Weeping Willow, chapter 3,
By Dreamsplinter
Rated PG
*Warning! * Thar be slashfiction here'bouts. Yarrrr.
Summary: The obligatory Quidditch match, with a twist. W00t.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why then, O brawling love,
O loving hate,
O everything of nothing first create
Heavy lightness,
Serious vanity
Misshapen chaos in well seeming forms.
Ay me, sad hours seem long."
--Romeo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"All ready for the match today, Harry?" Ron whispered, positively overflowing with excitement.
Harry eyed the fat droplets of rain hammering the window of the Arithmancy classroom, and grimaced. "What's the matter with this picture? It was perfectly fine yesterday, and today it's raining to give Noah and encore."
Seamus Finnigan looked up from his book and gave Harry a funny look.
"Who's Noah?" He asked quizzically.
"Oh, right. Some guy with a boat, saved all the animals from drowning when the earth flooded for forty days," Harry replied.
Blank stare. "Man, and I thought wizards had some odd stories-" Seamus trailed off and looked back at Professor Vector, who was explaining the inverse of a matrix on the board.
Harry tried to concentrate, but his eyelids kept drooping. Before he knew what was happening, he had his head down on the desk and the classroom became a pleasant buzz in the background. Colors and shapes blurred together into the first solid sleep he had enjoyed in almost a week.
He was flying. The horizon was a fiery blaze of crimson and orange with a dying sun warming his face and hands. Cool breezes whispered across the Quidditch pitch, as he sketched lazy circles in the sky. He relaxed in the air's embrace, and suddenly he wasn't alone. He looked over his right shoulder to find Draco Malfoy flying beside him, smiling and laughing. A dull surprised feeling crept through his sleep-muddled brain, but after a few minutes he didn't care much anymore. He and Draco flew together for what seemed like hours, each in perfect time with another, not speaking a word but not really needing to. Harry slowed down near to the ground, and tumbled off his broom, staring up at the sky between tall blades of grass. He felt Draco fall down near him, and the world shrank into one point of feeling. Draco's fingertips tracing light patterns on his forearm, Draco's breath hot in his ear, murmuring his name. Harry, Harry.
"Harry? HARRY!"
He jolted out of the dream with a yelp, and fell out of his chair in an excellent display of classic Potter grace. "RON! What!?"
Ron looked at him like he'd sprouted another arm. "Are you okay? Class is over. You have to go get ready for the game, remember? And what're you doing on the floor?"
"You scared me! Gees. Can't a guy get some sleep around here?"
Ron looked at him quizzically, an expression that was becoming more frequent from various people. "Right. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
//What the bloody hell was that about? // Harry tried to clear his thoughts as he gathered his books. Ron was happily chatting about the upcoming match, going over strategies and game plays, so it wasn't too hard to tune him out. //I just had a dream about Malfoy. What the hell!?! Jesus H. Christ. Note to self: Lack of sleep makes one delusional and/or insane. //
But he couldn't ignore the somersaults his stomach was performing, just at the thought of Draco's touch. //Disgust, that's what it is. Never said anything about not being disgusted, right? //
//This is going to be quite an interesting day. //
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco was ready to tear the walls down. As Divination crept by, he had an increasing urge to pick up Professor Trelawney and pitch her out the loft window. It wasn't that he was bored exactly; just that everything that seemed worth doing wasn't really worth it after all. He could flick paper wads at Pansy, or talk to Crabbe and Goyle about Quidditch or something, but nothing seemed worth the effort. He didn't even want to think about anything, since everything seemed to lead back to Harry Potter. And that train of thought was not one he wanted to pursue at the moment. Caught between going to one extreme or the other, he resolved himself to actually doing the assignment.
Goyle poked him in the ribs when he completely missed the bell.
"Draco? We gotta go. Quidditch. That's homework," He said. Goyle didn't seem capable of a sentence much longer than three or four words on a good day, so today must be one of the better ones.
