Puddle-Wonderful

Author notes: This will be Harry/Draco slash, but there are other pairings during the story, both het and slash. This story starts at the end of the sixth year, which was all quiet on the Voldemort front. We follow canon up until the end of Order of the Phoenix. This is a WiP but we have a huge amount written to date, and chapters will be posted regularly. -S&R

Chapter One: Chicken Little, the Sky is Falling In.

*

There was something convoluting about the pattern the weather had taken on. The clouds would twist and coil around each other like they were competing for the best Wronski Feint, and then the rain would pitch in, pelting the pitch with big, fat, freezing drops.

That had been the first sign that something was wrong, and it had been going on for weeks now, right through April, when everyone expected rain, and down on past May, shivering its way up into June, and by the time the end of the school year rolled towards them, the students of Hogwarts were thoroughly fed up.

"Summer's going to be miserable if we don't get at least some sun!" Ron moaned, as he sat staring bleakly out of the window, watching the lawns becoming drenched yet again. "What's the point in a break if we're all going to be trapped inside? Mum will make us do chores every single day, I bet."

Hermione looked up from her homework, and sighed. She'd had to listen to the same line of thought for the past two months now, and she'd just about had enough. If it wasn't complaints about tramping through Hogsmeade, getting soggy and downright miserable, it was persistent moaning about how quidditch had finally been cancelled until everything dried out a bit.

"You could use your time wisely and spend the holidays doing revision," she told him sharply. "It is our final year when we come back."

Ron rolled his eyes; he wasn't the only one who could beat a subject to death. "I know, Hermione. You've only reminded me a hundred times."

"Your education is important," Hermione said, and sniffed before glancing back down at her work, neatly writing on her scroll.

Ron rolled his eyes, even though she was no longer looking in his direction. However much he loved her -not that he'd ever admit that- Hermione had a way of getting underneath his skin, like a little burrowing insect, laying her little homework eggs until they hatched into a full-on guilt trip.

"Oh for...!" Ron snatched up his quill and forcefully turned the pages in his textbook until he reached the potion they were currently working on in class -a particularly foul concoction that claimed to cure boils on certain private body parts-, and he began to take notes.

Much to Hermione's satisfaction. Not that she let on, of course, other than the huge smug smile now gracing her face. Even she knew when Ron had reached his limit.

Just as they finally settled down, Ron's sighs of protest decreasing to once every three minutes, the door of the library burst open, and a very happy, very wet Harry Potter raced in, looked around for his friends, and ran over to their table.

"Quick, Ron! Dean's managed to convince enough people to play a friendly outside. You coming?!"

Hermione pulled her books away from Harry's drip-dripping, and gave him what she hoped was her Very Worst Glare.

"You have got to be kidding me?" she asked, knowing full-well the answer. "You're going to drown out there. Not to mention the brooms will be slippery so you'll have a hard time keeping grip--"

"Oh, we know all about gripping slippery brooms, don't we Ron?" Harry said, and then collapsed into a ball of shaking, wet laughter.

It took Ron a moment to catch on, then he too was doubled over laughing.

"Honestly! How old are you two?" Hermione chastised, but even as she spoke, she felt the smile tugging at her lips.

Recovering himself, Ron gave her a pleading look. "Please, Hermione. I've been in here every day this week and I need to go and do something that isn't studying."

Hermione sighed. She wasn't completely immune to Ron's pleas. "Alright, fine," she said, and began shoving books and parchment into her bag.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked faintly, exchanged a nervous look with Harry.

Hermione closed her bag and then stood up, pushing her hair behind her ear. "What do you think? I'm coming with you." She paused, noting their looks. "Someone with a fairly extensive knowledge of healing spells has to be out there," she told them, and then with a cocky smile, waltzed out of the library, leaving Harry and Ron running to catch up.

*

Not only was it raining, but it was windy too. And not any wind - no, that would be too easy. The winds were fierce, and biting, slapping the cheeks of all of the quickly-assembled players as they shifted from foot-to-foot, trying to keep warm as the teams were called.

Hermione huddled under a large golfing umbrella charmed to hold against the winds, looking thoroughly miserable. Next to her sat Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Colin Creevey with his infernal camera - all of whom were just as bored at watching the players milling around as she was.

