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38. Two can keep a secret [Friday, April 1st 2005]
It started innocently enough – at the end of his nightshift, around quarter past seven, Draco ran into Tabitha Woods, Healer for the Appleby Arrows, in the changing rooms.
They made small talk while getting changed, which was nice. And then: this.
She said, "Hey, some of the Quidditch guys are getting coffee around the corner."
And he replied (while trying to tie his shoelaces and failing miserably – Merlin, he was tired!), "That sounds nice. Have fun!"
"You're a Quidditch guy too, you know?" she stammered.
Draco looked at her blankly – her face was beet red. Maybe she'd just stared at her feet for two minutes as well.
She got redder as he continued to stare at her – the first three seconds because he had trouble confirming or denying the statement, the next two because he couldn't believe he was being invited somewhere, and the last five to decide whether to go or not.
Con: It was George's birthday, which meant he'd have to be at the Burrow at three.
Pro: Blaise was right – the Malfoy name was worthless and he was on his own. If he wanted to climb the social ladder, he'd have to network.
On the other hand: He'd only been to the Burrow once since announcing their relationship to Harry's family (a Sunday lunch during which Mrs. Weasley had hugged Draco a total of six times, fed him three slices of cake, and almost broken into tears). If he wanted to keep up the good impression the Weasleys had of him, some sleep would be wise. Especially because it was the twins' birthday and only one of them was still there to see it. He didn't know what kind of atmosphere to expect.
Then again: People often didn't ask again if you declined their first invite. It was just coffee – how long could it take? He'd drink a cup, exchange pleasantries and still get a solid six hours of sleep.
~o~
Draco didn't know how it had happened. One moment it was seven in the morning and he was dead on his feet, and the next it was half past eleven and he was on his sixth espresso shot.
The 'Quidditch Guys' weren't 'getting coffee' – they were substituting it for alcohol. Flavio Valdez, Healer for the Wimbourne Wasps, had bought the first round, which apparently required every single Quidditch Guy to return the favour.
As every avid Quidditch fan knows, there are thirteen Quidditch teams competing in the British-Irish League. This meant that there were thirteen Healers, seven of which were present, as not all of them were on the same shift. Draco's seventh espresso shot was already in front of him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to drink it without spilling all of it.
"So, Draco, how's Potter doing?"
Draco spilt all of it.
"What?" he squealed. His heart was hammering madly, which was probably fifty percent coffee and fifty percent sheer panic. "Why do you ask?!"
The Quidditch Guys laughed. Tabitha vanished the mess he had made and then turned his bar stool around so he was facing her.
"Wow, your pupils are huge!"
Draco had trouble concentrating on her eyes. His own were darting this way and that, and it felt like they were everywhere at once. His whole body seemed to be trembling.
Tabitha placed a hand on his bouncing leg and Draco froze.
"I think you found his off switch," Valdez joked.
Draco didn't ask what that was – he'd visited the Muggles often enough by now. Why was Tabitha's hand still on his leg? Draco turned to the bar again and her hand fell away.
There was a glass of water in front of him that hadn't been there when Tabitha had turned him around. The bartender gave him a sympathetic look and Draco drank it completely.
"What about Potter?" he asked, trying for a more casual tone. His hands were shaking so much they were rattling the empty glass, so he let go of it.
"You're directly at the source! We're just curious."
Draco raised his eyebrows at her. They felt as if they would never come down again. "You know I can't tell you."
Valdez clasped his shoulder like they were mates. "We don't want to hear the medical stuff. Nothing important. Just the small things."
Tabitha nodded eagerly. "Example: Jackson Jones heard from a reliable source that Potter only wears red pants, so that's the only colour he wears as well. Either Jack thinks it'll make him a better Seeker or he is counting on impressing Potter if they ever happen to meet each other in just their underpants."
"That's absurd." Draco remembered Jackson Jones from the first match Draco had attended as a Healer. He was the Seeker who crashed into the stands together with Harry and spent several minutes pinned to his chest.
"So … he doesn't wear red pants?" Tabitha asked with a grin.
She was leaning in, as if she was trying to read the answer from his eyes. Tabitha wasn't a Legilimens, right? Draco turned away, just in case.
"I can't say that I paid special attention to that detail."
Because he was usually focusing on more important things when Harry took off his clothes. Like what was underneath the pants.
"Well, Amelia Kimbrough always wears the same knickers on match days. Black with golden Snitches."