A tiny sigh escaped Draco as he shoved his books hastily into his bag. There was a Quidditch game to be won, but he couldn't seem to focus. He reached into his pocket for the parchment that held his father's spell, clutching it like a security blanket.
"Don't wait up for me, guys," He told his cronies as they shuffled down out the trapdoor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Madame Hooch's voice was nearly drowned out by the drumming of rain, as she warned the teams huddled around her about the high winds.
"I want you to stay low as you can, because the crosswinds really pick up once you get much higher than six or seven stories!" She yelled over the pounding rain, "Captains, shake hands please." Harry and Draco complied with curt stiffness. "Players, mount your brooms!"
The respective Gryffindor and Slytherin house teams crossed back through the mud to their broomsticks and swung up into places. Harry sent a glance in Draco's direction, only to find the blond boy glaring at him with smoldering intensity. Harry gave a bloodthirsty smile. //This is it Malfoy. No more of this pansy playing around. Game time. // With that last though, Madame Hooch's whistle shrilled over the cheering crowds, and the game began.
Corey Spatter, a brand new fourth year player for Gryffindor took the Quaffle right off the bat. Both teams scattered, and Corey went zipping down the field. The other two Gryffindor seekers preceded her on either side. Miranda Bell dropped low to receive Corey's pass just as Clayton Grant, a burly fifth year chaser on Slytherin, cut Corey off. Miranda nimbly avoided the bludger that Crabbe blasted at her, and shot forward towards the goal. The Slytherin keeper was nowhere near Miranda as she lofted the Quaffle in for the first goal.
It was impossible to hear Seamus' commentary over the roar of cheering from Gryffindor's stands, and even harder due to loud booing from the Slytherin end.
Harry circled the pitch, squinting to see through the downpour and monitor where his players were. He could barely make out shapes and colors, much less minute details like the Golden Snitch.
Draco was on the other side of the field, apparently doing the same thing. The Slytherins erupted in cheers as Blaise Zabini scored a hard earned goal, and Harry flew a loop to let out some of his anxiety. His hands were starting to stiffen up in the cold, but he didn't dare let go of his broom to warm them up, as the winds were beginning to pick up.
Goyle caught a loose bludger and smacked it as hard as he could, aiming for Miranda who was busy chasing after Blaise. Harry yelled at her to move, but his voice was drowned out by a loud clap of thunder. Harry closed his eyes, expecting the worst, but as luck would have it, Natalie Mc Donald popped up from under her and clouted the bludger before Miranda could even take notice of it. Natalie grinned up at Harry, who beamed in return. Something hummed in the back of his head, and Harry instinctively ducked, watching in amazement at the bludger that zoomed past where his face had been just moments before. Crabbe was just a few lengths down the field, and though Harry couldn't see his expression, he knew that oaf was smirking.
Miranda scored again, and while the Gryffindors were still screaming, the Slytherin team called a time out. Harry's team huddled together, and he soon found out that the game wasn't going quite as well as it seemed. The Slytherins had been able to get away with twice as much foul play due to poor visibility, and Corey was nursing a rather bruised left elbow.
"Corey, can you still play?" Harry asked.
"Ja, it just hurts a little. Damn Zabini thought he'd use me as a human shield whilst Goyle had a target practice," she answered in a lilting Swedish accent, "Ah only got clipped."
Harry bit his lip. The two other chasers, Miranda and a third year named Alex Trask would be Slytherin's next targets. "Miranda, Alex, I want you two to watch for those beaters. They're going to try to box you guys in and stuff you with a bludger. They're getting desperate, so they're going to get more aggressive. You know how it goes. Keep moving, don't let 'em corner you."
They both nodded.
Madame Hooch's whistle shrieked over the noise of the rain, and play resumed. Harry wasn't mistaken in his speculation of a more aggressive game; the Slytherins were twice as dirty as they were before.
