32. All work and also some play [Sunday, February 13th 2005]

Harry was the last to get examined by Draco, sitting on a bench in his formfitting black sportswear and looking up at him like this was totally normal.

"Nervous?" Draco asked him for something to say.

It was awkward pretending not to know Harry as well as he did. They couldn't exactly talk about their plans for the evening. Not that Draco was dumb enough to make plans on a match day – who knew if Harry would even be conscious at the end of it? But the potential was there.

"Nah," Harry said lightly.

His heartbeat was slightly elevated but steady. He was exactly the right kind of excited and Draco knew that he wasn't on this team because of his name – Harry simply loved flying, in a way Draco never had. He had liked it of course, not least of all because of the prestige that came with being on the house team. But he had never needed it to feel whole.

"What about you?" Harry asked cheekily while Draco shone a Lumos first at his left and then his right pupil. Who would have thought that he ever would get paid to stare at Harry Potter's eyes?

"You're good to go." Draco raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be nervous?"

Harry got up and put on his Quidditch robes, all the while not breaking eye contact. "First day at your new job?"

"It's my old job, only now you lot can't lie to me about what happened." Draco scoffed, covering his anxiety.

Harry mimed whacking him across the head with his five hundred galleon broom. Draco ducked away and turned to face the rest of them.

"All right, good luck. I would say to break a leg, but don't, please."

He could hear Harry snort behind him. "You're not the boss of me!"

"Yeah, we can break all our bones if we want to," said Captain Leona Robinson.

"I already regret taking this job," Draco declared, and with one last look at Harry he turned around and left the changing rooms, stepping onto the pitch.

It was like getting hit with a Bludger to the eardrums. The noise doubled suddenly and Draco turned around to check if any of the players had followed him out onto the pitch to warrant that kind of racket, but the door was still closed. He walked alongside the pitch to the two benches that stood parallel to its middle line and sat down next to Tabitha Woods, who was there on behalf of the Appleby Arrows.

"What are they cheering for already?" Draco asked her with a shake of his head. "They'll be hoarse before the game even starts."

"I believe that's your fan club," Tabitha said with a laugh. And if that wasn't just hilarious.

"Good one," Draco snorted. He indicated his light grey scrubs with the falcon on the front. "Is it because of my incredible fashion sense?"

"I assume it's about you saving Harry Potter's life twice and getting him back on the pitch. My sister actually begged me to ask you for your autograph. Though I think that has more to do with you telling Potter off after he punched Dayal. She said if she ever bought a Pensieve, it would be for that memory."

"You're kidding." Draco looked up at the nearest stands. The occupants were indeed looking right back at him, waving madly. Some took pictures. "You're not kidding?"

"They started shouting as soon as you came out," Tabitha assured him. She elbowed him lightly, smiling at him. "Don't act so surprised, you earned it. About time one of us got some recognition!"

Draco was saved from replying by Bagman, who announced the teams and then officially started Draco's very first Quidditch game without further ado.

He didn't get another opportunity to really speak to her for most of the game, because they were both preoccupied with watching their teams for injuries that would warrant immediate treatment. Draco certainly couldn't count on the players calling it themselves, which was confirmed when Phaedra Armstrong tried to play on after being wacked in the head by her opponent's broom. When Draco finally managed to lure her down, the collar of her robe was drenched in blood.

Healing her only took half a minute, but when he looked up, the whole stadium seemed to be watching him intently. The Arrows' Seeker seemed to be the only person who was not looking down at him, slowly scanning the pitch instead.

No, that wasn't quite right. Coach Greyson wasn't watching Draco, either, but – "Potter!" Greyson's magnified voice carried through the whole stadium. "Would you do your damn job?!"

"What the fuck is he doing?" Armstrong mumbled as Harry grimaced and turned his back on them hastily. "I thought he trusts you to do your job?"

"Please don't ask me to explain that moron's behaviour," Draco said. "I don't think I ever understood a single thing he did. You're good to go."

Harry was lucky – when the referee blew his whistle to resume the game, the opposing Seeker didn't make a dash for a Snitch only he had seen. Maybe he wouldn't have to explain why he had been watching Draco instead of keeping an eye on the pitch.

"Complicated relationship?" Tabitha asked.

"That's an understatement."

"Is it true you got assigned to home care at his house?"

Draco did his best not to show his surprise and kept his eyes on Chaser Lauryn Mason, who had just narrowly avoided two Bludgers at the same time. "Who told you that?"

"Dayal," she said matter-of-factly. "It really bugged him. Seemed to think they should've chosen him."

Draco couldn't help but scoff. As if Harry ever would have let a stranger into his home. Less alone Dayal. "Fat chance."

"Rumour has it their Coach went to Chief Cortez about it," she continued, clearly watching for a reaction. "Because Dayal was allegedly better acquainted with Potter's medical history."