"I heard she's dating Ethan Sherwood?" Cassiopeia Frey (Puddlemere United) leaned in from Valdez' other side.
"Yeah. It's going to be a train wreck!" Valdez said gleefully.
"Why?" Draco asked. He knew that Kimbrough was the Wasps' Seeker, but he'd never heard of Sherwood.
"He's her reserve, so they're each other's competition, right?" Tabitha explained. "Imagine if Potter dated Felicity McCarthy."
Draco laughed out loud. He didn't mean to, but it was hard to control. Several people stared at him over their Morning Prophet. "They loathe each other!"
Tabitha shrugged. "Doesn't mean anything. Didn't he hate you too at one point?" Draco rolled his eyes, but Tabitha cut in before he could reply. "And now he's appointed you the Falcons' Healer practically single-handedly."
"Like he fired Dayal." Frey giggled and then stared at the ceiling dreamily. "Merlin, that was so hot. I framed the photograph."
"We get along," Draco allowed. "Doesn't mean he'd date me. Absurd. Not that I would be interested, either. Absolutely absurd." Draco scoffed and tried to empty his glass in one gulp. It was already empty.
Now Tabitha was the one giggling. "Your girlfriend probably wouldn't like that either."
"Who?" Draco asked without thinking. Then he mentally kicked himself in the head. If he wanted to convince them he wasn't dating Potter (or gay at all), a fake girlfriend would have been a good way to go. Too late now. Should've thought of that in advance.
Tabitha turned away to take another espresso shot, but Draco thought he could see her grinning. She couldn't be pleased, right? Harry thought she'd been flirting with him two months ago, but that was even more absurd than him liking Draco. After all, this gathering was proof that she really had just wanted to get together as colleagues.
"Wait, so you don't have a girlfriend?" Valdez was frowning. Draco shook his head. "Then who has been making your lunch? You stopped bringing leftover Chinese food."
"It's not like that's the only thing I've been eating!" Draco protested.
His mind was running very fast, but also very ineffectively. All he kept thinking was 'Merlin, fuck, think of something, anything, fuck!', which wasn't very helpful. "I took up cooking."
That wasn't really a lie. Harry usually gave him small jobs, like cutting the tomatoes. That counted.
"Oooh," said Tabitha excitedly, turning to face him again. She was practically beaming. "I love cooking. But it's much more fun if you don't have to do it alone, isn't it?"
"Er," said Draco, not exactly eager to tell her that he wasn't. "Guess so?" Tabitha looked like she had follow-up questions, so Draco changed the topic hastily. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you guys something. Do you get along with the Coaches? Greyson's delusional. He wants me to ask for permission before I sign a sick note."
The others laughed. Nobody looked the least bit surprised, which rather worried Draco.
"It's Quidditch," Tabitha said, like that explained anything. "They're all insane. You wouldn't believe how much gold is involved. Some of the Coaches risk losing their position if their team doesn't do well. Others are shareholders of their team, which means they lose their own gold. And I'm not just talking about the prize gold. There's ticket sales, merchandise, sponsors."
"All of them try to meddle in our business," Valdez added. "You just have to find some kind of middle ground. Keep the players safe and the Coaches happy."
"Great," Draco mumbled. "I don't think Greyson will settle for middle ground. He seems more like the upper hand kind of guy."
"You'll figure it out," Tabitha said confidently.
There was a sudden flare of heat at his chest, and Draco yelped and slapped his hand against his sternum, nearly falling off his bar stool. Both Valdez and Tabitha grabbed one of his arms.
"What is it?" Tabitha's voice was more high-pitched than usual.
"Heartburn?" Valdez asked. "Panic attack?"
"Is it a jinx? Did someone curse you recently?" Frey chimed in. Draco thought she looked a little too excited.
Draco shook his arms free from his colleagues, and also his head. "Hanging out with Healers really is the worst. I just remembered I have to be somewhere."
"Already?" Tabitha seemed disappointed.
"We've been here almost five hours," Draco pointed out, slipping from his bar stool. "I've got a … family thing, I guess."
"Oh … okay. See you, Draco."
Draco waved and speed-walked outside. He spun as soon as he was out of the door.
Too much caffeine really wasn't good for him. Draco had Apparated with way too much force and was still spinning as he materialised inside his hallway. He would have spun straight into a wall if Harry hadn't intercepted him.
Draco didn't even have time to spot him leaning against the banister before Harry grabbed his upper arms. He even managed to pull him into his arms before Draco fell flat on his face from motion sickness.
