Disclaimer:
Anything belonging to the HP universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and others who have bought the rights to meddle with her toys. Anything that's not is mine, unless stated otherwise. I'm just playing around here, not making money, so please don't sue. Coach Littelton is mine, though.
Author's note's:
I really wanted to write something about Harry and Draco as professional Quidditch players, but I don't want the standard story. This is my try at it. Does it have promise, or should I dump it in the trash right now? Let me know. Not finished, so not beta'd either.
Summary:
Harry's playing Seeker for the Chudley Cannons. He's the star player of the team, which is doing very well in the competition and Harry's happy with his life. Enter Draco Malfoy, the Cannons' new second Seeker.
Match
"Good work boys. I'll just talk you through tomorrows battle plan. Remember the Kenmare Kestrels shouldn't give us much trouble, but I won't take any risks."
Harry Potter pulled of his Quidditch gloves, while listening intently to coach Littleton explaining how they were going to beat the Kestrels. He frowned when he was reminded of Seamus. His old roommate had gone and won himself a place as beater with the Irish team and he had earned himself a name as one of the slyest beaters ever. Not that that was very hard, as beaters tended to be the less intelligent players on the team, but Harry still vowed to watch Seamus. After all, Fred and George definitely weren't stupid, now were they?
Harry bend and stretched his right arm, watching in satisfaction as his muscles rolled under his skin. He felt good, strong.
"Harry?" the dark-haired man looked up as Littleton called his attention. "Don't catch the snitch until we're at least a hundred points ahead."
Harry was on his feet immediately, towering over his coach, a dangerous light flashing in his eyes. "Why the hell not?" he asked, voice taunt with restrained anger.
Coach Littleton however was not phased by Harry's sudden outburst. He stared straight back at his Seeker and crossed his arms over his chest. Although Gregory Littleton was well over forty, he kept his body in pristine shape. And when he held himself like this, every line of his body taught, shoulders at their broadest, legs slightly apart, it showed that he still had power. Even though he was almost a head smaller than Harry, he still managed to stare the dark-haired man down. He took a step towards his seeker, leaving them only inches apart and without a word Harry sat back down.
"Because I tell you to, Harry," coach Littleton answered. His voice was of iron, commanding respect and leaving no options for arguing. Harry sighed, all traces of anger left from his frame.
"D'you really think we need that hundred points as a safe-guard in the semi's?" Harry asked, sounding a little hurt. Coach Littleton frowned.
"We're not in the semi's, Harry. Let's concentrate on tomorrows mach first, shall we?" he answered, looking his Seeker in the eye. Harry nodded.
"Good, that just leaves me with one last thing," coach Littleton continued after returning to his previous place near the lockerroom door. "I've found you a second Seeker."
Harry looked up sharply as Littleton opened the door. A second Seeker should be good for the team and for him. Should give him some air when there were slight pains at easy games like tomorrows and it should keep him sharp, because the moment he'll be less than a hundred percent, there'll be someone to take his place. That's how he talked about it anyway, but he couldn't deny that somewhere a second seeker felt like a threat too.
"Gentleman, meet Draco Malfoy," Littleton announced proudly as a blond man came striding through the door like he owned the lockerroom. Harry sat stunned, only for a second, then he was packing his things.
"Harry, what on earth are you doing?" coach asked as he faced his Seeker again. This time, there was no blazing anger in Harry's eyes though. Only cold steel and they stared straight back at Littleton.
"If he's in, I'm out," Harry forced through jaws locked in anger. Littleton tried to push him back onto his bench, but failed. Harry wouldn't move an inch, every muscle in his body had changed to steel. Coach saw and knew, this was the Harry Potter even he couldn't move. He tried anyway.
"Harry, please. Can't we talk about this?" Littleton asked. He wasn't begging, but he came dangerously close to pleading. Harry just shook his head. And that's when the impossible happened.
Draco Malfoy came forward and put a hand on Harry's arm.
"Look Potter, I'm not here to mess up your life again. I'm only here to play Quidditch," he said softly. Then a cocky smile appeared on his face. "And you know bloody well that I'm the only one that can even get close to you on the Quidditch pitch."
And Harry looked him in the eye with that steely gaze and set jaw, turned and sat back down on his bench. The iron left his muscles, but not his look, which now turned on coach Littleton again.
"I don't have to talk to him, I don't have to work with him, I don't even have to see him, I'll stay. Anything else, I walk," he told coach and Littleton just nodded.
The showers seemed icy cold that day.