Play The Game

Draco waited for a suitable amount of time, picking at the plaster strips on his forehead. When he could take it no longer, he stood up and left the office, walking right past where Harry had been minutes before. Seeing no Dumbledore, he made his way back to the Slytherin common rooms sunk in utter melancholy. It had been all well and good when he had been thinking it through - get Harry to hate him so that neither hurt the other. Only now, Harry was leaving and Draco was certain it was his fault.

Draco folded his arms across his chest as he entered the dungeons. He felt as though his chest had been ripped open and his heart torn out. Potter had it, and he was leaving with it to some place Draco had never heard of or been to. Who knew if he was ever coming back?

"Wonder what the headmaster told him?" Pansy said, raising her eyebrows.

Blaise sat watching Pansy and Millicent play Exploding Snap, shook his head slowly. "No idea, but I bet it's something bad."

"Go and ask him," Pansy urged. "You're his friend."

Millicent grunted her approval. Blaise looked up at the stairs to the dormitories. "He looked pretty peeved."

"So?" Pansy demanded, looking gormless.

"Blaise's scared!" Millicent accused as she put a card down, not noticing that it would win her the game.

"I am not!" Blaise replied hotly.

"Yeah you are," Pansy hissed. "Think he's gonna hit you and beat you up again?"

"I beat him up as much as he beat me up." Blaise scowled, running a tongue over his lip. "You go see him then."

Crabbe and Goyle blundered over and Blaise decided that facing an angry Draco Malfoy would be a lot better than putting up with Crabbe and Goyle. "Fine. Millicent, say snap for Merlin's sake."

As he walked away, he heard the satisfying sound of the cards exploding on Pansy, Millicent, Crabbe and Goyle. Maybe things weren't so bad anyway. He pushed open the door and stepped into the Boys Dormitories, fully unprepared for what he saw.

Draco sat on the floor, ripping the plasters and the stitches they concealed from the cut on his forehead, flicking them off his fingers and rubbing the bright beads of blood from his head exasperatedly. His hair was drying slowly and falling out of place to hang either side of his eyes.

"Oh, it's you," he said, looking up at Blaise as he tugged the last plaster out, ripping some hair from his eyebrow.

"Shit Draco!" Blaise rushed forward and grabbed hold of Draco by the shoulders, pulling him upwards and glaring at him. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Taking the stitches out," Draco said blankly, looking at Blaise as though he was insane. "What does it look like?"

"Why are you taking the stitches out?" Blaise asked, staring at Draco intently. "You know as well as I do that magical stitches disappear once they've served their purpose."

"They haven't served them yet, and they're annoying me," Draco said, licking his fingers and rubbing the blood off them.

"The cut will get worse and infected." Blaise pushed Draco away as if he plain didn't care and walked over his trunk to begin looking through it.

"Yeah, I know," Draco shrugged. "Does it really matter? I'll get a cool scar if I let it get infected and take ages to heal."

"You already have a scar." Blaise pulled an old battered copy of a Defense Against the Dark Arts book out of his trunk, not noticing his Arithmancy book fall off the top of the trunk. "Well done, go and get another."

"I have plenty, what's the harm in having more?" Draco asked rhetorically, standing up. "I don't particularly like you right now. You're different. I have better places to be."

"You're awkward and blunt, and you won't tell me anything anyway despite the fact I'm the only person who will listen and understand," Blaise summarised as he sat on his bed and watched Draco.

"Well, you're offensive, unpleasant and cocky and you never listen to a word I say," Draco snapped, wiping his cuff across his forehead.

"I'm offensive?" Blaise smirked. "I don't get offensive. I do listen. Just because sometimes I tell you something you don't want to listen to doesn't mean I'm not listening and paying attention properly." Blaise tapped on the cover of the book on his lap with slightly tanned fingers. "What's wrong, Draco?" he asked finally.

"Potter's leaving," Draco sighed. He dropped his head back against the foot of Blaise's bed and drew his knees up.

Blaise continued to tap out the latest Weird Sisters' song as he thought over what Draco had said. "Why?"

"I don't know, because he doesn't want me to die," Draco said. "It doesn't make much sense." He wiped a trickle of blood from his eyelid.

"I'll probably sound like Goyle now, but... you're going to die?"

"News to me too," Draco grunted.

Blaise shook his head to get a piece of hair out of his eyes. "So Potter's leaving and you're going to let him? I thought you were an item?"

Draco looked sharply at Blaise. "How do you mean? I should just run out there and grab him and say, 'No Potter! I love you'?"

Blaise snickered. "Don't ask me, you're the one in love."

"And you've never been in love?" Draco snapped. He hesitated uncertainly. "You think I should do that?"

Blaise shrugged. "I don't know what love is." He began to flip through the book on his lap. "Do what you want to do. I say sod Slytherin Pride and do what you want to do."

"That's the first time you've said that," Draco noted. He stood up and licked his finger, rubbing it over his cut forehead. "I'll be right back." He started to run out, but slowed to a brisk walk.

