Title: Quidditch

Series: Harry Potter

Genre: General / Romance

Summary:

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyright to J.K. Rowling.

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Today was a very useless day, Draco told himself. He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and stepped from the first floor girl's bathroom, making sure no one was around. He tried to make himself look the way he normally did: sneer, cold 'I-don't-care' attitude, and the such but it failed miserably. He was hunched over slightly, his pale cheeks were red from tears, he had a headache, and his eyes were bright red.

He choked back a final sob, then tried to straighten himself up and walk nonchalantly back to his common room. Truthfully, he had more than enough reasons to simply break down into tears from time to time, but he refused to break his reputation for such petty reasons. He was, after all, still a Malfoy. Sauntering down the hall, his head held high, albeit tear-stained.

"Draco."

The familiar voice came to his eyes, slowing him in his tracks. His eyes drifted to the floor as he came to a full stop, and heard a few scattered footfalls behind him.

"Draco, what's wrong?" The voice was surprisingly calm, warm, and friendly, considering who it belonged to.

"Nothing's wrong with me, Weasley." He whirled around, trying to glare at the redheaded male. Ron raised one eyebrow at him, placing one hand on his hips. He knew there was something wrong; after all, for the past few days, he'd been in that bathroom at the same time as Draco.

"Please Draco? …can I call you Draco?" Draco nodded hesitantly, his grey eyes turned to the floor, darting up to the redhead every so often. "Good, thank you. You don't have to call me my first name, if you don't want…but please, tell me what's wrong." Ron persisted, hoping that he'd finally find out what was bothering the blond.

Draco choked back a sob that had caught in his throat, and felt tears well in his grey eyes again. Lowering his eyes to the ground, he quietly began sobbing again, biting his lower lip to prevent from crying out. Ron frowned slightly, noting the silent shaking of Draco's shoulders, then took a few steps to the blond teen and peered at his face. The blond's already red cheeks were made a deeper red, fresh tears wiping away the dried ones.

Opening his eyes slightly, he looked at Ron through tears, and choked back another sob, walking quickly back into the abandoned bathroom, slipping into the out-of-order stall and locking it. After hearing the stall door bang shut, Ron smiled weakly to himself, and shook his head, following the Slytherin into the girls' room and locking the main door behind him.

He could hear Draco's sobbing wails as he calmly leant against one of the cracking sinks. "Please, Draco? Tell me what's wrong?" Ron asked again, waiting patiently for an answer as he listened to the other male, sobbing, wailing, hiccuping, practically bawling his eyes out. Draco didn't seem to mind Ron standing there, listening, though there was a definite problem with anyone watching the high and mighty Slytherin cry.

"H-Harry." Draco finally hiccuped out in between loud sobs. The redhead had almost decided that Draco, when depressed, was as annoying as Moaning Myrtle. Speaking of the ghost, where was she? This was her bathroom…maybe she was frightened off by the Malfoy heir.

"Harry?" Ron echoed, frowning again. Draco couldn't mean Harry. Not the one the redhead was with almost constantly. When would the scarred brunette have a chance to do anything? "What'd Harry do, Draco?"

The blond's sobbing had subsided somewhat, but he was still hiccuping.

"Draco?" Hiccup.

"What'd Harry do?" Hiccup. Hiccup.

Ron was starting to give up on trying to help the Slytherin. As much as he hated him, it was hard to hate someone that depressed. As Draco hiccuped, Ron remembered how he'd come into the bathroom the past few days, hearing someone wail at the top of their lungs. The first day, he'd brushed it off as Myrtle. The second day, he'd recognised the voice as it mumbled. The third day, he sat in the bathroom, waiting to see if his suspicions were true. The fourth day, he'd gone to Hermione and brought her. They'd come in after Draco did, pretending that they were a pair of lovers trying to find a place to make out. The fifth day, he'd waited outside until Draco came out. That was today.

Hiccup.

"I…"

Hiccup. Hiccup.

"You what, Draco?"

"…I love him."

Ron's eyes went as wide as dinner plates and his ears went as red as his hair. "A-are you sure I-I'm the one to b-be telling t-this!" Hiccup. There was a creaking sound, as the stall door opened, revealing an even more depressed looking Draco Malfoy. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were red with fresh tears, eyes red with dark circles beneath them, and his robes had fresh tear splotches on them. The collar of his shirt was obviously tear-stained.

He had a slight glare about him as he stared at Ron, obviously wanting the redhead to move out of his way. Ron obliged, moving to lean against the side of the next sink as Draco peered at himself in the cracked mirror. "I look horrible." He shot a sideways glance to Ron. "Like I was hit by the Whomping Willow."