Hermione squinted through the rain as a couple of figures fought their way across the pitch. She raised her omnioculars and peered through them, pursing her lips when the instantly recognisable Draco Malfoy came into view, Pansy Parkinson struggling along behind him with her own umbrella.

Down on the pitch, Ron groaned as he spotted the figures around the same time as Hermione did. "I am not playing against that prat!" he declared, pointing.

All of the other players turned, watching with interest as if on cue, Draco skidded in the slick mud of the pitch, and grabbed hold of Pansy's arm, letting out a rather high, undignified squeak as he almost pulled her down.

Obviously she was stronger than she looked, and Pansy managed to right them both again, with as little drama as she could possibly hope for, and patted Draco's hand before extracting it from her arm. "Good luck, Draco!" she called to him, the wind taking her voice, and throwing it towards the stands, and she traipsed after it, ignoring the others in favour of sitting on the edge of the Slytherin benches.

"Good day," Draco told the players as he finally stopped in front of them, his chin tilted upwards, trying to look like he hadn't just almost done the splits in the middle of the field with everyone watching.

Ron scowled, and stamped his feet a little; he could barely feel them anymore. "Teams have all-but been picked, Malfoy," he said. "Sorry. Such a shame when you've come all this way out here."

Draco scowled. "Get lost, Weasel. It was Blaise's idea to hold the match in the first place, and he's my friend so I can play. Right Blaise?"

Harry rolled his eyes, glancing back at Ginny as she cast a charm on his glasses to keep the rain off, and gave her a smile before looking curiously back over at Draco.

"Uhm...sure, Draco. Whatever you say." Blaise looked a little sheepish, and shrugged his shoulder.

Harry almost felt sorry for him.

"That's settled then," Draco said. "I will be seeker for Blaise's team."

"No you won't! That's the team I'm on, and Ginny's our Seeker!" Ron roared at him.

Harry watched as Ron's fists balled at his sides, and he sighed before moving over to him, touching his arm.

"Ron, leave it," he told him. "It's not worth it. I'll play another position and Malfoy and Ginny can be Seekers."

"You will not!" Ron told him, his face turning a little bit pinker, although Harry wasn't certain whether it was from his annoyance with Draco, or just the cold of the wind.

"It's no big deal," Harry continued, rolling his eyes when a few people groaned. "I'd like to play in another position anyway. There's a Chaser spot free, so I'll play that."

Draco scowled, folding his arms. "I will not play on your team, Potter. Or for that matter, on a team with a Weasley."

A few more people groaned that time.

"Oh come on, Malfoy. You're going to be Seeker so just leave it at that. Count yourself lucky you're not on the same team as both me and Ron!"

Draco narrowed his eyes but didn't protest any further, which Harry took as a good sign, so he mounted his broom and kicked off into the air, shouting below for everyone to join him. He wasn't sure when he'd become the person in charge of the game, but he supposed it didn't matter as long as they got on with it.

Draco continued pouting as he climbed onto his own broom, and flew up to his position high above the pitch. It was even windier up there, and he battled to keep his broom straight, his thigh muscles straining around the wood as he leaned low against it to try and decrease the resistance.

"Ready?!" Michael Corner yelled from down on the ground, shouting through a megaphone. "AND PLAY!"

He blew a whistle, and Draco watched lazily as the players below him beat their way through the pockets of wind, occasionally carried off-course before they managed to regain control. His gaze automatically moved down to pick out Harry amongst the other flashes of red and gold, and he watched as he easily manipulated his broom, seamlessly dancing around the other players as he used the tail end of his broom to whack the quaffle towards the goal, punching the air with his fist as he got it past Weasley.

Not that it wasn't easy or anything - everyone knew Weasley was at best a nervous, awkward player. It was like he'd decided to go through the first sprouts of puberty again just for the hell of it.

Still, it made Draco laugh, and he decided that was all that mattered, as he lifted his gaze and looked across the pitch, meeting the poisonous glare of the Weaselette who had been watching his every practiced move.

