*Several Days Later*
"Draco,
Why have you not been in touch? I expect prompt replies to my letters, and your mother is worrying.
Lucius Malfoy."
Draco winced, and crumpled up the terse note. He simply didn't have time to reply. The flying trials, which had been cancelled due to Voldemort wrecking the second floor corridor (that elicited a range of responses, from fainting to "Cool!" - that was the younger Weasel, of course), had been rescheduled for that day, and Draco was nervous. Harry, who had been released from Severus' care, clutching a green towelling robe as though his life depended on it after categorically refusing to speak about his injuries, was going to come along as well. After quite a bit of nagging.
And now the stupid sod was going to be late. The sleeping draught he had been taking was doing wonders for his work and mood, but Draco wasn't used to being awake first. Crabbe lumbered over, looking gormless. Or curious, or perhaps happy. It was very hard to tell.
"What are you doing?"
"Cooking" said Draco, not looking up.
"Oh"
That seemed to have dried out Crabbe's conversational abilities for the day then.
"No, I'm waiting for Harry to wake up."
"Oh."
Harry stirred in that moment, saving Draco from killing Crabbe and making his father angry.
"Morning, sleepy-head."
"Piss off, Draco." Said Harry, good-naturedly. He let out a jaw popping yawn, and stretched so that the bones in his shoulders cracked as Draco winced.
"Do you have to do that?"
"Yes. It relaxes me."
"Quidditch. Move!"
Harry gasped, and flung himself out of bed, scattering the pillows.
"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me sooner!"
Draco chuckled and threw Harry's clothes at him.
"Come on, we won't be late if we hurry. I brought some toast for you, we can eat as we walk."
********************************
"Alright" said Flint, looking appraisingly at the new players. "We'll try each of you out in different positions, to see who's good for where. And if anyone's good at all. First years, don't get your hopes up. Treat this as a flying practice, there's very little chance of you being picked. Now, let me see."
He contemplated the mass of players, varying in age, height and build.
"John, pick out who you want as beaters first. I'll take prospective keepers, and Cath, look at the chasers. For a seeker, I think we'll keep in James."
Draco was dragged off to try out as a chaser, Harry as a Keeper. He didn't like it. It was lovely, the feeling of flying, but it was so boring being a keeper, and he wasn't very good at it. Flint clapped him on the back, and sent him to play at beater.
"Don't worry, this would be the first time you've played Quidditch. You're doing fine" he roared over the wind. Harry nodded, and flew over to the beaters.
"Hi" he said, breathless from the wind. "Flint sent me over."
"Okay" said John. "Just take this bat, and knock the balls away. We'll try with proper Bludgers later."
Harry moved on quickly as the first ball (soft foam, thankfully) hit him square in the face. His only consolation was that other people were moving around just as rapidly as him.
"Hi Harry" chirped Cath. "We're playing three on three. . .Draco, you can go over to Marcus now. Well done, you. . .Oh!"
She darted off to the other end of the pitch, where Marcus and the Gryffindor captain were having a heated debate.
"We've already started!"
"Well McGonagall said we could have our trials!"
"Snape said we could!"
The two boys glowered at each other.
"Bugger off, Wood" snarled Flint. "There isn't time or room for this."
Wood leaned forward and dived at Flint, who only just moved out of the way in time. Unfortunately, Harry didn't. Wood crashed into him, and on a lucky reflex Harry grabbed the handle of his stick as he slipped off. He hauled himself back on, painfully aware of the glances of the Slytherins surrounding him, and the laughter of the Gryffindors. The wind nipped at his bare fingers.
"That's it" said Flint quietly. "Move, or there'll be trouble."
"Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?"
"This sort of trouble, Wood.", came a silky voice from behind. "I will not tolerate fighting, no, further, abuse, towards any member of my house. You could have killed Mr Potter. Get inside. We're going to the headmaster."
Red faced, and not just from the wind, Wood glided to the ground, and was quickly escorted inside by a very irate looking Snape.
Flint looked around worriedly.
"I think we need reserves this year" he said, his voice strained. "Wood is not a nice Gryffindor. I think we need back-ups."