Draco dropped his chin onto Harry's shoulder and closed his eyes to calm his racing heart. Harry's hair was damp and peppermint-y. He had probably just come from practice.
There was definitely an accusatory tone in Harry's voice as he asked, "Did you just leave work?"
Draco ignored the question in favour of pulling the Snitch out of his shirt. Inscribed on the surface were the words 'Where are you'. Despite the small scale of the Snitch, Draco found that he could read the words perfectly.
"So? Did you sleep at all?"
"I drank some coffee."
Harry pushed him away to have a look at his face. This time, Draco didn't have that much trouble focusing on the eyes. The problem was to stop staring. His eyes were getting dry and he found that he had to blink manually, as his eyes didn't do it on their own anymore. Harry frowned and pressed a hand against Draco's chest, just left of the tiny golden pendant.
"Feels like you swallowed a Snitch."
"Well, it's not getting any slower with your hand there."
Harry was trying very hard not to grin. He didn't withdraw his hand, wrapping his free arm around Draco's waist.
"I won't collapse, you know?" Not that he was really complaining.
Harry laughed slightly. "I don't really trust your judgement."
"Fine, maybe I had one too many espresso shots."
"Espresso –"
"Shots, yes. But Tabitha had at least two more than me."
The arm around his waist tightened. The hand on his chest twitched. Draco could feel every little movement. Maybe he should drink coffee more often.
"Woods, you mean? You had coffee with her?" Harry's voice sounded a little too casual and Draco rolled his eyes.
"She didn't ask me out. There were five other Healers there with us."
"Oh, that's smart. That's exactly how I got you."
"Excuse me? Why did you get me? Maybe I got you?"
That was definitely the more likely scenario. Draco was sure that people would agree that getting Harry bloody Potter was more of an accomplishment than getting him.
Harry had the audacity to laugh in his face. "Please. You didn't do shit."
Draco huffed because, technically, Harry was right. Draco had put a lot of energy into keeping his distance. To be fair: the sheer idea that Harry could be into him had been pretty absurd.
"Be that as it may, Tabitha isn't interested in me."
"Wanna bet?"
Draco hesitated. Tabitha wasn't interested, right? Harry narrowed his eyes and Draco backed away to take his hand. "How much?"
"Not gold. If I'm right, you have to go flying with me."
Draco grinned. "Pretty low stakes you got there."
"We'll see. What if I'm wrong? Not that I will be."
"I want a wild card. You have to stay at Mungo's if I tell you it's absolutely necessary."
"That's completely out of proportion compared to my demand."
Draco's grin widened. "Doesn't matter if you're right, does it?"
Harry grabbed his hand even tighter. "Deal."
~o~
Draco didn't get any sleep. He tried to shut his eyes, but that really didn't work. Harry was fine. He'd fallen asleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow, though he had gotten a full night's sleep as well.
So Draco spent two hours stroking his back and staring at him. He had him completely memorised by now – the exact shade of his skin, the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way his scar branched, even that one lock of hair that kept brushing it but never stayed to cover it up with the rest of them.
~o~
Now they were at the party. It was impossibly loud, like always. Draco's head felt like it might explode, which really didn't help dodging various joke shop articles in disguise. Neville had already turned into a canary twice.
Draco could count himself lucky – his tongue had only been glued to a dessert fork once. The strangest thing about that was that it had been Mr. Weasley who had handed him that fork. Draco knew, because he had shouted "For Fred!" as soon as Draco had noticed what had happened.
That seemed to be the way the Weasley's coped – today, it wasn't just George pranking them. All of them pranked each other mercilessly and then claimed responsibility by shouting those two words.
It was insane. It was the best thing Draco had ever witnessed, even if his headache was killing him and he was completely relying on Harry to shield him from the worst pranks.
"Blibbering Humdingers!" Ginny shouted as soon as the table had cleared itself.
"Yes!" Draco shot to his feet.
Anything to get him away from that ruckus. Some fresh air would certainly do him some good. Maybe he could work off some of the caffeine.
"You can't seriously be thinking about flying like this!" Harry grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back down, but Draco brushed him off.
"I'm good," Draco said. "If you can fly while under the influence of Confounding Concoction, I can fly after six espresso shots."
"Six?" Harry jumped to his feet as well and followed him towards the broom shed. "You said you had one too many."
"I feel fine. It's just a friendly, right?" Draco slipped into the grey and white robes Ginny had given him.