*

Hermione had never been a huge fan of Quidditch, and as she stood under the large golf umbrella, rain and wind slapping against her face, she truly began to despise it. Pulling an arm tightly around herself, she lifted her omnioculars to try to get a better view of what was going on. The two teams seemed to be battling for the quaffle as Harry grabbed it off Dean then went to pass it towards Blaise, cursing when Seamus grabbed it out of the air. Hermione felt vaguely dizzy just watching them so she quickly pulled her gaze away and moved it higher into the sky where she saw Ginny glaring at Draco, both circling around the pitch. From the side she could hear Colin crying out a cheer for Harry, and Hermione had to assume he must have gotten the quaffle once more.

Up in the sky, fighting against a strong gust, Ginny flew up alongside Draco as she looked down on the teams, eyes sweeping the field for the snitch.

"I don't know why you're laughing, it looks like your team can't even hold onto the quaffle," she spat, shooting him a nasty look. Draco only rolled his eyes and laughed at that, turning his broom and lifting a brow.

"Yes, well, what do you expect when Potter is on the team? Surprised we haven't all been struck by lighting due to his very presence." He scoffed as he tilted his head up. It was in that moment he saw a flash of gold amongst the clouds that had nothing to do with the storm going on around them. "But it seems soon it won't matter the score." With that he pressed himself low on his broom and shot off into the sky, racing towards the occasional flash of gold that was muted by the constant dreary downpour.

Without even looking he could feel the Weaslette's confusion before she darted after him. It didn't take a genius to figure out she was too far behind him to make up the distance even on the fastest racing broom. A smirk graced his lips; he was going to win this with ease. Narrowing his eyes he watched as the snitch veered off to the side and he quickly followed after it; he wasn't about to let some stupid little Weasley girl catch it just because it decided to evade him. Suddenly Draco could hear screams carrying Harry's name on the wind, and he let out a snort, wondering what kind of crap Potter had gotten himself into now. He decided he'd find out soon enough; just as soon as he got the snitch. Reaching out an arm, he stretched out for it, one hand gripping the wet wood beneath his fingers tightly, the wings of the snitch just grazing the fingers of his other hand. It was so close he could almost feel the swell of victory begin to rise in his gut.

There was a wave of screams in the distance and one high pitched above all the others, carrying Draco's name to his ears.

Before he could even register what was going on, a hard and heavy weight smashing against his side; flashes of black, red and wood, the feel of bone and flesh and the tangle of limbs, then the rush of falling, ice cold winds whipping at his skin.

With a loud thump and a crack, voices yelling in the far off distance, everything went black.

*

When he opened his eyes next, everything seemed blurry. Sitting up in bed he rubbed at his eyes, wondering what was going on and how he possibly got there when the last thing he remembered was flying through the air on his broom. It only took a moment to register he was quite familiar with the off-white sheets and the metal frame of the hospital wing. Reaching out a hand to the stand at his side, he grabbed his glasses and slid them on his nose, the world finally coming into focus.

Harry looked around himself as though searching for any clues as to what was wrong with him and couldn't find anything particularly life altering, assuming Madame Pomfrey must have already taken care of it.

"You are a moron and I never want to have the displeasure of being on a team with you ever again," said a drawling voice coming from his left. Turning his head, Harry spotted Draco Malfoy laid out along one of the other beds, his hair mussed and wet, face paler than usual, which Harry felt had to be quite a feat.

"What are you whining on about now? Nothing happened because I was on your team. It happened because you weren't paying attention," Harry retorted.

With a raised brow, Draco sent him a look that clearly read 'I wish you would die'. "It happened because you are an accident waiting to happen. Honestly, Potter, between you and Longbottom I'm surprised the Gryffindors are still in existence. I was doing just as I was supposed to: chasing the snitch."

Harry rolled his eyes and sat back against the headboard, letting out a huff. "Please, I was dodging a bludger and you came racing out of nowhere and smacked against me! And why are you lying down like that?"

"Because you broke my bloody leg you prat!" Draco growled, looking completely unimpressed with Harry's presence. "It's healing so I have to be stuck like this in this god forsaken hospital wing listening to the likes of you yap on about your lack of co-ordination whilst trying to blame it on me!"

