Take Two

2. Daring Challenges

Draco Malfoy, clad in his tight-fitted Quidditch robes, leisurely crossed the front lawn of Hogwarts Castle. His broom was swung over his shoulder, bobbing slightly with each step he took, and its handle glistered with the gentle raindrops that were falling consistently from above. The sky was stuffed with thick, grey, unfriendly clouds, and it was entirely too chilly for a Saturday afternoon in the middle of June.

Draco grinned in silent anticipation (his embarrassing giggle-attacks were finally over) as he neared the Quidditch pitch, a tiny red spot already visible in the distance. Like a glow-worm it buzzed through the air, glowing brightly, but its obvious flying skill rather compared to a majestic eagle than an insect.

"Thank Merlin for Hogsmeade weekends," Draco breathed. "And thank Merlin - sorry! - for Harry's bloody relatives who wouldn't sign his pass ..." It suited his purposes perfectly, and as soon as he'd accomplished what he wanted, he'd give the Dursleys a piece of his (rightly feared) mind. He would lash out and make them regret everything they ever did to his Harry. His grin mutated to a possessive smile. His Harry. That sounded nice.

And then, he schooled his features into a neutral mask. It wouldn't be ideal if Harry saw him wearing such a smile. He might get some ideas; bad ideas at that. Or worse: he might get the right idea and decide he didn't want Draco anymore. Draco didn't want that to happen, so he decided to follow his plan through exactly the way he'd intended it, not providing Harry with even the tiniest chance of escape. He mercilessly squished the urge to laugh sinisterly; "Muahahahah!" must not be the first sounds Harry should hear Draco uttering.

"Stage one is on," he murmured and set foot on the pitch. He walked the twenty metres till he was approximately in the middle of the field and mounted his broom. Gracefully as always, he took off and soared up into the sky, damp locks of fine blonde hair clinging to the sides of his face. He supposed he resembled a drowned rat, but it was all for the greater good, so he endured it silently. After making a quick mental note to use water-repellent hair gel in the future, Draco flew a few loops to get Harry's attention - attention-seeking love-fool that he was.

Soon enough, Harry's carefree flying staggered and the red-clad boy descended towards Draco. His expression was grim, his lips pressed into a tight line, but his eyes were questioning.

"Malfoy?" he growled, sending shivers throughout Draco's body.

"Potter?" came the mockingly drawled response.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I don't want anything," the Slytherin sneered, the lie rolling smoothly from his tongue. "It would rather appear that you want something from me, as you were the one coming to me and starting this sort of conversation."

"I have better things to do than discussing anything with you."

"I wonder what that may be, as you sought me out after I only got here."

Harry fought an inner battle of self control. Judging by his facial expressions, he was losing fast. "Why can't you just leave me in bloody peace for once? It's not as if you did it all the time, so why don't you try something new and let me be?"

"The entire world doesn't revolve solely around you, Potter," Draco retorted with a slight sneer. 'Though, mine surely does.' The blond flew a lazy circle around the Gryffindor, Harry's eyes following him suspiciously. "I'm only here to practice flying a bit ... as are you as I can see, huh?"

"Why can't you practice another time? I don't see why I have to share the pitch with you!" the Gryffindor snarled, and Draco was momentarily taken aback by the ferocity.

"Oh, come off it again, Potter," the Slytherin snorted. "The pitch is large enough for the two of us. It's not as if we have to play *with* each other."

"I'd rather not see you at all, thank you very much."

"You can always fly blindfolded if you can't stand my sight, Potter, which I cannot imagine. Really, it almost seems as if ... But no, you may take that half over there," Draco allowed graciously and pointed a hand towards the other side of the playing field, "and I'll train here." He smirked and hovered in front of his boyfriend-to-be.

Harry gritted his teeth in an effort to tame his swift tongue. He practically died to ask what Draco meant; eventually, his tongue won the fight against his restricting teeth. "It seems like what?"

"Oh." Draco smiled benevolently. "Nothing important ..." his voice trailed off. He knew he had put enough innuendo into his last sentences that the Boy-Who-Let-Himself-Be-Baited-So-Easily had to believe Draco considered himself irresistible. He was so easily manipulated, the boy didn't even seem to notice.

"What did you mean, Malfoy? I already know I won't like what you were implying, but I want to know anyway." - 'So I can decide on which curse to use on you,' was the unsaid end of the sentence, but Draco got the message clearly, anyway.

