11. Here is where it starts [Saturday, October 23rd 2004]

Draco was just discharging his last patient for the day when he heard the turmoil that was taking place at the entrance. Always in the mood for a little drama he could retell later, he went over to see what the racket was about. A middle-aged man with ginger hair was arguing with the Welcome Witch heatedly.

"I don't care if he's tending to the Queen of England! I need to see Malfoy right now!"

The man banged both his hands on the desk, unsettling the little sign reading 'Please keep a respectful distance (Our Welcome Witch is authorised to use Body-Binds)'.

"Sir, you'll have to wait like everybody else," the Welcome Witch huffed, barely looking up from her paperwork. "Just tell me your name and emergency, then sit down in the waiting area until your name is called up."

"I can't wait for Malfoy to heal some measly measles or whatever he's doing all day. This is a matter of life and death!" the man protested, running a hand through his hair with way too much force, like somebody who just had a haircut and wasn't used to their hair being that short.

"You'll have to make do with another member of our staff. Healer Malfoy has already retired for the day," she droned out.

Draco put down the fire-proof bandages he was holding and went over to rescue the Welcome Witch. "It's alright, I'll take care of it."

He pulled the man away from the desk by his arm. She just glared at him and muttered something about rewarding rude behaviour under her breath. Draco led the man into the next empty examination room and closed the door behind them.

"Alright, Potter. What's so important it can't possibly wait?"

"How did you –" the man spluttered.

"Oh please, don't insult me." Draco smirked. "You've got a tell."

Potter just looked at him dumbfounded, for once lost for words.

"Well? Spit it out already. Won't the Polyjuice wear off?" Draco guessed.

"No," Potter said as he took off the locket he had stuffed under his plaid shirt. He changed right back into his normal self.

"Dayal won't clear me for the game," he complained. "He says there's nothing he can do, because you estimated it would take me until the middle of November to fully recover."

"Yes, I did, because you were being a stubborn moron. Once you agreed to let me help you, you progressed much faster."

"Try telling him that!"

"Dayal is a little … let's say meticulous," Draco complied.

"Let's say he's a lot incompetent," Potter said angrily. "Draco, please fix this!"

Draco's heart skipped a beat at being addressed like this by Potter. He grimaced, a look that was immediately mirrored on Potter's face. That was what instant regret looked like.

"Did you just –"

"Yeah, it felt wrong as soon as I said it," Potter said. "Do you see what this is doing to me?"

"You must be really distressed to stoop that low."

Why did it feel like they were exaggerating right now? True, they had never called each other by their first names, but was that really so unthinkable? Draco had a nagging feeling that they were mostly playing pretend by now, because that was what they were used to.

"You know how much I need this match. The only thing that carried me through the last month was imagining McCarthy's reaction when I fly into the arena. I planned on hiring a photographer to follow her around and capture the look on her stupid face!"

"Yes, that's totally healthy," Draco agreed.

He summoned the vital vials and began his examination. He also made Potter do some exercises, watching for any restrictions he might have overlooked when he had discharged Potter a week ago. Apart from his unusually low body temperature (which he had apparently always had and never wanted to discuss), Potter was as fit as a fiddle. Draco filled out the certificate.

"There you go," he said, holding it out to him. "You'd better hurry. Doesn't the match start in less than an hour?"

Potter snatched the paper from him and then hugged him spontaneously, almost crushing Draco against his chest. He may have been only five foot five (not that Draco had checked his chart for the information) with the thin build that was typical for Seekers, but he was definitely stronger than he looked.

"Quit flirting, Potter," Draco protested, supressing a grin. "I thought we've already established that doesn't work for us. Just catch the Snitch, or I'll be mortally offended."

"Oh well, now that you say it," Potter said, letting go of him and putting his locket back on. "I was planning on just chasing the Quaffle instead. But the Snitch works just as well, I guess."

Draco snorted. Potter seemed to blush slightly, something Draco had never seen him do (probably due to the fact that his skin usually wasn't as pale as it was now, glamoured as an honorary Weasley). He made to leave and then stopped at the door, his hand already on the handle.

"Hey, you get off now, right?" he asked suddenly, still flushed. "Would you like to come? You could take a photo of McCarthy for me. And bring Blaise as well. I'll put you on the list. I owe him one for the disaster with the Lightning Blast."

And then, before Draco had a chance to answer or even think about it, he was gone.

~o~

Potter had indeed put them on the list. The players were already doing their warm-ups when the usher led them up into the Falcons' exclusive stands. The occupancy was much the same as last time – reserve players and family members were talking amongst themselves. Only Coach Greyson and his daughter (that fake-ginger bitch) were nowhere to be seen. Draco sat down and looked out at the field. To his surprise, McCarthy was currently doing her rounds around the goal hoops.

