Quidditch Bondings
By Josh McCusker
A/N: This story is slash involving Harry and Draco… If you don't like that idea, then go find something better suiting. All comments and reviews are welcome, even if they're not nice. I like to fix problems, so if you see any please let me know. The story is rated 'G' because nothing really happens… Maybe PG-13 for language, but really, who hasn't heard words like that before they were 13?
The Quidditch pitch was silent, shrouded in dark and looking almost menacing with the observation towers looming overhead. Sitting in the silent darkness with a million thoughts running through his mind was a young man with dark hair, dark green eyes and an oddly-shaped scar that resembled a lightning bolt, situated above his right eye.
The thoughts racing through Harry Potters mind that night fell heavily to his godfather, Sirius Black. At the end of last year, in what had proven to be the worst moment of Harry's already tortured life, he had been the sole cause of his last remaining family to die. The pain had simply rendered him emotionless during the summer, and even the slightly less evil actions of the Dursleys, his technical family whom he stayed with for summer holidays, hadn't truly registered in his darkened thoughts.
Now, with school back in session and the summer heat still emanating from the ground after long days of direct sunlight, Harry couldn't sleep and decided instead to come and think under the stars at his favorite place at Hogwarts. Having only been back to school a week, he'd already found himself in for the questions, concerned glances and pouting looks of his classmates. Hermione Granger, one of his best friends, had spent a considerable amount of time trying to keep him from sulking by constantly insisting in games of exploding snap, which Harry had played out of sheer need to stop her asking. Ron Weasley, his other best mate, had followed suit each time with games of Wizard's chess, which had Harry never beat him at until this week. Even Neville Longbottom, who had surprised everyone, including Harry, with the heroic deeds that had basically saved Harry's life last year, even he hadn't been able to bring Harry around to the land of the living.
And now, sitting once again in this thoughts at an ungodly hour in the middle of a deserted pitch, Harry found himself nearly crying for what seemed to be the millionth time, but once again stifled his feelings and resigning to sit in dignified, if sullen silence.
After nearly an hour, his thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone approaching, somewhat clumsily as if they weren't in a right state, and Harry almost bolted until he remembered that he was sitting under his invisibility cloak, a gift from his father, given to him by way of his headmaster during his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Knowing he was safe from prying eyes and mouths, Harry simply awaited the arrival of the intruder.
When Draco Malfoy came stumbling around the nearest observation tower, Harry almost gasped. He'd forgotten about the silver-haired, light blue-eyed Slytherin. After their treatment of Malfoy on the train home last year, he'd almost thought the boy wouldn't be able to return this year. Instead, he had returned and had also grown. Harry took note of the fact that Malfoy had grown a seeming match to Harry's own growth over the summer. He also noted that Malfoy's usually impeccable hair was now disheveled and obviously left to its own devices, a bit over-grown and ragged.
Malfoy was mumbling under his breath and carrying what looked like a bottle of butterbeer, but seemed to light and also having too powerful an affect to actually be the sweet, warm substance. Harry watched as Malfoy stumbled into the corner of the tower he was coming around, almost keeling over in front of Harry. Not knowing that Harry was there, Malfoy laughed at his own clumsiness. As he recovered, he began to move again and did fall finally as he stepped on his robes. Landing with a thud, directly in front of Harry, the boy began to sob into the grass.
Feeling suddenly the intruder, Harry thought to get up but stopped short when he heard Malfoy speaking.
"Daddy," came the terrible muffled groan of the sobbing heap lying before Harry. "Dad…"
Feeling a pang of something that he almost thought was sympathy, Harry felt worse than ever about being here at this moment; the moment of Malfoy's fall. It suddenly dawned on him that he'd never seen Malfoy without his guard up and he felt compelled to see this through, his curiosity getting the best of him.