"Well, I just thought you were, you know, afraid of a bit competition. That's all."

"Afraid of competition?" Harry spluttered indignantly. "What competition?"

"You mean to tell me that I'm no match for you, then?" Draco asked with raised eyebrows. "A bit over-confident, aren't you? You've got to be careful with that attitude. It might backfire one day ..." Or this day, rather.

"Is this a challenge?"

"A challenge?" Draco repeated mock-surprised. "Why, however did you guess? I thought Gryffindors were so daft they wouldn't even recognise a challenge if it bit them in the butt. On the other hand, you lot probably find everything from lacing your shoes to flushing the toilet challenging. So maybe, you would have even accepted a non-existent challenge."

Harry gritted his teeth. "The only thing you're good with are words, but when it comes to Quidditch, you can't hold a candle to me!"

"I'm deadly wounded," Draco said, clutching a hand to his heart. "Do you accept, or are you too chicken to prove yourself?" His heart had to flutter only for the briefest moment, and as Harry narrowed his eyes, Draco knew he'd won.

"You're on, Malfoy. We'll see who's going to lose some feathers!" snarled Harry and shot down to the ground, where he landed with a wet thud. Expectantly, he looked up to where Draco was still hovering in mid-air, impatiently beckoning the Slytherin down.

Draco frowned and followed, silently hoping that it wouldn't always be that way. Even though he wore robes on a regular basis, that didn't mean he never wore the pants. He did, quite occasionally in fact; underpants, for example.

"So, Malfoy," Harry growled, as the Slytherin touched down to earth, dismounting his broom. "Let's make the rules clear, so we can see by how much I won." He smirked, and Draco melted inside. Harry smirked far too seldom, and when it was directed towards him, Draco couldn't help the quivering joy that threatened to let his heart burst. Hard feelings aside.

"Whatever are we going to play? What do you suggest, Potter? Tag?" He chuckled. "Or would you prefer something more ... challenging?"

"What did you have in mind, Malfoy?" Harry asked warily. "D'you know what's funny? I can't shake the feeling that you planned this; whatever this is. But I hope - for your sake - that I won't regret it." Maybe he wasn't that daft, after all.

"You won't regret anything, Potter. Except maybe your big mouth from earlier." Draco grinned with one corner of his mouth. He pulled out his wand and pointed it towards Hogwarts, ignoring Harry's hand that had already shot towards his own wand. "Accio Quidditch training box." He put the wand back and turned to Harry who appeared a bit confused.

"Let's make this a bit more interesting than a simple game of flying and doing foolish stunts, shall we?" Draco suggested.

"In a simple game of flying you wouldn't have won, then?"

Draco chuckled. "I didn't say that. But why don't we leave the *simple* competition for the real games and have something more interesting now?"

"Alright, Malfoy. I will win, anyway. No matter what kind of dirty tricks you have in mind."

"Dirty tricks?" Draco repeated crossly. "I don't play dirty, I play for winning. There's a difference, Potter. One you might need to know about sometime."

"Whatever, Malfoy. Just tell me what's in this 'Quidditch training box' of yours so we can get started."

"And suddenly, you're very hurried. Afraid, Potter?"

"As I told you last year, Malfoy, you wish."

'You've no idea what I wish for,' Draco thought with a grim smile. 'But hopefully, you'll know soon enough.'

A swishing sound announced the arrival of the box Draco had summoned. It was a handsome, seventy to forty to forty centimetres wooden box, the cover sporting an engraved dragon. There was no padlock on it, so Harry would have to think it was locked with the help of magic. Not a far shot considering the owner.

Draco snatched the box from mid-air, not giving Harry the chance for further inspection. He shot a quick glance from under his lashes towards the Gryffindor and grinned. Excellent, Harry was all his. Draco couldn't wait to let that sentence become literal.

Using his thumb for the owner identification, Draco pressed against the wooden dragon's snout. The cover opened, revealing a row of Quidditch balls. One black, heavy Bludger, one red Quaffle and even a tiny Golden Snitch were confined in the box.

"That's your great suggestion, Malfoy? Quidditch? We're only two, in case you haven't noticed, we can't fill all the positions."

Draco rolled his eyes mutely and put the box down to the ground. "No, dumb brain. We're going to see who will catch the Snitch first, but with the added difficulty of one free roaming Bludger."

