Prompt: Harry, being a pro seeker
Pairings: Drarry
Prompter: ilovefelton
Title: What really happens?
Summary: Draco and Harry? No. Scandalous!
Warnings: Not DH compliant. Set in 7th year. Fluff and lot's of it.
Rating: T
What really happens?
It irked him, it really did. The blonde boy of maybe seventeen walked into the Slytherin change rooms in a fit of rage. His face was a picture of calm but his actions spoke volumes, tossing his brand new Quidditch broom carelessly on the bench he ran his shaking hand through his mussed hair. He was frustrated that his team, with him at the helm, had lost to Potter. Again.
The lumbering footsteps of his team echoed through the empty room, even the footfalls sounded utterly dejected. Defeated sighs resounded through the room; even the walls sagged with despair as the team shed their robes and began cleaning up.
Draco didn't even bother with his usual post match rant neither did he bother to pull apart their strategies, or lack thereof. He already saw the defeatist posture of his team members and silently sulked off for a comforting shower. Potter would never let go of this win.
As the hot water hit his skin and seeped through his epidermis to ease his tired and aching bones, he ran through the match and wondered what could have possibly gone wrong. Everything was perfect, going according to plan. He paused. Until that blasted raven haired git smiled that sickeningly sweet disarming smile that always made Draco lose sight of his goals.
"BLASTED POTTER, AND THAT SMARMY SMILE!" he exclaimed after he had surveyed the rapidly emptying locker room. That's when he heard something foreign to his trained ear. Humming.
The humming was getting louder by the second, and it was unsettling to say the least. Draco quickly summoned a towel drying him off without a second thought.
"Oh Draco," The voice called. He instantly knew that voice, the voice that haunted his dreams every night since last month and would persist until his untimely death. "You lost. Guess you now owe me, well, anything and everything I want for the rest of the week."
"You prat," Draco growled playfully as he slipped into his green Slytherin robes gracefully. "I clearly didn't lose. If I had, I wouldn't be shagging you for the whole week."
Harry smirked. Draco smiled.
What seemed to the world as an angry and brooding Slytherin was really a boy who finally accepted that he loved his mortal enemy. He was tired of denying that fact, at least to himself.