At his grim words, a few first-years blanched.
"Someone who's already on the team, get some golf balls and try for a seeker. The rest of you, hurry up and pick your people. The new team and reserve team will be on the notice-board tomorrow. Potter, Malfoy, Zabini, Coombes, Radcliffe, Sampingson, Retterarn, all try for Seeker. One of you must be able to be used as a reserve."
With that he flew off, waving a hand for everyone to organise themselves.
"Alright, Seekers over here."
The burly fifth year pelted golf balls straight at the unsuspecting boys (and girl), and nobody managed to catch any. In the end they went in, tired, sweaty, and annoyed. Flint had reduced several girls to tears and was seriously pissed off with Wood. Wood was looking homicidal after being severely reprimanded by McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore.
Dear Father,
I do apologise for my not replying. School has been busy. I am sure with your job at the Ministry you will be aware of Voldemort's presence at the school; well, I was involved, as was Harry. Quite impressive for the first week at school, isn't it! We also found out about those muggles, and he is getting on far better with Severus. It turns out that they were abusing him, quite badly. He was in a real mess, but Severus healed him. Harry won't admit to it though, so I don't know what will happen.
We had the Quidditch trials today, and an altercation with the Gryffindor team. The first match is the day after tomorrow, if you want to come. I may be reserve Seeker! After the fight, Marcus Flint, the captain, decided to find a reserve team in case anything happens in the match. I think he's quite worried about the Gryffindor captain, Wood. He seems nasty.
I have no time to write; an inordinate amount of written homework. Harry sends his best wishes to you and mother as, of course, do I,
Draco.
The next day, the lists were up.
Draco was the reserve seeker.
The Slytherin first-years went crazy. It was virtually unheard of for a first year to get on the team, let alone as seeker. Even Severus came in to congratulate Draco.
"First game of the season tomorrow." Said Flint that night. The trials had been left late, and there had been little time for practice. The Slytherin team was excited; Quidditch was a game they excelled in, even if their methods were not entirely fair. It was, Flint said, the winning that counted, not the taking part.
****************************************************
Harry was woken up at 2.00am the next morning by a thud at the end of his bed. He squinted in the darkness, trying to make out something. It felt odd, even though it was too dark to see anything. That was it! The curtains didn't shut properly, and a shaft of moonlight fell into Draco's hair. Squinting more, he could make out that Draco's bed was empty. He supposed the other boy had gone to the bathroom and knocked into Harry's bed, waking him.
After another few minutes, he got worried, and padded quietly out of the room, rubbing his eyes. Not that he would say, but the potion wasn't working as well as it should have, and he was sleeping increasingly lightly. He looked in the common room; nothing. Trying the bathroom door, he heard a choked sob, and the unmistakable sound of someone being sick. He pushed the door open, and rubbed circles in Draco's back.
"It would be stupid to ask how you're feeling" he said, dryly. Draco nodded, and threw up.
"What happened?"
Perhaps he wasn't being very sympathetic. He didn't know how to be. And, in all fairness, a bit of sickness was not exactly life-threatening compared to some of the beatings he had been subjected to.
"I don't know. . .ow, my stomach. . ."
He threw up, shaking now. Harry took in the pale skin glistening with sweat, the dilated pupils.
"You've got food poisoning" he murmered. "No wonder you feel so crap."
Draco shuddered and retched, dry. There was no food left in his stomach to vomit out.
"Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?"
The silver-haired boy nodded, making strange whimpering noises.
"Come on. . .just lean on me. . .hang on. . ."
Harry supported Draco's weight, virtually carrying him to the infirmary. He pushed the door open with his foot and laid Draco down on a bed, calling hesitantly for the medi-witch, who came stumbling out of her office.
"What? Oh, you poor dear" she said, knocking Harry out of the way. Panic surged through him as he stumbled into the door-frame.
(Watch out, freak!)
"Make yourself useful, dear, and ask Professor Snape to come up. Someone's poisoned this young man, and I know for a fact it wasn't the elves. Someone's in trouble.
Harry was barely listening.
(Useless. . .make yourself useful. . .oh, you can't do that. . .)
