S FAR BEHIND. MEANWHILE THE SCORE IS TWENTY-TEN TO THE EXEC'S AND POTTER PULLS A SPECTACULAR FEINT! BUT GRAPPELLI'S PULLED UP TOO AND SEEMS TO BE PERFECTLY FINE...NORMAN HAS THE QUAFFLE..."

Harry tuned out the commentary as he recovered from the dizziness that accompanies pulling up after a feint of that magnitude. Once he was sufficiently steady he glanced toward where he'd last seen the snitch, but it had flown off...not that he was surprised. He was content that he'd kept the other Seeker from it.

The game went on for some time, almost two hours. Harry saw the snitch twice and each time had to distract the other seeker, being too far away to actually catch it himself.

His team was up by twenty, the score being twenty-forty; what with both teams having such strong defense. It seemed that once Draco had gotten a feel for how Doucet worked he was having no problem deflecting his shots. In the mean time his Chasers were playing an excellent game. Therefore Harry was absolutely beaming when he floated over toward the Exec's goal hoops to see how the blond was doing.

"How are you holding up, Malfoy?"

"Just fine, Potter," Draco answered back as he watched George Weasley send a Bludger at Miranda Griffith, causing her to drop the ball and giving Cho the chance to intercept.

"Brilliant," Harry said and was about to fly off toward the other side when he heard Draco hiss his name.

"Potter! Potter, get it...get it, it's on my nose!"

Harry frowned and spun around, there, hovering...almost resting on Draco's nose was the snitch itself.

"Don't move," Harry hissed back, inching forward on his broom.

"I'm not stupid, Potter. Hurry up, I'm going to sneeze, the damned thing tickles!"

"Be patient," Harry snapped.

He took a sharp breath and his hand shot out, fisting around the snitch and unintentionally ramming straight into Draco's eye.

"Ah, fuck Potter!" yelped the blond, reaching up a hand to cover his eye. "You punched me!"

"Shit," Harry cursed almost apologetically, his hand still wrapped around the struggling snitch. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, hold up the snitch! We won!"

Harry blinked, and then a grin spread over his face as he held his hand up victoriously.

Ginny had seen and announced what it had appeared like to the entirety of the crowd; of course it had simply looked as if Harry was punching Draco in the eye. He waved his arm frantically with the snitch in it and slowly they all caught on.

"...SEEMS HARRY POTTER HAS JUST PUNCHED DRACO MALFOY IN THE EYE BUT...WAIT...HE'S WAVING HIS HAND AND...YES, THERE'S THE REFEREE'S WHISTLE! HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! THE EXECUTIVES WIN ONE-NINETY TO TWENTY!"

Harry's team exploded into cheers as they all rushed to the Executive's goal posts. He was enveloped in hugs and he laughed and accepted them all as the team landed. After a minute with the team, Harry made his way over to Draco, who standing slightly away from the group and poking at his eye with his fore-finger.

"Don't poke at it," Harry chided.

"It's going to bruise, I can feel it."

"Cho can heal it; she took a course in Medi-magic before she joined the department. I'll go get her in a minute. I am sorry though, I didn't mean to do that."

"Obviously," Draco drawled.

"I'll make it up to you," Harry blurted, then hoped he wouldn't regret it.

The blond brightened. "Does that mean I can punch you back?" he said in an overly cheerful tone.

Harry glared. "No...I was thinking more along the lines of a drink, but if you're going to be that way..."

"Oh honestly, Potter. It was a joke," said Draco, finally dropping his hand away from his eye which was indeed bruising. "Come on, Boy Wonder, buy me a drink."

"Alright...but don't call me that," Harry responded. He adjusted his glasses and turned around...

...And was bowled over by eight arms and four smaller bodies plowing into him.

He landed on his back with a thump and was assaulted by shouts of 'Dad!' and 'Way to go!' and Brittany piped up with 'Why did you punch Mr. Malfoy?' He laughed, sitting up as the girls crawled off of him.

"It was an accident. The snitch was on his nose."

The girls gazed at him with awestruck wonder that only children could manage as he recounted the events of his snitch catching. Draco stood behind him watching the scene with much amusement.

"That's so cool," exclaimed Cordelia, and Harry was glad to see she was not carrying around her usual moody demeanor.

Finally, Hermione approached, standing before them with her arms crossed over her chest and smiling softly at her children with their father.

"Good game, Harry," she said kindly.

"Thanks," Harry said, moving to get up. A pale hand appeared in front of his face and he took it automatically, allowing Draco to help him up. He brushed himself off and looked up at Hermione again.

She was frowning now though, and eyeing Draco suspiciously. Harry fidgeted.