Just then, Potter entered the stands, shouldering his broomstick. He grinned at Blaise and him, and then went over to a young, blond man who was, judging by his robes, the Falcons' vice-coach.

"David! I'm good to go," he said, holding out his certificate.

David's face fell. "Matt's already put in Felicity for this match …" he said uncertainly. "Don't know where he is ..."

Potter wasn't deterred by this. "I'm First Seeker. That means he wants me to seek first, right?" he said confidently.

David seemed to be on the fence for a few seconds, but then he made up his mind and took the paper from Potter.

"Get warmed up," he said, decidedly now. "And try to tell Felicity gently."

"Oh, don't worry," Potter said, catching Draco's gaze. "Sensitivity is my middle name."

"That's not what your Chocolate Frog card says!" David called after him, but Potter had already mounted his broomstick and flown into the arena.

McCarthy turned around immediately, alerted by the sudden rise in noise from the crowd. Draco had never seen a more furious expression than the one she made when she spotted Potter, who was flying straight at her. She landed and threw her broom to the ground hard, storming off into the locker rooms. A broom-boy ran onto the field to collect her discarded (and ridiculously expensive) broom.

Greyson entered the stands fifteen minutes later. Draco expected him to be elated, since he had visited Potter at St. Mungo's every other day and constantly pestered him for updates on his health. But the look on his face when he saw Potter in the air, hovering above the Falcons' Keeper in starting formation, was one of pure shock. He turned to David immediately.

"What's Potter doing out there? He doesn't have clearance!"

"He does!" David waved the certificate at him, immediately on the defence. "Healer Malfoy cleared him an hour ago!" He indicated Draco with a nod of his head.

Greyson whirled around. His eyes narrowed when he saw Draco and Blaise in the stands. The referee chose that moment to blow her whistle, which was probably why he closed his mouth and sat down next to David, staring at Potter like he expected him to drop dead every second now.

"You don't get to decide these things, David," Greyson said under his breath. "You better hope he's up to the task, or it will be your job on the line."

Blaise leaned over to Malfoy, grinning at him. "Never mind him," he said loudly. "I still trust in your healing abilities, or I wouldn't have placed a very large bet on Harry catching the Snitch."

Draco really hoped he wouldn't be the one costing the vice-coach his job and Blaise a lot of gold. It wasn't like Potter had wrapped him around his little finger. No, there had been nothing wrong with him earlier and Draco had just done his job. Clearing Potter had not been a favour.

The match was brutal. The Falcons were their usual reckless selves. Dayal and the Harpies' Healer had their work cut out for them as players were Bludgered left and right or just plain barging into each other to clear the way. Potter, obviously in high spirits due to McCarthy's dismissal from the line-up, was in top form. He seemed to evade everyone and everything effortlessly, a perfect unity of flier and broom.

But even the best Seeker could not win a match on his own. The Harpies' Chasers, Ginny Weasley among them, were scoring goals left, right and centre. It was sheer impossible for the Falcons to keep up.

In the end it was Potter who caught the Snitch in an act of damage control. The game ended 480 – 310 for the Holyhead Harpies.

Spirits were low in their stands, which was why Blaise and Draco didn't linger. They had just reached the exit when somebody called after them.

"Malfoy! Zabini!"

They turned around. Charlie Weasley was coming over to them from the Harpies' stands, where Bill, Fleur, Granger and Weasley were still standing, apparently waiting for him.

"We're having a victory celebration at the Burrow. Ginny's team won and Harry caught the Snitch!" He grinned at them. "Do you want to join us? After all, it's due to you that Harry could play."

Draco looked over at the others. They all grinned and waved at them.

When had he become friendly with the Weasley clan? He supposed it had happened somewhere around the time when they had offered him the use of their first names on Granger's birthday – even if he couldn't bring himself to follow through with that completely. Potter, Granger and Weasley would always remain just that. That was just how it was. No matter what Potter called him in a moment of desperation.

Did he want to be friendly with them? He certainly knew how his father would want him to answer that question. Well, at least he couldn't threaten Draco with disinheritance any more. That ship had definitely sailed.

He was just about to politely decline when Blaise beat him to the punch, elbowing Draco in the ribs.

"With pleasure! We've got nothing better to do anyway!" he exclaimed excitedly, grabbing Draco's arm and dragging him over to the remaining Weasleys.

"I do!" Draco protested. "Aurelius is waiting for me at home!"

"He's used to it by now," Blaise said dismissively. "And he knows where you keep the food; he won't starve."

And then Bill grabbed Draco's arm and Disapparated with him before could get in another word.

