Play The Game

CHAPTER ONE

Draco covered his eyes with a forearm cast across his face. The piercing light from a bar-topped drain dappled his pale face and jabbed into his silvery eyes every morning, and it was never at all welcome. "Go 'way," he grunted, rolling over and pulling his covers across his head. The dungeon was, naturally, freezing cold. 'A guy could lose his balls in this place and not notice,' Draco mused ungraciously. 'In fact, it's probably cold in Gryffindor Tower, too. Process of elimination -- there's no way Potter's got any balls.' He rolled onto his back and whipped his feet out from under the emerald green eiderdown, sticking his toes into his slippers. "Crabbe," he snapped imperiously, bunching his shoulders and preparing to stand up. "Crabbe, go and heat up some water." There was silence. Draco curled his lip, appreciating the well-practised expression in the mirror over his dressing table.

There was a rustle from the opposite corner of the room as Blaise Zabini rummaged through his trunk to find something decent to wear. "Glad to see you're finally up, Draco," he drawled, throwing a black cloak over his shoulder with a sigh. "Crabbe's not here, he disappeared about five this morning. I'm surprised his stomach rumbling didn't wake you up." The second half of his sentence was somewhat muffled as his head disappeared inside the trunk, appearing moments later with a dark cloak in his hands. He held it up against himself and frowned. "Does my bum look big in this?" he mocked Draco with a grin; Draco easily took the longest to get ready in the mornings.

"You looked better with your head in the trunk," Draco retorted sourly. He had detected the dig at himself and did not like it one bit. He stood up and wandered into the bathroom, wincing at the icy chill of the water on his hands. Draco cupped his palms together and splashed the water over his face, shaking his head back and slicking his fingers through his hair. "If you see Crabbe, Zabini, tell him he's a prick," he called.

"You tell him so often yourself it's a wonder it hasn't had any effect on him yet." Blaise pulled the cloak on in one smooth movement and sat on the bed, pulling on his dark dragonhide boots which had cost a fortune, more than Weasley earned in a year to be sure. Blaise felt an arrogant smirk twitch at the corners of his mouth and flicked his head back, sending the jet black bangs of hair out of his eyes. "He'll probably nearly kill himself in Potions anyway."

"Yes," Draco agreed mildly, lifting his eyebrows as he came from the bathroom. "Maybe God will pop out of his hidey-hole and save me the trouble." He swapped his pyjama top for a black T-shirt with an acquired speed. 'Five and a bit years of changing in sub-zero temperatures will do that to a man,' Draco thought.

"He's never saved you yet," Blaise said thoughtfully, leaning back on the bed on his forearms and glancing at the ceiling. "If God liked you, I have a feeling you and Potter would be snogging each other senseless in a broom closet somewhere right now." He shrugged mildly, the wicked grin on his face out of Draco's view. "Just a thought."

"I'm a child of the devil," Draco said lightly, outwardly ignoring the comment about Potter. "God has no desire to save me, and the devil doesn't want Crabbe in his house. Maybe Snape will kill him in his detention." Draco belted his trousers and sat down to pull on his boots. "Seeing as I'm sans Crabbe, and Goyle and him share a brain cell, are you off to Hogsmeade today?" he asked, tying the laces of his black dragonhide boots. "I absolutely hate to ask you, seeing as you're such a pisspot, but I'm desperate." Of course, if Draco had actually been desperate, he would not have admitted it.

Blaise's eyebrow rose, and he thought about pointing out that Draco had ignored his Potter comment but decided against it. Getting hexed by an angry Draco Malfoy -- or worse, a lovesick one with THAT look in his eyes was not on his top ten list of things to do right now. "Such a charmer as always, Draco," he droned, pushing himself into first a sitting position and then a standing position. "I'll come, but only because I have nothing else to do, and Pansy is mad at me." He rolled his eyes. "Again."

Draco smirked. "I told you that girls were not for you, my dear Blaise," he said smugly, swinging his heavy black cloak onto his shoulders. "I know you need me as much as I need you." As Draco reached the door, he stopped and, without turning, smiled. "Your arse looks enormous, actually," he said helpfully, pulling the door shut behind him.