***

Draco couldn't understand it. He stood at the opening of the path where he and Blaise had fought at Christmas. There was no one anywhere near. No Harry, no Knight Bus, no train, no Dumbledore, no Weasel and Mudblood. Could Potter have gone all that quickly? Draco tugged his shirt sleeve out from under his jersey and pressed his cuff to the incessantly bleeding cut on his head. He hung his head in total dejection.

"Bugger," he murmured.

There was the sound of footfalls as Harry Potter walked into the station at Hogsmeade and stood two feet away from Draco while he folded his arms across his chest. "Why are you here?" he asked finally, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I was coming to beg you not to leave," Draco said honestly.

"Why?"

"Because I love you," Draco answered turning around.

Harry smiled slightly, tilting his head to the side. "I'm not leaving."

"I thought you were..."

"I changed my mind with some bargaining from Dumbledore." Harry hesitated, walk forward or stay put? "I'm living out my teenage years at Hogwarts in my own room."

"Lucky you," Draco smiled. "I'm so fucking glad you're not leaving," he confessed. "You know earlier... It was... I'm sorry."

Harry closed the remaining gap between them and wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, burying his head into the other boy's neck. "Me too."

A shiver ran down Draco's spine. "I was trying to make you hate me so you wouldn't care if I died," he told Harry. It sounded so stupid once he said it out loud.

"I'd never hate you," Harry replied, content in the fact he was with Draco and nothing else seemed to matter. "No matter what you did... do... I wouldn't ever stop loving you."

"And you don't want me to stop loving you," Draco said, finally piecing together something Harry had said in the hospital wing.

"I know," Harry replied as he closed his eyes.

"And I guess I won't," Draco conceded. "You know, by trying to leave, you did prove me right."

"I did?" Harry asked. "I never left though. I came back."

"Only proving..." Draco tried to think of something. "That you can't bear to be without me."

"That's obvious," Harry murmured as he nuzzled Draco's neck. "And by following me, you proved that you can't live without me."

"You knew that," Draco said, slightly scornfully. "Blaise told me I should come after you."

"Then you can tell Blaise thanks from me," Harry replied equally.

"I might," Draco shrugged. "I don't like letting him think he's done something right."

"Doesn't he ever get mad then?" Harry asked. "Because he always thinks he's doing wrong?"

"Blaise was already mad, and what I think doesn't affect him in the slightest," Draco grinned.

"It affects me. What do you think about me then?" Harry asked curiously.

"What about you?" Draco replied.

Harry shrugged. "In general."

"I think you're great, if a bit prissy and melodramatic," Draco said critically.

"I'm not melodramatic. You try being me for a day."

"No thanks, and yes you are."

Harry shrugged again. "Do we have to have this conversation? I'll go melodramatic on you again."

"You'll swoon then you'll flounce off," Draco predicted.

"Now or if we have the conversation?" Harry opened his eyes again and moved to look Draco in the eye, slightly suspiciously. "And what do you mean swoon?"

"Probably either situation, and by swoon I mean this." He put the back of his hand to his bleeding forehead and rolled his eyes back into his head, falling backwards.

Harry paused in what he was saying as he noticed the blood and put a hand to the cut on Draco's head, the other supporting him. "You pulled out the stitches? Why?"

"Because they were annoying," Draco said, putting his red-stained cuff over his head again.

Harry's mouth turned into a small 'o' of understanding. "You are going to be OK, though?"

"As OK as usual," Draco replied evasively.

Harry rolled his eyes and cupped Draco's cheek, stroking it idly with his thumb. "So long as you're ok with it and I get to say 'I told you so' later when you don't go to the Hospital Wing and it gets really bad."

"You can say whatever you like," Draco smiled. "I won't listen."

"You never do," Harry smiled back.

"Too busy looking at your face," he smiled, gazing into Harry's bottle-green eyes.

Harry laughed softly, still stroking Draco's cheek. "I'm not complaining."

"Nor am I," Draco grinned.

"I love you," Harry breathed as he leaned in to Draco, closing his eyes slightly.

"I love you too," Draco said, dodging his head to deliberately miss Harry's lips and hug him, resting his chin on the other boy's shoulder.

"You're mean," Harry muttered as he relaxed into the embrace.

"I know, I'm a genuine bastard," Draco admitted. "A downright piece of shit." He sighed, pressing the flats of his hands against Harry's shoulder blades.

Harry sighed slightly. "If you're a bastard, then I'm worse. So what am I?"

"You're a Gryffindor," Draco said sincerely.

"You like to state the obvious," Harry realised. "And I don't think I belong to Gryffindor anymore."

"You belong to me."

Harry smiled warmly, and rested his head against Draco's. "I know."

"Damn well should. I need to get you a name label," Draco said. "Or I could burn my name onto the sole of your foot."

