AN: I am pretty tired today... Not really... Just thought I would change it up... Didn't want to start off with the typical 'thanks for reading'. I understand that many of you are very against ellipses, and I try to avoid them, so sorry for the excess above. Now, would you like me to babble some more or would you like the next story?

Muy Importante: I need your opinion! I had this idea for another Drarry fic where Draco is a policeman and Harry is living in the unsafe area of London and romantics and gay sex ensue. (It would be rated M, so if you don't like that stuff, I am sorry.) So, my dilemma is whether to start it now or to wait until after I finish my Dramione fic (sorry! I do not really ship them, they just fit the fic idea!) or do I start it now and maybe update that every weekend too as I have been doing with this fic? Your opinion will be considered! Really, if one of you says yes, I will write a chapter for it this weekend. Anyway, let's get to the story.

Chapter 11: Harry Potter and the Heir

Sitting around the cauldron in the girl's bathroom, the trio each presented their final points in a mild argument that had been going on for a few days. Harry was convinced that Hermione and Ron were being prats about this whole Heir of Slytherin thing. There was no way that Draco, his biggest crush ever, had any ties to the petrifications! Ron, however, was vehement that the opposite was true. Harry had decided long ago that Ron was ramrod straight and could not see Draco's beauty let alone his brilliantly kind personality.

Hermione muttered, "Harry, we know that you are friends with Draco, but most evil people have friends. That is how they gain their power. Few people can have such an influence all by themselves."

Harry slammed his fists against one of the sinks. "Don't you understand that he's just a kid like us! He has hopes and dreams and would never hurt anyone!"

"Oh, there are some people I would like to hurt," Ron corrected him. "Including Draco. Y'know Harry, you've been sticking up for him and awful lot lately. It's like you're obsessed!" He started laughing to himself to lighten the mood as he usually hid and hugged his sides for dramatic effect as Hermione rolled her eyes and set back to reading. "It's like you've got a crush!"

Both of the others erupted at this, but of course for different reasons. Luckily for Harry, Hermione took the lead, bashing Ron's apathy with "Would you sober up? You seem more drunk than my mum's Uncle Albert. I think all these potion fumes are getting to you."

"What? Harry's just a little too close to this Malfoy character. He's bad news. All Slytherins are. His whole family comes from a line of people who were practically born in Knockturn Alley. Remember? Harry saw the Malfoys in that terrible shop?"

"I'm still here!" Harry shouted! "And I would prefer it if you would wait to talk about me behind my back once I left, which I think I will do quite soon if you two don't shut up."

Hermione raised her hands in the air for silence. "Alright! We will terminate the discussion as long as we can agree that we should still finish the potion and put it to use as planned after all of our, well, my hard work!"

"Fine!" Ron said gruffly as he leaned against a stall door and ignored the titterings of Moaning Myrtle from the toilet behind him. "So, how about those Chudley Cannons!"

"Oh Ron!" Harry exclaimed, perching on top of a sink with his smile finally returning. "They are the worst derby team ever! Even the Hufflepuffs are better than them!"

Hermione chided him for his Hufflepuff-bashing, reminding him of their loyalty, but Harry and Ron rudely mimicked her while she added the final ingredient to the potion.

"I mean, if their jammer could actually skate, they might be able to beat a Junior Team or something, but the poor guy falls down on every curve, Ron. It's like they don't even practice!"

"Come on, they have perseverance and a great fan following!"

"By fan following, do you mean yourself?"

"Naw! They are the best! They just haven't gotten their chance to shine! All underdogs have to suffer before they rise to fame."

"So you admit they're the underdogs?"

"Boys! We should leave now. It's almost time for bed and I am done with the potion for the day."

The two laughed at Hermione childishly to suggest that they did not need to take orders from her, but they obliged and even let her drape her arms across their shoulders as they walked back to the Common Room. En route, they passed a group of second year Slytherins, Draco and Pansy included. Draco smiled at Harry but quickly squinted in disgust when he saw his company. He promptly snaked his arm around Pansy's waist much to her delight and carted her off towards the dungeons. Inside his gut, Harry burned with Gryffindor fury and Slytherin ambition. Maybe the Sorting Hat had been right to put him with the passionate house.

Oliver Wood had just launched into a dramatic speech as his team attempted to avoid him while doing warm up laps around the rink when the Slytherins showed up, in full uniform and everything.

"Oliver!" Marcus Flint shouted. Merlin the oaf had a voice to match his ugly face! "Professor Snape has given us permission to use the rink at this time to try out our new skates and new seeker." As if on cue, the Slytherins each stuck out their right feet and slid up their pant legs to show off the new Boa Constrictor 2000 skates. "They're a gift from the Malfoys, as if, you could say, their new jammer." Marcus reached into his throng of skaters and pulled a confident Draco to the front.

Harry stopped where he was and nodded to his friend. "Hello, Draco."

"Potter." The boy sneered.

The Boy Who Lived cringed at the sound of such disdain coming from his comrade. Had all of their skating lessons together meant nothing? Had Draco found out about the Polyjuice Potion?