Clayton Grant grabbed Miranda's broomstick and wrenched it sideways and when foul was called he claimed it was only to get the Quaffle. Miranda put the penalty shot away easily, and the score sat comfortably at thirty- nothing. Harry smiled through chattering teeth, and scanned the field for the snitch.
Then it happened. Just as Harry had feared, Blaise, Clayton and Slytherin's third seeker Connor Montague had flanked Miranda. Corey and Alex had been trailing behind her when Alex had to make a sudden dodge to avoid a bludger and accidentally ran into Corey, slowing both of them down. Now all three Slytherin chasers had boxed in Miranda, and Harry briefly caught sight of Goyle taking aim for a bludger before-
* CRACK *
Goyle slammed the bludger with all the force his bulky body possessed and sent it hurtling towards Miranda, just as Blaise dropped into her path from the front, forcing her to swerve upwards and-straight into the oncoming bludger.
The sound of Miranda's collarbone snapping echoed even through the muffling of the rain. She sank to the ground and lost consciousness as students and staff members swarmed around her.
Harry saw red. He shot off after Malfoy, and screeched to a halt in front of him. The rest of the players kept on, but now with Slytherin at a distinct advantage.
"You told them to do that! Didn't you?!" Harry yelled, raindrops scattering from his hair as he gestured violently.
"I got rid of a problem Potter! That's competition, that's Quidditch, that's life!" Malfoy spat, reaching into his robes for his wand. Now would be the perfect opportunity, while nobody would notice, to cast the spell and be through with it.
"You don't cheat in life to win, Malfoy!"
Draco stopped. He trained every ounce of willpower he could to make himself * cast * that* spell*
But he couldn't do it.
Just then, he saw a shimmer of gold through the rain. The snitch! It hovered right behind Harry's head, and Draco was suddenly speechless.
"What the hell's wrong with you, Malfoy? What are you-" He stopped and noticed the snitch just as it zipped out of the way and straight upwards.
Malfoy was already after it, flying directly upwards into the near hail. Lightning laced across the sky, illuminating the tiny speck of gold. Draco anticipated its every move, concentrating intensely. Harry had a short opportunity to marvel at Draco's skill on a broomstick, and the two boys were nearly at equal distance from the snitch- when a well-placed bludger came flying out of practically nowhere and hit Harry square on his left hand. He yelled and took the injured hand off his broom.
Big mistake. The high winds seven stories above the Quidditch pitch lurched Harry off balance, so he was hanging half off his broom. Draco was several feet above him, laughing in triumph, the snitch clasped in his hand.
//oh no, // Harry thought, and the wind took a sudden shift downwards. Harry looked down and was overwhelmed by vertigo. The pitch was about the size of his four-poster bed from here, and through the rain he couldn't even see the rest of the students. He tried to grab his broomstick again, but a blinding flash of pain seared up his arm and went straight into his head. The wind was moving more quickly now, and Harry was now falling much faster than he liked to be going without any control. Not to mention heading away from the Quidditch pitch. The ground seemed to be approaching very quickly, but he couldn't figure out why, because he was still on his broom. He thought he heard people screaming, but couldn't tell over the roar in his ears and the clash of thunder. The wind swept him down away from the field-
And over the lake.
The storm whipped up white frothy waves on its surface, making it look like a many-toothed animal. Harry could feel himself blacking out, and tried his best to get closer to ground; only the ground he went for wasn't solid. He felt the broomstick slip from his grasp, and the last conscious thought that entered his mind was,
// I don't have gills this time. //
Then everything went dark.
Draco had been enjoying his triumph a minute too long when he noticed that Harry was no longer directly beneath him. He glanced down, and there was the other boy, moving rapidly and erratically off the Quidditch pitch. Draco didn't quite comprehend what had happened for a minute, but then it dawned on him that Potter was in serious trouble. Everything in his body screamed at him to help Harry, but the spell in his pocket seemed to burn through to his skin.
