AN: the Valentine DHRfavorites tropes had Quidditch Player!Draco among them, and that inspired this little story. This is fluff. I can write fluff. Even for Valentine's Day.
Characters are not mine.
Hermione shivered and cast another warming charm. She was cold, she was bored, she was hungry and she was trying very, very hard not to show it. The sharp February wind cut through her winter cloak and warmest robes, and she inwardly cursed whoever had had the brilliant idea to organise a charity Quidditch match in the middle of February, on Valentine's Day of all days.
She'd made plans with Draco, a romantic getaway to his family's holiday home in the Swiss Alps. And instead of enjoying log fires, snowball fights and hot tubs, she was sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the Team Box of the Puddlemere United Quidditch stadium, a smile plastered on her face and her nose almost freezing off in the horrid weather. The skies were dark and heavy with snow, and Hermione was sure she'd heard thunder over the clamor of the people in the stands. She hoped it would be over soon, but then remembered that they were attending the after-match gala dinner, so even when the Snitch was caught, she wouldn't be free.
A flash reminded her that there were reporters in the box, so she fixed an enthusiastic smile on her face and pretended to be enthralled by the game. It was exciting enough, for those who like that sort of thing. There had been spectacular dives to avoid bludgers, some amazing Quaffle exchanges and miraculous Keeper saves. But Hermione's eyes were trained on the Seekers, who were flying lazy circles around the pitch, both focused on finding the Snitch. It was an eerily familiar sight - a white blond man in dark green and silver robes flying next to a dark-haired man in red and gold.
The opportunity to see the legendary rivals Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter in the same match again had attracted a lot of attention, and people had fought tooth and nail to buy tickets. The teams, a mix of professional Quidditch players, socialites and celebrities, had played out the old rivalry to the fullest, choosing the team colours of their Seekers' Hogwarts houses. And Harry's team, unsurprisingly, had even chosen their name - the Lions - with Gryffindor in their minds. Draco's team, though sticking to Slytherin green and silver, had been a little more original. They had chosen to call themselves the Hippogriffs, to both Harry and Ginny's amusement and Draco's irritation.
Every seat was taken, and the match alone had brought millions of Galleons to the Remus Lupin Centre for Orphans. She had to remind herself that this was a good thing, and worth the sacrifice. But, oh, what she wouldn't give to be in Switzerland instead.
Hermione startled when George plopped down in the seat next to her, but smiled at him anyway. He was yelling excitedly as Ron saved another goal for the Lions, and then he grinned at Hermione, slinging an arm around her.
"So, Hermione, still not changing your mind? I'm sure your boyfriend will forgive you if you decided to change your bet to Harry catching the Snitch."
Hermione arched her brow.
"I have faith in Draco," she responded with a smirk. George shrugged.
"Your loss, 'Mione. Such a waste of Galleons. You do realise it's 150-1, don't you?"
"Then I hope you have enough to pay me out when I win." She turned her attention back to the Seekers, who were now close to the Team Box, and blushed when Draco winked at her. She smiled back at him, but his attention was back on the game already.
Hermione laughed and clapped when Ginny scored for the Hippogriffs, and she stuck out her tongue when George scowled at her. The score was now 70-50 for the Lions.
She tracked Draco and Harry, still making lazy circles around the pitch, ducking bludgers every now and then. Yes, the picture was eerily familiar, and yet, at the same time, it wasn't. There was no animosity between them now, though they were still competitive. The shoving and pushing was friendly rather than malicious, and anyone could see the occasional smile that flashed between them.
Suddenly, Harry dived straight down, Draco following only a heartbeat later, and everyone in the stadium held their breaths. The commentator was the only one still talking, and only when Draco pulled out of the dive moments before Harry she realised that it had been a feint. But just as Harry grinned at Draco, a teasing glint in his eyes, Draco sped off to the other end of the pitch, dodging Bludgers, Chasers and Beaters alike. Harry's face changed from a smile to a scowl in a split second. He seemed to curse and followed in hot pursuit, but catching up was harder than he'd thought. Hermione spotted the Snitch, fluttering lazily at the bottom of the Hippogriffs' goalposts, and held her breath. Draco was closer, but Harry was right behind him and trying to overtake him. Then the Snitch flew away, its wings beating frantically to the left and up, and Draco followed, one hand outstretched, his eyes focused on the golden ball. Harry was close and finally head to head with him, and tension in the stadium rose to boiling point.
"Potter and Malfoy chasing the Snitch, ooh, near miss that, head to head as the Snitch manages to evade capture again, but Potter and Malfoy are still in pursuit…"
Hermione stopped listening, drawn into the game at long last, trying to follow the two Seekers. The Snitch led them on a merry chase now, changing direction every few seconds, and neither seemed to be able to get close enough to catch it. The eyes of the whole stadium were fixed on the blurs of green and red, and the Lions managed to score a few more points while the Hippogriff Keeper was distracted. Then Draco pulled his broomstick up and over, flying upside down in the opposite direction. His left hand reached out and closed around the golden winged ball mere seconds before Harry had managed to turn around as well. The Hippogriffs won.
Hermione jumped out of her chair, cheering and clapping, and, leaning over to George, shouted "Told you so!" in his ear.
Harry shook Draco's hand, and made his way down to the grass. Draco was immediately engulfed by the rest of his team, high-fiving Ginny and the others. Then, instead of following his team down, he flew over to the Team Box. His silver eyes locked on Hermione with such intensity that she suddenly felt her knees go weak. Everyone seemed to make way for her as she walked to the balustrade, entranced by his gaze. He hovered before her, a seductive grin on his face, the Snitch still firmly clutched in his left hand as his right let go of the broomstick, his fingers trailing softly over her cheek before cupping the back of her head. He slowly drew her closer, until their noses touched, and he whispered: "So?"
His lips ghosted over hers and she shivered, though not from the cold this time.
"Congratulations," she said, her hands trailing his arms up to his shoulders. Then his lips were finally pressed on hers, and she was lost. She forgot about the other people around her, the reporters and photographers. She forgot about the cold and her frustrations. All she thought about was his lips, slightly chapped and freezing cold, moving softly against hers, his tongue, hot and teasing and his fingers, tangled in her hair. They broke the kiss, both smiling and still looking only at each other. Then he brought the Snitch up to his mouth, pressed a kiss on it and offered it to her.
Her smile widened, and she held out her hand. He placed the Snitch on her palm, carefully, his hand lingering for a moment. He swallowed, suddenly looking insecure.
"What is it?"
He bit his lower lip, but shook his head, releasing the Snitch. Her hand closed around it instinctively, and then she gasped. The Snitch had opened, and inside was a ring, platinum with a single pigeon-blood ruby.
"Marry me?"
She licked her lips, her eyes flicking from the ring to his face and back again, unable to speak. Then she laughed and nodded. Her hand closed around the Snitch, and she threw her arms around him, dragging him closer for another kiss.
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"