"Right" said Harry brightly. "I'm really tired, I'll just be going to sleep now."

Severus raised an eyebrow and beckoned Harry back.

"Sit down" he said, his eyes serious. "Now, two questions. Why were you awake at this ungodly hour anyway? And why didn't you eat dinner? You're far too skinny as it is."

Harry fought the urge to shift uncomfortably, knowing it would seal his guilt, and took a deep breath.

"Draco shook me awake because he was feeling so ill. And at dinner, I did eat. Just not very much. I was talking, and I honestly wasn't very hungry. But I forced down quite a bit, three drumsticks and some potato."

Severus looked relieved.

"You would tell me if there was anything wrong, wouldn't you?"

Harry was taken aback by the apparent need in Snape's voice.

"Um. . .yes. Of course."

"Good. Now, you should get some sleep. Do you want your draught?"

"No. . .I'll never wake up in the morning for the game if I have it now."

Severus nodded, and moved away. Harry could hear the clinking of potions vials behind him as Severus cleared up the lab, and finally amongst the background sounds he fell into a heavy sleep.

***************************************

"He WHAT?" roared Flint. "I'm going to kill that BLOODY son of a BITCH with my bare FU. . ."

"That will do, Marcus" said Severus smoothly. "Regrettable as this is, and don't worry, I will kill Wood with far greater expertise than you, you must find another reserve seeker. And for Merlin's sake, make sure James doesn't get hurt."

"Right" said Flint shortly, his eyes gleaming angrily. "Harry, you'll have to fill in. You're the only one who can even ride a bloody broom."

"Language, Flint"

"Yes sir." Flint turned to face the rest of the room. "TEAM!" he bellowed, "Time to go!"

"I don't have any robes" whispered Harry. Severus smiled at him.

"Don't worry, they're all in the changing rooms. You'll be fine in Draco's, and his broomstick is there too. Good luck, though hopefully you won't need it."

Harry sprinted off to find the rest of the team. He caught up with them on their way over to the changing rooms, lagging at the back. Bole clapped him on the back.

"Don't worry, Harry. Nobody's going to mind if you come on and don't do well. It's Wood's fault."

Harry nodded, feeling oddly like someone had replaced the bones in his legs with jelly, and his brain with cotton wool. He was clumsy getting changed, but finally managed to make it into his robes. Then the team went out of the main entrance, while the reserves had to sit in the changing rooms, worrying. Harry was one of the few brave enough to venture outside.

It was incredible.

The pitch was massive, bigger than anything he had ever seen. He could see the Gryffindors and Slytherins zooming about, so fast, so high, and his stomach lurched. He stepped back from the doorway, and sat down, polishing Draco's broom absently on his robes.

************************************

Severus watched from the stands, Lucius next to him. The blond man had been disappointed to hear of Draco's illness, and angry to hear of the Gryffindor's cowardly tactics. Severus was currently having to restrain him every time a Gryffindor flew to close from hexing them.

"Lucius, please!"

"But Sevvvveerrrruuuuuuuuus" whined Lucius. "It's fun, hexing Gryffindors!"

"NO!"

Lucius pouted and glared balefully around the pitch. Severus followed his eyes, seeing the two Gryffindor beaters close in on the Slytherin seeker.

"James!" he yelled, but it was too late. As one beater forced James to dip by slamming a bludger at him, the other one - a Weasley twin, he would bet - smashed another bludger lower. James flew straight into it, his broomstick cracking in two. Lucius was on his feet and halfway through a spell before Severus stopped him.

"No" he said, tiredly. James, who had not fallen far, had nonetheless cracked his wrist. He staggered off to the medical room with a friend as Flint flew over to Madam Hooch.

"Oh Merlin" muttered Severus.

"What? You have a substitute."

"Yes, Harry Potter. He's only been flying for two days."

"Oh Merlin."

***********************************************

Some little part of Harry had foreseen Madam Hooch calling him out to play. He mounted his broom and flew out after her, hands shaking on the stick. Wood sneered at him, and Flint looked worried. It would be a horrible match to lose.

"And we have a Slytherin substitute, Harry Potter, Seeker." Announced the Hufflepuff who was commentating.

Harry allowed himself to drift up high, looking over the game. The Gryffindor keeper was making tight circles below, obviously seeking the snitch rather than waiting for it. Harry was more than content to stay out of the way, observing.