//why not just let him get whatever's coming to him? // Draco rationalized, the snitch cold in his hand. He could save everyone a lot of trouble, and maybe put his biggest rival out of commission for a while.
Then he saw Harry plummet into the lake.
There was nothing on earth that flew faster than Draco Malfoy that day. He bolted down along the slope towards the lake, his eye never leaving the spot where Harry fell. He didn't even slow down to get a good dive off his broom. He hit the water with a smack, and desperately pulled off his extra clothing to search for the fallen boy. The water pressed in on his eyes, black as tar and seemingly just as thick. A flash of lightning sent fractals of light through the water, and Draco caught sight of Harry, beneath him like a floating ghost. //so far down// Draco thought with a twinge of panic. He gulped a breath of air, and plunged under.
The darkness of the lake closed around him like a malicious cloak, and Draco almost cried out in fear when he contacted something solid. Harry. Draco grabbed for Harry's clothing, and took a mighty push off the lakebed. His lungs were near to bursting, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. Harry was * heavy*, Draco realized.
//I am not going to drown saving Harry Potter. This is not going to be the end. //
He could see a flicker of lightning at the surface of the lake, and kicked harder. He felt himself slowing down, but was determined not to stop. Not when the surface was so close. His legs seemed to be made of lead, and Potter's skin felt like ice under his fingers. He broke the surface of the water and swallowed a huge gulp of air before Harry's weight dragged him under again.
//Come on, not now. // Draco swiftly freed Harry from all his unnecessary clothing and hauled his head above water. The windswept waves gave them both a momentum towards the shore, but also pushed them under repeatedly. Draco crossed his right arm over Harry's chest, and kicked towards shore. He glanced at the mass of people headed in their direction, then at Harry. The dark haired boy was nearly a transparent white, and his lips were bluish.
//Oh God Harry, don't die on me. // Draco thought of all the trouble he had gotten into with Harry, all the ways Harry annoyed him, and made him angry, and made him rise to a challenge. Without Harry, there was nothing to strive for, nothing to measure up to, nothing to compete against. He realized that he *needed * Harry.
If Harry died-
Draco didn't have any more time to think as his feet touched bottom, and he dragged Harry onto the shore. It seemed like all of Hogwarts was running from the Quidditch pitch to the lakeside, but they'd never make it in time. Who knows how long Harry had gone without air?
Draco kneeled by his rival, and without even a pause in his movement-did the unthinkable. He pinched the other boy's nose shut, sealed his lips over Harry's, and exhaled. Once. Twice. Three times. Harry's chest rose and fell in time with their shared breathing, but his lips were so *cold *. The back of Draco's eyes started to burn with something almost like tears. His breaths became shaky, but he didn't stop.
Harry opened his eyes. And for a moment, nothing on the entire planet moved. Time stopped in its tracks, and Harry looked up to find Draco's mouth covering his, in the sweetest feeling of completion he had ever known.
Then he realized he was in a liplock with his worst enemy, and flipped out. He coughed water violently into Draco's mouth, making the other boy break away, spluttering and gagging. Harry pushed himself up, but completely forgot that his hand was broken and collapsed back onto the sand in pain. The staff and students were nearly upon them now, bearing a stretcher and blankets. Harry and Draco didn't move. They stared at each other, not knowing what to say or what to feel. Draco's lips were tingling, and he touched cautious fingertips to them unconsciously. Harry could do nothing more than stare as students and teachers hoisted him onto a stretcher and threw blankets over him. Draco just sat on the sand, even while people put a blanket over him, asked him if he was hurt, and tried to lift him up to go indoors. He got up after a few tugs, but everything was a wide swirling sea of color and noise. And in the middle of riot was a pair of emerald eyes.
//Harry's okay. Harry's safe. // Was the only thought on Draco's mind as he was herded up to the infirmary. That and,
//I just called him Harry. //
By Dreamsplinter
Rated PG
*Warning! * Thar be slashfiction here'bouts. Yarrrr.