Ron bit his tongue, making sure he didn't say anything, simply nodded. He watched in interest as Draco washed his face off, fixed his hair up and generally made himself look normal. "Do I look the same as usual?" He asked finally, turning. Ron, the tips of his ears still red from the confession, raised his eyebrows, then nodded vigorously. Draco didn't seem to believe him, because he shot a sneer at the mirror, which shuddered, and walked briskly from the bathroom, letting the door slam heavily.

Ron watched him retreat, shaking his head gently, then stood up from the sink and hurried back to his common room to finish up the Potions homework he had. Harry was likely already finished; Snape, for some reason, was giving him less lately.

---

As Draco walked back to his common room, making sure no one noticed he was out, he thought to himself about various things. He remembered how he woke up one morning and suddenly had a passion for Potter, someone he'd doubted ever liking even mildly. He gone to his first class, double Potions with the Gryffindors, and took his seat as every day. The class passed the same as always, Harry losing points close to the end for some reason. Draco didn't even know the reason, he never did. He knew that Harry didn't do anything though, and normally he'd snigger with Crabbe and Goyle, but he felt a pang of sadness that day.

Standing up, he'd told Snape to give back the points. The professor had given him a look like he grew another head just then, and reluctantly gave the points back. "…20 points for Gryffindor." Draco sat down, looking quite proud of himself, and the class passed the same way again. At the end, when they brought up the small vial of the potion they'd made, Draco hung back to speak with Snape.

"Professor?" Snape looked up to him, accepting the vial and sticking it in a box with the others. He looked back down to the marking afterwards, ignoring Draco. "Professor, can I have a word?"

"You've had seven, Mr. Malfoy." Snape stated in his dark monotone, not looking up.

"Sir, I was wondering if you could…mark Potter the way you would a…a Slytherin." Draco speculated, unsure of whether or not he should've really asked this. Snape, once again, stared down his pointed nose at Draco as though the blonde had grown another head just then.

"Like a Slytherin? Mr. Malfoy, that boy is nowhere near a Slytherin in any way. To mark him as one would be…blasphemy." He replied, setting down his quill. Draco nervously fiddled with his fingers.

"Would it help if…I heard that when we were getting sorted, the Sorting Hat almost decided to put him in Slytherin…he would do well here, it said so itself." Draco pointed out, finally swaying the professor.

"Fine. Leave me to mark, Mr. Malfoy." The blond smiled to himself, nodded and left the room silently cheering.

Draco smiled to himself at the memory of the day. It had been about a week. After that first cheerful day of secretly defending the object of his passion, it had gone all downhill. His fellow Slytherins gave him weird looks, he'd finally realised that no matter how nice he was suddenly, Harry would never love him back…and he couldn't tell anyone.

"Shit." He swore, suddenly becoming aware that he'd told his biggest secret to none other than Harry's best friend. Coming to a full halt, just outside the Slytherin dungeons, he mentally debated on whether or not to go up there and demand that Ron never speak of it to anyone ever. Sighing, he rejected the idea and wandered into the common room, passing by Crabbe and Goyle's game of Wizard Chess, Blaise and Pansy working on homework, and various other Slytherins who he was too tired to pick out.

Unknowing that Blaise was watching him obviously, Draco staggered to the boys' dorm, and collapsed on his bed, taking time only to loosen his tie, strip off his robes and kick off his shoes, leaving him in his white dress shirt and straight black pants. He shuffled beneath the comforter and sheets, curling into a small ball on his side as he thought about the past week.

Closing his eyes, the blond didn't notice as someone entered and walked over to his bed, sitting on the one beside it – Blaise's bed. He didn't notice as Blaise watched him, a partially worried expression in his eyes, and a frown on his face. However, there was one thing he noticed.

Blaise stood up from the bed, quietly crouching beside his friend, his warm breath heating Draco's pale skin for a moment. He stayed there for a moment, then leaned closer, gently kissing the blond's lips. He held the kiss for just a moment, then pulled away and left the room nonchalantly, as though nothing at all had happened.

As the light went out in the dorm, obviously shut off by Blaise as he shut the door with a click, Draco's eyes popped open in shock. "Blaise…he just…" He mumbled to himself, pulling the comforter up over his head as he thought, eyes still wide. "Blaise just kissed m-me…" He finished, stuttering.

Sighing deeply in a very flustered manner, he threw back the comforter and grabbed his cloak, pulling it around him tightly and tugging the hood up over his face. Without bothering to make his bed, he ran from the dorm, out of the common room, ignoring everyone. He didn't even know where he was going, he just went where his feet took him, thinking about everything that day.

He'd told Ron he was in love with the redhead's best friend. He'd been kissed by his own best friend. He was still mourning the fact that he'd never get what he wanted for once. He realised, finally, that he'd have more of a chance with Harry if he wasn't himself. It was mainly that fact that depressed the hell out of him.

