Rated T for slash and a tad bit of naughty language.
A/N: Well I decided to take a brief, shallow, and rather painful stab at writing romance. I did this primarily for the entertainment of my odd friend Neon Leprechaun. Enjoy, or at least try not to puke at my pathetic efforts!
Disclaimer: Romance is ewwy!
Harry sighed and rolled over, dragging the covers over his head in an attempt to drown out the rain pounding on the window beside his bed. In a few hours he would be down on the Quidditch pitch, fighting the elements, in an attempt to slaughter Slytherin in the last match of the season and hopefully win the Cup. After a moment he gave up on the idea of sleeping and, stifling a yawn, rose from his four-poster. He threw on the first pair of robes he could find and, shouldering his Firebolt, headed downstairs.
At first when he entered the Great Hall it appeared to be empty, but when he had taken his seat he noticed that a space was occupied at the Slytherin table as well. He didn't need to look twice to see that it was Draco Malfoy, but he did anyway. He colored slightly when the blonde met his gaze with his usual sneer, and Harry's attention quickly returned to his toast and coffee. He had had a crush on Draco since the end of last year when they had been forced to join sides to defeat Voldemort and Harry had hoped that this year they could at least put aside their differences and become friends. No such luck, their seventh year had dawned with their enmity as bitter and strong as ever. Harry sighed, he would like to hope that there had been more than contempt and dislike in that brief glance, but as he had learned, hoping for the impossible never worked out. He quickly shoved those thoughts out of his head and fixed his attention on Ron and Hermione who had just taken the seats on either side of him.
"Hi Harry!" Ron said cheerfully. His playing had greatly improved since fifth year and he no longer became sick with nerves before the matches. "Fun flying conditions, eh?" he commented, gesturing at the murky gray ceiling.
"Uh, yeah, great." said Harry distractedly. He had told neither of his friends of his sudden feelings toward their arch-rival, fearing they would attempt to ship him away to St. Mungo's at the next possible moment.
Hermione, the less oblivious of the two, picked up on his tone, "Harry is there something wrong?"
"Uh, no, of course not. I-I just didn't sleep well." This at least was true. He had once again been troubled by rather, ah, odd dreams about the platinum haired Slytherin, not that he was complaining, but they did leave him slightly sleep-deprived.
Hermione looked at him skeptically, but didn't protest, instead helping herself to some coffee. Ron grinned and began to pile up his plate with everything in reach and began to dig in at an alarming rate. Ron always seemed to be impossibly happy of late, this was probably due to the fact that he had been dating Hermione for several months now, something both had obviously wanted to do since practically first year. Harry hadn't been romantically involved with anyone since Cho. This was perfectly understandable since the war had taken up most his time. But now, since Voldemort was dead, he had been rather hoping… His thoughts lurched back to Draco and he wrestled them back to their proper place.
He didn't say much through the rest of breakfast in favor of listening to the conversation around him. It was mostly centered on the upcoming Quidditch match and with every mention of Malfoy, Harry's stomach lurched unpleasantly. He prodded mindlessly at the scrambled eggs on his plate, shifting them around to form "random" letters before his eyes. He really was far too obsessed with the boy.
All too soon, it was time to head down to the pitch. He nodded to the rest of his team and they rose, following him out into the soggy morning. He was silent while changing into his Quidditch robes and barely said a dozen words to his team before sloshing out into the storm. Ice cold rain drizzled down on the players as they walked across the field. Harry was rather pleased with the team he had put together. Ron, of course, was Keeper, the Chasers consisted of Ginny, Parvati and Dean, and the positions of the Beaters were manned by Seamus and, surprisingly, Colin Creevy. Colin may not have looked to bulky, and was by far the smallest player on the team, but Harry had learned from experience that he could hit a Bludger as well as Fred or George.
The Captains shook hands according to custom and Harry's stomach seemed to do back flips as he grasped Draco's outstretched hand. He held on to it a little longer than was probably necessary before turning to mount his broom. His feet squelched in the mud and his mind was so far out into space that he had to try twice before successfully getting onto the Firebolt. At the sound of the whistle the teams were off, fighting the harsh wind. The rain beat down harder than ever, but thanks to a water-repelling charm Harry's visibility was next to perfect.
"Weasley has the Quaffle." Professor McGonagall's voice rang out over the stands. They had not managed to find anyone else who wanted to do the commentary this year. No one believed they could top Luna's memorable time at the microphone and so they had gone back to the basic; each match was commentated by a different teacher. This had been interesting for it had shown with which house the Hogwarts' Professors' loyalties truly lay. Who knew that Flitwick was actually a Slytherin at heart? "She passes it to Patil, who passes it to Thomas, and back to Patil. Patil scores!"
Harry grinned, and then staggered slightly as something brushed past him. He looked back, his heart leaping as he realized it was Draco. He was sorely tempted to do a loop-de-loop in midair, but refrained from doing so, instead returning to the task of scouring the field for the Snitch.
Harry swooped upward until the players on the pitch were all tiny specks dotted in haze of green. His Beaters were performing spectacularly, zooming back and forth in complicated patterns while causing chaos among the other team with their well aimed blows. He watched with bated breath as his Chasers preformed a particularly difficult maneuver, and then cheered as yet another goal was scored. The wind in his ears drowned out the commentary and the roar of the crowd. All his troubles seemed so minute and far behind when he was up this high. He did a dive-bomb just for the heck of it, pelting for the earth at maximum speed. He heard several people scream as he hurtled toward the ground, just to pull out mere feet away from his imminent fate. Freezing droplets splattered against his face as he took to the sky once more.
Half an hour later Gryffindor was up by 80 points with no sign of the tiny golden ball. The rain had not let up an inch and Harry had already had to call a time out when Dean had been hit in the face by a Bludger. His flying was still a little wobbly and Harry hoped to end the game quickly. Instinctively he spun to dodge a Bludger and in mid-spin he caught sight of a flash of gold near the Slytherin goal posts. He zoomed after it. Half way there, Draco saw him hurling toward the ball and he too put on a burst of speed. Ten feet away from their prize, the two boys were neck and neck. Surprisingly, Draco hadn't made a single negative remark to Harry and when Harry's hand brushed while both were reaching for the Snitch, was it just Harry's imagination that pictured Draco smiling? But a second later the match was over as Harry shot strait up into the air, a whoop of joy escaping his lips as he grasped the walnut-sized ball. As predicted, the team collided in a mid-air hug, tears of joy streaming down all their faces.
The group touched the ground with a soft thump, shouting themselves hoarse as the rest of Gryffindor rushed out to congratulate them. Harry received countless pats on the back and high-fives, and even looked up to see Dumbledore striding toward him bearing the silver Quidditch Cup. Water sparkled and dripped down the magnificent trophy, but Harry turned his attention toward searching for only one face among the crowd, one face that he knew would be drenched in disappointment, and that alone would wipe out his happiness, but still he searched.
A minute later he realized that the face he sought was rushing toward him. His heart sank as he realized there was fire in Draco's eyes and he prepared himself for the onslaught of insults that was sure to come. Suddenly, Harry was being kissed rather ferociously. He pulled away in alarm, only to realize that it was Draco who stood before him. With an unbelieving smile, he put a hand on the back of that silver-blonde head and pulled Draco's mouth back on top of his with intense force. It was the most wonderful sensation of his life, which was odd because all he could remember of his last kiss was that it had been distinctively wet. This was totally different; it was more passionate and just more right. The brief thought, "I'm gay!" passed through his mind, but he shoved it aside, losing himself in the sensation. To hell with what his friends thought, to hell with what the rest of his house, or the rest of the school for that matter, thought, he was happy for the first time in months. Draco's hand tangled in Harry's hair as he deepened the kiss and Harry's hands roamed across the back of Draco's robes, pulling the two closer. All that mattered in the world was Draco and the fact that he, Harry, was kissing him. When they finally broke apart in what seemed like an infinite amount of minutes later, they found that a stunned silence had engulfed the crowd. Eyes popped and several mouths hung open. Ron had dropped the silver cup in the mud and had turned an unnatural shade of purplish-green that could not have been good for his health. He now looked as though he was either about to feint, wretch in the bushes, or a nasty combination of the two.
"What do you say, Potter, we head someplace a bit more private?" Draco asked. His usual smirk was replaced with a smile that lit up his features.
"I'm game with that!" replied Harry with a grin just as broad. So without another word, they headed back up to the school, leaving behind a rather shocked bunch of people.
More A/N: Hmm…well I made a bold attempt! Review and tell me what you thought!