Harry made a grab at his own chest, where the wings were outlined against his t-shirt. "Plenty can happen!"
Draco grabbed one of the dark green robes and held it out to him. "Scared, Potter?"
Harry looked like there was a bad taste in his mouth. He gave him a scathing look and snatched the robes out of his hand. "I hate you."
Draco summoned a Firebolt from the shed and turned it over to check that it was okay. "No, you don't."
Harry growled, summoned a Keeper's helmet and thrust it into Draco's arms. Then he stomped away to rally some more people for the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Draco hadn't really been planning on playing Keeper (which was obviously the most boring position as he had to stay close to his hoops at all times), but he expected Harry to cast a Full Body-Bind at him if he dared to object. At least that was what Draco felt like doing to him sometimes.
Draco's team consisted of Ginny as Beater, Hannah and Charlie as Chasers, himself as Keeper and George as Seeker. The Snorkacks had Dean, Harry and Ron, Bill and Angelina.
He felt better as soon as he kicked off. The air was cool and refreshing and the noise wasn't as bad up there. Down on the field, Hermione released the balls. The Snitch circled one of Draco's hoops and then disappeared. The sole Bludger made a dash for Ron.
Harry snatched the Quaffle out of the air and narrowly prevented a crash with Charlie. He dodged the opposing players expertly, and then completely botched his throw. Draco was pretty sure that Harry was aiming at the middle hoop – at last that was where he was looking. The Quaffle veered completely off course and hit the outer rim of the right hoop with a resounding bang that left it shaking.
"Pathetic!" shouted Draco.
Harry showed him one of his fingers and then turned his broom around to chase after Charlie, who had caught the Quaffle and ultimately scored despite Dean's best efforts (which weren't that good).
The Quaffle was now back in the Snorkacks' possession. Ron seemed to have better aim than Harry, but he was a weak thrower. Draco had no problem at all catching it. He passed it on to Hannah, who promptly dropped it. Harry was already there to catch it.
The Snitch decided to make an early appearance at that moment – it circled Harry's head once, who hesitated. Draco could practically feel the restraint it took him not to make a grab for it. Charlie used the distraction to snatch the Quaffle out of his hands and take off.
Draco laughed. It was nice seeing Harry not completely in control while on the pitch. He was still an excellent flier and managed to catch the Quaffle just fine, but the rest wasn't as polished. He had serious trouble communicating a strategy with Ron, who had to lunge after the Quaffle as it drifted off to the right whenever Harry passed it to him.
Draco changed his mind a good fifteen minutes later. The score was sixty to forty and Ron had just passed the Quaffle to Harry, who was heading straight towards him.
His eyes were flickering towards the left hoop, so Draco made a dash for the middle one, where the Quaffle would most likely end up. Harry hurled the Quaffle, which went flying right at Draco. Too late, Draco raised his arms to catch it. It went right through them and nailed him in the head.
The force of it nearly threw him off his broom – he just managed to grab it again. Then the back of his head connected with the hoop and Draco let go.
~o~
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was gone. He was looking up at the living room ceiling instead – not that he could see much of it, as a fuck-ton of people were crowded around his sofa and staring down at him. His head was throbbing, but at least the caffeine buzz was gone.
"Fucking Potter," he groaned, propping himself up.
"I told you not to play!" Harry protested. He was sitting on the arm rest at Draco's feet, glaring down at him. He'd probably chosen that place just for this specific purpose.
Draco glared back. "I was fine until you decided to wreck me."
"What? Just because you were too slow –"
"Your aim is abysmal!"
The others seemed to decide that Draco was fine, because they all branched off.
Hermione lingered for a second, fixing Harry with a stern look. "Guess now you know what Draco feels like whenever you brush him off."
Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his eyes. Draco grinned at him and sat up completely. He pulled Harry from his armrest until they were sitting side by side and then laced their fingers together. There, he had initiated hand-holding. That had to appease Harry, right?
Harry smiled at him then, and Draco used his free hand to sort out Harry's hair. It was a lost cause – the curls were wind-swept and completely tangled.
"Your aim really is abysmal."
"I was right about not wanting to let you fly."
Draco bumped his shoulder and then squeezed his hand. Harry smiled at him some more.
People returned when they noticed they weren't arguing anymore. The rest of the evening was spent in the living room, talking and playing Exploding Snap.
Only once did what he thought was his wand turn into a jelly snake. He didn't take it personally. He gave half of it to Neville and then (when nothing happened to him) ate the rest.