He fled, shivering, to the dungeons, and drew to a halt in front of Snape's door. What if the man was furious at being woken up? What if he. . .no, he wouldn't. . .
He tapped nervously, and the door swung open.
"What is it? Oh, Harry. Come in."
"It's Draco, sir. He's in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey said he'd been poisoned."
Severus' arm flew up, and like a flash Harry was on the floor, cringing. Severus knelt down next to him, hearing him whimpering.
(Useless. . .pain in the arse. . .give you a. . .stupid little fuck. . .)
"Harry" he said softly. "Harry. Harry. Harry." insistently, until Harry uncurled himself. "I'm not going to hurt you. Ssh, I promise I won't."
He looked down to see Harry still shaking, and took one fragile hand in his.
"You're freezing, child."
He stood up, pulling Harry with him, and moved over to the coat stand, not releasing Harry's hand. He draped one thick cloak around Harry, and another around himself.
"Come, we will go and see Draco, and you can spend the rest of the night in here."
They walked up to the infirmary, Harry having to almost run to keep up with Severus' long stride, hand in hand, Severus providing a welcome anchor to the young boy. Draco was heaving into a bowl when they came in, and barely looked up. Pomfrey came in from her office carrying an anti-nausea potion which Draco drank with some difficulty before settling back down.
"What happened?" asked Severus. Draco shrugged.
"I was eating dinner. . .that's the last thing I ate. The same as Harry, and he's not ill."
Severus and Pomfrey turned to Harry, who blushed.
"Well, I wasn't that hungry. I didn't eat much."
"What was in a small basket? There must have been something that didn't go around to everyone."
"No. . .just the bread on our side plates."
Snape and Pomfrey shared triumphant looks.
"Someone poisoned your bread, Draco. Not badly. . .you'll be fine in a few days."
"A few days!?" squawked the Slytherin. "We're playing Gryffindor tomorrow!"
"Yes well, there's nothing I can do about that. You need bed rest."
"Don't worry" said Harry. "I'm sure the first team seeker will be fine."
None of them believed it.
***********************************************
"Draco,
Why have you not been in touch? I expect prompt replies to my letters, and your mother is worrying.
Lucius Malfoy."
Draco winced, and crumpled up the terse note. He simply didn't have time to reply. The flying trials, which had been cancelled due to Voldemort wrecking the second floor corridor (that elicited a range of responses, from fainting to "Cool!" - that was the younger Weasel, of course), had been rescheduled for that day, and Draco was nervous. Harry, who had been released from Severus' care, clutching a green towelling robe as though his life depended on it after categorically refusing to speak about his injuries, was going to come along as well. After quite a bit of nagging.
And now the stupid sod was going to be late. The sleeping draught he had been taking was doing wonders for his work and mood, but Draco wasn't used to being awake first. Crabbe lumbered over, looking gormless. Or curious, or perhaps happy. It was very hard to tell.
"What are you doing?"
"Cooking" said Draco, not looking up.
"Oh"
That seemed to have dried out Crabbe's conversational abilities for the day then.
"No, I'm waiting for Harry to wake up."
"Oh."
Harry stirred in that moment, saving Draco from killing Crabbe and making his father angry.
"Morning, sleepy-head."
"Piss off, Draco." Said Harry, good-naturedly. He let out a jaw popping yawn, and stretched so that the bones in his shoulders cracked as Draco winced.
"Do you have to do that?"
"Yes. It relaxes me."
"Quidditch. Move!"
Harry gasped, and flung himself out of bed, scattering the pillows.
"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me sooner!"
Draco chuckled and threw Harry's clothes at him.
"Come on, we won't be late if we hurry. I brought some toast for you, we can eat as we walk."
********************************
"Alright" said Flint, looking appraisingly at the new players. "We'll try each of you out in different positions, to see who's good for where. And if anyone's good at all. First years, don't get your hopes up. Treat this as a flying practice, there's very little chance of you being picked. Now, let me see."
He contemplated the mass of players, varying in age, height and build.
"John, pick out who you want as beaters first. I'll take prospective keepers, and Cath, look at the chasers. For a seeker, I think we'll keep in James."
