In Continuation Part 2 - At Potions and Quidditch

Draco was even more infuriating in corridors between classes. He'd wink and smile at Harry when no-one else was looking. He'd flirt. But only with Harry.

Three weeks into the term, late for Transfiguration, Harry felt a light stroke on his rear. He'd swung around to see Draco just behind him in the otherwise deserted corridor.

"Did you just touch my ass, Malfoy?" he demanded.

Draco looked back from lidded eyes. "I don't know," he said coyly. "Maybe I did."

Harry stomped off with a parting, "When you make up your mind whether you did or not, page me. I'll break your nose." But he couldn't help remembering how good Draco had looked back at the Burrow, in those tight jeans.

* * * * * * *

"Why are you staring at me?" Harry hissed in a low half-whisper across the room.

"Am I?" Draco drawled in reply.

"Yes!" Harry scowled, conscious of the people between them trying to listen in. "You're staring straight at my head!"

"How strange. I thought I was staring into empty space. But then, empty space, your head, where's the difference?"

A lot of the Slytherins laughed loudly at this. Snape said, without turning around from the notes he was writing on the board, "That will be five points from Gryffindor, Potter. Any more talking and it will be twenty and a detention."

Harry flashed a, "Now look what you've done" look at Draco, who unexpectedly cringed at the daggers shooting from Harry's eyes, slouched lower in his seat, and tried to look sorry.

When the bell rang, Draco brushed past Harry and dropped a crumpled note into his bag. Harry retrieved it, smoothed it out and read:

Harry,

I'm sorry I said that. It just came out of my mouth, honest. I'm still grateful for what you've done for me. I'd like to make it up to you sometime.

-D

Harry, still fuming, thought privately that Draco had decidedly effeminate handwriting. He told Ron, "Snape and Malfoy can go to Hell together."

He kept the note, though.

* * * * * * *

Quidditch practice, just after half term.

5.30pm

Harry yelled, "We booked the pitch, Malfoy! You can't pull that again!"

Draco looked rebellious. "I'm not pulling anything, Potter. I booked it with Madame Hooch, even. And you're saying you did?"

"Bullshit!" Harry roared.

"Yes, that's what I said about your bogus claim that you booked the pitch first…"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" pitched in Ron, a Chaser on the team. "You're the phony, everyone knows it!"

Draco made no reply except to mount his broom and kick off, signaling to the rest of his team. The captain made a noise of protest ("But I'm supposed to be in charge!") but sighed and followed Draco's lead.

Ron bellowed, "I'll knock him off his broom, the wanker!" Before Harry could stop him, he'd taken off. Cursing, Harry tailed him. A tense aerial dogfight between Ron and Draco followed, with Harry trying to knock them apart. Finally he placed himself firmly between them and hollered, "Stop this! You're acting like five-year-olds!"

Ron ignored him completely and zipped past, slamming his elbow into the region of Draco's neck with as much force as he was capable of. Draco's head snapped back, he toppled backwards off his Nimbus Two Thousand and One, and plummeted for the ground forty metres below.

Harry yelled, "No!"

As he dived, he felt his stomach give a little flip. He'd never left his stomach behind in a dive before, so why now? He saw Draco shake his head, realise he was twenty five metres above the ground and descending rapidly, and start to panic. Harry was now closing fast on Draco, but he was falling too fast!

Harry snagged the back of Draco's robes just as the other boy crumpled upon impact with the ground and lay motionless. Harry's heart stopped its relentless hammering. He reached out tentatively and touched the green-robed shoulder. "Malfoy?"

Draco moved his head, causing Harry's heart to leap into his throat and restart double time. "Ouch, Potter."

"You're okay!"

Ron, who had landed, commented, "Don't sound so relieved, Harry. It's only Malfoy."

Harry swiveled round like a Dalek (I don't know where I got that quote from, nor do I know what a Dalek is. Must be something that swivels round very very very fast.) and let loose. "Ron, are you INSANE?! This is MALFOY we're talking about! The smallest SCRATCH and he'd complain to his FATHER and get us EXPELLED! And what if he DIED?! We'd wind up in AZKABAN for life! Did you think of that BEFORE you elbowed him in the face, HUH?!"

As Harry was bellowing, he felt a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Was that really the reason for his concern over Draco? A small groan from Draco brought him back down to earth.

"Ouch," Draco repeated, making a small effort to sit up. Harry was there instantly, putting an arm around his shoulders and assisting him. "It's okay, Malfoy," he crooned. "You're okay. Let's go to Madam Pomfrey."

Ron said blankly, "What are you doing, Harry?"

Harry glared at the blue eyes beneath the tousled red hair. "I, Ron Weasley, am taking Malfoy to the hospital wing, because he was knocked off his broom by someone, and I'm also ensuring that we're not expelled or suspended or taken to court for attempted murder."

"Attempted murder…" Ron spluttered. Harry walked off with Draco still partially draped around his shoulders, earning a few sympathetic looks from the Gryffindors and malevolent stares from the Slytherins.

Once they were round the corner and out of sight, Harry sat Draco down on the pathway. "Malfoy?"

"What going on is the fuck, Potter?"

"Sorry?" Harry said, shaking his head to clear the ringing.

Draco said, with more clarity, "What the fuck is going on, Potter. My grammar's gone to hell in all the concussion."

Harry said, "We're going to Madam Pomfrey."

"Why? And what the fuck was all that shit about me telling my father? You know how much he loves me right now."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want anyone to think that I was worried you were hurt."

"Meaning that you are worried?"

"Yes…" Harry got to his feet and held out a hand. Draco took it, but instead of pulling himself up, he tugged Harry down. Harry landed in a sitting position on top of Draco's ankles. "Sorry," Draco said, not sounding sorry at all. He shifted his position to wriggle out from under Harry, and as he did so he leaned forward, putting his head less than six inches from Harry's.

"I'm okay, no need to go to Madam Pomfrey," he declared, then slowly and purposefully licked his lips.

"What are you two doing?!" Ron said in utter incredulity, looming over them.

Harry shot to his feet so quickly that the top of his head cracked Ron on the chin. Both of them overbalanced. Draco eyed them with mock sadness, announced, "Well, fun as it has been rolling about on the ground, I have to get back to my team." He said to Harry, "I'll talk to you later," nodded at Ron, and left, whistling.

Ron got to his feet, brushed himself down, saying, "That about was all what?"

"What was that all about?"

"Yeah," Ron said impatiently. "What's the deal with Malfoy?"

Harry glanced after the wiry figure, his white-blond hair in disarray around his head, glinting in the dimming light. As he watched, Draco raised a slender hand and raked his hair back into position.

"Spill, Harry," Ron demanded.

Harry turned back to him. "I don't really know," he said.

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