"No chance in hell. Anyway, what are we going to do back at the school? Everyone's going to expect us to hate each other, and I'm not sure I can hate you."

"I'll punch you if you want," Draco grinned. "It'd be funny."

"I wouldn't talk to you for weeks." Harry's face darkened slightly and he rubbed his chin with a balled fist. "You've already punched me anyway."

"I know," Draco sighed. "I wasn't thinking."

"You still did it." Harry dropped his fist to Draco's shoulder and pushed the other boy back slightly, to look him in the eye. "You should have known that I couldn't hate you anymore."

"It was worth a try," Draco mumbled defensively, folding his arms and scowling at the floor.

"I guess." Harry looked over Draco's shoulder up to the school. "You punch hard," he admitted absently.

"Not as hard as Blaise," Draco said modestly. "He doesn't look it, but he's built like a brick shithouse. He's had reason to hit me on a couple of occasions." Draco looked up, squinting slightly. "I get hysterical sometimes. It's the best way to shut me up." He raised a hand and pointed down the path. "Down there, on Christmas Day, he hit me a few times because... Because I said you hated me." Subconsciously, Draco rubbed the cobweb scar on his jawbone. "You've got me hurt a lot," he said accusingly. "Indirectly, to be fair, but still."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised, pulling Draco back against him and wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist. "For whatever I've done to hurt you over the years, everything. Forgive me?" he asked weakly.

"Only if you forgive me," Draco bargained, a demonic smile plastered across his face. "You know, I think I'm getting cramp in my cheeks. I haven't smiled this much in... ever."

"I'm sure a lot of girls would pass out if they saw your smile," Harry grinned. "It's a lot sexier than your frown." He laughed slightly, fingers playing with the fabric of Draco's cloak. "And yes, I forgive you."

Draco blinked. "Sexy? Pass out? Hell, anything's worth a try." He looked down at Harry's fingers. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked.

Harry shrugged for what was probably the twentieth time today. "It's a nice cloak. It's a comfort thing," he admitted, a pale red flushing his cheeks. "If I'm nervous I like to play with material." He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Why are you nervous, Potter?" Draco asked, eyelids lowered seductively.

"Because I'm here with you," Harry said quietly. "And when I'm near you I always seem to make a fool out of myself."

"Usually with my help," Draco said fairly. "Do I scare you?"

"I scare myself. Because I always remind myself that I have to go into this war." Harry studied his own battered trainers, and Draco's expensive boots while he looked at the floor, fighting down the slight blush.

"Do you ever think about anything else?" Draco frowned, lifting one of Harry's hands and examining it absently.

Harry hesitated for a second, if that. "You."

"Me and war?" Draco said, grinning slightly. "My, Potter's a welter of emotions."

Harry smirked slightly, "Not just you of course, Ron, Hermione, Cho, Ginny."

"Well, now I feel unloved," Draco pouted. "Way to go."

He did a double take. "Cho? As in Chang?"

"Yeah..." Harry looked slightly uncomfortable on the subject. "I don't know where I stand with her, and it annoys me."

"Hmm," Draco pondered. "As I understand it, she wanted you to give her something you couldn't." His eyes glittered. "Did she really throw a cup of tea in your face?" he asked eagerly.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Harry scrunched his nose up cutely, then looked back up at Draco. "Did you ever actually go out with Pansy Parkinson?"

"Yes," Draco confessed. "I did."

"What drugs were you on?" Harry asked, his green eyes laughing.

"You don't want to know," Draco said flatly. "Or rather, I don't want any of the authorities to know. I might get banged up if they found out."

"Did you date anyone else?" Harry asked curiously, realising he hardly knew anything about Draco.

"Yes," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Who?"

"Oh..." Draco closed his eyes, counting on his fingers and muttering to himself. "There was Annie, then Morgana once, but that was out of convenience, Chang, Laria, Sascha, Terianne, Vicky, Eve, Sam, Pookie, Tasha, Padma, Pansy, obviously, Robyn, Jennifer... and a few whose names I never learnt." Draco opened his eyes again, closing his hands.

"And here I was feeling special." Harry pouted. "Most of the girls think you're exclusive, and it turns out you've dated most of them anyway."

"Ah, but it took them ages. I am exclusive where the rest of them are concerned," he corrected loftily.

Harry coughed something suspiciously like "man-whore" and smiled innocently at Draco. "You dated Cho?" he asked suddenly. "When?"

"Third year," Draco answered promptly. "Rather volatile girl."

"Before Cedric then," Harry stated as he craned his neck back to look at the sky. "So many guys would kill to date the people you have."

"I know," Draco said smugly. "And all the rest of the girls the guys would kill for would kill for me."

"You think very highly of yourself," Harry pointed out. "Not everyone fancies you. I know for a fact Ginny doesn't, or Hermione."

"They're lesbians, aren't they?" Draco asked genuinely.

