Blackmail

Chapter 5

It was a week later. During that week, Harry and Draco didn’t meet at all in the evenings. Harry personally didn’t care. The more time spent away from Draco, the easier his life became. There was no complications, no confusion… he didn’t have to waste his time staring at that annoying sneer that seemed to be a permanent feature of Draco’s pale face, or those cool grey eyes that seemed to pierce right into his soul, or that silvery head of hair that was always so soft when he ran his fingers through it… okay, maybe he did care about spending so much time away from him. Just a little.

But also during that week, the student population witnessed the two boys taking the animosity between them to a new level. They began to argue constantly. Not a day went by when a string of insults wasn’t passed back and forth.

Ron was all for this new attitude Harry had toward Draco. He even offered to help Harry think up ideas for pranks to pull on him. "Don’t forget that I’ve been learning from the best for 17 years," he had said, referring to Fred and George.

Hermione, however, was baffled. Why were Harry and Draco going at it so strongly? Sure, they do have a strong dislike for each other, but it had never been this bad before. What had provoked them to start fighting as if there was no tomorrow?

But she kept quiet, and watched as they made snide comments whenever they passed in the hallways, as they glared menacingly across the Great Hall at each other during mealtimes, and as the occasional punch was thrown when one of them really lost his temper.

After one such incidence (which involved Draco giving Harry a black eye after Harry poured armadillo bile in Draco’s cauldron in Potions class, resulting in the whole concoction exploding in Draco’s face) the two boys found themselves in Professor McGonagall’s office, after Professor Snape had taken care of the boils that had sprung up on Draco’s face, of course.

"Never in my career at Hogwarts," she was lecturing angrily, as they stood silently side by side, "have I witnessed such alarming behavior. Honestly, boys, don’t you think this is taking the little Slytherin — Gryffindor rivalry a little too far?"

Harry shuffled his feet, glanced at Draco a few times, but said nothing. Draco was simply standing there quietly, staring past McGonagall’s head. Harry could tell that a smart comment was boiling up inside him, just begging to be released, but even he wasn’t fool enough to talk back to teachers like McGonagall.

"I, frankly, am appalled at this immature conduct," she continued when it was clear that neither was going to say anything in his defense. "You will both receive detention that will take place after the Easter holiday next week." She sighed quietly and peered at them over the rim of her glasses. "And I suggest that you two resolve whatever differences you have. It has been seven years, boys. You can’t fight forever."

Oh, but we can, thought Harry grimly as he and Draco left McGonagall’s office. Draco threw a brief glare in Harry’s direction before heading off towards the dungeons. And I think Draco fully intends to.

* * *

The next day was the last day before the Easter holiday started. It was also the second Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor had won the first match with a score of 200 to 40, and Harry and the rest of the team were aiming for a repeat performance.

As the match drew closer, the tension between the two teams, especially between Harry and Draco, mounted. At breakfast that morning, the whole of Gryffindor house made sure to surround their team so that no one could try to sabotage any of them. Slytherin house did the same with their team. There was a great deal of glares passed back and forth between the two tables, but thankfully, no fights broke out.

After a small breakfast of just two pieces of toast, Harry stood up to make his way to the pitch.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione told him nervously.

"Go kick some Slytherin arse, Harry!" Ron said enthusiastically, thumping his best friend on the back.

Harry nodded at both of them and he and his team walked determinedly out of the Great Hall, through the front doors, and toward the Quidditch pitch, Harry never once looking in Draco’s direction.

In their changing room, the Gryffindor team huddled together for a last minute talk before the game started. Harry looked at each team member individually as he said, "Ready to go show the Slytherins who’s boss?"

Chasers Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Gina Baddock (who was in her third year), and Beater Daniel Prack (a fourth year) all nodded solemnly. The other Beater, fifth—year Chris Connley nodded and gave his fourth-year girlfriend, Keeper Caitlyn Wood (Oliver Wood’s little sister) a good luck kiss.

"We’re ready, Harry," said Seamus determinedly.

"Then let’s go."

It was exactly eleven o’clock when the two teams walked into the bright sunlight with Harry and Draco, as captains, at the head of their respective teams.

"Welcome to the second Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match of the year!" Colin Creevey’s voice rang loudly over the field and the stands. When Lee Jordan had graduated two years earlier, Colin had eagerly stepped up to take his place. And he was proudly carrying on the tradition of being biased against the Slytherins. "At the last match, Gryffindor kicked Slytherin’s butt with a score of 200 points to a pitiful 40, and everyone knows they will do it again!" The last of Colin’s words were drowned out by loud boos from the Slytherins in the stands.

Madam Hooch, the referee, walked briskly onto the field. "I want a clean game from all of you," she said, looking back and forth at the two teams. "Captains, shake hands."

Harry walked toward the center of the field where Draco was standing as the players around him took their positions. Once he reached the other boy, their eyes met for the first time that morning. Draco’s steely grey eyes were issuing a silent challenge, and Harry met his gaze boldly. Draco cocked an eyebrow as he thrust out his right hand, his expression seeming to say, You ready for a beating, Potter? Harry’s face stayed blank, giving nothing away, as he reached out with his own and briefly shook hands with Draco, ignoring a little spark of electricity he felt. They stared coldly at each other for a second more after they broke contact, before Draco abruptly turned away and returned to his team. Harry did the same.

"Mount your brooms," Madam Hooch ordered. The fourteen players did so as she kicked opened the heavy trunk containing the four Quidditch balls. Harry watched as the Bludgers erupted, followed closely by the Snitch. Harry exchanged a hostile look with Draco across the field as the small golden ball hovered between them for an instant before vanishing.

"Players at the ready," Madam Hooch said as she stepped forward and drew the red Quaffle out of the box. The cheering in the stands grew quiet as, with one last look at all of them, she threw the Quaffle into the air.

"And the game begins!"

Cheers came from the Gryffindor side of the stands as Gina swooped forward and caught the Quaffle.

"And Chaser Baddock claims the Quaffle for Gryffindor! And she’s off toward the Slytherin goalposts, and - WATCH IT! Whoo, she ducks as Slytherin Beater Bentley comes barreling past her. That was close. She passes to Gryffindor Chaser Thomas, and the three Chasers fall into the LionWrath attack formation that Captain Harry Potter developed earlier this year. The Quaffle is passed back and forth between the three Gryffindor Chasers several times, finally stopping with Chaser Finnigan as he lines up a shot through the highest goalpost, and — OOOOOH!"

A groan went up in the crowd as Slytherin Chaser Dunmore flew right into Seamus’ stomach to prevent him from scoring. Seamus was doubled over on his broom, choking.

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch yelled. "Penalty shot for Gryffindor!"

"And Madam Hooch gives the Quaffle to Chaser Thomas while Finnigan tries to catch his breath," Colin continued. "Thomas lines up the shot, and fools Slytherin Keeper Katern by feinting right, and throwing left. Gryffindor scores! Gryffindor now leads Slytherin 10 to nothing! Take that you cheating bas-"

"Enough, Creevey!" Professor McGonagall shouted sharply right into his ear.

Colin winced. "Yes, Professor. Slytherin Chaser Turner is now in possession of the Quaffle. She flies down the field, and Gryffindor Beater Daniel Prack hits a Bludger her way. That’s a boy, Daniel! The Bludger knocks the Quaffle out of Chaser Turner’s hands, and is reclaimed by the recovered Gryffindor Chaser Finnigan…"

Harry tuned out Colin’s voice as he rose high above the game. He could see his Slytherin counterpart doing the same across the field.

"Alright there, Potter?" Draco taunted as he flew closer.

Harry gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to retort, but caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. Was that the Snitch? He squinted and looked closer. No, the sunlight was just reflecting off Caitlyn Wood’s golden earrings.

He turned his attention back to Draco, but he was gone. Harry frowned, wondering where he could be, when he could be here taunting Harry. Just then, Colin’s voice penetrated his mind again.

"And Chaser Thomas barrels through the three Slytherin Chasers as he — WAIT! The Slytherin Seeker has seen the Snitch!"

Harry jerked his broom to a stop and looked wildly around for Draco. He spotted the Slytherin about 50 feet below him, just a green blur chasing after a glint of gold. He let out a soft curse, whipped his Firebolt around, and took off after him.

Everyone in the stands were on their feet, the Slytherins cheering on Draco, the rest of the houses cheering Harry on. The rest of the players on the field had almost completely stopped playing to watch the chase for the Snitch.

"Hurry up, Harry! You can catch the little bugger!" Colin yelled wildly.

Harry narrowed his eyes and pushed himself flat against the broom, urging it to go faster. Hurry, hurry. The wind whipped his hair in his face and he impatiently reached up with one hand to push it back. It was no good; his faster broom wasn’t going to help him this time. Draco was too far ahead of him. He was going to reach the Snitch before Harry.

Then, out of the corner of an eye, Harry saw something very big, and very black, moving their way. A Bludger. And it was heading straight towards Draco. Draco, just a few feet away from the Snitch, hadn’t seen it. In another couple of seconds, it would collide with his skull.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had opened his mouth, filled his lungs, and shouted, "DRACO, STOP!"

Out of reflex, Draco stopped, and the Bludger whizzed by him, just inches from his head. And the Snitch disappeared.

There was almost complete silence in the stands and on the field as Harry pulled his broom to a halt.

"And Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter has just saved Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy from a huge headache," Colin’s disbelieving voice echoed eerily in the near silent stadium.

Harry soon became aware of the eyes of everyone on him, including Draco’s. He stared around at the tableau. Some people were muttering to each other in the stands. Dean was sitting on his Cleansweep 7 near the Slytherin end of the field, staring at him silently, holding the forgotten Quaffle in one hand. He turned back to face Draco, who looked like he didn’t know what to say.

Madam Hooch flew by. "Well come on!" She shouted irritably at them. "Is this a Quidditch match or not? Resume playing!"

Dean jerked out of his stupor, looked at the Quaffle in his hand, and threw it through one of the Slytherin goalposts, all in one fluid motion. That set the game back into motion.

"And Gryffindor still leads Slytherin, 40 to 10," Colin reported.

Draco stared at Harry for half an instant longer before flying away. Harry took off for the opposite end of the pitch, resuming his search for the Snitch.

What just happened here? Harry asked himself. I just saved his life… but why? He flew slowly around the field, watching the game. If that Bludger would’ve hit him, this match would’ve been in the bag. Why didn’t I just let it hit him?

The game went on. The sun slowly moved across the sky, and the weather grew colder as clouds began to move in. The bright and sunny morning faded into a cold and dreary afternoon.

"After about two hours," Colin’s now hoarse voice said, "Slytherin now leads Gryffindor, though not by much, with a score of 220 to 180. And the question on everyone’s minds now is where is the bloody Snitch?"

Harry silently agreed as he circled the stadium for what must have been the fiftieth time. The fingers clutching his broomstick were going numb, and he could see his players becoming tired. They were all playing with less vigor, which is how Slytherin was able to take the lead. Most people in the stands have also quieted down. Even when someone scored, there was only scattered half-hearted applause heard.

Harry sighed as he reached the Gryffindor end of the pitch, and started to swing his broom around to begin another circuit, when Draco suddenly flew up to him.

Harry looked at him warily. Draco hadn’t attempted to talk to him after he had saved him from that Bludger. "What is it?"

Draco steered his broom closer, so that he was hovering only a foot or so in front of Harry, his green robes billowing in the wind. He looked around quickly, making sure that no one was paying attention to them, Harry guessed. Then he started to talk, in a voice loud enough so that Harry could hear him over the rustling wind, but quiet enough so that ONLY Harry could hear him. "Potter, I just wanted to thank you for saving me from that Bludger."

Harry blinked. "Oh," was all he could say.

Draco lowered his voice even more and said, "And I wanted to tell you that I’ve missed our nights together."

At this, Harry couldn’t do anything but blink.

Draco grinned at his silence as he moved closer.

"I was wondering if we could meet tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Since it’ll be the last night we see each other for a week, after all."

"Oh," Harry stammered. "Er… yeah, I guess so."

Draco’s grin broadened. "Good." He stretched out one hand as if he was about to gently touch Harry’s face. Harry half — closed his eyes, anticipating the touch, as Draco’s hand reached toward him… and then past him… and then was gone.

Harry blinked and looked around. Draco was no where to be seen. What-?

Then Colin’s voice rang out. "And Slytherin Seeker Draco Malfoy has caught the Snitch," he said dejectedly. "And Slytherin wins the match today, with a score of 370 to 180."

Harry looked, and sure enough, Draco was doing a victory circle around the pitch, a glint of gold firmly clutched in his left hand… the hand had reached past Harry… Harry’s heart plummeted as he slowly sunk to the ground. He’d been tricked.

Draco looked up, caught his eye, and gave his trademark smirk. Harry glowered back. You’ll pay for this, he thought as his feet finally touched the ground. Harry stepped off his broom as his teammates gathered around him.

"Well, that’s it, then," Caitlyn said sadly.

Harry jerked his mind away from Draco. "No, that is NOT it. We’ll get those points back, don’t you worry."

Everyone stared at him. "No, Harry," Dean said. "She’s right, that is it for us. It’s the end of the season for us. That’s the last Quidditch match we’ll ever play at Hogwarts."

Harry’s eyes widened. That’s right. This was to be the last Quidditch match before the final. And they had lost. They had lost… which meant Ravenclaw was going to the final, not them. It would be Slytherin versus Ravenclaw in the final Quidditch match of the year, of the seventh year’s careers at Hogwarts.

We lost. Harry swallowed hard. "Oh," he managed to croak out.

My last Quidditch match. Possibly forever. Harry blinked furiously, trying to hold back tears, as he glanced over at the Slytherin team yelling and hugging each other in celebration, with Draco right in the middle. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw… not Gryffindor. Ravenclaw.

The stands emptied fairly quickly, and Ron and Hermione came over to the Gryffindor team. They both looked upset, and Hermione’s eyes looked rather large.