~o~

Attendance was near the same as it had been at Granger's birthday party, with most of the Holyhead Harpies to boot. Draco could practically watch as Blaise's eyes glazed over. The very next second, he was swarming out to find himself some company for the evening.

Draco joined Lovegood and Thomas at the bonfire that was already blazing in the garden. They were sitting on benches that seemed to be carved from tree trunks, drinking butterbeer.

The later it got, the more people joined them to warm themselves at the fire and eat self-roasting marshmallows, until it was fully dark and all the seats were taken.

Ginny Weasley was sitting between Draco and Blaise, entertaining all of them with her account of the match, when somebody put a hand on Draco's and her shoulder. Draco looked up at Potter, who was now trying to squeeze between them.

When he finally managed, the bench was so cramped that it felt like their sides were fused together. Draco's body was thoroughly warmed by the fire and Potter's felt icy in contrast, which didn't make ignoring it any easier.

"Here," Potter said, holding out his closed left fist. Draco held out his hand automatically and Potter dropped the Golden Snitch into his right palm.

"There you go. Your Snitch." He grinned, his face illuminated warmly by the flickering light.

As he closed his fist around the Snitch, Draco's stomach did a very odd thing – it felt like something hot spreading through his body. The marshmallows couldn't still be roasting inside him, could they?

"You shouldn't have," Draco teased, ignoring the tingling feeling in his stomach. "I hope it wasn't too much of a bother?"

"No big," Potter said cockily, looking over at the Harpies' Seeker, who was sitting opposite him, her flaming red hair practically glowing in the fiery light. "It was just flying around; I don't think Georgina even wanted it."

Georgina Thompson chucked a marshmallow at Potter, who caught it in his mouth and grinned at her. "Thanks!" he said and she rolled her eyes.

"You're a menace, Potter," she said, but Draco could see she was grinning too as she turned to talk to her neighbour again.

Potter peered at Ginny, who was talking animatedly to Blaise, and then managed to lean closer still to Draco. He could now feel the muscles flex in Potter's arm and leg, and Draco had the sudden realisation he hadn't had sex for over a year now and – FUCKING HELL, this was Potter sitting next to him! Where did these thoughts come from all of a sudden? Could he really be this desperate for some affection?

He decided then and there to leave as soon as the opportunity would present itself. But why was it suddenly so hard to get up and just go?

"All right, tell me," Potter said quietly and Draco flinched at the feeling of hot breath on his cheek. "What's my tell?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" Draco laughed throatily. "But I'm not telling."

He could feel the green eyes fixed on his profile and refused to face him. They were sitting way too close for that. It seemed that Draco had some things to work out before he was ready for that.

"Come on. I'll give you the Snitch as payment."

"But you already gave it to me," Draco said smugly, trying with all his might to just act normal.

He quickly put the Snitch into his left pocket to prevent any funny business Potter could get up to. This was no mean feat, as he could barely reach his pocket without elbowing his neighbour.

"Malfoy, please! I'm dying to know!" Potter actually whined.

"If I tell you, how will I recognize you in the future?"

Potter grumbled, "I fucking hate Slytherins."

"What did we do?" Blaise clutched at his chest as if Potter had personally wounded him. Why was he even listening in on their conversation? And wow, way to keep your cool, Draco.

"Not you, Blaise," Potter said placatingly. "You're quite alright for a Slytherin."

Draco suddenly registered that Potter didn't call Blaise by his last name anymore and also hadn't earlier, when he had invited them to the match.

Could there be something going on between the two of them? Had Potter invited him to the match to have a reason to see Blaise? And most importantly: Why did Draco suddenly care about Blaise's love life?

He told himself it was because he didn't want Blaise to end up on the front page of the Prophet yet again. He was still getting hate mail for almost permanently killing the Golden Boy.

Some of the pressure against Draco's right side vanished suddenly. Blaise and Ginny had gotten up and were on their way toward the broom shack, talking about different builds. Potter looked after them, seemingly so distracted he didn't even think to slide away from Draco, now that there was more than enough room on their bench.

Draco got up as well and Potter almost tipped over, suddenly off balance.

"I have to go. Aurelius is waiting for me at home and I don't want him to eat all of my cereals," Draco said, which was almost true. Aurelius was waiting for him, after all. Potter didn't need to know that Draco had forgotten to buy cereals. That wasn't the essential part of his sentence, anyway.

Potter shot him a confused glance and then quickly looked back to where Blaise and Ginny had disappeared.

"All right. Nice of you to drop by," Potter replied after a few seconds, running a hand through his hair and not meeting his eyes again. Had his voice gone colder as well? Did he think that Blaise and Ginny were up to something?

Draco decided that he didn't care and Apparated home. After all, this had nothing to do with him.