"No," Harry choked out, looking incredulous. "Ginny's dated most of the Gryffindor boys, and Hermione fancies Ron. Shit, I shouldn't have told you that."

"Merlin!" Draco exclaimed. "She SHOULD be a lesbian, if he's the best she can get." He glanced at his watch. "Bugger, I've been gone more than an hour. I should get back."

Putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, he rose up to kiss his cheek. "Don't come straight after me. Take a different path if you can."

With that, he vanished down the overgrown path.

Harry scowled, the place where Draco's lips had been on his cheek now ice cold. "He always has somewhere else to go," he moaned, turning the opposite way from Draco and deciding to go for a short walk around Hogsmeade before heading back to the school.

Harry wandered aimlessly along the streets of Hogsmeade, with nowhere in particular on his mind. He passed the chatter and laughter from the three broomsticks, and the tinkle of bells as people walked in and out of the shops, hardly noticing the sixteen year old boy with his head down and shoulders hunched, a scar in the shape of a lightning-bolt on his forehead.

Harry sighed, his thoughts jumbled and pushing each other for dominance, trying to be the thing he should sort out first to get the rest in order. Suddenly, someone knocked his elbow in their passing and jarred him out of his thoughts. "Hey watch it... Moody?"

"Good morning, Potter," Moody said gruffly, blinking his normal eye and giving the strange impression of constant winking. "Didn't expect to see you here. How are you keeping?"

"Clouded," Harry admitted. Seeing Moody was beginning to bring back the memories of Sirius plunging into the curtain away from him, never to return. "What are you doing down here?"

Alastor looked slightly embarrassed. He shifted, his wooden leg clunking over the cobbles. "Shopping, actually," he grunted.

"It's a bit late for Christmas shopping." Harry frowned slightly, wondering what Moody could possibly be shopping for.

"I had other things on my mind at the time," Moody muttered, clearly trying to avoid the subject. "How's Quidditch?" he asked loudly, straightening up.

"We're playing Slytherin today," Harry replied as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Ah, beat the bastards, boy!" Moody grinned, showing a large number of gaps in his teeth.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Will do."

"Mm," Moody grunted. "Malfoy boy still playing?"

"Yes. Still not beat me yet," Harry smiled, unable to hide the slight bit of pride in his voice.

"Good," Moody said, clapping Harry on the back, hard. "You don't let that record break. You'd better get back."

Without so much as a goodbye, Moody dodged into a shop and was lost in the milling crowds.

Harry opened his mouth to shout something to Moody, but realised the man was long gone. He turned to face the way back to the school and checked the watch around his wrist off Draco. 'Maybe I should be getting back. It's ten minutes till the game.'

With that, he was gone.

***

Draco honestly began to believe that he would throw up all over the place the moment he stepped out on the field, if he even got that far.

He sat with his elbows rested on his knees and his hands knotted in his hair, supporting his head as he stared down at the tiled changing room floor.

'What do I do? How do I play?' The thing was, Draco wanted to beat Harry even more now. The young Malfoy had never been the generous type, and he detested losing to those he cared about more than those he hated or was indifferent about. His boots were shiny, his shin-pads clean, his pale cords and green tunic freshly washed and robes pressed. The broom that lay on the floor before him was the Nimbus 2003, latest version, but still he had little pride in what he was going outside to do.

'It's just a game,' he told himself sharply. 'Pull yourself together.'

"Draaaaco." The voice was painfully familiar. "Draco, we need you to come out and shake hands with your boyfriend then catch the little gold ball with the wings," Zack trilled.

"And I need you to catch your balls in a meat grinder," Draco muttered.

"What was that?" Zack asked in a singsong voice.

"Nothing at all," Draco smiled flatly. He looked up. "Cien."

Cien glanced over at Draco as she switched her broom to her other hand. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," Draco said slowly, rising to his feet and picking up his broom. "Zack, piss off."

The gossiping boy gave Draco an 'Ooh get you' look and flounced out.

Cien fidgeted and pulled her hair out of its bobble. "Have you noticed anything different about Blaise?" she asked finally.

"Not exactly," Draco said, considering it. "Except for when he told me to go after..." He caught himself. "He seems moodier."

Cien looked thoughtful. "He's distant. I was just worrying if something had happened between the two of you, he acts like he's being pushed out or something." She re-tied her hair and turned to leave again, "and with you disappearing all the time like you are, well... you know. I assumed."

"Lots of people do," Draco said coldly, walking out onto the bright pitch.

The Gryffindor team was already lined up on the pitch as Draco walked out to join his own team. He quickly counted the players and his heart skittered. Someone was missing from the Gryffindor team, and he knew it was Harry. Where on earth could he be?

Draco joined his line up in the middle, Zack on his left and a space which Cien quickly filled on his right. He faced an empty space where the Gryffindor captain wasn't. Draco looked about discreetly, but could not see Potter anywhere.

