Draco Malfoy and his Unknown Fate:
Author's Notes: Hey! Sorry it took me a bit longer than usual to update, but I was a bit busy with RL. But still, the chapter's out now! If anyone is wondering about what Snape had to say while Draco helped him brew the wolfsbane potion you'll have to be patient. It comes up in a later chapter. As for this chapter, I didn't spend much time on the actual Quidditch game. Or at least on the parts of the game that didn't involve Harry & Draco. I don't think anyone wants to dwell on the details, but if you disagree be sure to tell me. There's only a few more chapters left before we reach the end!
Warnings for this chapter: Language. Hints of violence - Quidditch is a rough game you know!
Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm merely borrowing them for the time being. This is slash. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.
Draco's grasp on his broomstick was so tight his knuckles had turned white and from the way Crabbe and Goyle kept shooting him concerned glances he wouldn't have been surprised if he face was pale too. Standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch across from the youngest Seeker in a century who also happened to be his lover, Draco was more than a bit nervous. Between studying for finals and the usual things, they'd only managed to sneak a few kisses over the last week. And through it all the upcoming Gryffindor/Slytherin match had loomed over them.
But it had finally come and Draco was determined that this time he'd actually catch the damned snitch before Harry. Just this once, he wanted to be the one celebrating at the end of the match. Harry, in his bright red Quidditch uniform, looked sinfully handsome and Draco found his eyes being drawn to the Gryffindor's broad shoulders and bright smile against his will as Hooch droned on about fair play. He forcefully yanked his attention away from the other boy and mentally scolded himself. That was exactly the sort of thing he couldn't do during the match. Distraction would keep him from finding - and catching - the snitch and he couldn't afford it.
Then the whistle was blown and Draco kicked off into the air, circling around to hover at a high point in the middle of the pitch. Thomas began the usual spiel, outlining how the Gryffindor chasers had possession of the quaffle. Draco kept a sharp eye out on the pitch, searching for any hint of gold among the darting Quidditch players. There were a few false alarms, but it wasn't anything Draco didn't expect with the other team wearing gold and it certainly wasn't anything a second look didn't help with.
He circled the pitch slowly, his eyes raking the pitch. Two thirds of the crowd were decked out in Gryffindor colors and whenever he flew near them boos and hisses filled the air. Draco didn't really mind it though, that was part of Quidditch and to be fair the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws supporting them hurled more abuse at the opposing team than the Gryffindor supporters could ever hope to.
What Draco found most amusing of all was the small knot of Hufflepuff third year girls decked out in silver and green, mooning over him while the rest of their house wore disgruntled expressions at the girls who had defected. Harry too had his share of silly fans, though the Slytherin girls wearing gold and red in his honor were received with a great deal of outright hostility from the rest of the Slytherins. Not that Draco could really blame the girls - Harry looked mouthwatering in those tight Quidditch pants of his.
And he wasn't supposed to be checking out the competition, damn it! Draco, for the second time that afternoon, forced himself to concentrate on the snitch instead of Harry's charms. Get a grip, Malfoy. He told himself sternly, still searching for that telltale glimpse of gold. From out of the corner of his eye he saw a streak of brown and turned just in time to see Harry execute a perfect roll to duck the bludger Greg had walloped at his head. Draco quickly darted past a Gryffindor chaser to hover near Greg's side.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He shouted angrily. "You could have knocked his bloody head off!"
"Relax, Draco. You can't let the way you feel about him affect the game. I'm playing the same way I always have." There was nothing he could say to that. Fuming, Draco swerved away and dropped into a quick dive to let off some steam. Harry gave him a quick glance, but didn't attempt to follow him in the dive, obviously aware of the fact the Slytherin Seeker hadn't spotted the snitch yet. The game went on and Slytherin scored a goal, though they were slightly behind the Gryffindor team. Draco pulled up out of his dive and headed for the Ravenclaw stands where he hovered for a moment while searching for the Golden snitch. The damn thing seemed determined to hide, but Draco was as equally determined to find it.
Unfortunately for him, Harry spotted it first. In a flurry of crimson robes, the Boy Who Lived set off and Draco darted after him. His broom was faster, but Harry had a head start and was the superior flyer. They pulled even with each other and Draco, his jaw set, jostled Harry slightly. The Gryffindor bumped him back and the two boys flew side by side as they followed the fluttering snitch. It swerved downwards and the Seekers followed it fearlessly, almost colliding into a Gryffindor chaser in the process. The players near them scattered and Draco rolled out of the way of an incoming bludger, swerving upwards in order to catch sight of the snitch again. He saw it fluttering near Weasley, the Gryffindor Keeper, and leaned forward, urging his Quicksilver to zoom towards the snitch.
The little winged golden ball darted off with Draco on its tail and soon Harry had joined the chase. The two Seekers veered to the right, dodging the other Quidditch players and maneuvering through the crowd with a skillful expertise that the crowd was delighted with. With his heart pounding in his ears and electricity crackling through his veins, Draco hunched down on his Quicksilver to decrease the wind resistance and followed the glittering gold ball relentlessly. Harry was flying at his side, both of their robes flapping in the wind as they turned and twisted through the air.