Draco was dragged off to try out as a chaser, Harry as a Keeper. He didn't like it. It was lovely, the feeling of flying, but it was so boring being a keeper, and he wasn't very good at it. Flint clapped him on the back, and sent him to play at beater.
"Don't worry, this would be the first time you've played Quidditch. You're doing fine" he roared over the wind. Harry nodded, and flew over to the beaters.
"Hi" he said, breathless from the wind. "Flint sent me over."
"Okay" said John. "Just take this bat, and knock the balls away. We'll try with proper Bludgers later."
Harry moved on quickly as the first ball (soft foam, thankfully) hit him square in the face. His only consolation was that other people were moving around just as rapidly as him.
"Hi Harry" chirped Cath. "We're playing three on three. . .Draco, you can go over to Marcus now. Well done, you. . .Oh!"
She darted off to the other end of the pitch, where Marcus and the Gryffindor captain were having a heated debate.
"We've already started!"
"Well McGonagall said we could have our trials!"
"Snape said we could!"
The two boys glowered at each other.
"Bugger off, Wood" snarled Flint. "There isn't time or room for this."
Wood leaned forward and dived at Flint, who only just moved out of the way in time. Unfortunately, Harry didn't. Wood crashed into him, and on a lucky reflex Harry grabbed the handle of his stick as he slipped off. He hauled himself back on, painfully aware of the glances of the Slytherins surrounding him, and the laughter of the Gryffindors. The wind nipped at his bare fingers.
"That's it" said Flint quietly. "Move, or there'll be trouble."
"Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?"
"This sort of trouble, Wood.", came a silky voice from behind. "I will not tolerate fighting, no, further, abuse, towards any member of my house. You could have killed Mr Potter. Get inside. We're going to the headmaster."
Red faced, and not just from the wind, Wood glided to the ground, and was quickly escorted inside by a very irate looking Snape.
Flint looked around worriedly.
"I think we need reserves this year" he said, his voice strained. "Wood is not a nice Gryffindor. I think we need back-ups."
At his grim words, a few first-years blanched.
"Someone who's already on the team, get some golf balls and try for a seeker. The rest of you, hurry up and pick your people. The new team and reserve team will be on the notice-board tomorrow. Potter, Malfoy, Zabini, Coombes, Radcliffe, Sampingson, Retterarn, all try for Seeker. One of you must be able to be used as a reserve."
With that he flew off, waving a hand for everyone to organise themselves.
"Alright, Seekers over here."
The burly fifth year pelted golf balls straight at the unsuspecting boys (and girl), and nobody managed to catch any. In the end they went in, tired, sweaty, and annoyed. Flint had reduced several girls to tears and was seriously pissed off with Wood. Wood was looking homicidal after being severely reprimanded by McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore.
Dear Father,
I do apologise for my not replying. School has been busy. I am sure with your job at the Ministry you will be aware of Voldemort's presence at the school; well, I was involved, as was Harry. Quite impressive for the first week at school, isn't it! We also found out about those muggles, and he is getting on far better with Severus. It turns out that they were abusing him, quite badly. He was in a real mess, but Severus healed him. Harry won't admit to it though, so I don't know what will happen.
We had the Quidditch trials today, and an altercation with the Gryffindor team. The first match is the day after tomorrow, if you want to come. I may be reserve Seeker! After the fight, Marcus Flint, the captain, decided to find a reserve team in case anything happens in the match. I think he's quite worried about the Gryffindor captain, Wood. He seems nasty.
I have no time to write; an inordinate amount of written homework. Harry sends his best wishes to you and mother as, of course, do I,
Draco.
The next day, the lists were up.
Draco was the reserve seeker.
The Slytherin first-years went crazy. It was virtually unheard of for a first year to get on the team, let alone as seeker. Even Severus came in to congratulate Draco.
"First game of the season tomorrow." Said Flint that night. The trials had been left late, and there had been little time for practice. The Slytherin team was excited; Quidditch was a game they excelled in, even if their methods were not entirely fair. It was, Flint said, the winning that counted, not the taking part.