As Harry finished lacing his boots up he heard the roar of the crowd announcing that the Slytherin Captain had arrived on the pitch. The pieces had all moved into position, and all that was needed was the player. Harry stood in the doorway exiting from the Gryffindor Changing Rooms, his Firebolt clasped firmly in his hands as he stared at the sky. There was a crash and water began to pour downwards, drenching everyone in sight as multicoloured umbrellas appeared in the stands.

So many things had changed since the end of last year, that hardly anyone could predict the outcome of this game. But then again, who knew what Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter would do when their love for Quidditch and each other clashed? Not themselves, that was for sure. A grin appeared on Harry's face as he fell into place and shook hands with Draco perhaps a little longer than was customary. Emerald met silver, light met dark, Slytherin met Gryffindor, and lover met lover. Harry dropped his hand to his side. 'Let the games begin.'

Draco arched an eyebrow and nodded to Harry, swinging his leg over his broom and scraping his already sodden hair back from his forehead. Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air and he kicked off, rising above the game and casting a spell inside the sleeve of his robe so that he would be able to sense the Snitch without seeing it. Slipping his wand back into his inside pocket, Draco looked around doubtfully, blinking as heavy raindrops slapped into his eyes. He'd never be able to see the Snitch properly in all this anyway.

Harry drained the commentary out and hovered above the game, using his sleeve to dry his eyes from the furious onslaught of rain. He spotted Hermione and Ginny in the crowd as he flew over, and managed to wave before he swerved to dodge an oncoming Bludger.

Hermione pointed excitedly at Harry, willing him to remember the Impervius Charm she had taught him long ago. Draco flew close past their stand and nodded politely to the two girls, surprising Hermione greatly.

Ginny dug her nails into the bench she was sat on, scarf tail ends flapping madly in the wind. "Was - that - Malfoy?" she managed to shout above the noise of the wind, rain and crowd as Slytherin scored the first goal of the match.

"Yes," Hermione shouted back. "Is that a problem?" Since Harry had spoken of Draco, she felt somehow kindly disposed toward him.

"But - he's - Malfoy!" Ginny ground out before she jumped into the air and cheered as Gryffindor leveled the play.

Harry's eyes darted from side to side, ignoring the rain and Draco as he searched around furiously for the golden snitch. Harry's attention wandered and he thought back to the meeting in Dumbledore's office, how he had desperately wanted to leave, how much Dumbledore had offered him just so he would stay at Hogwarts when all he had to do was get Draco to ask. Harry, though unconsciously, knew that he would do whatever Draco asked had the time ever arose.

'40-10?' Harry frowned. He needed to pay attention, and that snitch needed to be caught, and fast.

Draco whooped and slapped Randall on the back in a strangely generous gesture before returning to circling over the game. He ducked a Bludger absently rearranging his parting and combing his fingers through his hair so it didn't frizz.

"Malfoy's still a person!" Hermione bellowed over the wind. "He's not that bad!"

Draco, flying near her, could hardly fail to hear with his Snitch-search senses. 'I'm honoured,' he thought dryly to himself. 'I'm still human.'

Harry's head snapped around as he saw something gold flittering near the floor out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed tighter hold of the handle on his broom and pointed it in a steep-dive toward the ground, plummeting so fast he was almost a blur. Ron started yelling at the top of his voice and managed to block a shot; throwing the Quaffle to the only Gryffindor player he could see without caring.

Harry reached his hand out, grasping for the snitch, fingers brushing the wings when suddenly it buzzed and flew off. Harry's head shot around to face the direction it had gone and in a split second he was after it again, dodging Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.

Draco was actually moving so fast that his ears were popping loudly. He clenched his jaw as he hurtled towards the snitch with his fingers outstretched. He gripped his left hand around the broom, rising up to swing both legs over to one side and kick a Beater away with both feet, then a Bludger with his right. As he belted towards the shining gold speck, blinking rain out of his streaming eyes, Draco saw Potter shooting up the outside. Lifting his legs from the broom again, Draco kicked out hard at him and reached forward for the Snitch. A Bludger whacked into the elbow of the arm that held onto his broom and he cried out, falling forwards. The tiny golden ball smacked against his forehead as he tumbled downwards until he managed to catch onto the end of his broom.

"Draco!" Harry couldn't stop the cry as Draco began to fall and let go of his broom with both hands, one closing around the snitch and the other frantically grabbing at Draco's robes as the other boy began to plummet. Harry's broom tipped forward and he tumbled off, falling to land in the sticky mud with a squelch, Draco landing on top of him, successfully winding him. Harry mouthed wordlessly, the snitch wings beating furiously against his palm as dots blinked in front of his eyes and he pushed Draco off him, allowing himself to breathe again, only to be enveloped by cheering Gryffindor players.

Draco blinked mud out of his eyes, rolling sideways into a standing position in one easy, fluid motion.

"You fucking won!" he snapped, pointing at the Snitch. "I give the fuck up."

Draco's broom descended at a leisurely pace and he snatched it out of the air before storming off through the mud and rain.