Harry gaped in disbelief. "Blame it on you? It's your fault! If you had half a brain you would have been watching where you were flying!"

"That means you have less than half a brain then, does it? Because if I recall, you're the one that ploughed into my side! You couldn't move your broom in a different direction?" Draco scowled at him, doing his best to stick his nose in the air despite lying down.

"No! I couldn't have but you could have, I'm sure!" With a huff Harry crossed his arms over his chest, wincing a bit at the pain in his back from the movement. "How far did we fall anyway?"

"Do I look like a measuring charm to you?" Draco shot him a nasty glare before turning his gaze back to the ceiling.

Snorting, Harry shook his head. "No, you look like a stuck up git with a broken leg."

"Shut up, Potter!"

For once Harry decided to listen, mainly for the reason that he didn't particularly feel like going over the details of what was obviously Draco's fault to begin with. Harry let his mind wander back to the game, trying to figure out exactly what had been going on at the time of the crash, but found all the memories a jumble, as though some one had stuck them in a blender and hit the on switch. He realised it would do him no good to try to think on it now, when a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Did we win?" he asked aloud, turning his gaze back to Draco.

"How the hell should I know? Do I look like a seer?" Draco scoffed and then shifted his head, looking in the other direction, obviously indicating the end of the conversation.

With a roll of his eyes, Harry shifted down in bed to lie out. He'd have to wait for Madame Pomfrey so that he could leave, and he had to wait for his friends so he would finally know the truth about what happened. As he glanced over at Draco he had a bad feeling that this was going to be a very long wait.

*

Draco ignored Harry for a very long time. So long in fact, he wondered if Harry had fallen asleep without him to entertain him with his repertoire of witty anecdotes and timely insults against every possible annoying Gryffindor at Hogwarts. Which, on closer examination, encompassed everyone. Draco folded his arms across his chest, and glanced over at him, glaring at the tuft of black hair poking up over the covers.

Stupid fucking Potter. Who the hell did he think he was? Just because he managed not to get killed did not make him anyone special. And it certainly did not mean that he got to blame him, Draco Malfoy, of all people, for his short-comings.

"Potter."

Draco frowned when there was no response. It simply wouldn't do. Granted, The Boy Who Lived had been brought up by Muggles, but didn't even they teach manners to their young?

Draco thought back to the most notorious example of a Muggle-born he could possibly think of -Granger- and tilted his head as he considered her history of manners. She was certainly far more polite than the Weasel, but then that wasn't hard. Draco had met flobberworms who had better manners than the Weasleys.

"Potter!" he hissed, a little louder, and Harry rolled over, grunting.

"Oh for the love of Merlin...POTTER!"

Harry grunted again, and rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses, before finally opening them. He stared at Draco for a long moment, as if he figured maybe he was still having a nightmare, and then he blinked, and finally managed to sit up.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked, sounding tired.

Draco considered this. It was a valid question, but there were so many possible answers. He wanted fame. He wanted more money than he already had. He wanted the latest broom that mother had said may be a possibility depending on his grades by the end of the year. He wanted to get off with someone at the traditional end-of-year Slytherin party. Oh, and he wanted to piss Harry Potter off until he turned that delicious shade of purple and looked like he was about to pop.

"Oh...you know..." Draco lifted a hand and fanned his fingers out, examining the nails. "Nothing."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him - Draco could feel it, and allowed a tiny smirk to grace his lips.

"Malfoy," Harry replied, his voice dangerously low. "Did you just wake me up for absolutely no reason?"

"Well no...I wouldn't exactly put it like that."

"Then how the hell would you put it?!"

Draco dropped his hand, and looked over at Harry, sighing; not quite purple yet, but getting there. It was almost like squeezing a spot - you had to wait until it was good and ripe and then you just squeezed until it went--

"What the hell is he doing in here?!"

Draco sighed, looking towards the door as Potter's little chums traipsed in like little lost sheep without their shepherd to guide them.

"Organizing a Death Eater raid, Weasel, what do you think?" Draco said, rolling his eyes, then very pointedly turned his back on them, closing his eyes in the pretence of sleep.

