Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction, so please tell me if there are any ways to improve my writing. I've been thinking about this story for about a month and I can't seem to get the idea out of my mind. I haven't decided how many chapters this will have, so bear with me. What if things had been different in third year between Harry and Draco? Things might have gone differently in the bathroom in the sixth year. Slightly AU, I guess. (I think that means alternate universe and I'm still trying to get my mind wrapped around these different phrase. Like just yesterday I found out what a lemon was…the hard way –shivers-) I really appreciate reviews. X3
Disclaimer: I think I have to do these on all posts. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I don't have the amazing imagination that J.K. Rowling does.
Third Year
Quidditch Pitch
The day was cold…colder than usual. Harry knew why. Dementors. The Ministry of Magic had forced Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to place them in a useless search of convicted murderer, Sirius Black. Harry hated Dementors. Dementors sucked out every happy thought and lived on the horrors and pains of your worst memories. This was terrible for Harry because he used his happiness as a barrier between the (he didn't like to call them horrors; he didn't feel as if they were) troubles of his life.
He carried his Nimbus 2000 down the pitch to join his team clad in red and bronze. This was the last practice before the Gryffindor/ Hufflepuff match. He took a deep breath and mounted his broom.
o0o
After practice, Harry felt like he had drunk a Draught of Living Death potion. The entire Slytherin team had been trying to distract them and mess them up.
"There are no rules against having my players observe your practice," Snape had said, "unless the Gryffindors don't want us to witness their horrid skills on a broomstick until the match."
The Slytherins didn't just observe. They found it necessary to commentate on the practice. While the chasers were passing the quaffle back on forth, one student found it amusing to shout "Miss!" after each time the quaffle was passed. As Ron and Hermione were also observing the practice, he realized the interruptions had stopped. Harry could have heard he heard Hermione's voice say as quietly as possible, "Silencio."
Harry changed into his regular school robes and left, dragging his feet, to return to the common room with his two best friends. He was stopped in his footsteps when he realized, standing in front of him, was the platinum-haired boy that he loved to hate. Malfoy.
Draco rubbed his arms against the chill as he moved towards the Quidditch pitch with his team, Crabbe, and Goyle. He smirked at the thought of getting to watch "The Boy-who-Lived" miss the snitch.
"Crabbe, my extra cloak." He demanded towards one of his friends. (Harry and Ron preferred to call them henchmen instead.)
"But…sir….you didn't bring one for yourself." Crabbe told him in his low frightened voice.
"Then give me yours, Vincent."
"Yes, sir."
o0o
Draco grumbled as he watched Harry catch the snitch, over and over again. He had told Goyle to shout "Miss!" as the chasers were practicing passing the quaffle. Draco didn't do it himself because he was afraid of getting in trouble with the stupid Head of Gryffindor, McGonigal. He couldn't help but admit, the team was playing relatively well. Whatever happened, Malfoy swore that Slytherin would win the match when his team played them.
He turned his head to the voice where he'd heard, "Silencio." The voice had come from under the bleachers. Goyle was in the middle of a shout when he realized that no sound came out when he tried to speak. Draco looked under the bleachers and immediately recognized the brown eyes and messy hair of Granger.
"Filthy Mudblood!" he muttered.
"Who are you talking to?" Marcus Flint asked when he saw Draco talking to seemingly no one.
Draco didn't answer, but he was surprisingly relieved when Goyle's shouts ended. He was getting sick of his low, dumb voice.
o0o
After practice, Draco was going to go to Harry when Crabbe and Goyle followed him.
"Where you going?" Goyle asked with his limited vocabulary. It took Professor Snape the rest of practice to get the jinx removed.
To tell Potter what a great job he did at practice today." Draco mused sarcastically.
"I thought you said that the scrawny git couldn't catch a snitch if someone handed it to him without any kind of motion charm?" Crabbe asked stupidly.
Draco didn't reply to that. He just face-palmed and continued walking, telling Crabbe and Goyle not to follow him.
"Another chance to make fun of Harry for his fear of demen-"he thought, but was cut off when he stumbled and tripped on a note.
He checked to make sure no one saw him fall and pocketed the note. The pureblood continued to look for Harry.
"For someone so famous this git can be pretty hard to find." He mused to himself with a smirk.
He finally found what he was looking for when he came face to face with the Potter boy.
This was my first fanfiction. Could you please review and tell me what I need to fix and what you liked. Thank you so much.