Harry joined in the happiness for a few moments as his team began walking back to the Changing Rooms, then slipped away unnoticed, breaking into a run after Draco.

Blaise Zabini jumped up from his seat hurriedly and sprinted along the stands, chasing after Draco.

Both boys were so intent in reaching the blonde Malfoy they didn't notice the other until they stopped and shouted together, "Draco! Wait!"

Blaise twirled around and glared at Harry. "What the hell are you doing here Potter?" he demanded. "You should be away somewhere with your poncy Gryffindork friends celebrating yet another victory."

"I'm here for the same reasons you are, Zabini," Harry replied evenly, glaring straight back.

Draco stopped stiffly, clenching his fists.

"You can both piss off. I'm not in the mood." His elbow was throbbing and he was soaked through to the skin. Draco peeled his robe off and slung it over a hook. He reached crossways to pull the bottom of his tunic up and over his head. He threw it to the bench beside him and flexed his back, rubbing his elbow.

"Aren't you both gone yet?" he demanded bitterly, working the knots in his shin pad-laces free and pulling them off. "Potter, you won; Blaise, I'm okay, I didn't fall far."

Blaise rolled his eyes, "I'm not blind, Draco. I could see that. I'm here for the simple reason you're my friend and I really couldn't be arsed staying out there with all the Gryffindors cheering." Blaise scowled and dropped onto a bench before looking over at Harry with a piercing look. "Why are you here?"

"My reasons are my own, Zabini." Harry glanced at Draco then back at Blaise. "What did you expect me to do? Leave Draco to fall and catch the snitch? Or perhaps to decide not to catch the snitch and let Draco fall anyway? Or no, even better, save Draco, and not give a damn about the snitch or reactions of the rest of the school."

The muscles in Draco's back and shoulders knotted as he felt rage coursing through him.

"If you're going to argue over me, try doing it where I can't hear you," he recommended icily. "Blaise, I appreciate and understand the fact that you are here. Potter, thanks for breaking my fall, though I'd have preferred it if you stopped me from falling and let me catch the Snitch. Try it next time; it might be fun."

He kicked his boots off and started unbuckling his belt, making it clear that he really was planning on changing. He was torn between the causes of the two. Who did he really want to stay? He felt conscious of his body for the first time in, well, years. He wanted to turn around and see if Potter was looking, but that would be too obvious. Draco was quite proud of his body, but as he pulled his belt out from the loops on his cords, he found himself stalling. Why hadn't they gone? He was in a bad mood.

Harry sighed. "Don't ask me to do something you wouldn't do." He turned on his heels and left, not looking back once as he marched up to the Gryffindor House, not caring that he was still in his Quidditch robes, covered in muck and grime, drenched in rainwater.

Once Harry had gone Blaise folded his arms across his chest, craned his neck back and stared at the ceiling. "So you want to know who sent the Bludger?"

"I suppose so," Draco shrugged, unbuckling his arm-guards and tugging off his gloves before swapping his cords for a pair of black jeans.

"Crabbe. Supposedly, he mistook you for Potter. I could hear Cien screaming at him from the stands, something about how you and Potter are complete opposites."

"Hmm, like magnets," Draco murmured. "Ironic, as we seem to repel each other."

He buttoned up his shirt and pulled a cloak around his shoulders, stuffing his sodden clothes into a kitbag and tucking it under his arm.

Blaise smirked. "Opposites attract."

Draco grinned. "I know I'm pointing south just now, but Potty might be pointing north since I stripped in front of him. We'll see if we're opposite enough to attract." The blond boy laughed dirtily. "You'd better go and console Cien. She hates being wet."

Blaise stood up with a short bow and a wink. "Your wish is my command." He flashed a grin at Draco before ducking his head against the onslaught of rain and walking out onto the grounds.

Draco laughed to himself, turning his cuffs back and walking out under the perfunctory shelter under which players could gather their spirits before sprinting for the castle in the pouring rain. It was customarily used as a hideout for students who needed a cigarette. Draco was hardly surprised to see Potter standing there. He stopped and took a comb from his pocket, running it through his wet hair.

Harry, leaning against the wall, turned to look at Draco. "I hate you."

"I know," Draco said simply, offering his comb to Harry - whose hair looked like something was living in it - and leaning back against a wooden pillar.

Harry took the comb and held it up for inspection. "It won't make much difference," he admitted before swiftly pulling it through his hair and chucking it back to Draco. "You wouldn't do it, so why should I?"

"Do what, comb my hair?" Draco asked. "I already have."

Harry gave Draco a side-long glance. "You know what I'm talking about."

"There are lots of things I wouldn't do," Draco said evasively. He glanced sullenly at Harry, then back at the pouring rain. "No, you're right, I wouldn't. In case my serious tone deceived you, I was actually joking. I suppose it's hard to take jokes when you're a Gryffindork. Everything's terminal to you lot."