"He looks very comfortable on the broom. He might make the team next year" commented Malfoy, stroking his cane thoughtfully. Severus just nodded, sitting on the edge of his seat. Merlin, how he wanted to win this match.

And then suddenly, Harry was diving down. It looked like he had lost control of the broom; thoughts of hexes flitted through Severus' mind, but there was nobody who could. . .Harry was diving down, almost vertical, this was like nothing he had ever seen. . .the Gryffindors were bemused, the Slytherins horrified. Two seekers injured in one game was not good, and hell for the insurance too. . .Harry was still plummeting, people were screaming. . .and his teeth were gritted as he reached out, his hand closed around something, and he was soaring back up again. . .and the something was gold, and flapping and looked very much like. . .

"The snitch!" roared the commentator, in a very un-Hufflepuff like way. "Harry Potter has caught the snitch for Slytherin!"

The stadium went berserk. Absolutely mad. The Slytherin team couldn't get their hands on Harry quick enough, practically dragging him to the ground. Lucius had let out a very undignified whoop of joy, and then looked down his nose at Snape as soon as people started to stare.

Snape shot him a dirty glare and began making his way down the stands to congratulate his team. Dumbledore was already there, Minerva was sulking. The Gryffindor team looked annoyed to say the least. First game of the season, and Slytherin were in top form.

Life, Severus thought, was good.

**********************************************

"Mister Potter"

Harry turned slowly, painfully aware that his shirt was out of reach, and that the bruises on his chest were not fully healed. Lucius Malfoy looked at him inscrutably, and handed the garment to Harry.

"Well played, Harry. May I call you Harry?"

Harry nodded, in awe of this impressive man. Every pore seemed to exude confidence and class.

"I hear that was your first game. And yet, you pull off a dive worthy of young master Krum."

Harry shrugged, trying to pretend he had any idea who Master Krum was. Some Quidditch player, he supposed.

"Are you proud?"

The bland grey eyes invited truth, and Harry nodded.

"Yes, I am. I would say I wish it could have been Draco playing, but that would be a lie."

Lucius chuckled, but then his face darkened.

"Yes, I will be lodging a formal complaint with the Ministry about his poisoning. It is unacceptable."

"The Ministry?" questioned Harry, before thinking. He flinched back, horrified with himself for daring to interrupt. Lucius looked at him calculatingly.

"Ah yes, Draco informed me that you were living with muggles. The ministry. . .well, it is an organisation that keeps the order amongst wizards and prevents us from revealing our world to the muggles. Rather like a cross between the muggle government and police force, I suppose."

Harry nodded, understanding, and quite frankly very relieved that he had not been hit by the eerie cane that Lucius carried about with him. As he changed, the blond man watched him still, and was about to speak when Dumbledore came in.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. Just the wizard I was looking for. A word, if you please?"

"And but one word?" drawled Malfoy. "Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow."

Dumbledore looked at him icily, and with a smirk Lucius tilted his head to Harry.

"It has been a pleasure talking to you, Harry. I will see you later."

"Goodbye sir" said Harry, feeling caught between Malfoy and Dumbledore. With a wink, Malfoy followed Dumbledore outside, and Harry heard their footsteps leaving, the tap of the cane on the ground.

*********************************************

True to his word, Lucius did see Harry again, when he went to the infirmary to see Draco. Harry was already there, eyes gleaming and hair dishevelled. Draco looked paler than usual, but still jubilant.

"Did you see the match, father?"

"Yes, a most impressive performance. I do hope that Slytherin will win the house cup this year, Draco.

"Yes father. I am sure we will."

Harry hung back awkwardly, not wanting to interfere, but feeling that leaving would be rude. Draco waved him back.

"Sit down, Harry. You look like a cat on a hot tin roof!"

Harry smiled uncertainly and perched on the edge on another bed, still looking ready to flee if needed. Slowly he found himself being drawn into the Malfoy's conversation, until some time later the three of them were talking animatedly. The formality between father and son, Harry realised, was just the way Draco had been brought up, and although they spoke nicely and were unfailingly polite, there was a real bond between them, they were on the same wavelength.

Harry felt a pang of jealousy but bit it back. It served him right. Nobody cared about him because he was a bad person. It was what he deserved.

His good mood punctured by his musings, he turned back to the conversation and pretended to smile. He kept pretending for the rest of the day.

****************************************************

AN: kudos to anyone who gets the famous quote hidden herein. More kudos if you can tell me the character who says it originally.