Draco Malfoy Gets an Improvement

Lunch rolled around faster than Draco had expected and wanted. As he trudged out to the field, he practiced flicking hexes with his wand at small animals running by. He'd managed to give a squirrel lock jaw, but, being a gentleman, he lifted the hex and watched the animal scamper off. He continued his way to the Quidditch pitch. Then he saw Harry.

He was wearing an off-white t-shirt that was a little tight and some jeans. Plain, but effective to Draco's mind. He felt himself blushing furiously and he had to duck into a nearby corner so Harry wouldn't see him. He leaned against a wall and slid into a sitting position. Then his mind went haywire. He looks good! No! Wait! Harry can't look good, he can't. He's your enemy. Enemies don't look good! Nonononono, I won't allow it... oh, but he looks so nice... wait, why am I even thinking about him? Then he heard someone above him.

"Coward."

Draco looked up and into Harry's face. He blushed again. "Hello."

"Get up, you're ten minutes late," Harry barked, offering a hand. Draco refused it and stood up. "Come now, let's get started."

"R-r-right..." Draco managed to say, following Harry.

"Did you wear the right attire?" Harry asked as he flipped on his red Quidditch cloak.

"A-a-attire?" Draco stuttered dumbly, his tongue flopping nervously.

"Yeah. For flying." Harry looked Draco up and down and sighed. "Idiot, you didn't bring any?" With a sigh, he opened a pack and tossed Draco some sweatpants. "Put those on and remove your shirt."

"My shirt?!" Draco said, bewildered.

"Yeah," Harry said with a small smile. "Look, that shirt is a little constricting and you're going to get a little warm wearing that thing." He pointed lazily to the sweater-shirt that Draco had chosen to wear. It was tight and it did seem a little constricting to Draco. He muttered something about Harry being a little bit of bale of hay, to which Harry yelled another British profanity to with a laugh and kicked off into the sky.

"What a stupid git," Draco muttered as he too launched into the air. Harry was sailing about lazily, as if Draco wasn't even there. He took this time to hover a few feet away from him, studying him. His hair being whipped into oblivion, into a huge matty mess. His cloak billowing out behind him as he swooped and dived for an imaginary Snitch. The pure concentration evident on his face. Draco couldn't help blushing while he thought about this stuff. So it was kind of his luck when Harry turned around to find Draco staring at the handle of his broom, blushing up one hell of a storm.

"What, naked girl?" he asked as he looked down.

"You're a pervert!" Draco cried in disbelief.

"I'm perverted for wanting to look at a girl?" Harry asked with a wild grin. "Well, I guess that does make me perverted. Drake, you were right for once!"

"Why're you so nice to me now?" Draco wondered worriedly. "Why are you treating me like an equal?"

"You're right. I should be harsh." Harry flew over to Draco and was close. So close that Draco could feel the hot air coming from his nose as he breathed. He did all he could to keep his eyes from fluttering closed. "Now... I want you to smack the Bludger once around the pitch in a full circle maintaining steady control of it."

Draco's heartbeat increased in anger and in shock. "What? What does this have to do with Quidditch?!"

"Just do it!" Harry yelled back, grinning wildly as he turned the broom sharply and dove down to retrieve the struggling ball. He returned quickly, soaring up to toss it to Draco, who stared at it confusedly as it wriggled in his arms. "Well, get going!" Harry snapped. "Full circle, go!"

Draco, as he shook his head, managed unsuccessfully to go in a full circle, using the club to smack the Bludger back and forth in a manner much like one-person ping-pong. When he got back to Harry, he was panting and his arm was sore.

"Good," Harry commented as he took the Bludger from Draco and flew down to strap it back in.

"Hey, I have a question," Draco said as he followed Harry on his broom.

"Yeah?" Harry zipped up quickly, followed by Draco.

"If you're a Seeker, how come you know so many Quidditch techniques?"

"Well, Ron keeps giving me Quidditch magazines and I read 'em cover-to-cover." Harry nodded. "Yeah, they got some good tips in there."

"Oh," Draco said as he followed Harry's broom. He could hear Harry laughing ahead of him about something, and Draco, for the most fleeting moment, wished he was that carefree. When they landed, he approached Harry and restrained himself from throwing an arm over his shoulders. His right arm itched to do so, but he remained with his hands at his sides.

"You know, Potter," he began, looking over at the other boy, "I've always wanted to be more like you. Does that sound odd or what?"

Harry shrugged. "A lot of people want to be heroes. But I'm not what everyone thinks, really, I'm just a boy. I hate all the attention."

"You could have fooled me, seeing how much you milk it all." Draco wasn't prepared for the hard punch in his nose after saying that sentence. He stumbled backwards and toppled over, groaning.

"Don't you dare say that, Malfoy," Harry's voice said coldly from above him, "or we can forget the training and Merlin help me if I won't make your life a living Hell after it!"

"As if you could!" Draco spat back, getting to his feet and feeling the torrent of blood flooding out of his nose with his fingers. "You're weak, Potter! You're weak in your brain and your weak in your fists!" He yelped as a foot came in contact with his groin, and he fell to his knees, barely holding back tears and screams.

"Weak, heh," Harry's voice mocked from above him again. "You really think a 'weak' person could have vanquished Lord Voldemort as a mere infant?!"

"Well, it appears you didn't do a good enough job!" Draco persisted, struggling mentally to see if he should attempt standing or not. "He's still alive, no? He's still a walking corpse and he's still trying to kill you! Here's a piece of training for you, Potter: being a hero means vanquishing the threat, not just postponing his reign of evil until some later date! Don't you realize that your futile attempts to kill him are putting the whole Wizarding World in jeopardy?" Draco was expecting a kick, a punch, a smack, anything except what he saw.

Harry, looking dejected, his eyes on the ground, said in a flat voice, "I guess you're right Malfoy. I mean, Malfoys always are, right?" He laughed slightly. "Yeah, you're right. I haven't done a good enough job... Voldemort is murdering people because of me... that makes me a murderer, in a way, doesn't it? I haven't murdered the man who's murdering the innocent, and therefore, I'm as much of a murderer as he is. Kind of makes you think."

"Harry, wait, it's not your fault that Voldemort is... a murderer. It's not your fault that my dad is his follower... and it's not my fault that I don't want to follow him." Draco, having said those words, got Harry to look at him. He stood with great effort and smiled slightly. "I'm sorry, all those opinions have been made for me. I'm a Malfoy, I've been fed the rules since I was a baby."

Malfoys don't apologize, said the man as he took the whip out from the sheath. How often do I have to tell you?

Don't! I-

Draco, you're a bad boy, and you need to be punished.

Let Eveko do it!

Eveko never whips you the way I want her to. Tonight, you're getting a real punishment. This is the tenth rule you've broken this month. Unacceptable. Take off your shirt.

"Force fed the rules," Harry repeated softly. "I'm sorry."

"No matter," Draco said quietly. "I'm still breaking one."

"Let's skip the rest of right now's training. Meet me at the lake at midnight. I'll see you later."

Draco headed for the castle, when suddenly, Harry called from behind him, "Bring cheese!"

End Chapter 2