"We've learnt to shrug off anything a Slytherin says," Harry replied. He took his glasses off and dried them on his shirt before putting them back on. "Slytherin humour is different from Gryffindor humour."

"Yes, Slytherins have a sardonic humour, Gryffindors have a lack of humour. Different indeed." Draco was hardly feeling charitable at that moment in time.

"We could have a one-on-one match," Harry suggested, trying to make Draco slightly happier, anything was better than this side of him.

"You'd win," Draco said flatly.

"Not if there wasn't anything to distract us. We've played three times against each other. Just now, when the Bludger hit you, in second year when you were too busy laughing at the Bludger chasing me, and in third year when we were so close I had to resort to knocking your arm away. I'd say that you'd have a fair chance of winning if there was nothing but us two and a snitch," he finished.

"But I have more than a fair chance when it's just us two," Draco smirked, his eyes flickering as they followed raindrops from eye-level to the muddy ground.

"Is that a 'yes I accept' or a 'let me think'?" Harry asked as he turned to watch Draco, shoulder resting on the wall.

"What, are you being serious?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. "You, me, a pitch and a snitch? And two brooms of course. And uniforms, unless you're feeling kinky."

Harry grinned, "Whatever floats your boat, Malfoy."

"Well, it might be a little uncomfortable, considering some of the moves us two end up performing." He winced at the thought of going commando during some of those. "Also, it'd be rather impractical considering the weather and the fact that... I'm not seriously considering naked Quidditch," he assured Harry, eyes wide. "Sorry I got pissed off. It just didn't seem all that fair. I have a much worse broom than you do."

"It's not the broom that matters but the player. Stop looking for excuses, you lost, I won, and we're going to have a re-match." Harry's face remained calm as he furiously batted away all the images creeping into his mind after what Draco had just said.

"We can't rematch without the whole team," Draco sighed. "It doesn't work without everyone else."

"I doubt the Gryffindors would be too happy about that, and there would be no reason to call for a re-match except the fact I want to prove that you can beat me if there were no distractions." Harry paused to pull the fingerless seeker gloves off and stuffed them into his pocket. "If you haven't noticed, I still need to get changed and I have a Gryffindor party to attend to, although I would rather stay here."

A dirty smirk crossed Draco's face. "I can think of other ways we could settle this. You're the one with your own room. You don't have to go through the party." Draco crossed the intervening space and lifted Harry's hands, twining his fingers with the other boy's. "You could stay with me."

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned before leaning in to whisper in Draco's ear. "Thought you'd never ask."

A shiver ran down Draco's spine at the breath on his neck. He gripped Harry's hand and ducked his head, running out into the rain. The puddles sloshed up their legs and splattered them with mud, rain pouring down the backs of their necks. Draco tugged Harry into a small alcove, pressing his back against the wall. He muttered a password, pulling Harry to his chest. The wall spun around and they stood in darkness.

"Where's your room?" Draco asked, flicking a lighter. Their faces were suddenly illuminated pale gold.

"West tower," Harry replied, slightly out of breath. "Opposite the statue of Volvicio the Voracious." He glanced around in the firelight, one arm snaking its way around Draco's waist. "Where are we?"

"In the basement of the South Tower. You should see what we've found down here over the years."

Holding the lighter up, Draco led the way deep into a cellar supported by enormous balustrades. It was filled with dusty crates and barrels, the corners stacked with cobweb-encrusted glass bottles.

"Creepy down here, isn't it?" Draco smiled, pulling Harry close to him. "I think..." He paused, muttering and looking about him. "This way."

He moved closer to the left wall, peering ahead for staircases spiraling upwards.

"We?" Harry asked, relishing the closeness of Draco as they walked along a passageway even the Marauders had not found. "Does this lead to every place in the school?" he asked curiously, glancing from side to side.

"Roughly. It's a part of the Slytherin dungeons." Draco grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. "Ever wondered why Slytherin throws legendary parties? Ferment wine for a couple of centuries and it becomes almost pure alcohol." Draco looked sharply at Harry. "Don't tell a soul that this place is here. They'd take it away from us."

"Wouldn't dream of it, this place could come in handy," Harry replied with a wicked grin. "How come I've never been to one of these 'legendary' parties either? We'll have to see about that." He lifted the arm from around Draco's waist and wrapped a finger around a belt loop on Draco's pants.

"You know, you look awfully sexy with no top," he said conversationally.

"I do? Maybe we should discuss that further," Draco smirked, a hand lingering on the buttons of his shirt. "I think it's this way."

He started up a staircase that wound upwards and upwards, holding the lighter, Draco went ahead, jogging up the stairs two at a time. He stopped as he reached a door with light slicing around the frame. Draco tested the door, pushing it slightly open.

"We're clear," he whispered. "And there's your Voracious bloke."

Slipping his lighter into his pocket, Draco walked confidently out into the corridor. He stopped at the door Harry had spoken of and waited, gazing casually up and down the corridor.

