For Sunday
Treasure
Words: 416
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Harry Potter didn't think that his life could get any worse.
Throughout his short four years at Hogwarts he had dealt with everything from lovesick stares, to hateful stares, to pity stares, to freak out stares. He had fought Voldemort two times already and had no wish to repeat it. He had been proclaimed Slytherin Heir. His death had been predicted numerous times. He had survived all of this, but he wasn't so sure he could survive his current predicament.
He had just completed his second task. He had retrieved his treasure. He had been a bit stupid to believe Dumbledore would let anyone get hurt, but that was not the problem.
Ron was patting him sympathetically on the shoulder as if he was about to die, which was probably true. Hermione was rubbing his arms with the towel to keep him warm, but he could she that she was trying to keep the smirk off her face. She had warned him after all. So, his friends were not the problem, too.
The problem was his treasure. The thing he had to retrieve from the depths of the lake was none other than Draco Malfoy.
Everyone had expected it to be Ron, or maybe Hermione, or even Ginny, but no one had expected it to be the blond Slytherin.
And while Harry was dying of mortification, a very flushed Malfoy was looking at him warily.
Harry groaned in desperation and hid his face in his hands, ignoring his schoolmates dumbfounded stares, the teachers amused ones and Lucius apoplectic expression. He would dye from embarrassment soon. Finally, laughter erupted as expected.
He considered making a run for it, but he still had to hear his how many points he gained… not that that was important compared to the hex he was sure Draco was conjuring right now.
Suddenly, silence reigned.
He almost jumped when two bigger hands replaced Hermione's. He looked up to see the blond, sitting closer to him, straddling him with his long legs, conjure a dry towel and start to dry Harry's hair tenderly. His expression had come from wary to determinated.
"So, Potter, tell me." – Draco started, and his eyes were softer than Harry had ever seen and his voice was barely above a whisper. He looked up and their gazes met. Harry felt his heart miss a beat at the obvious display of emotion in the grey eyes. Maybe he wouldn't be hexed after all. – "What exactly about me would you miss?"
I really had fun writing this chapter...