*

Harry decided to ignore Draco, considering it best in these situations. He felt that maybe Slytherins worked similar to velociraptors, and if he stayed very still, and very quiet, then Draco wouldn't be able to tell he was still there.

Ron glared in Draco's general direction, then hurried to Harry's side, Hermione catching the door to the hospital wing just before it slammed closed, following Ron to the bed.

"How you doing, mate?" Ron asked, looking concerned. "That was a nasty fall."

Harry shrugged. "Madame Pomfrey gave me a pain potion and mended the broken bones, so I guess I just have to wait for her to give me the all-clear before I can go."

"Oh Harry..." Hermione gingerly sat down on the end of his bed, as if she was scared she was going to do him an injury if she got too close. "It looked awful. I saw everything through the omnioculars."

Draco snorted and rolled back over. "Oh hello, Granger. Come to join the Potter Cheerleading Squad as well, have you? What's your latest cheer?" Draco paused in thought, and then grinned wickedly. "Give me a T! Give me a W! Give me an A! Give me another T! What does it spell?!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy?"

Draco gaped. "Oh you think you're so clever, don't you, Potter? So clever you couldn't even see you were about to slam into me. Or was that the intention? You couldn't handle seeing me catch the snitch."

"Malfoy. We were on the same team," Harry reminded him. "Why wouldn't I want you to catch the snitch?"

"Because you hate me that much, obviously!" Draco replied, as if he'd just discovered a cure for cancer sitting right under his nose. "Even though we were on the same team, you just couldn't take it. You were jealous that it wasn't you."

Hermione raised a hand like she was in class. "You do realise Harry turned down that position so you could have it, don't you?"

Draco scoffed. "He only did that to make himself look better. But I hate to inform him, he will always be a four-eyed speccy little git with an ugly scar."

Ginny chose that moment to walk in, and she marched right over to Draco's bed, sticking her hands on her hips as she glared down at him. "At least he doesn't look like a seedling kept in the dark for too long!"

"Maybe he doesn't look like it, but that's what happened, wasn't it?" Draco replied. "Rumours are he was kept in a cupboard like a bunch of old rags."

Harry sighed. He knew Ginny was only trying to defend him, but it wasn't the best placed comment she could have made. It just gave Draco yet more ammunition to use against him, and he already had a full arson.

"What did you say?" Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously, and her wand hand twitched. Harry would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much to do so - she looked like she belonged in a Western.

"You heard me," Draco repeated, careful to enunciate every word. "I said he was kept in a cupboard like--"

Draco never had a chance to finish his sentence, as Ginny whipped around and punched him straight in the face.

There was an audible crack, and everybody in the room winced.

"My dose!" Draco cried, clutching it as blood poured out.

Harry gaped, and then slowly closed his mouth, his gaze moving to Ginny. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Ginny shrugged, then pushed her hair over her shoulder, sitting down on the side of Harry's bed, reaching for his hand. "How are you doing, Harry?" she asked conversationally.

From the bottom of the bed, Hermione pursed her lips. "I hate to have to do it, Ginny, but I'm going to have to deduct points and give you a detention."

"WHAT?!" It was Ron this time. "Why does she get punished for something Malfoy said?"

Hermione gave him a look. "She's getting punished for breaking his nose, and you know it. Whatever Malfoy said, using physical violence isn't the answer."

"You tell them, Gwanger," Draco shouted from his bed, his voice nasally.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry rubbed at the bridge of his nose -there was definitely a headache coming on- and then closed his eyes, his head sinking back against the pillow. "All of you just shut up."

"But Harry..."

"No, Ginny. I don't know what on earth's gotten into you but I don't expect you to go around fighting my battles for me. Especially when someone's already injured!"

"But it's Malfoy," Ron pointed out, as if it somehow changed everything.

Harry grunted. "Get out. All of you...just get out."

"We're your friends, Harry! I was only trying to look out for you!"

Harry opened his eyes, meeting Ginny's gaze. He knew what she trying to do, and in a messed-up, round-about way he appreciated it. But right then all he wanted to do was just relax and try and get rid of his pounding headache.

Not to mention he could really do without Malfoy having something else to moan about.