Draco just shrugged. It was no surprise that Greyson didn't like him. Draco was still impressed that Harry had managed to get him on the team in the first place. That man had some serious pull.

"Are you sure you should be telling me this?" he said thoughtfully, eyes fixed on Harry, who was suddenly nosediving at break-neck speed.

"I never liked Dayal anyway," she said coincidentally. "He always acted like he was better than us. Only started talking to me when I got chosen for the Arrows."

"Well, I don't exactly remember you talking to me before today."

"No hard feelings, Draco, but I didn't know if you could be trusted."

"And now you do?"

"Harry Potter seems to trust you. I guess that means you're trustworthy," she simply said. "Unlike Dayal."

Draco just nodded absentmindedly. Harry and the Arrows' Seeker were shoulder to shoulder now, both trying to pull ahead. They were also speeding straight towards the stands.

"Well, he got suspended anyway, so look who's laughing now," Tabitha said smugly. "A whole month. Also, the Prophet really tore him to pieces."

Draco turned to look at her. "Cortez suspended him? Isn't Dayal related to her somehow?"

"Their mothers are cousins," Tabitha said with a sly grin. "Guess you really shouldn't cross Harry Potter."

And that was when Harry turned his broom sideways very suddenly, making a grab for the Snitch while simultaneously blocking his opponent with his body, who collided with him at full speed. They crashed into the stands with a deafening bang that left the whole structure shaking.

"Oh shit," they whispered in unison. And then they were running.

It took three minutes until they had finally stabilised the structure enough to be able to go inside. The Seekers were buried under a heap of wooden planks. Harry had apparently taken the brunt of it, because he was on the bottom of it all, unresponsive. The other Seeker was on top of him, seemingly only a little bit bruised but unable to get up because of the debris.

"I can feel him breathing," he said, a little short of breath. "I think he's alright."

Draco cast a diagnostic spell on Harry while Tabitha crouched down next to her own patient. "Comfortable, Jackson?" she said with what sounded like a big, dirty grin on her face.

"Very funny," Jackson replied. "Would you please get me out of here? Now?"

Tabitha was seconds away from laughing now. "You sure? I always thought this would be a dream come true for you."

"Are you a masochist or something?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry was indeed 'fine'. His clavicle was just slightly cracked and his concussion only minor.

"No. Just ignore her," Jackson said, his nonchalant tone betrayed by the warning glance he gave Tabitha.

"He's got a man-crush on Potter," Tabitha said regardless.

"Tabitha!" Jackson sounded scandalised. "I don't have a 'man-crush'."

"Fine, a regular crush then."

"Have you thought that through?" Draco asked while moving planks out of the way with his wand. Waking Harry up could wait until there wasn't some random admirer plastered to his chest. "Aren't you a little too young to have your life ruined by Potter's crazy fans?"

"I'm eighteen!" Jackson protested, apparently forgetting that he allegedly wasn't even interested in Harry.

"That's what too young means," Draco said. "You should start with something easy instead. Maybe don't choose a rivalling player, that could get complicated. Also, I would advise you to go for someone who is at least somewhat interested in men."

It really was no wonder that Jackson fled as soon as they had dug him up, Tabitha trailing after him. Draco took pity on Harry and healed him while he was still unconscious. The bruises he left as a memento. Harry wouldn't learn from this if he didn't feel at least some of it.

They stepped outside together, Harry's left arm draped around Draco's shoulders, leaning on him heavily. His right hand, the one that was holding the Snitch, was raised into the air. The rise in noise was enormous and when Harry grinned at him lopsidedly while the team touched down around them, Draco felt like he had won the game himself.

"Brilliant, Harry! That didn't even count as a foul!" Leona Robinson yelled, slapping Harry on the back so hard she almost pushed him to the ground.

Draco tightened his grip around Harry's waist. "I'm afraid you'll have to celebrate without him," he said with as much authority as he could muster. After watching Robinson practically slaughter most of the Arrows with her bat, Draco had a new-found (and probably healthy) respect for her. She was scary. "He's definitely got a concussion."

Beater Easton Haynes laughed. "Again? Just two more and you'll break the record."

"Can't let Flynn hog all the glory," Harry said with a tired grin, giving Flynn Montgomery, one of the Chasers, a wink (if you could even call it that, as he closed both eyes doing it). "See you on Monday."

"Thursday," Draco corrected him.

"Tuesday?"

"Definitely not before Thursday, Potter."

"So … Wednesday."

"Want me to bench you for a whole week?" Draco said threateningly, poking Harry's bruised rib, which caused a sharp inhale.

"See you on Thursday, Harry," said Robinson decisively.

"Have fun signing your names a thousand times," Harry said with another botched wink, barely covering his excitement to have an excuse not to take part in that.

The rest of the team went to meet their fans at the designated spot while the two of them set off towards the changing rooms. They were almost there when Tabitha caught up with them.

"Draco!"