'Says the guy who obviously fancies a certain Gryffindor Boy-who-will-just-not-curl-up-and-die' Blaise thought, following Draco out of the Slytherin Dorms.

"I need a new quill." Draco began to speak and walk again as he heard the door shut and waited the usual length of time for Blaise to catch up to him. "And probably a couple more bottles of ink. I don't fancy the Happy Couples in Muddifoots or whatever, so what do you reckon to breakfast before we go?"

"Do we have to?" Blaise almost-whined but not quite. Blaise Zabini did not whine. "Pansy will be there."

Draco turned, a simpering smile on his face. "I'll protect you, Blaisikins." He slowed down until Blaise was level with him and put an arm around his shoulders. "Of course, there's always the solution of telling her you're gay. I, as always, will pretend to be your boyfriend if you need me." He put on a martyred tone and held a hand, fingers splayed, to his chest.

Blaise laughed, putting on a false high-pitched voice, "Oh where would I be without you? My hero!" He pretended to swoon into the arm Draco had placed on his shoulders like a Damsel in Distress. Two first year Gryffindors were stood near the entrance to the Charms Corridor and staring at Draco and Blaise like they had lost their heads. Blaise rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be out somewhere doing good and being noble?" he asked sarcastically.

"Caustic, aren't they?" Draco sneered distastefully. He flapped a hand at the Gryffindors. "Shoo, go and... save some flies or something," he snapped, for want of a much better thing to say to them. "Stop looking at me, I might catch something." He swept into the Great Hall and sat himself at the head of the Slytherin table.

"You heard the man," Blaise said with a dark look, watching as the two girls hurried away as fast as their short eleven year old legs would take them. He followed Draco into the hall and sat down on his left, looking down the table to see if he could see Pansy anywhere. Fortunately, luck was on his side for once, she was no where in sight. He visibly relaxed and grabbed a piece of toast.

Draco selectively chose nothing at all, merely pouring himself a mug of coffee and conjuring a couple of fat-free sweeteners. "This place is dire," he said haughtily. "Look at the idiots. I swear they multiply in an acellular fashion when my back's turned." He stirred his coffee and took the spoon out, tapping it on the side of his cup. "Vermin."

Blaise took a bite of his toast, chewing slowly. "You sound awfully like a Ravenclaw when you speak like that, Draco." His nose wrinkled in distaste. Although Ravenclaws weren't as bad as the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, their know-it-all attitude could get really annoying. And some even tended to date Gryffindors, which automatically showed they had bad tastes.

Draco started, but didn't react or let it show on his face. "Yes, terrible taste. It's not my fault if I'm smart - not like I put it to a good use," he said, scanning the hall as he spoke for that familiar face.

Instead, his eyes met a pug-like impression of humanity. "Tell Blaise he's a dickhead," Pansy spat. Draco looked taken aback, eyes frozen wide in surprise like a silvery rabbit in headlights.

"Tell him yourself," Draco said finally. Whenever he looked at Pansy, he wondered how he had allowed himself to be seen out in public with her. 'You know that, buddy-boy. You didn't want to be with anyone worth staying with...' He kicked himself. 'Bad thoughts.' Nevertheless, he was aware that Pansy's bulk blocked his view of the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Pansy, you always were terrible at Chinese Whispers," Blaise said, making himself known. From the way Pansy was stood (she tended to take up three seats on a good day) he couldn't see Draco, or half the Gryffindor table. The Ravenclaw table was lost but, unfortunately, the Hufflepuffs could still be seen. "Now that you have told me what you think of me can you please move? You're invading my personal space."

"I don't want to move," Pansy snapped. "I mean... Draco, tell Blaise..."

But Draco had turned his back. "Are you done eating? Please tell me you're done eating," he asked Blaise, a hint of desperation colouring his voice and expression.