"I'm fine," he told her eventually, after he realised everyone was waiting for him to say something. "I'll come find you all in the common room later and we can talk about what happened. I'm just a little sore right now."

Ginny stared at him for a long moment, then relented, and bent over his bed to kiss his cheek. "Hope you feel better soon," she told him with a smile, and then left the hospital wing, Ron and Hermione trailing after her.

The silence was loud once they had left, and Harry sank back down into his bed, basking in it.

"What dar you doing to do about my dose?!" Draco whined pitifully from the next bed.

Harry shrugged, before closing his eyes once more. "Hopefully relive it again and again in my dreams," he said, grinning to himself, moments before he drifted off to sleep.

*

He woke up again when he heard a shriek and the sound of rushing footsteps along the stone floor of the hospital wing. Opening his eyes he was just able to catch the sight of Pansy Parkinson flinging her arms around Draco's neck.

"I was worried you were seriously injured! You should have seen the plummet you took! A bunch of people rushed toward you but no one was able to get there in time... I thought I was going to have a heart-attack. There was blood and your leg was at this odd angle and--"

Draco patted her arm and tried to get her to let go of his neck. "As lovely as it is to hear of my possible demise, I would rather like to breathe instead."

It was then that Harry noticed Draco's nose was healed and he sat up straight in bed, gaping. "Wait, your nose is better. Did Madame Pomfrey come by? Did she say I could go?"

Both Pansy and Draco turned withering glares toward him, but it was Pansy that spoke first. "Broken nose? What is this about a broken nose?"

"Weaslette decided to play at accentuating what a monstrosity her family is by punching me and breaking my nose. It looks alright, doesn't it?" Draco asked as he gazed at Pansy in what Harry could only assume was supposed to be some sort of innocent pout. The only thing Harry could think is what a load of crap that truly was.

"Why that wench! I'll wring her scrawny little neck for that. I hope you did something to retaliate."

Draco let out a sigh. "No, I was too distraught, but Granger gave a brilliant demonstration of eating her own by giving her a detention and deducting points. Not enough if you ask me. I could have bled to death!" With that Pansy moved and started fluffing up Draco's pillows and smoothing out his ruffled hair.

Harry had quite enough of this display, feeling vaguely sick at how much attention Draco was able to get from her. "You know, you never answered my questions. Did Pomfrey come? Can I go?"

Looking over at Harry, a slow smile curled Draco's lips. "Oh, yes, of course she came. In fact, she thinks you're the one that broke my nose. I was so distraught and light-headed that I failed to correct her mistake. You know, I just wanted to get to sleep after losing so much blood. So you have a detention."

"What?!" Harry yelled, glaring over at Draco, "That is hardly fair! I didn't do anything and I sent my friends away after that happened! How dare you let her assume I did it?"

Pansy huffed a breath and shot Harry a nasty look. "You're the reason he's here in the first place. You should be punished."

"Ha! See! You were the one that crashed into me!"

"I'm hardly about to take the word of Parkinson; she's your friend. Of course she's going to be biased." Harry let out a long, frustrated breath, looking away from them.

Draco scoffed and stared at him indignantly. "Oh yes, because trusting your friends is such a brilliant idea. Let's bring them in here, shall we? Then we can see which one of them will be next to try and kill me!"

"I can answer that for you: it'll be me if you don't shut that trap of yours soon!"

"Mr. Potter, I would expect better from you, threatening an injured student that you've already gotten in trouble for hurting. Tsk tsk." Madame Pomfrey came through the doors at the end of the hospital wing, sweeping down the hall and over to their beds.

"I did nothing of the sort! Malfoy is just trying to get me into trouble. My friends were here, the person that did it already got punished," Harry explained, trying to give her his best earnest expression. Obviously she wasn't buying it as she stood there looking rather unimpressed.

"Yes, I'm sure that they were." She shook her head and then looked over at Pansy. "What are you doing here? This is a place for sick people, not a zoo where you can gawk at the inhabitants. Shoo!" Waving her hands about, she pushed Pansy out of the infirmary before another word could be spoken.

Draco sunk down in his bed, pouting at being left alone once again. Harry half wanted to go over to the bed and punch him himself.