Draco and Harry turned around, which seemed to be the moment Tabitha really realised whom Draco was supporting. Her mouth snapped shut and she turned an unsightly shade of red.

"Erm … so …," she said, glancing at Harry only briefly and then avoiding to look at him again. "How did you like your first match?"

"Well, nobody died – and not for a lack of trying," Draco said casually, shifting slightly to redistribute some of Harry's weight, "So I seem to have done alright."

"Debatable," Harry said, stretching his free, Snitch-holding arm, which was heavily scratched and slightly bloody. "Do I look well cared for?"

"You deserve that," Draco said unperturbedly. "How else will a Gryffindor ever learn?"

A nervous giggle burst out of Tabitha's mouth and she turned even redder. "So … I was thinking, that maybe you'd perhaps want to … erm … you know, go for a drink or something?"

"Now?" Draco asked in confusion, tightening his grip around Harry's waist to keep him from shifting so much. Wasn't the prat aware that Draco was practically bearing half of his body weight? "On a Sunday? In the middle of the day?"

"Oh, right …," she stammered. "We could eat something instead?"

"Would you stop fidgeting for one second?" Draco shot Harry an irritated look.

"I would love to if I could find a position that didn't hurt," Harry shot back, giving him a look that probably meant he wanted to leave.

"I am sorry, Tabitha," Draco sighed. "I seem to have some more work to do today. Maybe another time?"

She just nodded and turned on her heels, walking away at considerable speed.

"Look at that, you intimidated her," Draco said with a grin, and they entered the changing room. Harry plonked himself on the nearest bench in an instant.

"Me?" Harry snorted absentmindedly, busy with stashing the Snitch inside his bag. "She didn't ask me on a date."

Draco punched his arm, which maybe wasn't the best idea on this specific occasion. "She did not," he spluttered while Harry said "Ouch!" and glared at him.

"Then what did she do?"

Harry took off his robes and threw them into the laundry basket. He didn't take off the sports gear underneath, which was a relief to Draco, who at least wanted to pretend to separate his work from his private life.

"Ask to go for a drink with a colleague?" Draco said. Obviously. "People usually don't ask me on dates, you know."

"I did," Harry said, shrinking his bag to put it into his pocket. "Repeatedly."

"You're a nutter, you don't count."

"That's not what you said yesterday." Harry wagged his eyebrows.

Draco didn't think that making out in Harry's kitchen (fully clothed, mark you!) warranted a wagging of eyebrows. That required at least some nakedness, at least in his eyes. But maybe he was just old-fashioned. It was, of course, possible that Harry was referring to the shepherd's pie he had made for them. That had indeed been eyebrow-worthy.

"I –" Draco said, but Harry held up a hand.

"Someone's coming."

It was Harry's reserve Felicity McCarthy, who (despite belonging to the winning team) didn't look all that happy. Her mood soured further when she spotted Harry.

"Draco," she said, nodding in his direction. She didn't acknowledge Harry and started to change into her street clothes.

"Felicity." Draco returned the nod and then cast another (quite unnecessary) diagnostic spell at Harry to appear busy.

It was weird. He never knew where he stood with fellow Slytherins. They usually could be divided into two camps: The first tried to distance themselves from former Death Eaters as much as possible, for fear of being associated with them. The second group seemed to think he hadn't changed at all and admired him for all the wrong reasons. At least she had greeted him – Draco seemed to rank above Harry, if nothing else.

"McCarthy," Harry said regardless, earning himself an annoyed frown. He indicated her Quidditch robes. "You really didn't have to get all dressed up on my behalf."

She just rolled her eyes at him and folded her robes neatly, seemingly completely unperturbed. "Well, you never know. Wouldn't be the first time I had to pick up your slack. You're not exactly the most reliable player. Matt certainly likes me to stand by."

"There's no denying you have a lot of experience standing by," Harry pressed out.

McCarthy had definitely struck a nerve. Perhaps Harry should have thought of that before he decided to goad her. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was just Harry's Gryffindor nature. One thing was certain: Draco wasn't exactly keen on watching this play out, so he ended his spell with much more wand waving than was strictly necessary.

"No need to take you to St. Mungo's," he cut in before McCarthy could shoot back. "I'll side-along you home so you can rest, and by Thursday you'll be as good as new."

"Take your time, Potter. We'll manage without you."

"Don't bother making yourself comfortable." The Seekers were glaring at each other now.

"Alright," Draco interjected, pulling Harry up by his upper arm maybe a little too roughly. "We're off. Goodbye, Felicity."

"See you, Draco."

Harry waited until they were out of earshot before he hissed, "Are you friends with her or something?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you were friendly, for starters?"

A short laugh escaped Draco. "That wasn't friendly, that was reserved."

"You talk to Blaise exactly the same way," Harry objected.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "I really hope you still have your glasses somewhere, Potter, because you must be going blind if you think those two scenarios are even slightly similar. Subtlety really is lost on Gryffindors, it would seem."