AN: This is my very first fanfic, so pleeeease review!
Harry held his wrist carefully as he walked away from the Quidditch field with a huge grin on his face. His wrist was probably broken, but it was worth it for the thrill of winning. Up in the air was the only time he felt free of all the expectations of The Boy Who Lived. On his broomstick, he was just Harry, Gryffindor Seeker. Like his dad.
Madame Pomfrey mended his wrist in a heartbeat with a foul-tasting potion and a scolding. Harry was still pumped over the victory against Ravenclaw as he headed to the Gryffindor tower from the hospital wing, but when he was almost to the top of one of the many magical staircases, the entire thing turned a quarter to the left. Harry now faced an elaborate tapestry of a nymph with very few clothes feeding grapes to a satyr.
As he stood trying to figure out the quickest way back to the common room, Draco Malfoy burst out from a hidden passageway behind the tapestry. A letter was clenched in his fist, and his eyes, Harry noticed, were red and puffy, almost as if—
"You!" Draco shouted, looking furious. He pulled his wand out as Harry took a step back. "I didn't mean-- I wasn't-- it was--" Harry stammered. The Slytherin started to yell a curse, but he stumbled into Harry and the two fell down the stairs. Harry ended up sprawled on top of Draco at the bottom of the stairs.
Draco's still-teary grey eyes stared into Harry's startled green eyes for a second, before Harry scrambled to his feet. He held a hand out to Draco, who slapped it away. "I don't need help, Potter," he spat. Harry looked at him for a second, then put his hand into his pocket. "Fine," he said coolly, walking away.
Later that night as he lay in bed, Harry's thoughts turned back to his collision with Draco. Had he ever seen Malfoy show any emotion before besides disdain and dislike? It was incredibly shocking to see Draco showing fear, and grief, and doubt rather than his usual smug arrogance. He always acted so superior, just like his father. Maybe it was just a Malfoy thing. Still, in that moment when he saw Draco completely vulnerable, the blonde had seemed almost... attractive. Exhausted by the day, Harry finally fell asleep.
Outside the dungeons before Potions the next day, Harry was leaning against the stone wall. Down the hall, Pansy Parkinson was trying to flirt with Draco. "That essay was so long, it took forever. Don't you think we shouldn't have to do this? I mean," she simpered, "It's not like you need the help, you've always been the best at Potions…" Draco looked away, clearly uninterested, as Pansy brushed up against him. "Of course," she murmured, "you're the best at everything." She snaked her arm around his neck.
Draco straightened up and glared at her. "Quit being such a slut, Pansy." She sulked. "You know, plenty of guys would be begging for me." Draco rolled his eyes. "Well then, go flirt with them," he said. Pansy crossed her arms. "Anyone would think you weren't interested in girls, Malfoy!" she said as she flounced away. To Harry's astonishment, a pale pink crept across Draco's cheeks. Malfoy, queer? Impossible. But still… He would have to ask Seamus.
That evening in the boy's dormitory, Harry asked the gay wizard. Seamus laughed, "Of course he's queer, just lookit the boy! The only reason he hasn't come out of the closet is because his da would probably disown him." He paused, looking thoughtful. "You know, I reckon—" Dean tossed a shoe at him. "Some of us are trying to sleep, shut up!" Harry whispered thanks to Seamus and crawled into bed, with quite a lot on his mind.