Not Just an Empty Emotion

Chapter 10- The Match

The Hogwarts grounds were lit with a weak, autumn morning light. It shone on the castle, peeked through the leaves and branches of the trees in the forest and lit the Quidditch pitch up.

Harry rolled over in bed and opened his eyes cautiously, attempting to shield them from the light that penetrated his scarlet hangings. His stomach leapt as it always did when he remembered that he would be facing a Quidditch match in a few hours time. He was nervous, but not only for the usual reasons. No, this time it was different. Gryffindor, as was the tradition at Hogwarts, would be playing Slytherin in the first game of the season. Only this time, Harry would not be facing seven brutal enemies. He fell to wondering about Malfoy, and about any tactics he might take advantage of given their current situation. He doubted very much whether Malfoy would give him an easy ride- his pride would not fall far enough to let him lose to his -okay friend, but also, and more importantly-rival. He'd want Slytherin to win as much as he ever did, though perhaps now not for the same motives.

He got up and dressed in his robes, waking Ron in the process who followed suit. They traipsed down to breakfast with the rest of the team-new members and all- and Hermione. As they entered the Great Hall Harry looked around for Malfoy. He was already there, shoving a piece of bacon around his plate, sitting slightly removed from his fellow team-mates, though not enough to arouse suspicion. Harry sat down with his back deliberately to Malfoy, the last thing he needed before the match was a distraction...

Hermione loaded Harry's plate with food and insisted he eat. He obliged, gratefully, avoiding thoughts of the coming match.

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"Malfoy!" called a sharp voice.

"Hmph?" he replied, looking up. It was the Slytherin captain, Kierre, who had spoken. Draco jumped up quickly, knocking over a goblet as he did so.

Kierre ignored it and said, "Get you fucking act together, Jackass, I don't know what the hell's been with you lately but I'm fucking tired of it, got it? I don't give a shit who your father is if you're going to lose my team this match!"

"Whatever, shit-face," Malfoy retorted, "Don't fuck with me, you might be older but face it, me and you in a duel? I'd win hands down". Malfoy only spoke quietly, but he hadn't lost his touch. He was still in charge, whoever challenged to him. Kierre said nothing, just turned away and called the rest of the team into order to head for the pitch.

Okay, he was nervous. And he knew it. He hadn't faced Potter since the night their connection with Voldemort had become apparent once more. He wanted to win the match badly, as usual, but not for the same reasons as before. This time it was just to keep his pride intact, to avoid arousing suspicion and, most importantly, to prove to himself that he was still the same person he had always been.

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"Right, team," Ginny said, nervously, "We won the cup last year, but narrowly," she glanced at Ron before letting Harry continue.

"We know we're the best team in the school, Oliver Wood hasn't replied to my Owls begging him to come back, but that doesn't matter. We can win because we're as good as we were three years ago when the old team was still here." Harry looked around at his new team. He and Ginny had held trials for the new positions, she had taken on position of chaser, and they had trained them hard all year. The team was indeed, as Harry said, as good as that which was under the command of Oliver Wood. Ron had worked hard to become just as skilled in the air as anyone, and was the fiercest Keeper in the school, almost rivalling Wood. The Beaters who had been given the positions last year had left the team, and this time when trials were held two superb young Gryffindor boys were found to replace them. All three Chasers were, once again, girls. And Harry remained faithful to his position as Seeker.

The team was nervous, but, Harry reasoned, that only made them more determined than ever to play well. He himself felt as though he had a Hippogriff in his stomach.

"Okay," Ginny said, "It's almost time. Slytherin are a hard team to play, but we can win, it's a tradition." Her eyes sparkled dangerously as she said this and Harry repressed a smile.

"Let's go," he said.

They walked onto the pitch at almost exactly the same time as they Slytherins. Malfoy was behind Kierre, looking paler than normal but determined all the same. Harry's heart leapt.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ginny asked him.

"Yeah. Of course I am. It's just a bit weird that's all; I mean...it's an important game. We have to win. And just because he's my friend now...anyway, I'm not beating him, I'm beating Slytherin."

"I'm proud of you," Ginny said sincerely.

She didn't know the half of it thought, Harry had kept his word to Dumbledore and not told anybody.

Madam Hooch stood in the centre of the pitch, mounted on her broom a few feet above the ground. As the teams approached her she ordered the captains to shake hands. Ginny reached forward first and took Kierre's hand. He deliberately looked away from her face-he hated girls playing Quidditch. Harry leant forward to shake hands too, glancing in Malfoy's direction as he did so. Kierre looked at him oddly, then to Malfoy, and then back. He seemed to decide to make nothing of it, however, as his expression cleared when he mounted his broom.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and fifteen brooms rose into the air. Apart from the wind the conditions were good, though the new Ravenclaw's commentary was being blown away by the wind.

Harry took his Firebolt high into the air, Malfoy, employing his usual tactics, trailed him. Usually this would have annoyed Harry, but not any more. Instead when they were too high for anyone to see what they were doing he called, "Are you sure this is a good idea, Malfoy?"
"What? Talk sense, Potter!"

"You know what I mean!" he yelled, though he was smiling, too.