Harry followed him out into the corridor, wincing slightly at the contrast between the dark passage and the bright school. He pulled a key out from around his neck, took the chain off and unlocked the door, stepping in.

The room was huge, with a fire burning to their left in the grate and a four poster king sized bed to their right. The whole room was done up in red and green, making it feel as warm as any house did around Christmas. Harry stepped into the room and kicked his shoes off, followed by taking off his robe which he threw onto the leather sofa carelessly.

The floor was mahogany wood, as were the walls, bed, cabinets and wardrobes. A small chandelier of candles hung from the centre point in the ceiling, and a mirror suspended against the far wall facing them as they came in was in a silver and gold frame, the two metals twisting around each other.

Harry grinned and opened his arms. "Welcome to my room."

"It's nice," Draco said, nodding. "A bit Christmassy, and the gold's tacky." He winced. "I can't help myself, can I? It's lovely."

Draco walked around the room, poking through Harry's belongings nosily.

Harry sat down on the bed and took his glasses off before pulling his tunic over his head and replacing it with an oversized white shirt. "It's great. There's a bathroom over there somewhere." Harry pointed in a random direction near the fire, "But no kitchen. I have to go down to the Great Hall like the rest of you."

"You poor sod," Draco lamented, tugging open a drawer. "Ooh, it's Potty's knicker-drawer!"

"Hey!" Harry yelled, jumping off the bed and skidding across the wooden floor in his woolly socks to push Draco away. "No touchy the drawer. My drawer."

Draco blinked, and then roared with laughter.

"You're potty, Potty," he grinned, ruffling Harry's hair and straightening his shirt. "Absolutely potty."

Harry grinned, as he went slightly red. He slipped his arms around Draco's waist and looked down at him, amused. "I used to hate the nickname Potty you know," he mused.

"I know, and you probably still do, but then you let me anyway," Draco grinned, kissing the end of Harry's nose before ducking out of the circle of his embrace. "Don't stand so close to me. You make me feel short."

He began looking through the other things in the room, including the wardrobe - "You have some crap clothes, Potty," Harry's schoolbooks - "Bloody hell, you're shit at potions," and the extent of Harry's beautification products - "A brush? Is that all? A brush?"

Satisfied, Draco slumped onto the bed, stretching out on his back.

"You are short," Harry would have protested, but he thought the better of it. "Of course I have crap clothes, hardly any are mine. Most are hand-me-downs from my cousin Dudley, and I only get bad marks in Potions because Snape hates me."

Equally satisfied, Harry walked over to the bed and leaned on the end, looking down at Draco. "At least I have my own room."

Draco didn't really have anything to say to that.

"So don't you miss ogling boys in your dorms?" he asked after an embarrassingly long five-second pause. He rolled over onto his stomach and leaned on his elbows, looking up at Harry coyly.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Dean and Seamus scream gay, Ron is obviously going to get together with Hermione and Neville is, well, Neville." He shrugged, the thought had never occurred to him before.

"Besides, why ogle them when I have you?"

"A fair point," Draco nodded sagely. "So, about this non-Quidditch rematch..."

"Name your terms," Harry replied, looking at Draco out of half-closed eyes.

"Poker," Draco said with an evil grin.

"Poker," Harry stated, at a loss. "I've never played it. Teach me?" he asked with wide-eyed innocence.

Draco snorted. "That would defeat the object of the game," he groaned. "That way, you might stand a chance. Okay, what would you rather we did?"

"I'd rather we do a lot of things." Harry continued to watch Draco look up at him and smirked. "What would you rather we do?"

"I want to play poker," Draco pouted. "I suppose we could play Tiddlywinks if poker's too racy for you, although I heard that Tiddlywinks can get a little heated at times."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh sod it." He walked around the bed, pulled Draco up and put his back to the wall. Harry grinned slyly, placing his hands on either side of Draco's head on the wall. "I'd say my way is the best," he said, leaning forward to capture Draco's lips passionately.

Draco smiled against Harry's mouth, sliding his hands up against the boy's chest and toying with the buttons at the neck of his shirt. He pulled his lips a milimetre back, and when he spoke they grazed Harry's.

"You like me without a shirt?" he whispered, grinning.

"Naturally," Harry replied, his breath caressing Draco's lips while his hands moved down to rest on Draco's shoulders. He closed his eyes and crushed his lips to Draco's again, deepening the kiss almost immediately.

With one hand on Harry's hip, Draco flicked the buttons of his own shirt undone and laughed softly, returning the hand to the back of Harry's neck.

"I like you having your own room," he decided.

"Me too," Harry agreed, slipping one hand under Draco's shirt to rest on his flat stomach, tracing the muscles.

"At least no one can interrupt us."

Hermione checked the list of directions. There was the statue, so that must be the door. She could hear voices. Maybe Harry was talking to someone already. She knocked briefly before pushing the door wide. The sight that greeted her eyes was far from what she had expected.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"