"C’mon guys," Daniel told the team quietly. "Let’s give Harry some time alone with his friends." And they headed off toward the locker rooms.

"Harry…" Hermione said softly, noticing his expression. "You gave it your all, didn’t you? That’s all anyone can ask."

We lost… Slytherin versus Ravenclaw… These thoughts kept running through his head as he stared at the ground, vaguely hearing Hermione’s fruitless words of comfort. No more Quidditch. Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor. No more Quidditch. And then another thought entered his mind. All Malfoy’s fault.

His head jerked up and he finally met his friends eyes. They both drew back, startled at his furious expression. "All Malfoy’s fault," he muttered angrily through clenched teeth.

Hermione looked confused. "Well, if you want to look at it that way, I guess it is. But Harry, he was just doing his job. He saw the Snitch, so he caught it. It can’t be helped."

No, Harry was thinking through all this. The Snitch must’ve been right behind me. If I would’ve turned around like I was about to, I would’ve seen it. But Malfoy saw it first. And he prevented me from turning around. He tricked me.

Harry looked again toward the Slytherin team but they had left. He, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones remaining on the field. He turned back and stared down at his scarlet Quidditch robes. He brought one gloved hand up and ran it along the cords that kept the robe closed. Never again will I wear these robes… he thought.

"The little bastard tricked me," he muttered, as his hand dropped to the side and slowly closed into a fist. Ron and Hermione exchanged concerned glances.

"Harry… mate," Ron tried weakly.

"Maybe you should go take a shower in the changing room," Hermione broke in. "It might make you feel better." She turned to Ron. "We’d better go, Ron."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. See you back up in the common room, Harry?"

Harry nodded numbly and they left. But one thought was still firmly lodged in his brain. The bastard tricked me…

* * *

Harry stared malevolently across the table at Draco throughout dinner that night, barely even touching his food while his friends looked on with concern. They knew he was angry with Draco, but didn’t know why. Even the other players on their Quidditch team agreed, Slytherin had won the match fair and square, which was an unusual occurrence. But Harry knew that they hadn’t seen the whole thing. They didn’t know what had really happened. So Harry watched. And waited. And when Draco finished eating dinner and exited the Great Hall, Harry followed.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered, but Harry ignored her.

He went into the entrance hall and followed Draco down into the dungeons.

"Malfoy." His cold voice echoed in the hallway.

Draco turned around and looked at him innocently. "Potter."

Harry walked briskly forward. "I need to talk to you."

Draco crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. "So talk."

Harry’s mouth worked furiously for a second before forming words. "What the hell were you thinking out there?! How could you have said those things to me? You were only distracting me so that you could catch the Snitch!"

Draco looked as though the answer was obvious. "Of course I did, Potter," he said. "You didn’t really think that I had gone that soft, did you?"

Harry’s chest heaved with anger. "You tricked me."

Draco uncrossed his arms and walked forward, toward Harry. "If you truly believed that I meant what I said, then you deserved what you got for being such a fool," he said softly.

"I saved your life, you know," Harry told him, his voice hard.

"So?" Draco said emotionlessly.

Harry swallowed, trying to compose himself. "Is that how you decided to repay me?"

Draco gave a short laugh. "God, Potter, you are a fool, aren’t you? I needed to win that match, so I used the resources I had at hand. And it worked." He leaned closer. So close that his breath brushed over Harry’s face. "I won."

That was when Harry lost it. He drew his arm back, and punched him.

Draco staggered back, stunned. He lifted a hand to feel the blood on his cheek. He lowered his hand and stared at Harry, his gaze darkening. Then he lunged.

Harry fell, the back of his skull hitting off the hard dungeon floor with a loud thud. Harry groaned and rubbed his head. Draco sat on top of him, pinning him to the floor.

With a loud grunt, Harry shoved him off, and stood up, drawing his wand out of his robes. Draco sat calmly on the floor as Harry advanced on him, holding his wand out.

"Krus-" he began, before Draco’s soft voice made him hesitate.

"I was right about one thing out there, you know."

"Oh yeah? What is it?" Harry snapped. "Better tell me quick, before I decide to hex you into next Wednesday."

Draco continued as though he hadn’t heard. "This is the last time we’ll see each other for a week. I leave for the Manor tomorrow morning."

"So?" he answered harshly

Draco shrugged and stood up, ignoring the end of the wand pointed straight at him. "Well, we could spend these last few hours fighting, or we could spend them doing something a bit more… productive."

Harry stared at him disbelievingly. First they were fighting, then he wanted to have sex?

Draco shrugged again and walked away from Harry. He opened the door of what Harry recognized as an unused storage room and went inside.

"You can follow, if you like," his voice called out.

Harry followed.