Blaise coughed lightly, accidentally spraying some crumbs on Pansy's back. Not that she'd notice with her back to him anyway. "Yes, I'm done." He pushed back from the table and stood up, dusting his hands off and sending more crumbs flying in Pansy's direction. "As much as we'd love to stay and chat with you Pansy," Blaise said slowly, walking over to Draco and putting a hand between his shoulder blades steering him towards the doors, "we really have to go now."

Draco felt himself steered and fidgeted. "Yes, I'll be seeing you around," he said to Pansy, barely able to stifle his laughter at the thought that seeing around Pansy would take a couple of days and a good big map. "Off we trot," he smiled vacantly.

* * *

The chill wind bit into Draco's hands and sliced his face as they pushed out of the entrance hall and down the steps to the driveway. He shifted his face down, pulling up his collar and tucking his hands into his pockets. 

"Blaise," he began, watching his breath steaming up into the pale opal air. He was cut off in surprise as a babble of voices greeted his ears. "The Quidditch team," he murmured.

"Finally," said an icy voice from somewhere on Draco's left. A girl with pale skin and jet black hair pushed her way to the front of the group and over to Draco. "Wonderful to see you, Draco," she said. The look on her face however, said differently. "You are captain, remember? Zack's been having pixies."

"Co-Captain Mashuga," Draco smiled blankly, trying not to step away from the rather creepy girl. "Zack IS a pixie. He should already have anticipated having pixies. I'd have thought he'd leave it until he was a legal age, but each to his own..."

Blaise reached a gloved hand up to muffle his snicker. He coughed and dropped his arm back down to his side, "Draco I believe we were going to Hogsmeade. That is, unless you have Quidditch scheduled, which I must always take a backseat to." He made to move away and leave Draco stranded.

"But..." Draco started, reaching out to stop Blaise, but gave up. "What do you want, Cien?" he asked a little grumpily. "I was planning on going to Hogsmeade."

"So I can see..." Cien looked over Draco's shoulder at Blaise. "If you've managed to forget, we have a match against Gryffindor next weekend. And you still haven't managed to catch a snitch before Potter."

"You can shut up," Draco muttered irritably. "I catch them before everyone else. And you can ask Potter to show you the nail marks on his hand when we grabbed it at the same time."

Blaise filed this little piece of information away for future use. "Are you going to be much longer or should I go ahead?" he asked Draco, burying his gloved hands in his robe pockets.

Draco looked doubtfully at the expectant Cien. "I think I'll be a while. See you in the Three Broomsticks."

Blaise nodded and turned away from the group of Slytherins, walking the direction to Hogsmeade alone. Cien watched Blaise for a second before looking back at Draco. "Yes, we all saw the scratches, but we also saw the Quidditch cup in those hands." she scowled, stamping her feet against the floor to keep herself warm.

"He cheated," Draco mumbled, then drew himself up. "All right. Quidditch it is, then." Draco marched off towards the broomshed. He really couldn't be bothered to change, so his outfit would have to suffer. If he could just beat Potter.

Potter. That was the problem, of course. Everything seemed to throw them together, lessons, punishments, problems. It was like he couldn't keep away from him, and the more he saw him the less he hated him. Draco snatched his Firebolt from the rack, rubbing some fingerprints from it with his gloved hand. Potter had one of these, and it disturbed Draco to think of the same thing.... No, that was just weird. If anyone could hear his thoughts he'd be in trouble.

Cien picked up her broom from the ground and shot up into the air over the pitch. Normally, she wouldn't have minded Draco going off with Blaise and ignoring practice but recently, it seemed as if Draco had lost his passion for Quidditch and gained passion for something else.

She checked her watch and sighed, sending the players out to start practising. "Zack! Go find Draco. He's spending way too long getting his broom."

Zachary Randall rolled his eyes and tossed his dark blond hair out of his eyes, arcing his broom and shooting through the door of the broomshed, hovering with the practised ease of a first-rate chaser. "You're to stop pondering, according to her majesty," he announced, a smirk tugging at his full lips. "Miss Mashuga has designs on your time and will beat you to death with the sharper end of a lipstick if you don't get your pert little arse outside. Her words, not mine," Zack lied, looking forward to watching Draco shriek at Cien for ordering him about. The fourth year wheeled and flew back out again, coming to a halt next to Cien.