When Madame Pomfrey came back over to their beds she had her hands on her hips, doing a fabulous job of looking menacing. Sighing, Harry knew that whatever was about to come out of her mouth was not going to be something they wanted to hear.

"I don't know what you two were thinking! Flying about in this weather? Playing a game of quidditch when it is freezing out and so wet that you can hardly hold onto your brooms, and very hard to see anything, let alone some silly balls..." She trailed off as Draco let out a snicker. "There is nothing funny about this, Mr Malfoy. You are both very lucky that your injuries weren't worse! What if your spines had broken? What if you cracked your heads open? What if--"

"This lecture was actually tolerable?" Draco asked, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

Harry had to hold back a snicker of his own at that, and then berated himself for thinking anything Malfoy might have to say could be remotely funny.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear you say that, especially as it will not be the last one you will hear. I've reported you both to your heads of house and to Headmaster Dumbledore himself. This will not be taken lightly and if we are to prevent more incidents like this we must set an example." Looking between the two boys she let out a sigh. "You will stay here under my surveillance for another hour and then you are free to go." With that she turned on heel and walked out of the room, into her office, shutting the door.

"I think I hate her," were the only words that echoed in the silence after her exit.

And for a moment, Harry felt he might actually have to agree.

*

A little while later, Harry and Draco emerged from the Hospital Wing, and started down the corridor. Together. Part way down it finally registered, and they both stopped at precisely the same time, and turned to glare at each other.

"What the hell do you think you're doing stalking me, Potter?" Draco demanded, always the first to get the boot in.

"Oh yes, Malfoy, that's exactly what I'm doing," Harry replied, deadpan. "I'm going to stalk you day and night, and rifle through your rubbish for your scraps."

Draco stared at him in horror. "Oh sweet Merlin, I knew it! You're obsessed with me."

"Right. That's completely it." Harry gave him a look, folding his arms across his chest. "I've only spent the last five years absolutely hating your guts. Do you even realise how ridiculous you sound?"

"No more ridiculous than you claiming you want to stalk me!"

Harry had to laugh. Draco looked absolutely scandalised at the prospect. "You do realise I don't actually want to stalk you, right?"

Draco eyed him for a long while, then tilted his chin up. "If you don't, then you should," he said. "I'd make the most fascinating stalkee. And my rubbish probably has some sort of resale value on the black market."

Harry burst out laughing. "Oh God...I don't think I have met someone so utterly--"

"Perfect?"

"I was going to say arrogant, self-absorbed, and downright narcissistic."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Semantics."

Both boys glanced back as the doors to the hospital wing opened, and Madame Pomfrey appeared, looking just as formidable as she did earlier. "I did not release you so you could stand gossiping in the corridor like a pair of old maids. You're disturbing my other patients. Now go and report to your head of houses right away!"

Harry and Draco stared at her blankly. Old maids?

"Scram!"

Draco sneered at Harry, which Harry returned with the addition of a glare, and both boys marched down the corridor as quickly as they possibly could without breaking into a run, and thus incurring more punishments, each determined to pull out in front of the other.

They reached the end, where the corridor diverged, at approximately the same time.

"I hate you," Draco tossed at Harry casually, as if he was saying goodbye.

Harry snorted and waved a hand in dismissal as he started down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower. "Hate you more!" he called back.

*

"Mr. Potter, I don't know what example you think you are setting the younger students by playing quidditch in this weather, but it would have served you right if you'd broken your back!"

Harry hung his head, trying to look suitably chastised. "That's pretty much what Madame Pomfrey said."

"Well good! I'm glad you've received the appropriate telling-off." Professor McGonagall lifted her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation, and then returned to her desk, sitting down behind it. "Do you remember what happened at all?"

Harry shrugged, and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. "Not really. All I know is I was flying after the quaffle, and I had a completely clear flight path. A moment later I crashed into Malfoy. The rest is a blank."

Minerva studied Harry for a moment, and then nodded in acknowledgment. "I have to admit it is highly unusual for you to make a mistake in the air unless outside influences are at work."

"Everyone seems to think that it was Malfoy who wasn't watching where he was going."