"Oh, Hermione, I guess you remember Draco?"

The formidable woman's eyes flashed and her gaze never veered. "I remember him quite well," she said in clipped tones. "Malfoy."

"Granger," said Draco without thinking, his eyes narrowed at the woman in a way that Harry remembered not too fondly.

"It's Potter," Hermione corrected coolly.

"Right, my mistake," Draco drawled, and it sounded almost mocking.

Harry and the girls were standing out of the line of fire as the two gazes cut into one another. Harry wanted desperately to interrupt but he couldn't find the words. So he continued to be uneasy.

"I'm sure. Girls," she snapped and the girls knew the tone well enough to know to pay attention. "Say goodbye to your father, we have to get home."

She said it all without removing her narrowed gaze from Draco's.

"Bye, Daddy," they chorused one by one and went to their mother's side.

"It was nice to see you again, girls," Draco said kindly, snapping his gaze away from Hermione and letting it soften on Harry's daughters.

The four of them smiled weakly at him and nodded.

"Harry, weren't we about to go for a drink?" he continued sweetly.

"Erm, yes, right...well we should go shower first and then...um...that is, shower separately. Of course...yes. So we'll just go now," said Harry, squirming under Hermione's harsh gaze.

The woman Harry had once shared a bed with gave Draco one last hard glance and spun on her heel, striding off toward the exit with the girls running to keep up behind her.

Harry let out a huge breath. "That was awkward."

Draco snorted, beginning to walk toward the locker room, Harry following beside him. "I can't believe you were ever married to that bitch of a mud-"

Draco cut himself off looking almost ashamed. "Nevermind."

Harry was surprised to hear the old Draco in that tone. In the past two weeks he had begun to forget that Draco ever existed. But he supposed when pushed, it was in the man's mind set to revert back to his old ways.

"Don't worry about it," Harry dismissed, not wanting to dwell on it. "Let's just get cleaned up and get your eye healed."

****

It was almost two hours later that the two were seated at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron sipping their drinks. Draco's eye had been healed, and they'd both had their showers relatively separate save for the fact that they were communal showers and the entire time Harry had kept averting his eyes and Draco had found it all incredibly amusing. The reason it had taken so long for them to get to their celebration was due to the fact that the rest of the team kept inviting them to the victory party at Lee and George's every five seconds and they had to continually turn them down amidst back-patting and hand shaking. Harry was extremely glad to be away from the chaos that followed most Quidditch games.

"Thanks," said Harry as he set down his mead on the bar counter. "For playing I mean; we wouldn't have been able to play if it wasn't for you."

Draco shrugged. "You're welcome. It was nice to play again. It's been a long time."

Harry nodded. "And I'm sorry for-"

"Potter, let it go. I know it was an accident. I forgave you, now quit bringing it up...I'd like to forget about it."

"Oh, right, sorry," said Harry uneasily.

Draco rolled his eyes exasperatedly and turned an unblinking gaze on Harry. "Honestly, Potter. What the hell do you keep fidgeting about? You look like a school girl."

Harry stared at the table. "Um...nothing?"

The blond snorted and turned back to his drink. "Alright, fine."

Silence reigned again and Harry felt distinctly miserable for a reason he couldn't determine.

"Um, I'm sorry about Hermione," he ventured.

"Don't worry about it, Potter. Like I said, I'm trying to forget about all that. So if you don't mind please try to refrain from bringing it up."

"Since you're begging me like that, I guess," Harry said with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Draco quirked a smile and looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. "You sure are something, Potter."

"Um...thanks?"

"So, what was that you stuttering about separate showers to your ex-wife?" asked Draco with a distinct hint of humor to his voice.

"I-erm," Harry's voice squeaked and he cleared his throat, staring directly into his drink. "I thought you wanted to forget about all that."

Draco laughed and patted Harry on the back. "Like I said, Harry, you sure are something."

Harry heaved a sigh and downed his drink in one gulp.

"Unfortunately, I've got to get home."

Harry turned to look at the blond as he stood, setting the money on the counter for his drink.

Harry stared at the money on the bar top. "I thought I was paying?"

Draco smirked and picked up his money, placing it back in his pocket. "If you insist on being the gentleman...I guess I can't complain."

"I guess I'll see you around, then?" Harry blurted and berated himself for how innocently hopeful it sounded.

"Of course you will, Potter," Draco said, stepping away from the bar. "You've befriended me now. You'll never get rid of me."

Harry laughed and turned around to watch the white-blond head disappear out the door to Muggle London.

Then he turned back around, and ordered another drink. He felt like he needed it.