"But we don't have any Beaters. We'd have to both play Seekers *and* Beaters!" Harry exclaimed as if that hadn't been clear as day, anyway.

"That's the idea behind it," Draco said dryly. "The fact that you could work it out that quickly leaves me speechless."

"I still hear you talking, though," Harry muttered.

"I should have guessed you cannot grasp the meaning, Potter. Anyways, petty insults aside, we should get going now before it starts raining in earnest."

"Oh, let the rain come, I don't have anything against it. But being the generous Gryffindor I am, I won't take advantage of *your* obvious weakness, Malfoy."

"Whatever, Potter." Draco shook his head at Harry's almost childish antics. "Shall we, or do you have something else to say?"

"Let's just get this over with, please."

"Please? Great Harry Potter is begging me? However could I resist?" Draco snorted. "What is the prize going to be? We have to play for something, don't you agree? To make it more real, you know?"

"A prize?"

"That's what I said. Do you need to repeat everything to help your pitiful mind work around the words or do you just train for your new career as an echo in the Alps?" Old habits died hard indeed, but seeing the spark of unconcealed anger flash in Harry's eyes was worth the regret that overcame Draco after each baiting. Much good that it did him.

"My, I didn't know you were so concerned with my career plans," Harry drawled. "I'll keep you updated if you want."

"No need, Potter, I believe the papers will do that, in any case." Draco instantly regretted his thoughtless words. How should he manage to get what he wanted - and what he wanted was obviously Harry to be his - when he couldn't even keep the insults at least somewhat at bay? And bringing up Harry's Golden Boy status and the linked obligations was not that bright, either. Draco knew that Harry didn't want the awareness of the people around him, and he really should have known better.

Harry's eyes hardened. "What kind of prize?" he asked coldly, redirecting their dialogue efficiently. "Does the winner get an award or does the loser have to pay something? I won't do anything embarrassing like walking around the Great Hall naked, I tell you."

"Walking around the Great Hall naked? I never thought of that!" Draco crowed, but the sparkle in his eyes let Harry know that he was only joking - however inappropriately. "Where is your confidence now, Potter? I thought you'd be winning, anyway?"

"Just in case."

"Right," Draco grinned. "Well, let's say the loser has to do something the winner tells him to. All right? Nothing too awkward, so don't be afraid about having to strip when you don't feel like it. The winner may chose what he wants."

"Alright," Harry agreed warily. Clearly, neither the 'nothing too awkward' nor the 'don't having to strip when he didn't feel like it' did reassure him much. However, due to his Gryffindor status, he couldn't back out anymore for fear of losing his face. And his face was the last thing he was clinging to in this little game that was getting out of his control (where it never was in the first place) too fast for his liking.

Draco released the Snitch which took off into the sky immediately, zooming out of sight. He snatched the Bludger and put a Banishing Charm onto the box, sending it flying from the pitch. Grabbing two small wooden sticks out of his pocket, he tossed one to Harry, who caught it instinctively.

"A bat," Draco said by way of an explanation and charmed both sticks to their natural shape and size.

"Great, I nearly feared we'd have to fight off the Bludger with our bare hands," Harry muttered sarcastically, gripping the bat in his right hand. They'd have to catch the Snitch literally left-handed as they were both stronger with their right one and had to use that hand to bat the heavy Bludger away. "We're playing as long as it takes for me to catch the Snitch, then?"

"However reluctantly I destroy your fantastic dreams, but *I* am going to catch it, Potter. So, don't work yourself into a frenzy and just try to avoid the Bludger."

"One sec!" Harry said hurriedly, as Draco mounted his broom again. "How do I know you didn't hex one of the balls for your advantage? They're yours, so I wouldn't know, and that's not fair."

Draco scowled his displeasure. "Not fair, not fair. Can't you take my word for what it's worth?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "No."

Draco, although having expected the answer, sighed dejectedly. "All right," he muttered and summoned the Snitch back to the ground.

Harry tried to determine if there was something wrong with the balls, and after he was satisfied, he nodded to Draco to set them free again. "Just to make sure."

"Sure."

"Alright. So, d'you want to start now? Rules as always in Quidditch?"

"Yes," the Slytherin said and took off. Harry followed quickly, and then Draco let the Bludger on the loose.

The game was on.