"Flint, if you think for one second that I will let you use this space when we have a race tomorrow, you are a f-"

"Whoa, watch it, Wood. I have a signed letter from Professor Snape himself."

"I don't need your bloody letter. I need the rink!" The twins flew into action and grabbed Oliver by the elbows to drag him off the rink, glaring at the Slytherins all the way. The girls sped after them, but Harry stayed behind, caught in staring at Draco.

"Well, see you tomorrow, Draco." Harry shrugged, but was met with another terse "Potter" and tried to ignore his feelings of betrayal as he pushed himself off the rink to the locker room where Oliver was in a locker-slamming rage.

He screamed at Harry before leaving, "Go do sprints on the straightaway behind the rink! I want you at your best for the race tomorrow!" The twins patted the young kid on the back and each girl gave him a hug before he skated off to follow Oliver's orders.

From the straight track, he could see the Slytherins practicing, blocking each other and attempting to block Draco to prepare him for the twin's recklessness, but he quickly skated away from them with fierce agility that Harry had learned from him.

Every so often, Harry would forget that he was supposed to be doing sprints and shake himself out of his lust for Draco before setting his feet in position and then pushing off, envisioning the cute blond at the end of his track. Each spring took its toll on him until he was panting before he even got started, but he kept going until he collapsed. At that point, the cheers and grunts had subsided from the rink to be replaced by the quiet lullaby of sliding skates nearby. He rolled his head to the side as he regained his breath to take in the beauty of a sweaty Draco gliding towards him. The blond grabbed him under the arms and swung him up into an unintentional hug as he balanced himself out.

"How was practice?" Harry managed to ask.

Draco chuckled at his friend's over exertion, all the hostility of earlier finally gone. "Fine. But we'll see how I do against the Weasley twins. Those boys play rough."

Harry sighed as Draco disentangled them from each other but put his hands on his knees before continuing, "I'll tell them to go easy on you."

"Yeah, right! The Weasleys hate the Malfoys! Those boys play for blood. Besides, I hear that the Gryffindor team has a great jammer who was on the team as a first year."

Harry pretended to play dumb, angling his dark green eyes towards Draco for the full effect. He was barely old enough to be able to recognize flirting, but he sure hope that this was it. "Oh really? I hear that the Slytherin jammer could win on looks alone."

Draco laughed. Jokes about homosexuality were funny to young boys like him, but not Harry. Each joke just made him more insecure and he had not meant the comment to be funny. Every time he ventured to compliment Draco, he simultaneously hoped that the boy would get the hint and also brush it off as humor.

"Well, good luck tomorrow, Harry. And never forget to thank your coach for training you so well."

"Thanks, Dray."

The blond did not even flinch at the endearing nickname.

Harry had seen muggle movies about figure skating many a time, and in them, this moment was always where the pretty girl kissed the guy who drove the zamboni or ran concessions, but he could not see any romance for him and Draco that day.

He carried on the rest of the afternoon in a haze, barely even attempting his homework before sitting himself down behind Hermione to copy hers and going to bed before the sun was down. At breakfast, he stuffed his face full of toast and gained Oliver's approval for stocking up on so many carbs. At some point, he remembered Hermione trying to break him from his trance, but he could barely register her annoyance, he was too focused on saving up his energy for this match.

Ron had to practically dress him and let his older brothers carry him down to the locker room where they splashed some water on his face and gave him what they called pumpkin juice, much to the girl's chagrin.

Harry started warming up after that, turning figure eights and swiveling around the sweaty floor, testing out his renewed energy. Oliver arrived right as the young boy started practicing jumps.

"Whoa, Potter. Don't wear yourself out!"

The glasses-boy beamed up at him. "Not possible, Oliver! I had my toast and I am ready to beat some Slytherins!"

The whole room cheered with gusto and Wood clapped him on the back, "Now that's the kind of enthusiasm I would like to hear! This reminds me of my..." The team settled down to seats on benches as their captain spewed motivational mumbo jumbo and managed to create puns involving the Quidditch Cup, but sprung up once he told them to head out to the rink.

Harry barely registered who else was on the rink from his team before he locked eyes with Draco who was jumping up and down on his skates to warm up. Madam Hooch stood in the middle of the rink and counted down with her whistle in hand before starting the clock and spinning around with the force of wind that followed the start off of the skaters.

Even though a circle has no end, Harry imagined Draco at the end of each lap and that pushed him to speed up even as the other boy fell a few seconds behind and the Slytherin team crowded around him. Once the two boys were skating on opposite sides of the rink, Harry half a lap ahead of Draco, the Slytherin team turned to Plan B. They skated backwards and sideways to create a wall around Draco so that he could catch up to Harry and avoid the Weasleys who already had scratches across their faces from an angry Slytherin.

With no defense fighting against him, Harry breezed on past and racked up lap after lap, so the Slytherins turned to Plan C with barely a minute left once they managed to slow down enough that Harry skated right into their pack. He threw his elbows out for protection and ducked his head to keep his center of gravity low as he let muscle memory take over in guiding him in circles to earn one last point before the buzzer rang. The crowd counted down from ten, and Harry set his speed at max capacity.