Watching in silence, he heard Malfoy crying gently into the grass, his sobs coming in wrecked hitches as his breath caught and his drunken body heaved up and down on the ground like a broken accordion expelling its last breath. Unable to control the sympathy welling up inside him, Harry compelled his Gryffindor senses to abate while he reminded himself that this was Malfoy and not some normal kid who needed a helping hand. He knew, deep down, that should he reveal himself to Draco in this moment of weakness, not only would Draco reject his comforting touch, he would hate Harry with all that he was worth. And so he watched in silence.
~*~
It wasn't until the next Monday in Potions that Harry noticed the change, that others had noticed the change, and the realization hit him like a book to the head. Seated only a few rows behind Draco, Harry was watching the boy casually, noticing how little pride the young blond seemed to be taking in his usual favorite subject. Even Professor Snape, who felt that Draco was the only student worth teaching in the entire school had seemed to notice the sadness which now possessed the normally frightful and petulant boy.
After the class had ended and Draco had slinked off between Crabbe and Goyle, his best friends and body guards, Hermione and Ron rushed over to Harry.
"Have you seen? Malfoy's practically a zombie! Bet it's his dad, all being caught and sent to Azkaban. Even without the Dementors, the place is still a nightmare!" Ron was excited, his voice practically screaming with pleasure. Harry knew he should be as well, but after Saturday night he'd not been able to see Draco the same way.
"Well I'm just glad the Dementors are gone. Let V-Voldemort have them! Horrible!" Hermione, still stuttering with the Dark Lord's name, tried to nudge Harry into the conversation. "You have heard, haven't you Harry?"
"No, but I suppose it was only a matter of time," he said emotionlessly. Hermione raised her eyebrow at him and simply changed the subject. While she droned on about History of Magic and Professor Binns, whose class they were heading to next, Harry let his thoughts wander back to Draco, interpreting what he'd seen with the new knowledge that Lucius Malfoy was now in prision and Draco and his mother were left on their own. As a passing thought, he realized he was no longer calling him 'Malfoy'.
~*~
The following weekend Harry spent both Friday and Saturday nights at the pitch, in the same spot. He tried not to acknowledge that he was hoping Draco would return, and almost chided himself on the fact that he'd removed the invisibility cloak in hopes of striking up conversation. That he'd stopped thinking of Sirius never even occurred to him.
It was Saturday night, around two in the morning when Harry was finally given his chance. As he'd just thought to leave, Harry was in a half stand when Draco came stumbling around the corner, no pretence about his drunkenness, and no ability to stay on his feet. The boy collapsed rather frumpily into the grass and lay there without apparently even knowing the Boy Who Lived was standing not a foot away.
This time when the crying started, the piteous dry heaving, instead of continuing to rise or listen, Harry sat back down and edged over to Draco, cautiously placing a sympathetic hand on the lump that was Draco's shoulder. No stranger to pain, Harry knew just how much pain this boy must be in and felt nothing but empathy, so his touch was full of that very emotion and it seemed that even Draco knew it was not meant as more than comfort as he did nothing but stop breathing for a moment, silently pulling himself together.
"What are you doing here, Potter?" His voice was strained, still drunken and a bit slurred, but lacking the venom it usually held.
"I come here to think," he responded plainly.
"You were here the other night—last weekend."
Surprised that Draco had known, Harry's breath caught and it took him a moment to answer. "Yes," he said honestly.
"What a sight this would make; Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, arch enemies sharing moments of pain like best friends." His voice held a little contempt, but not enough that Harry was offended. "It's your fault, Potter."
"What is?"
"My father," he said simply. "If you and that meddling old goat headmaster hadn't been so quick to tell on him, he wouldn't be where he is." He paused for a bit, then said with less anger, "He wouldn't have left us."
"You can't blame me for what he chose to do with his life, Draco." Harry heard the boy gasp and almost smiled when Draco looked up at the use of his first name.
"No, Potter," he said defiantly. "Just as you couldn't help killing your godfather!"
