Chapter Three

Quidditch

Harry tried not to look over at the Slytherin table as he ate his breakfast. He could feel Malfoy's glare, as he could for most of the week, but was determined not to rise to it. Harry still felt angry and hurt over the incident at the Three Broomsticks. There was an unpredictability to Malfoy that he both liked and disliked, and it had shown itself in a big way. He had pushed Harry to answer, and then just exploded, jumping to the wrong conclusion. He could see how Malfoy was upset, but even their years of enmity couldn't excuse his reaction. Harry had been studiously avoiding the other boy's scowls ever since. Besides, he would see him enough today as it was; the Quidditchseason was starting, and in a predictable fashion Gryffindor was up against Slytherin.

Harry tried to eat his breakfast, but ended up pushing a runny egg around his plate with a piece of soggy toast. Somehow, he always lost his appetite when there was a game on, but today his thoughts weren't on the snitch. He would be up against Malfoy again, a thought which filled him with dread. He looked around the table, and noticed Ron had no qualms about eating. He was stuffing his face with forkfuls sausages and bacon.

"Good luck today Harry!" Ginny shouted over to him, which prompted several bursts of good luck and crush the slimy snakes!He nodded back to them, and drank another mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"Harry, I really think you should speak to him today." Hermione sat down next to him, buttering two slices of toast and pouring a cup of tea. "It will only get worse if you don't."

"Thank you Hermione, great encouragement!" He rolled his eyes.

"Oh grow up! Maybe if you lost a game once in a while I might have to encourage you!"

"You see, now that's a little more encouraging!" Harry replied, laughing.

"I'm serious Harry," Hermione said, getting a piece of parchment from her bag, "we both know that the other Slytherins look to him. How are we going to make any progress with this list if you and Malfoy are at each other's throats?" She brandished it at him.

"I don't know." He replied, still prodding the remains of his meal. There was another reason that Harry had been avoiding Malfoy which he wasn't ready to tell Hermione, or anyone, any time soon. He had fumbled over a conversation with the headmaster about meeting him, and was sure he had said the word date. Dumbledore had given nothing away, and Harry mentally cringed at the memory. He still hated Malfoy, got angry every time he opened his stupid Pureblood mouth, but there was a new aspect of his relationship with the Ice Prince of Slytherin. One that woke him with embarrassment in the mornings. No wonder Malfoy thought he was trying to convert him. Today though, he had other things to worry about, Quidditch was looming and he needed to win.

~X~

Rain pelted Harry's face at a furious pace, making it almost impossible for him to see. The game had started in sunshine, but before long the skies had darkened, and then opened. He urged his broom forward, trying to find the snitch an all but futile task in these conditions. He took out his wand, and murmured a spell Hermione had taught him to clear his vision.

"What's the matter, Potter, letting a bit of rain affect your game?" Malfoy flew past, a smug grin fixed firmly on his face. Harry seethed as he noticed that Malfoy was bone dry and running circles round him. Malfoy had taken every chance he could to put Harry off his game, right from the start. Harry had been nervous about shaking hands at the beginning of the match, the first contact he'd had with him in over a week, and Malfoy actually winked at him. Once they were in the air, Malfoy would only have to look his way, and Harry would fumble. Lee Jordan, Quidditch commentator, had wasted no time in calling Malfoy a cheating Slytherin git. It had no effect on Harry's game though, he was spectacularly out-of-form today. A roaring cheer from the Slytherin stands informed him that they had scored, and now held the lead. He had to find the snitch before Malfoy, at any cost.

The rain was coming down even harder now, battering the pitch. Harry looked to Madame Hooch, who was conferring with the headmaster on something. Both teams were playing sluggishly as their robes got steadily wetter. Even the crowds in the bleachers weren't as enthusiastic as normal. A great peal of thunder echoed throughout the grounds, and a torrent of wind swept through in its wake. The crowd gasped, there had never been a thunderstorm during a Quidditch game before. Some of the more excitable younger years started whooping and clapping. Harry could see Malfoy climbing, determination etched on his face. Harry urged his Firebolt forward, chasing the opposing seeker. He was climbing to escape the rain, Harry thought. If he could get high enough, above the clouds, then he would be able to spot the snitch and end the game.

Instead of getting better, the weather only got worse as he climbed. Inside the cloud, thunder echoed, and brilliant flashes of lightning blinded his vision, bleaching everything in a pale hue. The visibility was almost zero. Harry was scared.

"MALFOY!" Harry shouted as he drew alongside him. "YOU HAVE TO TURN BACK!" He tried grabbing Malfoy's broom, but a gust of wind blew them apart. Harry wheeled his broom back, fighting against the air, and pulled level again. Malfoy's eyes were wide, and Harry could see that he was struggling to keep control of his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"POTTER!"Malfoy smirked at him, "WHY DO YOU ALWAYS SHOW UP WHEN THERE'S TROUBLE?"

"IS THAT YOUR ATTEMPT AT AN APOLOGY?"

"I'D SAY WE'RE ABOUT EQUAL NOW, DON'T YOU?" Malfoy shot back, slashing his wand through the air, ending the charm which kept him dry. The rain soaked him instantly, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"NO, BUT IT'S A START!" His attempt at wit failing when another flash of lightning knocked Malfoy off course. Harry blinked to regain his vision and saw that pieces of Malfoy's broom were falling, and they were on fire. He franticly searched for the Slytherin, and found him falling to earth, limp. He dived without thinking, battling the wind and rain. He had to get him before he hit the ground. Pushing his broom as fast as it could go, he hurtled towards the ground like a madman, shooting through the bottom of the cloud like a bullet. He flattened himself to gain more speed, urging forward as much as he could. Malfoy's body twisted slightly in the air, which slowed him a fraction. That was all Harry needed. He caught an arm, and swung him over the back of his broom, whilst pulling up as hard as he could. It would be a close call. Harry braced himself to hit the ground, but it never came. His feet barely skimmed the grass of the pitch, and he looked around for the first time. The other students were cheering, Slytherin louder than most, and several teachers were running towards him. He checked behind him to see how Malfoy was, and found the boy awake and grinning weakly. His hand was in the air. Harry stared with disbelief. Malfoy had the Snitch.