Sure enough, Draco was incensed. He leapt onto his broom and ducked through the door, flying like a comet out to the pitch. He looped Cien and came to a halt inches from her face. "Stop ordering me around, you little upstart," he snarled. "Formation seventeen, Quaffle in the third sector," he snapped, his cold voice echoing around the pitch.

Cien looked more than scared as she opened her mouth to say something then turned and flew off to complete the formation. 'Finally,' she smirked internally. 'He's concentrating on Quidditch and not Potter'

Draco shot a glare at Cien from the above the pitch. "MASHUGA!" he roared as a Quaffle headed for her face. "Pay attention!"

Sending a glare in Draco's direction Cien pulled out of the way of the Quaffle sharply and stuck a hand out to catch it, effectively catching it but gaining a number of bruises in the process.

The young Malfoy Seeker rolled his shoulders. "That was terrible, and you've already held it too long. Take it back up to the start and go from the top." He flew down to Cien, putting his mouth close to her ear. "Try to stop thinking nasty thoughts and start paying attention to the game. You should have passed straight to Randall and flown ten lengths left. You know that, Mashuga, so start acting like it," he murmured.

Cien nodded mutely, she had known that. She threw the Quaffle up to Zack to start the game and flew off into position.

Zack snatched the red ball from the air and moved back into place. He watched Cien shrewdly - he felt himself quite a one for watching things shrewdly - and tried to decide what it was that Malfoy had said to her. Something interesting, no doubt. He should make something up about those two. A good little unpleasant rumour never hurt anyone... much.

"Malfoy, are we to play that one straight through again?" he called.

"If you know what's good for you, Randall," Draco replied coldly, staring at the goalposts.

Zack passed quickly to Jenna, a new first year Chaser on the team who was still unsteady on a broom but once angered, there was no stopping her, before bolting off on his broom. Jenna took position of the Quaffle and was almost hidden between her other team mates, which, being only eleven, wasn't a very hard feat to accomplish. Just as she shot the Quaffle out, Isaac Trent (third year: average player, very speedy) appeared, snagging the Quaffle and tucking it under his arm, zooming off in the other direction.

As two Bludgers came for him, Isaac was forced to drop the Quaffle to Casper Hales who was waiting underneath. Casper froze in his place, suddenly holding the Quaffle and unsure what to do. There was a crack as one of the Bludgers connected with his right arm and the Quaffle flew out, his fingers reaching out but incapable of reaching their target.

"Waiiit waaait, hold up!" Draco called out, dropping down twenty feet to the game

Cien pulled into a steep dive and caught the Quaffle a foot from the ground; she paused with the Quaffle in her hands while watching Casper and Draco.

Draco reached out to Casper's arm, pushing his sleeve up and tugging off his own gloves, running practised fingers up and down Casper's arm. "You fractured this one here," he explained, touching the skin very gently. "It's called the 'radius'. Go and tell Madam Pomfrey. You caught very well, though," Draco smiled warmly. "I think we'll move you up the reserve list for the next game."

Cien's attention was dragged away as a Bludger flew past her, nearly throwing her out of her seat on her broom. Another blur of colour flew past and Cien barely managed to keep hold.

Harry Potter pushed his unfailing Firebolt to its maximum speed, shooting past the green Slytherin players who were sat watching two figures talk, with only one thought on his mind: 'get to Draco'.

The Beaters' bat in his hands weighed a ton, but it was the only thing that could save Draco from the Bludger pelting for him. Digging his nails into the broom to keep hold, robes flying out behind him, Harry cut up the Bludger, reaching his arm holding the bat back and letting swing with as much force as he could handle.

The Bludger and bat connected with an almighty CRACK, and the Bludger flew away from its target. Harry swayed slightly on his broom, out of breath and panting heavily.