Unsure whether he could let that go, Harry tried to reign in the guilt and tears that threatened to overtake him. He knew that Draco was just lashing out, but some of the old hatred began to seep back in and he had to hold himself back more than he'd ever done in his young life. "It-It wasn't my fault," he tried uncertainly.
Draco just looked at him, seemingly trying to see through his drunken eyes at this Harry before him, uncertain of the events taking place. "Why are you here, Potter? Shouldn't you be off trying to save the world, as usual?"
"Nothing to save at the moment," Harry said quickly, without thinking. He laughed at himself almost immediately after, realizing just how silly he'd sounded. Draco fought a smirk. Harry's expression changed and he said somberly, "I know what it's like to miss your parents, Draco."
The icy blond boy's face, which was at this moment framed just right by moonlight and the almost white blond locks of his unkempt hair, screwed up and tears fell unbidden from his blue eyes. "Fuck off, Potter. Leave me alone," he stumbled amongst his sobs.
"No, Draco," his voice dripping concern, his hand moving to wipe away a stray tear from the soft, pale cheek. "I—I can't leave." And it was here that Harry realized that he couldn't leave. Things had changed somewhere, the world overturned for both of these boys and now he could no longer pretend that childish games of hatred and jealousy were enough to stop him from helping this soul in need, and getting help from the boy that knew him better than anyone aside from Ron and Hermione. The only boy who had been able to get under his skin enough times to know Harry almost better than Harry himself did.
It wasn't love, nor lust that made him do it, but simple acknowledgement of the change; Harry Potter leaned down and kissed Draco Malfoy's cheek with the compassion of a father to a son, a brother to a brother.
Draco simply started up at him, his crying interrupted by shock. Draco's face was almost unreadable it was so flushed with emotion. Harry could almost see the million-kilometer an hour pace of the thoughts rushing across those softly chiseled features.
"Why'd you do that," Draco asked in an almost whisper.
"Because you needed it."
Rather than replying, Draco collected himself and sat up, the fire-whiskey still strong in his veins but his determination and the sudden shots of adrenaline propelling him. He sat facing the marked wizard with an expression of disbelief and newfound regard. And then, without a word or an apparent thought as to whether it would be okay, he leaned forward and pressed his soft, thin rose lips to the full, manly lips of Harry Potter.
Harry sat stunned as Draco nibbled his lower lip, the feelings of inadequacy he felt during his first kiss with Cho Chang rising in his stomach, unwelcome butterflies traipsing about like fairies inside him. Before he'd even had time to notice that he wasn't in the least bit bothered that Draco Malfoy was kissing him, Harry was returning the kiss with no more thought as to why, but only worry that he'd do it wrong.
When Draco pulled back, his eyes betraying his fear and anxiety, Harry couldn't help but smile and let a short laugh free as his cheeks burned with the heat of the passion of the kiss and his lips tingled with the bruising that their ferocious kiss had caused.
"Why'd you stop?" Harry said with a note of disappointment.
Draco just looked at him with confusion and then, as if giving in to something moved closer and leaned in for another go. This kiss lasted nearly ten minutes until both of them felt their lungs burning with the fire of gasps of oxygen let in during brief moments when they'd been able to relinquish their tongues' holds on each other. Pulling back with trepidation, they looked into each others' eyes, still only millimeters away from each other and noses brushing as breath glided along their cheeks, and Harry savored the taste of the spiked butterbeer on his tongue while Draco's eyes suddenly bulged.
Before Harry knew what was happening, Draco was vomiting all over his robes and looking as if the sky had just started falling.
And so Harry laughed a hearty laugh, genuine and full of happiness for the first time in so long that his heart nearly burst from the feelings. And this time, when the tears came, Harry let them loose, his laugh turning into a sob. Draco, who had joined in the laugh in-between trying to clean up his mess and not being able to hold his wand steady suddenly stopped and watched as Harry fell to pieces.