Feeling the chilly night air breeze against his skin, he was brought back to reality. Snapped from his thoughts, he realised he was in the Slytherin Quidditch locker rooms. Draco was glad they left their brooms in the locker rooms the night before for their every-other-day practises. He grabbed his latest broom and walked out into the brisk night air.

Taking a deep breath, and pretending he was at an important match, he waved to the stands, then mounted his broom, taking swooping dives until he was in shape again and began circling higher and higher. "And Malfoy circles higher…" He muttered to himself, commentating his own personal game.

Glancing towards the ground, he frowned slightly and slowed to hover high above the pitch. Squinting at the small figure carrying a box of balls out, he wondered just who would be crazy enough – himself excluded, naturally – to play Quidditch that late at night.

A gust of wind swooped just below Draco, letting him know just how high he was, and pulling down the hood of the figure below. "Harry?" He asked himself, recognising the figure's messy hair and skinny body. Harry, in way of response, opened the box and pulled out the small glinting ball – the Snitch. It appeared that Harry was particularly tired though, because the tiny winged sphere struggled out of his grasp and shot up by Draco's ear.

He laughed to himself, tugged the hood on his cloak down further and grabbed the ball before it darted away. Draco lowered himself down a few metres, so he could see the object of his affection clearer. The male below was doing something to his glasses, then called something up.

"Oi? You have the Snitch?" He called out. Draco simply opened his hand slightly, showing the glittering Snitch off, and Harry nodded, smiling slightly. "Bring it down…" Then he frowned. "Oi, who are you anyways? No one's supposed to be out on the pitch after dinner." Draco grinned, closing his hand.

"Let's have a contest, Harry! I'll tell you who I am if you win!"

"Contest?"

"First one to catch the Snitch wins!" Draco flew down, dropping until his feet were pressed flat against the ground of the pitch. Releasing the snitch three seconds in advance Draco made sure his hood was up, and waited until Harry was ready. The pair simultaneously counted to three, then pushed off in search of the tiny golden ball. They searched high and low for what felt like twenty minutes, though neither knew exactly how much time had passed.

Finally, they slowed above the pitch, nearing the furthest hoops. "You'll only tell me who you are if I win?" Harry asked, glancing around the pitch. Draco nodded, then realised that Harry wasn't looking at him.

"Yeah." Harry shot him a sideways glance.

"Please?"

"Once you win."

"Once…not if, but once…you planning something under that hood?" He joked.

"Nothing at all, Harry."

"I'm so sure." He scoffed. "What if I guess? Then will you tell me?"

"No."

"You're blond."

"What?"

"I can see a lock of blond hair. You're blond. Platinum, too."

Draco hastily shoved the loose lock beneath his hood and pulled it down over his face. Harry chuckled to himself, and looked around some more. "We ready to continue?"

"Yeah." Draco flew off a few metres, having noticed the Snitch in that direction. Truthfully, he was going to let Harry win, just so he could find out what sort of reaction the brunette would have after finding out that his night time Quidditch partner was his apparent "worst enemy". He listened carefully and heard a quiet fluttering by his ear, but ignored it. If all went correctly, Harry would spot it and win their contest.

Draco turned his grey eyes the opposite direction of the Snitch, waiting for Harry to grab it, and pretending that he was looking for it over by the opposite hoops. He felt a rush of air pass him, ruffling his hood, and smirked to himself. Finally, Harry had spotted it and grabbed it.

"Now. Who are you?" Harry asked, holding the struggling gold ball in one hand.

"Wait till we get to the ground."

"Then you're telling me for sure."

"Yep."

They descended, snapped the ball back into place and pushed the balls into the locker room in which they were kept. Draco hadn't once turned to Harry, for fear of showing himself too early. "Haven't I waited long enough already?" Harry asked, and Draco shook his head.

"Close your eyes."

"Wha? Fine." The green eyed teen removed his glasses and closed his eyes, waiting patiently. Draco sighed deeply, and bit his lip, trying to think of how to do this. Walking over to Harry with silent precision, he wrapped one arm around the brunette's waist, feeling him twitch slightly. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to Harry's own, happy to see that they were as soft as he imagined them. Harry had been reluctant at first, but finally relaxed into the kiss, returning it.

The blond finally released the other male, hovering over him for a moment, their breath heating each other in the cool night. Draco then stepped back a few paces, waiting with bated breath to see Harry's response. The brunette's eyelashes fluttered and he finally opened his eyes, only to widen them to the size of dinner plates.

"M-Ma-M-Mal…" He stuttered, unable to fully get the name out. Draco shook his head desolately and began stomping away, his broom clutched in one tightly balled fist. Harry watched him leave, trying to work up the confidence to speak, finally shouting out. "DRACO! Wait!"