"I thought it would be best-we don't want to arouse suspicion now, do we?"
Harry laughed, and scanned the stadium for the snitch.

"So, um, how have you been?" He asked Malfoy, tentatively.

"Oh...okay, I guess. I mean I can't really get it out of my head. Snape...and the Death Arch. And what Voldemort is planning."

"No. Me neither. I doubt we'll ever know, unless someone from the Ord- um, someone in charge tells us what's going on."
Malfoy seemed not to notice his slip, because after a moments silence he said, "Your team is so crap, Potter."
"What!?" Harry stormed, "Actually we've got the best team in the school, and you damn well know it! We've got the best captains anyone could wish for, and what've you got? A fucking bull!"

Malfoy laughed and said, "Actually one of your captains is a bit odd. I mean, she'd rather be down there 'scoring goals' than up here talking to me."

"Ha! Oh really? Odd is she? Get over yourself!"

Malfoy winked and flew in the opposite direction for a while. A snippet of the commentary reached Harry's ear, Gryffindor were winning 80-60. He wanted to get the match over with as quickly as possible, he and Malfoy may have been laughing, but the atmosphere had still been tense, the conversation forced.

Harry looked down and his heart leapt; hovering only feet above the centre of the pitch was the Golden Snitch. He pushed his broom into a dive, muttering to it as he went, encouraging it. Malfoy had also seen their target now and he, who had been hovering lower than Harry, was leading the race to get to it.

"Shit!" Harry screamed, "Come on, hurry up, hurry up!"

As the Ground and the Snitch hurtled closer the two boys drew level. And suddenly the snitch decided on a change of direction- it sped off to the left. Harry and Malfoy were both flying at top speed-too fast, at that distance, to pull out of the dive. Malfoy hit the ground first, his broomstick rolling off along the smooth grass. Harry's own Firebolt slipped from underneath him, hit the ground and bounced a few times before Harry, in a terrible twist of irony, landed on top of Malfoy.

Both were too dazed to realise the impact of this, for a moment. But it soon hit them both with full force very soon. Harry went bright red, and Malfoy's face burned. "Bollocks," muttered Harry.

"Well...for someone who insists they're entirely straight you're pretty damn keen..."
"Shut up!" Harry whispered, urgently, "We don't need everyone to hear!"

Ginny landed next to the tumble of boys and lifted Harry off Malfoy. "Are you okay Harry?" she asked, and to keep the fact that Harry had confided in her a secret she added, "What about you slimeball? Broken anything important?" to Malfoy.

"Piss of, Weasley. We don't need your interference."

"We?" she teased.

"PISS OFF!" Malfoy yelled.

"Malfoy!" Harry glared at him. And muttered under his breath, "We have to get this over with Malfoy, we...we can't....we need....it's...fuck." he finished lamely.

And they all mounted their brooms once more Ginny muttered, "Are you sure you're okay? That was a really bad thing to happen. You went bright red. I take it you were remembering you kisses?"

"Of course not, don't be thick," Harry said, almost snappily. But he was lying.

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Half an hour later the score was 130-120 to Gryffindor. Malfoy and Harry were deliberately flying apart, and only occasionally snatching shifty looks in each other's direction, hoping not to be seen.

There had been no further sign of the snitch, so Harry had had nothing to do but fall back to thinking of his Malfoy problem.

Suddenly a glimmer at the Slytherin end of the pitch caught his eye-the Golden Snitch! He whipped his broom around and streaked towards it, dimly aware of Malfoy doing the same. His heart began to thud-it was so important to him that he win! They were level pegging...

Just as the snitch came into perfect view and was almost within reaching distance something slammed into Harry-it was Kierre.

"BASTARD! What the fuck are you doing!" Harry yelled, but kept his eye on the tiny snitch as it fluttered upwards-he was so determined. As him broom span off-course it became more difficult to keep it in sight. He smashed into Malfoy who went spinning towards the ground.

Harry ducked and swerved around Kierre and flew through the air like a javelin, his arm outstretched. He made a grab and missed. Malfoy was on his tail again. He made a second grab and- he thought he'd missed for a second time but as he withdrew his hand he saw that in the tips of his fingers he was holding one fragile wing of the Snitch. He held it in the air at the same moment as Madam Hooch blew the whistle for a penalty-but the game was over.

And Gryffindor had won!

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The crowd had dispersed back into the school, leaving the Quidditch players to get changed. Once the rest of the team had left the changing room, Ginny saying "well done" in his ear, he walked slowly back to the pitch and sat in the centre for a while. A few minutes later he was joined by Malfoy, who sat next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked him.

"I could ask you the same thing. I wanted to be alone. To think. Well done, by the way." There was no resentment in Malfoy's voice, but Harry knew he was disappointed.

"Look," he said, "You did really well. If Kierre hadn't fucked it al up, you'd've probably caught the thing!"

Malfoy looked at him, "That's exactly what I told him myself," he smiled.

Harry looked at Malfoy, shocked, for a moment, before throwing back his head and laughing.

"You didn't?" he choked.

"I bloody well did! And the git deserved it, Potter, and you know it."