Summary: The obligatory Quidditch match, with a twist. W00t.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why then, O brawling love,
O loving hate,
O everything of nothing first create
Heavy lightness,
Serious vanity
Misshapen chaos in well seeming forms.
Ay me, sad hours seem long."
--Romeo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"All ready for the match today, Harry?" Ron whispered, positively overflowing with excitement.
Harry eyed the fat droplets of rain hammering the window of the Arithmancy classroom, and grimaced. "What's the matter with this picture? It was perfectly fine yesterday, and today it's raining to give Noah and encore."
Seamus Finnigan looked up from his book and gave Harry a funny look.
"Who's Noah?" He asked quizzically.
"Oh, right. Some guy with a boat, saved all the animals from drowning when the earth flooded for forty days," Harry replied.
Blank stare. "Man, and I thought wizards had some odd stories-" Seamus trailed off and looked back at Professor Vector, who was explaining the inverse of a matrix on the board.
Harry tried to concentrate, but his eyelids kept drooping. Before he knew what was happening, he had his head down on the desk and the classroom became a pleasant buzz in the background. Colors and shapes blurred together into the first solid sleep he had enjoyed in almost a week.
He was flying. The horizon was a fiery blaze of crimson and orange with a dying sun warming his face and hands. Cool breezes whispered across the Quidditch pitch, as he sketched lazy circles in the sky. He relaxed in the air's embrace, and suddenly he wasn't alone. He looked over his right shoulder to find Draco Malfoy flying beside him, smiling and laughing. A dull surprised feeling crept through his sleep-muddled brain, but after a few minutes he didn't care much anymore. He and Draco flew together for what seemed like hours, each in perfect time with another, not speaking a word but not really needing to. Harry slowed down near to the ground, and tumbled off his broom, staring up at the sky between tall blades of grass. He felt Draco fall down near him, and the world shrank into one point of feeling. Draco's fingertips tracing light patterns on his forearm, Draco's breath hot in his ear, murmuring his name. Harry, Harry.
"Harry? HARRY!"
He jolted out of the dream with a yelp, and fell out of his chair in an excellent display of classic Potter grace. "RON! What!?"
Ron looked at him like he'd sprouted another arm. "Are you okay? Class is over. You have to go get ready for the game, remember? And what're you doing on the floor?"
"You scared me! Gees. Can't a guy get some sleep around here?"
Ron looked at him quizzically, an expression that was becoming more frequent from various people. "Right. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
//What the bloody hell was that about? // Harry tried to clear his thoughts as he gathered his books. Ron was happily chatting about the upcoming match, going over strategies and game plays, so it wasn't too hard to tune him out. //I just had a dream about Malfoy. What the hell!?! Jesus H. Christ. Note to self: Lack of sleep makes one delusional and/or insane. //
But he couldn't ignore the somersaults his stomach was performing, just at the thought of Draco's touch. //Disgust, that's what it is. Never said anything about not being disgusted, right? //
//This is going to be quite an interesting day. //
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco was ready to tear the walls down. As Divination crept by, he had an increasing urge to pick up Professor Trelawney and pitch her out the loft window. It wasn't that he was bored exactly; just that everything that seemed worth doing wasn't really worth it after all. He could flick paper wads at Pansy, or talk to Crabbe and Goyle about Quidditch or something, but nothing seemed worth the effort. He didn't even want to think about anything, since everything seemed to lead back to Harry Potter. And that train of thought was not one he wanted to pursue at the moment. Caught between going to one extreme or the other, he resolved himself to actually doing the assignment.
Goyle poked him in the ribs when he completely missed the bell.
"Draco? We gotta go. Quidditch. That's homework," He said. Goyle didn't seem capable of a sentence much longer than three or four words on a good day, so today must be one of the better ones.
A tiny sigh escaped Draco as he shoved his books hastily into his bag. There was a Quidditch game to be won, but he couldn't seem to focus. He reached into his pocket for the parchment that held his father's spell, clutching it like a security blanket.
"Don't wait up for me, guys," He told his cronies as they shuffled down out the trapdoor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Madame Hooch's voice was nearly drowned out by the drumming of rain, as she warned the teams huddled around her about the high winds.
"I want you to stay low as you can, because the crosswinds really pick up once you get much higher than six or seven stories!" She yelled over the pounding rain, "Captains, shake hands please." Harry and Draco complied with curt stiffness. "Players, mount your brooms!"
The respective Gryffindor and Slytherin house teams crossed back through the mud to their broomsticks and swung up into places. Harry sent a glance in Draco's direction, only to find the blond boy glaring at him with smoldering intensity. Harry gave a bloodthirsty smile. //This is it Malfoy. No more of this pansy playing around. Game time. // With that last though, Madame Hooch's whistle shrilled over the cheering crowds, and the game began.
Corey Spatter, a brand new fourth year player for Gryffindor took the Quaffle right off the bat. Both teams scattered, and Corey went zipping down the field. The other two Gryffindor seekers preceded her on either side. Miranda Bell dropped low to receive Corey's pass just as Clayton Grant, a burly fifth year chaser on Slytherin, cut Corey off. Miranda nimbly avoided the bludger that Crabbe blasted at her, and shot forward towards the goal. The Slytherin keeper was nowhere near Miranda as she lofted the Quaffle in for the first goal.
It was impossible to hear Seamus' commentary over the roar of cheering from Gryffindor's stands, and even harder due to loud booing from the Slytherin end.
Harry circled the pitch, squinting to see through the downpour and monitor where his players were. He could barely make out shapes and colors, much less minute details like the Golden Snitch.
Draco was on the other side of the field, apparently doing the same thing. The Slytherins erupted in cheers as Blaise Zabini scored a hard earned goal, and Harry flew a loop to let out some of his anxiety. His hands were starting to stiffen up in the cold, but he didn't dare let go of his broom to warm them up, as the winds were beginning to pick up.
Goyle caught a loose bludger and smacked it as hard as he could, aiming for Miranda who was busy chasing after Blaise. Harry yelled at her to move, but his voice was drowned out by a loud clap of thunder. Harry closed his eyes, expecting the worst, but as luck would have it, Natalie Mc Donald popped up from under her and clouted the bludger before Miranda could even take notice of it. Natalie grinned up at Harry, who beamed in return. Something hummed in the back of his head, and Harry instinctively ducked, watching in amazement at the bludger that zoomed past where his face had been just moments before. Crabbe was just a few lengths down the field, and though Harry couldn't see his expression, he knew that oaf was smirking.
Miranda scored again, and while the Gryffindors were still screaming, the Slytherin team called a time out. Harry's team huddled together, and he soon found out that the game wasn't going quite as well as it seemed. The Slytherins had been able to get away with twice as much foul play due to poor visibility, and Corey was nursing a rather bruised left elbow.
"Corey, can you still play?" Harry asked.
"Ja, it just hurts a little. Damn Zabini thought he'd use me as a human shield whilst Goyle had a target practice," she answered in a lilting Swedish accent, "Ah only got clipped."
Harry bit his lip. The two other chasers, Miranda and a third year named Alex Trask would be Slytherin's next targets. "Miranda, Alex, I want you two to watch for those beaters. They're going to try to box you guys in and stuff you with a bludger. They're getting desperate, so they're going to get more aggressive. You know how it goes. Keep moving, don't let 'em corner you."
They both nodded.
Madame Hooch's whistle shrieked over the noise of the rain, and play resumed. Harry wasn't mistaken in his speculation of a more aggressive game; the Slytherins were twice as dirty as they were before.
Clayton Grant grabbed Miranda's broomstick and wrenched it sideways and when foul was called he claimed it was only to get the Quaffle. Miranda put the penalty shot away easily, and the score sat comfortably at thirty- nothing. Harry smiled through chattering teeth, and scanned the field for the snitch.
Then it happened. Just as Harry had feared, Blaise, Clayton and Slytherin's third seeker Connor Montague had flanked Miranda. Corey and Alex had been trailing behind her when Alex had to make a sudden dodge to avoid a bludger and accidentally ran into Corey, slowing both of them down. Now all three Slytherin chasers had boxed in Miranda, and Harry briefly caught sight of Goyle taking aim for a bludger before-
* CRACK *
Goyle slammed the bludger with all the force his bulky body possessed and sent it hurtling towards Miranda, just as Blaise dropped into her path from the front, forcing her to swerve upwards and-straight into the oncoming bludger.
The sound of Miranda's collarbone snapping echoed even through the muffling of the rain. She sank to the ground and lost consciousness as students and staff members swarmed around her.
Harry saw red. He shot off after Malfoy, and screeched to a halt in front of him. The rest of the players kept on, but now with Slytherin at a distinct advantage.
"You told them to do that! Didn't you?!" Harry yelled, raindrops scattering from his hair as he gestured violently.
"I got rid of a problem Potter! That's competition, that's Quidditch, that's life!" Malfoy spat, reaching into his robes for his wand. Now would be the perfect opportunity, while nobody would notice, to cast the spell and be through with it.
"You don't cheat in life to win, Malfoy!"
Draco stopped. He trained every ounce of willpower he could to make himself * cast * that* spell*
But he couldn't do it.
Just then, he saw a shimmer of gold through the rain. The snitch! It hovered right behind Harry's head, and Draco was suddenly speechless.
"What the hell's wrong with you, Malfoy? What are you-" He stopped and noticed the snitch just as it zipped out of the way and straight upwards.
Malfoy was already after it, flying directly upwards into the near hail. Lightning laced across the sky, illuminating the tiny speck of gold. Draco anticipated its every move, concentrating intensely. Harry had a short opportunity to marvel at Draco's skill on a broomstick, and the two boys were nearly at equal distance from the snitch- when a well-placed bludger came flying out of practically nowhere and hit Harry square on his left hand. He yelled and took the injured hand off his broom.
Big mistake. The high winds seven stories above the Quidditch pitch lurched Harry off balance, so he was hanging half off his broom. Draco was several feet above him, laughing in triumph, the snitch clasped in his hand.
//oh no, // Harry thought, and the wind took a sudden shift downwards. Harry looked down and was overwhelmed by vertigo. The pitch was about the size of his four-poster bed from here, and through the rain he couldn't even see the rest of the students. He tried to grab his broomstick again, but a blinding flash of pain seared up his arm and went straight into his head. The wind was moving more quickly now, and Harry was now falling much faster than he liked to be going without any control. Not to mention heading away from the Quidditch pitch. The ground seemed to be approaching very quickly, but he couldn't figure out why, because he was still on his broom. He thought he heard people screaming, but couldn't tell over the roar in his ears and the clash of thunder. The wind swept him down away from the field-
And over the lake.
The storm whipped up white frothy waves on its surface, making it look like a many-toothed animal. Harry could feel himself blacking out, and tried his best to get closer to ground; only the ground he went for wasn't solid. He felt the broomstick slip from his grasp, and the last conscious thought that entered his mind was,
// I don't have gills this time. //
Then everything went dark.
Draco had been enjoying his triumph a minute too long when he noticed that Harry was no longer directly beneath him. He glanced down, and there was the other boy, moving rapidly and erratically off the Quidditch pitch. Draco didn't quite comprehend what had happened for a minute, but then it dawned on him that Potter was in serious trouble. Everything in his body screamed at him to help Harry, but the spell in his pocket seemed to burn through to his skin.
//why not just let him get whatever's coming to him? // Draco rationalized, the snitch cold in his hand. He could save everyone a lot of trouble, and maybe put his biggest rival out of commission for a while.
Then he saw Harry plummet into the lake.
There was nothing on earth that flew faster than Draco Malfoy that day. He bolted down along the slope towards the lake, his eye never leaving the spot where Harry fell. He didn't even slow down to get a good dive off his broom. He hit the water with a smack, and desperately pulled off his extra clothing to search for the fallen boy. The water pressed in on his eyes, black as tar and seemingly just as thick. A flash of lightning sent fractals of light through the water, and Draco caught sight of Harry, beneath him like a floating ghost. //so far down// Draco thought with a twinge of panic. He gulped a breath of air, and plunged under.
The darkness of the lake closed around him like a malicious cloak, and Draco almost cried out in fear when he contacted something solid. Harry. Draco grabbed for Harry's clothing, and took a mighty push off the lakebed. His lungs were near to bursting, and his heartbeat hammered in his ears. Harry was * heavy*, Draco realized.
//I am not going to drown saving Harry Potter. This is not going to be the end. //
He could see a flicker of lightning at the surface of the lake, and kicked harder. He felt himself slowing down, but was determined not to stop. Not when the surface was so close. His legs seemed to be made of lead, and Potter's skin felt like ice under his fingers. He broke the surface of the water and swallowed a huge gulp of air before Harry's weight dragged him under again.
//Come on, not now. // Draco swiftly freed Harry from all his unnecessary clothing and hauled his head above water. The windswept waves gave them both a momentum towards the shore, but also pushed them under repeatedly. Draco crossed his right arm over Harry's chest, and kicked towards shore. He glanced at the mass of people headed in their direction, then at Harry. The dark haired boy was nearly a transparent white, and his lips were bluish.
//Oh God Harry, don't die on me. // Draco thought of all the trouble he had gotten into with Harry, all the ways Harry annoyed him, and made him angry, and made him rise to a challenge. Without Harry, there was nothing to strive for, nothing to measure up to, nothing to compete against. He realized that he *needed * Harry.
If Harry died-
Draco didn't have any more time to think as his feet touched bottom, and he dragged Harry onto the shore. It seemed like all of Hogwarts was running from the Quidditch pitch to the lakeside, but they'd never make it in time. Who knows how long Harry had gone without air?
Draco kneeled by his rival, and without even a pause in his movement-did the unthinkable. He pinched the other boy's nose shut, sealed his lips over Harry's, and exhaled. Once. Twice. Three times. Harry's chest rose and fell in time with their shared breathing, but his lips were so *cold *. The back of Draco's eyes started to burn with something almost like tears. His breaths became shaky, but he didn't stop.
Harry opened his eyes. And for a moment, nothing on the entire planet moved. Time stopped in its tracks, and Harry looked up to find Draco's mouth covering his, in the sweetest feeling of completion he had ever known.
Then he realized he was in a liplock with his worst enemy, and flipped out. He coughed water violently into Draco's mouth, making the other boy break away, spluttering and gagging. Harry pushed himself up, but completely forgot that his hand was broken and collapsed back onto the sand in pain. The staff and students were nearly upon them now, bearing a stretcher and blankets. Harry and Draco didn't move. They stared at each other, not knowing what to say or what to feel. Draco's lips were tingling, and he touched cautious fingertips to them unconsciously. Harry could do nothing more than stare as students and teachers hoisted him onto a stretcher and threw blankets over him. Draco just sat on the sand, even while people put a blanket over him, asked him if he was hurt, and tried to lift him up to go indoors. He got up after a few tugs, but everything was a wide swirling sea of color and noise. And in the middle of riot was a pair of emerald eyes.
//Harry's okay. Harry's safe. // Was the only thought on Draco's mind as he was herded up to the infirmary. That and,
//I just called him Harry. //