Draco slowed, the anger in his eyes fading as his given name was shouted. Not his surname, but his given name. A smile almost tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he wasn't about to expect Harry to love him back.

"Draco." Harry repeated, surprising the blonde by placing a hand on his shoulder. Draco glanced over his shoulder, a smile twitching at his mouth again as the brunette smiled warmly at him. Harry removed his hand from Draco's shoulder and slid it around the blond's waist, then pressed their mouths together.

The blond was surprised, then relaxed into the kiss, glad that Harry wanted him as much as he wanted the brunette. Finally coming up for air, Harry leaned his forehead against Draco's. "You have no idea of how long I've wanted to do that for." He laughed and the two kissed again.

---

Ron absentmindedly tapped his quill against his forehead as he flipped the pages of his Potions text. He wasn't really reading it, just skimming. And Hermione seemed to know it. "Ron, you know you won't get anything done by just flipping through the book senselessly." He looked up at her smiling face and watched blankly as she flipped the book shut.

"What's wrong, Ron?" She asked, crouching in front of him. He shook his head, and she smiled again. "There must be something. Normally you'd be complaining about Potions." He shook his head again, and she shook her head at him. "Please?"

"I think I'm…" He mumbled, and Hermione cocked her head at him. "I think I'm in love with…" His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I think I'm in love with Malfoy." She reached up and gently stroked his hair.

"So? You don't choose who you love." She smiled warmly. He just looked up at her with a weak smile. "Why do you think that you love him?"

"I called him 'Draco'." The redhead explained plainly, not really expecting Hermione to understand. "'Mione, I was comforting him. I…" He began to trail off, biting his lip as he wondered if he should tell her. "I found him crying again. Remember how I brought you that one day to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom? He was in there again, wailing. He told me why though…he loves Harry, 'Mione!"

The brunette female's eyes widened slightly in surprise at Ron's words. They were obviously as unexpected to her as they had been to him. The semi-shocked expression upon her features faded down to a warm and almost loving smile. "If you do love him, I'll accept it. It won't change anything between you and I, Ron." Leaning over, she gently kissed his cheek and gathered her books up into her bag. "Good night, Ron. I'll see you tomorrow." Chuckling almost silently to herself, she began wandering up the stairs to the girl's dorm.

"Hermione…" He mumbled beneath his breath, lips spread slightly in awe. He smiled, and turned his eyes back down to the book, actually taking the time to read it.

---

There is probably something down deep in people that makes them do things that would normally never even be thought of. Something triggers a chemical reaction, making the person do something so out of character it's not even funny. For Draco, it was skipping.

The blond skipped all the way from the Quidditch pitch to the Slytherin common room, stashing his broom in the locker room haphazardly after he and Harry reluctantly went their separate ways. Pausing in the corridor outside the common room, he smoothed back his hair and smirked to himself, then sauntered into the common room, nonchalantly speaking the password.

It seemed that those who had been settled in the common room had dispersed in the time Draco was gone. Crabbe and Goyle were still in the same place, however, still playing their games. They glanced up to the blond as he entered, then glanced back down. Draco didn't care, his insides were doing cartwheels.

Blaise had disappeared, Pansy had disappeared, nearly everyone else had already gone to bed. A fourth year sat near the fireplace, a roll of parchment on his lap as he wrote quickly and neatly. One glance up to the smirking Draco sent him packing up to bed though.

"Why're you so happy?" Goyle hazarded the question, still playing the game with Crabbe. Draco sauntered over, dropping himself arbitrarily upon a couch, still smirking like he had a secret he wasn't going to tell.

"Because."

"That's not a reason."

"Is if you're a Malfoy."

"Potter gonna become a Malfoy any time soon then?" Draco sputtered back a cough as his full body tensed up, one hand twitching into a loose fist. He stared at Goyle blankly, in complete awe and shock, mouth hanging open, closing from time to time like a goldfish. Crabbe sniggered beneath his breath at the blond's expression. Priceless.

"Well, that proved it, didn't it?" The burly sixth-year turned to Crabbe, smirking slightly, almost as well as Draco himself. Crabbe nodded, still sniggering to himself.

"Proved what, Goyle?" Draco asked in irritation, crossing his arms over his thin, muscular chest.

"You were out snogging Potter."

"And how would you know that?"

"You talk in your sleep." Both sniggered to themselves as Draco's features twisted into an aggravated sneer. "And you looked so ecstatic when you walked in. It had to be that."

"Sod off."

"Good night, Draco." The two stood up from their game, leaving it in limbo as they walked off to the dorms. The blond watched in mild interest, then smiled to himself warmly, hugging his arms about himself. Today was a useless day indeed, Draco thought to himself ironically, still smiling warmly. Today was a useless day indeed.