The teams line up on the field, and Draco turns around to see his father in the stands. That's not a shock at all; he'd be there just to witness whether or not he messes up, but what does surprise him is his mother. Her ice blue eyes sparkle bright in the sun, and her once golden blond hair, now more of a dark white, frames her smile. The smile itself is sweet, as it's directed at her son, but the corners reveal her proud and conniving nature.

Draco finds himself smile back, even if only slightly, before he looks back towards the field. Everyone was already moving into position, and he has to rush to catch up with them. In the sky, things start off easy with just a few snide comments from the others about how defeating the Hufflepuffs should be easy. Draco knows this isn't true. Hufflepuffs are often stereotyped as weak with their easy-going nature, which, okay, maybe they do lack resourcefulness, intellect, and bravery, but they do pride themselves on hard work and loyalty. If nothing else, then surely those two things combined would at least make for a strong team.

"The quaffle's in the air, the snitch is released, and the game begins!"

This time around Draco's teammates seem to trust him a little more, and soon enough they've already scored their team fifty points. Hufflepuff has only managed thirty, but work ethic seems to grow more intense and formularized the farther behind they get. It's not predictable, not really. All it does is make them work better together, like some machine with a manual. "Draco!" Draco looks in the direction of the shout and finds himself catching the quaffle. Yes, it was dumb of his teammate to shout where the ball was going, but he was being even more of an idiot for losing concentration. Had they not shouted, then the quaffle may have as well just hit his face or bounced off his chest.

Come on. Get it together, Draco. He flies across the field, but with multiple objects and people in his way he has two options: he could try to shoot from here or he could pass it to another player. Well, I couldn't possibly shoot it from here. I wouldn't have enough strength, and besides that I would have to deal with that weird angle. He looks over and around his obstacles, before he finally sees someone. He passes the ball to Marcus Flint, and suddenly the goal has been made. He would smile, proud of his decision, but suddenly he feels a bit light-headed. He finds the sun just a bit bright too, as the crowd's excitement has already given him a headache. He shuts his eyes tightly and pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping that when he opened them everything would just stop.

"Draco. Are you okay?" It was Harry.

Draco opens his eyes wide, his mouth left agape, before he shouts, "What are you doing? Go catch that snitch." Harry seems bothered by this for a moment, as if questioning whether to do his part for the team, but after his moment of insanity passes he flies off to find the most important ball of the game. Draco shakes his head in disapproval and mutters in annoyance, "No, no. I don't have to catch the ball that decides whether or not we lose the game. I'm much too worried about you to do that." He spats, "Frickin' amateur." Realizing he must have stayed in the same spot for more than just a few minutes, Draco shakes his head and attempts a relaxing breath before going off after the quaffle again.

Thirty minutes later the points of Slytheirn and Hufflepuff are nearly tied, and the noise from the crowd increases at the prospect of the snitch being caught. Harry was just behind it, the Hufflepuff seeming to have a hard time even balancing on his broom. Harry looks back only for a second, thinking that the boy must have sustained an injury to the leg. He turns back and criticizes himself for having looked away, as it seems the snitch had taken that opportunity to go hide somewhere. The announcer shouts, "Yes. The simplest distraction can be the difference between winning or losing a game. Who will find it first? Can the Slytherins prove that their last game was only a fluke, or will the Hufflepuffs make a name for themselves?"

Another ten minutes later Harry finds the snitch, and this time he's determined to not even blink. He does, of course, blink, but his eyes remain on the ball the entire time. He wishes the broom were faster, as the snitch seems to be much quicker. He'd have to think of a way to cut it off, since following it was clearly getting him nowhere.

Meanwhile, Slytherin has one hundred and twenty points, heading the Hufflepuffs by a twenty point lead. Or at least they were, as now the Hufflepuffs have just scored themselves another ten points. Moments later, the Slytherin team catches the ball and Draco finds it being thrown to him. He's unable to move for a moment, everything seeming to just be happening too fast, but when he does fly off it's at the fastest speed. He had managed to charm the broom in three ways. First, it was now steadier and wouldn't skew to the left. Second, it would now take a more accurate course in direction. Lastly, if he fell for some reason, the broom would find him in attempt to get him back on.

