Draco and Harry oviously don't belong to me, but belong to the ever talented J.K. Rowling.
This SHORT story (man is it ever short, but cute) is slashy. Just want you to know I told you so you don't complain about it.
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I love quidditch. It wasn't the thrill of the game, and it definitely wasn't the exillerating feeling of soaring through the sky free as a bird. No, it was the chance to see Harry. To see him slice beautifully through the thick clouds; his already unruley hair being tossled about by the harsh winds far above the quidditch patch. During a game I could watch him as much as I wanted without people thinking anything of it. After all I had to keep an eye on him in cause he saw the snitch. That's what I used to do too, I never looked at him for any other reason for a while until I noticed those bright, amazing, emerald green eyes always eagerly looking this way and that way for just a small glimps of that golden snitch. I soon started noticing his other good qualities... wait, did I say good? I meant gorgeous, and beautiful qualities. The way his body flew so gracefully through the sky as he dodged players and bludgers and, dare I say (or think), the way he holds his broomstick with his strong, muscular and well-tanned arms. I would just hover above the field most times in a hypnotic state staring and fantasizing what it might be like to kiss those well formed lips which seemed to be chapped so easliy by the strong wind. But ever game, before I knew it, he would break his soft hovering and replace it with a great burst of speed as he caught sight of the golden snitch and was sent flying after it and I hot on his trail but never fast enough to catch the little flying orb myself. Sadly the game would then end and I was thrown back into the harsh reality of knowing that until the next game I wouldn't be able to stare at him for hours (or at least what seemed like hours at times), and the only way to even get a glance from him would be to yell a jackass comment across the school yard or down a hallway. And while after a match he celebrated and cheered with his joyous teammates, is teeth gleaming stark white in the perfect smile that framed them, I would be stuck with my worthless "friends" and knew that even though I would never have the satisfaction of having Harry Potter, there was always my love for quidditch.
End