****************************************************
Harry was woken up at 2.00am the next morning by a thud at the end of his bed. He squinted in the darkness, trying to make out something. It felt odd, even though it was too dark to see anything. That was it! The curtains didn't shut properly, and a shaft of moonlight fell into Draco's hair. Squinting more, he could make out that Draco's bed was empty. He supposed the other boy had gone to the bathroom and knocked into Harry's bed, waking him.
After another few minutes, he got worried, and padded quietly out of the room, rubbing his eyes. Not that he would say, but the potion wasn't working as well as it should have, and he was sleeping increasingly lightly. He looked in the common room; nothing. Trying the bathroom door, he heard a choked sob, and the unmistakable sound of someone being sick. He pushed the door open, and rubbed circles in Draco's back.
"It would be stupid to ask how you're feeling" he said, dryly. Draco nodded, and threw up.
"What happened?"
Perhaps he wasn't being very sympathetic. He didn't know how to be. And, in all fairness, a bit of sickness was not exactly life-threatening compared to some of the beatings he had been subjected to.
"I don't know. . .ow, my stomach. . ."
He threw up, shaking now. Harry took in the pale skin glistening with sweat, the dilated pupils.
"You've got food poisoning" he murmered. "No wonder you feel so crap."
Draco shuddered and retched, dry. There was no food left in his stomach to vomit out.
"Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?"
The silver-haired boy nodded, making strange whimpering noises.
"Come on. . .just lean on me. . .hang on. . ."
Harry supported Draco's weight, virtually carrying him to the infirmary. He pushed the door open with his foot and laid Draco down on a bed, calling hesitantly for the medi-witch, who came stumbling out of her office.
"What? Oh, you poor dear" she said, knocking Harry out of the way. Panic surged through him as he stumbled into the door-frame.
(Watch out, freak!)
"Make yourself useful, dear, and ask Professor Snape to come up. Someone's poisoned this young man, and I know for a fact it wasn't the elves. Someone's in trouble.
Harry was barely listening.
(Useless. . .make yourself useful. . .oh, you can't do that. . .)
He fled, shivering, to the dungeons, and drew to a halt in front of Snape's door. What if the man was furious at being woken up? What if he. . .no, he wouldn't. . .
He tapped nervously, and the door swung open.
"What is it? Oh, Harry. Come in."
"It's Draco, sir. He's in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey said he'd been poisoned."
Severus' arm flew up, and like a flash Harry was on the floor, cringing. Severus knelt down next to him, hearing him whimpering.
(Useless. . .pain in the arse. . .give you a. . .stupid little fuck. . .)
"Harry" he said softly. "Harry. Harry. Harry." insistently, until Harry uncurled himself. "I'm not going to hurt you. Ssh, I promise I won't."
He looked down to see Harry still shaking, and took one fragile hand in his.
"You're freezing, child."
He stood up, pulling Harry with him, and moved over to the coat stand, not releasing Harry's hand. He draped one thick cloak around Harry, and another around himself.
"Come, we will go and see Draco, and you can spend the rest of the night in here."
They walked up to the infirmary, Harry having to almost run to keep up with Severus' long stride, hand in hand, Severus providing a welcome anchor to the young boy. Draco was heaving into a bowl when they came in, and barely looked up. Pomfrey came in from her office carrying an anti-nausea potion which Draco drank with some difficulty before settling back down.
"What happened?" asked Severus. Draco shrugged.
"I was eating dinner. . .that's the last thing I ate. The same as Harry, and he's not ill."
Severus and Pomfrey turned to Harry, who blushed.
"Well, I wasn't that hungry. I didn't eat much."
"What was in a small basket? There must have been something that didn't go around to everyone."
"No. . .just the bread on our side plates."
Snape and Pomfrey shared triumphant looks.
"Someone poisoned your bread, Draco. Not badly. . .you'll be fine in a few days."
"A few days!?" squawked the Slytherin. "We're playing Gryffindor tomorrow!"
"Yes well, there's nothing I can do about that. You need bed rest."
"Don't worry" said Harry. "I'm sure the first team seeker will be fine."
None of them believed it.
***********************************************