It all came out of him, like a dam so full to the brim being released by a sudden explosion. Cedric, Sirius, the Dursleys, the years of torment, the pain of knowing he'd have to fight Voldemort to the death, the knowledge that Neville could have just as easily been the one and Harry's parents would still be alive. The shame at having wished this all upon the innocent boy who had, in his own way, also lost his parents in a war that neither of them had been old enough to understand. He let it all out and for once felt a sort of relief washing over him. As if he couldn't feel the happiness without the pain, Harry cried for almost twenty minutes. At first Draco had just watched in shock, but soon he'd pulled Harry close and returned the gesture Harry had given him. Soon, they were both crying and both feeling a bond changing between them.
When they'd calmed down, even ceasing crying, they had continued to hold one another for a long time after. No movement until the smell of Draco's sick on Harry was too powerful and Draco had finally pulled out his wand and muttered scourgify, putting his wand away happily when it had all vanished into thin air. Uncertainly, Draco pulled Harry back into the embrace, shifting to a more comfortable position so that their legs were now on either side of the opposite boy, their arms wrapped possessively around each other and heads resting on the others' shoulder.
After a time, Harry whispered, "Who would have thought?"
Draco simply grunted his acknowledgement, allowing a bit of 'Don't ruin this,' to seep in.
~*~
"What the hell?" Ron asked angrily. His face was bright red so that even his freckles were hidden and his ears were lost in his hair. "You and Malfoy? Harry!" He looked ready to hit Harry, which wouldn't have come as too much of a shock. "I don't care that he's a boy, Harry, I mean, do what you like you know? But Malfoy?"
"Ron, please," Hermione said shortly. She was looking at him with daggers in her eyes and even Ron backed off a little, sitting in a huff in the plush chair by the fire. Harry finally sat opposite him and Hermione sat on the arm of Harry's chair. Before continuing, she put her hand on Harry's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "Harry, I think I understand. I even suppose I should have seen it coming, really," she said, musing at her own lack of divination. "You hated each other so much because you had so much in common, and he was simply jealous of you for getting what had always come so easily to him."
"Please don't analyze this, Hermione." Harry looked up at her with a smile, letting her know that he loved her but that he didn't really want to have something so new and unfamiliar torn apart on him. "All I know right now is that we're both in pain, and it's something that no one else really understands, besides maybe Neville." Harry paused, as if considering what it would have been like if it had been Neville instead of Draco on the Quidditch field. He shook his head and continued, "And Ron, I know you hate Draco, but it's not like I'm asking you to be his best mate."
"Better damn well not," Ron said plainly, still avoiding the gazes of his two best friends.
"Well I'm fine with it," Hermione said enthusiastically. "At least now people will stop thinking we're together!" She smirked at him playfully.
"Well with you and Krum spending so much public time together this summer, who would think that now anyway?" Ron gave a snort from the chair where he was still sulking. Hermione just blushed and changed the subject. Laughing and chiding alone with them, when Ron finally came out of his sulk to join in the conversation, Harry realized that for the first time in almost three years, he was truly happy. If Voldemort walked in just then, he'd be ready to fight. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy would be the reason Harry Potter was ready to fight again? That he was ready to live again? But later, when Harry entered the Great Hall for lunch and found Draco waiting for him, he looked into those grayish-blue eyes and knew that it was meant to be, and had always been Draco anyway.
When they kissed, forgetting they were in front of the whole school, they both blushed crimson when half of the school, mostly younger years but a few of the seventh included all cried out in mockingly jealous 'Oooohs'. Harry and Draco moved over to the Gryffindor table, faces still a shade of red hardly seen on Draco.
"Just wait 'til that Skeeter woman gets a hold of this," Ron said under his breath. Hermione, Draco and Harry all laughed and Ron just looked at Draco's now softened face and seemed to regard him in a different light. Harry smiled; all was finally getting to be right with the world.