"Everyone?" Professor McGonagall arched an eyebrow, looking slightly amused.

"Well...you know..." Harry sighed. "The Gryffindors, and most of the Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaws want evidence, and Slytherin are obviously siding with Malfoy."

"I see." Minerva folded her hands on the desk and stared at Harry expectantly. "And just what is Mr. Malfoy claiming?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? He's blaming me. He said he was after the snitch and I just slammed into him. Only, that's pretty stupid. We were on the same team."

"You were on the same team as Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry blinked at the sceptical tone in her words. "Sure." He shrugged his shoulder. "It was only a friendly."

"Mr. Potter, in all of your time at this school you have never participated in anything with Mr. Malfoy that could be termed...friendly."

Harry guessed she had a point.

Minerva sighed. "I understand you are to serve a detention with Madame Pomfrey tomorrow night. I suggest you arrive early and do what you can to appease her."

"Yes, Professor."

Harry was then effectively dismissed, and he sullenly walked towards the common room. At least his friends would sympathise. He wondered how Malfoy was getting on, and hoped that Snape was really laying into him.

*

"What is the meaning of this, Draco?" Snape asked, annoyed that he had been disturbed during a particularly riveting passage in his detective novel. Not only that, but he was forced to hide it under the desk in a hurry as Draco stormed into his office in a strop, and had subsequently lost the page he was on.

"Harry Potter almost killed me!" Draco declared, and flopped down into the chair opposite Snape's, on the other side of the desk.

Severus raised an eyebrow, looking down his nose at Draco. "I find it highly unlikely that however distasteful Potter is, that he tried to kill you. His Golden Boy badge would have to be revoked."

Draco almost smiled at that, but regardless, the comment had its intended effect, and he began to calm down. "He very nearly almost killed me," he amended. "We were playing quidditch outside and after an amazing, jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring series of spectacular moves in the air, during which everyone was frozen in their places, just to watch my--"

"Draco, get on with it."

Draco blinked. "Oh, right." He glanced down at his hands, then sat back in his chair.

Severus sighed; it looked like it would take a while, and just when he was getting to the part when he was about to find out who the murderer was.

"Anyway, I'd almost caught the snitch, and Potter slammed into me! And we fell and I almost died."

Snape snorted, and wedged his paperback between his thighs, his hands now free to steeple on his desk in front of him. "And I suppose you almost died whilst Potter got up and walked away?"

"No." Draco looked positively gleeful. "Potter was injured all right. He was bloody and broken and it was fantastic! You should have seen the way his limbs were twisted and--"

"Draco."

Draco sighed, pouting a little, and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "He was injured but he didn't nearly die."

"I see. You may carry on. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey sent you to me for a reason other than that, however foolish it was of you to be playing quidditch in this weather. Your mother would have never forgiven me if you'd come down with pneumonia."

Draco scoffed. Common illnesses were way beneath him. If he was going to get ill, it would be something exciting like Black Hairy Tongue or Spotted Liver Cramp.

"She sent me to you so you could reward me for keeping calm in the face of hideous Gryffindor exposure. I'm surprised I don't have fleas."

Severus quirked a lip at that. It was a valiant effort at an almost-smile. "I'm sure that isn't the case. I can go and fetch her, if you like. See what she has to say..."

Draco sighed dramatically. "Fine. They provoked me and I said a few things. The little Weasley girl punched me and I sort of told Pomfrey it was Potter."

Severus did laugh then, shocking them both into silence.

"Yes, well, that may be so, but you will still have a detention," Snape said, as soon as he recovered himself.

Draco groaned. "But Sir!"

"Tomorrow night, after dinner."

"But Sir!"

"Draco?" Snape smiled pleasantly at him, which was quite frankly enough to disarm anyone.

"Fine." Draco sighed and stood up, flouncing to the door. He turned as he got there, and looked back at Snape with a petulant look on his face. "But just so you know, I hate you now."

"Yes, and I'm sure that's a great loss to me, Draco."

Draco growled and left the room, slamming the door behind him. Snape rolled his eyes -would the boy ever learn?- and turned back to his book, settling into his chair.

*