They fell silent after a while, and then Malfoy said, "I should have won though! I mean, I just should've done!"

"Hmm? What?" asked Harry, not really paying much attention.

"The match! I should have won! I've worked so hard for it, it's been hell these last few months! All this stuff I've had to do, shit I've had to put up with! Lads are so gullible..."

"What?" said Harry again. Was Malfoy saying what Harry thought he was?

"Stop saying what like that! I-"

"What do you mean, 'it's been Hell'?" Harry interrupted quietly, anger beginning to surface. "Do you mean your so-called friendship with me? Is that it? You've been trying to make me look like an idiot, make me look foolish, all for a stupid game of Quidditch?! Or was it something else? Did you just want to make me look like an arse?!"

"What? No! I-"

"Don't lie! You're not in this situation at all! You're not gay, and you don't want to be my friend or be on my side!"

"I'm not lying! For Christ's sake, Potter, do you really thing I could do something like that for fun or...or a...a bet or something? That's sick! What's wrong with you?!"

"What's wrong with me?" Harry retorted, "I think you should ask yourself that question, Malfoy!"

Malfoy didn't understand what was going on, why had Harry suddenly turned against him? What had he said wrong?

"I was talking about the Slytherins! About at practice how they've been giving me all this shit about how I'd better win! Not-"

"DON'T LIE!" Harry yelled.

"I'M NOT LYING TO YOU! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

"I should've known it was too good to be true-a Malfoy turning good? Since when did that happen? GOD I've been so bloody stupid! Ginny was right all along!"

The silence seemed to ring through the stadium.

"What?" asked Malfoy, quietly, angrily.

Harry went red. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing. It's not important."

"Yes it is. Have you been saying something to someone about-about any of this? Have you been telling my...our secrets to someone else? And Ginny sodding Weasley of all people?"

"I- I'm sorry. I had to tell someone. I can't keep things like that to myself. I was happy for a start, that you finally seemed to have come round. I was confused, I needed to talk to someone. And I was flattered about what you apparently felt for me, and scared about what I might have felt for you."
Malfoy stopped for a moment, contemplating Harry's words, abashed and a little surprised at his admission that he might have felt something for him. "But why did you tell anyone let alone her? Why couldn't you talk to me?"

"I tried. It wasn't working. Anyway, I know something about her. One of her secrets."

"What secret?" asked Malfoy, becoming more interested.

"I can't tell you. And before you start on at me about being fine to let go of your secrets and double standards and crap like that, don't forget I'm seriously angry with you."

Malfoy laughed, ironically, almost grimly. "And why would that be, Precious Potter?" he snapped nastily.

"Because you've been lying! Ginny didn't trust you, she tried to make me see reason but I wouldn't listen! I was too thick to listen!"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, YOU STUPID BASTARD? I'M NOT LYING! WHY WON'T YOU LISTEN TO ME? I'VE TOLD YOU, I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE SLYTHERINS!"

"Prove it," said Harry dangerously.

"Fine. Fine, I'll prove it. Our connection, Potter. Isn't that proof enough?"

Harry faltered, it was true.

Malfoy, who had risen when he shouted, sank back down to Harry's level. "Look," he said, "You know I'm not one for begging but just this once I'll make an exception, seeing as it's you. Please, please believe me. It doesn't make sense not to. Remember the last two months?"
Harry remembered. This was typical Malfoy, fighting his corner with determination.

"How do we know the connection is that type of connection? How do we know it joins us to Voldemort? What reasons are there?"

"Because of who we are," said Malfoy, with his eyes shining. "You...we'll, you're Harry Potter, enough said. And my father is one of the most prominent Death Eaters, Voldemort has been living with me for the whole summer, and..." Malfoy stopped, but then continued, his words falling out in a tumble as though he was ashamed of what he was saying, "My father is related to Voldemort's mother."

"What?" said Harry. He felt suddenly sick, "How?"

"I don't know. My father was never really explicit. Only told me what he though I needed to know, no more, no less. You have to trust me."

Harry though for a moment. He was ashamed of his outburst, but still wasn't sure. Then he remembered the kisses again.

"Yes," he said. "Yes."

Malfoy closed his eyes in relief. "Finally," he said. "You're talking sense at last. Come on, lets go. It's obvious I won't get any talking done here, you're in the way."

And with that he got up and left the pitch, entering the tunnel to the Slytherin changing rooms. Harry shook himself and left through the Gryffindor changing rooms, meeting Malfoy at the other side.

"You again!" Malfoy yelled. "Bloody Hell, anyone would think you were stalking me."

Harry looked at him, for some sign that it had been a joke, but saw none. Malfoy's face was deadly serious. He was wearing his mask again. Harry didn't really know what to say in reply, but he said lamely in reply,

"Thanks."

Malfoy looked at him as they got to the top of the marble staircase, stopping before he opened the front doors. "Thanks, Potter. And...well done." He clapped his hand onto Harry's shoulder (though inside, although it didn't show, he longed for it to be more), and entered the entrance hall.

He called without looking back, "I should've won the fucking match, Potter, and you know it."

Harry was left standing, stunned on the staircase.