Diving under players, coming in from the right, Draco throws the quaffle as hard has he can. "Another ten points to Slytherin!" A lot of cheers and boos echo from the crowd, and the announcer continues in an even louder voice, "The snitch is caught and Slytherin wins."

Draco lowers himself to the ground, sees Potter, and marches right up to him, "What the bloody hell was that?" He looks around, realizing that members of the team had come over to congratulate and high-five the Seeker, probably with a few teases about the last game's loss.

Harry gives an awkward look, "Yes. Thank you. I'm just going to…" He points to behind him, beginning to walk away as Draco follows. After looking around again to make sure they were alone, Harry asks, "What's this about?"

"You know very well what this is about," Draco snarls. "The whole not going after the snitch, just because you wanted to see if I was okay."

"Well," Harry slowly defends himself. "You didn't exactly look well, what with the hand to the head and not going anywhere." He sees Draco look to the ground, a little irritated. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Draco speeds his head back up, "That's the problem. You need to stop asking if I'm okay. You can't just neglect the most important position on the team, just because I may have a headache or feel light-headed. You can't be so concerned every time I decide to practice for quidditch or when I decide to wake up early for extra studying. Not only does it affect our house when we're on the field, but you look at me like I'm broken and people are noticing. If that weren't enough, I would swear that you almost want me to fail with you worrying about how much I study and practice."

Harry is quiet for a second, "People are noticing I'm worried?"

Draco half-laughs, "What, you never hear people snickering behind our backs?" Harry shakes his head, and Draco sternly comments, "You need to stop worrying so much. I already get letters from my parents twice a week and have two guards follow me almost wherever I go. I don't need you worrying about everything I do too."

Harry's eyes shift, "I can't just stop worrying. You're my friend."

Draco takes a deep breath and a step forward, "And as my friend you need to realize that I've been dealing with this much longer than anyone realizes. I know what to do if something is wrong. If I'm on a broom and begin to feel dizzy, then I stop moving. I'm not in any real danger." He takes a sad breath, "And all I want is to live my life without constant evaluation, to be able to do well in everything I'm expected to do well in without being told I'm overdoing things." It takes him a moment to admit, "I never wanted you to know about this. The last thing I wanted was for someone as great as you to see me as weak."

Harry shakes his head, "Draco. You're not weak. You're human."

"Exactly, which is why I'd like to be treated like one. I'm sure you don't ask your other friends how they are twelve times a day." He looks to the ground for a moment, "I realize things can get a little bad at times, but you need to reserve your asking for when you know I may not be doing well and not when you just think I may not be."

"How am I supposed to know the difference?"

He shrugs, "I guess it just depends on how well I'm handling things. If I'm not moving during a practice or game, then I'm handling it. If my broom is wobbling as I'm not moving, then there may be an issue." Harry doesn't respond, and Draco looks around to make sure people aren't listening in, "Look. You don't see Crabbe and Goyle asking if I'm okay ten times a day, so that should make you feel better about asking it just as less."

Harry nods, but it takes him a moment to speak, "I guess I just worry, because you're my friend and this seems serious. I know you're comparing how often I ask you if you're okay compared to like Hermione, but if she told me she had a similar problem then I'd be asking her just as much as I am you."

Draco looks to the ground for a moment, "I'd just really appreciate it if you stopped asking so often. I may have this problem, but I'm not so fragile as to completely break. I'll be fine. You have to trust me on this."

It takes a long minute for Harry to reply, "Then, I guess, I'll just have to try."

Draco almost smiles, "Thank you."

Harry looks from the ground and back to his friend, "It's not a problem. Just promise me that if you ever do feel unwell, more than you can handle or more than typical, then you will reach out to us. It may not seem like it, but we're here for you."

There's a pause, "I trust you enough to tell you if things get out of control, but as Crabbe and Goyle are reporting to my father I'd rather keep such things between us."

Harry nods thoughtfully, "Okay. Alright then."

Draco gives a nod of respect, as if doing so makes this a confirmed deal, "Alright."