"Ten!" Flint closed in on him with a deadly glare in his eyes, sticking his skates out at odd angles to try to trip him.

"Nine!"

"Eight!"

"Seven!"

"Six!" Draco pulled his arms in to make himself as small as possible to avoid the Weasley twins and struggled to not slow to a glide in the last few seconds.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!" Flint's foot jutted out right in front of Harry who tumbled across the finish line, barely snagging one last point and definitely breaking something that snapped with a crack that sent even the Slytherins away in disgust!

His head fell back against the rink as images floated in and out of his periphery. Lockhart muttered over him, and he heard the protests of Hermione and Ron as their professor attempted a bone-healing charm. The next thing he knew, Harry had lost all feeling in his arm and woke up in the hospital wing with a gross potion but a beautiful blond in front of him.

A group of gingers wrestled the Slytherin out of the way and barraged Harry with questions. He answered each with half-consciousness and only remembered Hermione's comment: "The potion will be ready the day you get out. Sweet dreams."

Moaning Myrtle peered over Hermione's shoulder as the young witch filled each grimy glass with the muck and dropped in hairs that made it bubble.

"Are you sure you didn't just scoop up some lake scum?" Ron inquired as he contemplated plugging his nose to down the drink.

"Stop it, Ronald," Hermione muttered as each of them found a stall for themselves. "Drink it and change into your Slytherin robes. You may want to derobe before turning into Crabbe or Goyle. They are quite, um, large. Bottoms up!"

Each boy rolled their eyes but pinched their noses before downing the liquid. To Harry, it tasted worse than dish water he sometimes resorted to drinking at the Dursley's when he was washing the dishes and was prohibited from getting himself a glass of juice. He pressed his palms flat against the bathroom wall as he started shaking as if from a fever. His glasses fell off and his knees buckled, sending him crashing down naked to the floor where he rolled around in his newfound obesity.

"Blimey!" Ron groaned next door. "Crabbe is an oaf. Bloody hell, how can he live with himself? Hermione, couldn't we have just got their faces and hidden beneath these robes? I feel like a pig!"

A quiet snuffling came from across the room where Hermione was, so each of the boys scrambled to dress themselves before banging on her stall door. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Myrtle floated out of the wall, whispering, "You don't want to know, and she probably won't tell you. Cat's got her tongue."

"Go on without me," Hermione wailed.

"Come on, Hermione!"

"Go! Or I will never talk to you again!"

Myrtle floated through them and that chill was enough to send them running into the hallway where they ran into each other and got turned around.

"Where are the dungeons?" Ron asked.

"Um, I don't remember... We should ask Hermione." Harry turned to leave, but Ron grabbed him by the back of his robes and pulled him back.

"No! She's a mess! We can do this on our own!"

Harry nodded and the two boys started aimlessly wandering the halls in hopes that someone would pick them up. Draco answered their prayers when he found them ogling the one-eyed witch in confusion.

"Ay! Crabbe! Goyle! Where've you been?" They both turned around. "Why are you wearing glasses, Goyle?"

"Just, um, reading... Can we go back to the dungeons?" He thought quickly on his feet and walked towards the Wizard Apollo.

"Sure... You lost? I knew you two were stupid, but we have been here for two years. Come on." He jerked his head in the opposite direction and started leading them down memory lane, making Harry remember hiding under the covers with his crush to hid from Filch and partying with people he barely called friends but skated with on a regular basis over the summer. Each staircase got darker and darker until sconces lit up the rooms. Draco muttered the password and breathed a sigh of relief as they found the room empty. He lounged on a green leather armchair and ruffled his hair until his cohorts got comfortable.

"You two alright? You're usually chattering about something!"

"Er, you know, long day. Lots of classes."

"We had one, you fool," Draco reprimanded Goyle. Harry could only reassure himself with the thought that if Draco knew it was him, he would treat him with much more respect.

"Takes a lot out of me," Harry lied.

He was about to launch into some babble when Ron changed the subject like a railroad track. "So who do you think the Heir of Slytherin is?" Harry elbowed him in the side but Draco did notice because he responded.

"Well, Father says I shouldn't talk about it, and I did not pay attention to his lectures about lineage enough to know who was a descendant of Salazar. Whoever it is, though, is a true Slytherin! Anyone who is against mudbloods has their priorities straight!"

Ron started at that and nearly jumped out of his seat with his hair turning back to red, so Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, shouting, "We have to go get some food, Draco!"

"We just ate! Goyle, what's that on your forhead?"

Harry's hand jumped to his scar that was slowly returning, and in the split second before they left, he saw recognition flit across Draco's face. Ron collapsed once they had run up the stairs to a broom closet and started breathing regularly again, but Harry was so shaken up he could barely stand. Over and over again, he kept berating himself for betraying Malfoy. If he was going to marry that boy some day, he would have to be more trustworthy.

"Well," Ron huffed, "at least we know that it's not Draco."