Soon they escaped the knot of Quidditch players and were soaring in a less populated part of the pitch. The gap between their brooms and the snitch was decreasing rapidly and Draco was grateful for his gloves. His hands were seating so much Draco suspected that without them his grip on his broomstick would have faltered. Draco's rapid heartbeat was thumping so loudly in his chest it was a wonder Harry couldn't hear it. It was a wonder Dean Thomas couldn't hear it. Swallowing nervously, Draco turned tightly as the snitch changed direction capriciously, leaving both Seekers to scramble after it.
At the moment Slytherin and Gryffindor were closely tied, though the Slytherins were in the lead by just a few points. The outcome of the game depended on the Seekers and Draco felt the pressure acutely as he rocketed through the air after that damnable snitch. Their shoulders bumping, the Seekers increased their speed as the snitch zoomed downwards. They were both so close it was nerve wracking. Draco leaned forward, his bare fingers hovering only an inch or two from the snitch. Harry, on his old Firebolt, was several inches behind him, but still too close for comfort and he too was reaching out in hopes of grasping the golden winged ball.
The snitch did a sudden loop, landing smack dab in the middle of Harry's palm as if the boy had waved his wand and accio-ed it there. Draco furiously pulled on his broomstick, executing a perfect swimmers turn, and headed towards the other side of the pitch without further delay. The crowd was roaring its approval, red and golden flags waving all over the stands. Harry raised his arm triumphantly, showing off the snitch that was beating its wings rapidly to no avail as he trapped it in his grip.
Draco landed, his jaw clenched and his lips compressed into a thin line. With his broom securely in his grip, he pushed his way through the crowd. Crabbe's big hand landed heavily on his shoulder and the bigger boy sent him a sympathetic smile. "You tried your best, Draco. We'll get 'em next year, yeah?"
"Sure." Draco said bleakly, too busy railing mentally at his bad luck to spare any passion for his response. He had been so close he had felt the wings of the snitch brush his hand and then - ! It wasn't fair! He'd been practicing like crazy all year for hours at a time and if the looks Pucey was sending him were anything to go by he'd be getting a nice talking to about his failure later. Draco even had the better broom, but it seemed like Harry was charmed; he always got what he wanted while Draco simply got whatever was left.
Feeling his surging anger spiraling into a dangerous temper, he balled his hands into fists when the Weasel headed towards him. "Even a Quicksilver can't help you catch the snitch, eh Malfoy? I guess now you have to admit that Harry really is the better Seeker."
"Fuck off, Weasel." Draco snarled, narrowing his eyes at the red head.
Harry arrived just in time to hear his last words. "Draco!"
"What?" He snapped tersely as Harry appeared, the snitch still fluttering in his hand. Draco felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. It was one thing to savor victory and another to rub it in the loser's face after you'd already trampled the competition into the ground. To be truthful, a year ago Draco would have done the same, but things were different now and the Slytherin sure as hell had expected better from a righteous Gryffindor. Especially one he was involved romantically with.
Harry looked sheepishly at the snitch and shoved it in his pocket quickly, out of sight. "Sorry, I didn't realize I still had it. But you shouldn't talk to Ron like that."
Draco gaped momentarily while the Weasel looked smugly on. Then he scowled. "Did you hear what he said to me? I won't take that kind of shit from anyone Potter, not even for you."
Harry's brow furrowed and he turned to his best friend questioningly. "Ron?"
"What? I was just telling him he'd never measure up to you. I mean, the git had a Quicksilver and he still couldn't catch the snitch. How bloody pathetic can you get?"
"Shut up, Ron. Draco played a good game. Can't you two ever just be civil? Argh!" Harry exclaimed, waving his arms wildly to punctuate his words.
Ron rolled his eyes. "We won, Harry. It's traditional to gloat a bit."
"Well, I'll just leave you two to your celebrations then." Draco said bitterly, whirling around and stalking off as quickly as humanly possible.
"Draco! Draco! Oh for crying out loud." Harry ran after him and turned him around by his shoulder. "Don't be angry with me. Please, Draco. It's just a stupid game."
"Well, of course you can say that. You won, Potter!" Draco shouted in frustration, throwing one hand out to gesture to the nearby Gryffindors who were hollering victoriously at the top of their lungs.
"Harry! It's Harry. Not Potter."
Draco deflated, feeling suddenly weary. "Look, Harry. I'm not in the best of moods. It's nothing personal, I just need some time to get over it and then I'll be fine. I'm just not a very gracious loser. I'm sure you know that by now." He said wryly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his sweaty face. "I'll be perfectly courteous once I have some time to brood about it and curse your unbelievably good luck. Okay? "
"Okay." Harry agreed reluctantly. "So, I'll talk to you later then?" The Gryffindor asked, an anxious undertone to his words.
Draco offered him a half hearted smile. "If you want."
The Slytherin Seeker stalked off the pitch, his green robes billowing around him in a manner reminiscent of Snape as Harry looked on wistfully.
To be Continued
Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome.