A/N: Okay. So here's the third chapter that took forever for me to write. I warn you, this is a huge chapter. The usual H-D-H viewpoint is not valid in this one because it's too damn long, instead it's H-D-H-D-H. You'll see. Anyway, there's a confrontation and a Quidditch match, that's all I'll say.

This will lead to the next, shorter (and thank the Lord, easier to write!!) chapter which is going to lead to something. Perhaps a snog? Hmm. I don't know. Now stop reading my rant and get to reading! You'll be doing that for quite a while, I reckon..

Reality bites

Harry Potter

I put my glasses on and stared into the mirror. "You can't let the git get to you," I said. "Punch him if he says a thing." I smirked. "Yeah, that'll work."

I stepped out of the changing rooms and ran right into him. I stepped back and right into a wall. I looked up at him with that damn indifferent look on his face again. "What do you want?" I snapped.

He shrugged. "I wanted to wish you luck." He held out his hand. As if I would shake it. I shoved him away; he stumbled back and looked back up at me with surprise in his eyes.

I snorted derisively. "Nice try. What are you trying to do?"

Something flared in his eyes. Indecision? Hurt? No. Suddenly his hands grabbed my shoulders and he shoved me hard against the wall. "Listen, Potter," he snapped. "I thought that maybe we could grow up a little, live and learn, all the damn clichés. But you acting like a child won't solve a damn thing. So, fine," he said. "I'll sink to your level. If you can't be a man and talk civilly to me, I'll tell everyone that I found you sobbing like a baby on the second floor bathroom."

I dropped my broom. The sound seemed to vibrate through the tunnel, loud as the tremors of the earth. "Not very civil," I said.

"Indeed," he said, and smirked. "Open your eyes and see for once. Don't you know that with the way you're living, you'll be dead the next time the Dark Lord attacks you?" I glared down at the ground. Truth burrowed sharply into my conscious.

"All you are is a child," he said. It stung. I glared into his eyes and saw hurt. I broke away. "An immature, helpless child with good luck. If you weren't Wonderboy you'd be pathetic. In fact--"

I saw red. I swung without realizing, hit him a great deal harder that I knew I could; he stumbled back, tripped, fell, a red mark emblazoned across his cheek.

I looked at my fist. It stung like mad, but the adrenaline of anger and madness released all that. When I looked up, Draco was on his feet again. He was flushed, eyes dark tempest grey. "You bastard," he said. "You dare touch me?"

"If you would learn to shut your bloody mouth, Malfoy, I wouldn't have had to."

His eyes narrowed to cruel blue slits. He swung. Pain lit up the side of my face, I flew back, hit the wall hard. I managed to look up. I saw not only anger but disappointment and that which shocked me the most: hurt.

"Fuck you, Potter," he said. "Fuck you." And he walked away.

Draco Malfoy

That bastard!

I sat alone on the field. Trembling with anger and a hurt that started somewhere in the center of my ribs.

How dare he? How dare he punch me? He will pay dearly. I am a Malfoy.

He would pay dearly for hurting me..

I found myself crying. The tears stung where he had punched me. I tried to force myself into calm. Lucius Malfoy's son, sobbing on the Quidditch field...

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my emerald robe. I probably looked a sight, tear-streaked and bruised. My lip felt tender, and when I touched it, I realized I was bleeding.

What lie could I make up? If McGonagall saw both me and Harry, she'd figure it out and I'd probably get thrown out. Wonderboy would be able to stay, of course.

"Bloody hell," I said. I got to my feet and smoothed my robes down.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice rang over the field. I froze, looked up, looked away.

No, anyone but her..

I quickly cleaned myself up as best as I could. "Pansy," I said. "What are you doing here so early?" I tried not to make eye contact but she sat beside me.

"Looking for you," she said simply, then looked at me. "What's wrong?"

"What?" Still didn't dare look up.

"Don't 'what' me. You look like hell." She touched my cheek. I jerked away.

"Thanks a lot, Pansy."

"I mean, you look like a wreck. You're still as handsome as ever." I shook my head. "What happened?"

I sighed. "Pansy, I'm not even sure what happened. It's complicated." More than you'll ever know, I added inwardly. How could I ever explain how I felt to her? The sudden attraction? I didn't even understand it.

I took a deep breath. "Pansy, the match will start soon. You had better get up to the bleachers."

She bit her lip. "All right. Good luck, Draco." She kissed me on the cheek and it smarted. "Don't let Potter win this one."

Even though she didn't know it, she had voiced my thoughts exactly.

Don't let Potter win this one. Stay strong.

So I hoped.

Harry Potter

I had gotten the bones removed from my arm, grown back those bones in my arm, healed burns, scratches and cuts, all done with magic.

All of that and I couldn't even think of a good bruise-banishing spell. Maybe it'd pay to pay some attention.

So I walked around with as much dignity as I could summon and ignored the looks that Fred, our new team captain, and the others gave me. Alicia was our new Keeper and amazingly good at it. We had a second year Chaser, Natalie McDonald, fill in Alicia's old spot. She was pretty good for her first year of Quidditch.

We went out there as soon as the roar of the crowd began. It seemed the whole school had shown up. Not that I was surprised, of course.

The Slytherins walked over in their emerald green robes. Malfoy and I avoided eye contact as if we could contract the plague by meeting each other's gazes.

I was frightened, just a bit, by the hurt I had seen in his eyes. If he was hurt--if I could hurt him--if he would allow me to hurt him--why would I hurt him? At that instant I realized that I could not blindly hate him, because now he was real. I had seen the real him. His real emotions. Being a decent human being, how could I hurt him again?

"Damn," I muttered.

Fred looked over at me. "Catch the bloody Snitch," he said. "Perfect weather, no way Malfoy can beat you there. Catch it or die trying."

George snorted. "You sound like Wood."

Fred shook his head. "First game of the year. We've got to win it." Then he grinned. "And I know I sound like Wood. It's the rigors of the calling."

I attempted a grin then glanced at Madame Hooch. "Mount your brooms!" she barked. Then she blew her whistle. We went up. I watched her release the Snitch, watched it flit back and forth until it disappeared in a shower of gold glitter.

Madame Hooch tossed up the Quaffle and Angelina caught it. The field suddenly exploded with activity. I glanced around, just hoping for the vaguest hint of the Snitch. Malfoy came into my vision and I blinked as he turned just a little bit towards me.

Were those tears on his face? No, it couldn't be. Just a trick of the light..

A whoosh of air past my ear, a Bludger. I saw Fred turned towards me. He must have deflected it towards me by accident. He looked at me and yelled, "What are you doing? Daydreaming? Get to it!"

I nodded and began to scope out the area. Not a single sign. "Twenty-zero, Gryffindor leading, come on now Angelina, weave--All right, Professor, all right--Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson has the Quaffle, heading towards the goal--Yeah! Thirty-zero, Gryffindor leads!" Lee Jordan at his microphone again. I shook my head and scoped.

Malfoy was over at the goalposts. Did he see something I didn't? I squinted, flew down a bit closer. The Quaffle suddenly dropped past me and a huge Slytherin Chaser, Warrington, flew past me--almost knocking me off my broom--and caught it. "Slytherin possession," Lee Jordan groaned. "Warrington heads for the goal, shoots--and Alicia saves it! YEAAAAH!"

A glint of gold caught my eye to my far right. Draco had already spotted it and was flying over to it. I flew as fast as I could--no way in hell he's getting there before me--and got there a split second before he did. We both grabbed at the Snitch, but it flew up. We flew up, still parallel to one another until Draco gave me this look of complete determination and elbowed me right in the face.

I stopped for a split second, nursing what felt like a bleeding lip. He flew up and nearly caught the Snitch, but it shot up faster than he could fly and disappeared again. I set my jaw. All right then. If that was how it was going to be, that was how it was going to be.

Screw not hurting him. This was Quidditch. Basically, then, this meant war.

Draco Malfoy

So I didn't catch the Snitch. So what? There was time. The good thing was, Potter didn't get it and I didn't get a penalty for elbowing him. The crowd saw it--that was obvious from the booing. But did I care? No.

I wasn't about to become the victim. No. I was the Slytherin Seeker and damn if I was going to let Harry Potter the Wonderboy get past me, no matter what the hell was going on in our normal lives. This was Quidditch.

For the first time in two days, things made sense. One main objective: win. For the first time in two days, I could look at Potter and think: enemy. It was refreshing.

That idiot Lee Jordan was at the microphone again. "And Gryffindor is still leading, forty-ten, McDonald in possession!--she shoots!!--and the Slytherin Keeper catches.. Slytherin possession.." I smiled to myself. We had Millicent Bulstrode for our Keeper--honestly, it amazed me that a broom could hold her in the air--and she was amazing. Slow, but amazing. I would have pegged her for a Beater, honestly.

I glanced around and saw Potter shoot a dirty look at me. I smirked back. He turned away and continued to watch the field for any sign. I watched him. He'd lead me right to the Snitch if I played my cards right.

One of the Bludgers pelted past me and I glared up to see Bole looking apologetic. "Hit the Gryffindors, you idiot!" I yelled, huffed, then glanced back to Potter. He was gone from the spot I'd last seen him. "Dammit!" I looked around frantically. I saw him behind the goalposts, almost right about the stands, flying as hard as he could.

I shot over there as fast as I could--damning my father all the while for not buying me a Firebolt because of my grades, bloody hypocrite was outshone by a Mudblood too--and panicked as I saw him almost close his hand around the Snitch. "No!" I screamed, grabbed him by the back of the robes. They slipped from my fingers, but he turned around and gave me a look of poison.

"Malfoy, get off!" His eyes so enraged--and was that hurt?--I paused, and my façade dropped again. "Honestly, you.." He glanced up. I followed suit and we saw the Snitch glittering about a hundred feet above us, to our left. We both glanced back down at one another, Potter said "See you, Malfoy," and shot over to it. I was a split second behind.

Don't let Potter win this one.

I put on an extra burst of speed, my joints aching in response; I was running purely on determination. I couldn't let him make a fool of me again. I am a Malfoy, and I have pride and that cannot be taken from me. My father lecturing at me about the superiority of the pureblood race, the purity of our blood. It had imbedded in me deeper than I had thought.

I saw the Snitch glittering there, ignored Potter's reach and my fingertips touched it; for one second I was there, I had the victory in my hands. Then he smashed into me, pain cracked through my arm and I could only see the bright sky as I fell, feel a spasm of pain as I landed.

Then, of course, the darkness of unconsciousness.

Harry Potter

I don't know how it happened. I don't know what happened to the broom that it bucked under me. But it did, and I crashed. Crashed right into Malfoy. I remember it throwing me off, clutching it with one hand as I fell like a stone nearly right beside Malfoy.

The landing even worse than the crash. I was nearly crying with the pain, but even after a collision like that I was unwilling to let Malfoy see me cry. The biggest shock occurred when I clutched my hand to make sure it was still there and not broken.

The Snitch quivered between my fingers. In my delirium, I thought: Good. We've won.

I tried to sit up, glanced over at the still form of Malfoy. He looked to be unconscious. Perhaps he was dead.

I managed to lean on my arm, but once I jogged my knee I fell back in pain. I blinked, closed my eyes, managed to open them again in the massive surge of pain and saw McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey standing above me.

"Potter," Madame Pomfrey said. "You may as well rent a bed in my wing, you're in there so often."

I was inclined to agree and would have but, at that moment, everything went black.