Silver Lining

Fall From Heaven

"Harry, you need to eat." Hermione Granger pressed him, peering out from behind her enormous book entitled 'A Complete and Concise History of the Origins of Ancient Runes.'

"Harry, mate, Hermione's right. You'll faint if you don't eat anything." Ron Weasley said worriedly, his nose scrunched up in concern. "Come on, try the sausages…"

"Er…I'm not hungry, thanks." Harry said quietly, his voice tight.

"Why are you worried? It's not as if Malfoy will catch the Snitch, every time you've played him Gryffindor won!" Ron argued, "Go on…the hash browns are delicious."

"No, I don't think I want any breakfast. I'll get over it. It's only a Quidditch game, after all." Harry said, attempting a smile. His voice was tight as he spoke, and his inner subconscious was already railing against him. Only a Quidditch game? Don't kid yourself – this is the decider. This match will practically confirm the winner of the Quidditch Cup.

With only two weeks to go until the Christmas break, each of the houses was practically neck and neck in points, with Gryffindor and Slytherin just a touch ahead of the others, and within ten points of each other. After Umbridge had departed in ignominy and shame at the end of the fifth year, Harry's Quidditch privileges had been returned, culminating in an all-round good feeling in Gryffindor house for the week following. Indeed, the only people who hadn't been even a little pleased about it were, predictably, the Slytherins, and one Slytherin in particular.

Draco Malfoy was not in a good mood. After his father had been imprisoned in Azkaban, he had descended in position from veritable tyrant of Slytherin to an object of ridicule. Only a few faithful allies, for you could not call them 'friends', remained to him. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had formed a sort of elite guard for the pale, pointed boy. Although his influence was greatly diminished in the Slytherin house, he still commanded a certain sort of fearful respect. The kind of respect that is given in the knowledge that you are walking past the son of one of the Dark Lord's most faithful, and dangerous, supporters.

"How about Malfoy, eh?" Ron grinned in an attempt to cheer Harry up, "He's looking pretty down-and-out now his darling daddy's locked away in Azkaban."

"For all you know, Weasel, my 'darling daddy' could escape tonight." Came a cold voice from behind Ron. The already-fuming boy whirled around, ready to hex Draco Malfoy into oblivion. Harry turned sharply.

"Shut your ferrety face, Malfoy." He said venomously. He noted with no little satisfaction the pink tinge that appeared in his arch-enemy's face at the mention of… past events.

"You just wait, Potter…I'm sure the Dark Lord's got something better than ferrets planned for you." He spat, narrowing his eyes at Harry, who remained indifferent. He was used to the junior Malfoy's threats by now.

Malfoy turned on his heel and strode away with an infuriatingly calm attitude. Ron's ears were blazing ; he looked about ready to explode. Hermione tutted from behind her enormous book.

"Did you hear that?" Ron yelped, "He practically publicly announced who he's supporting in the war!"

"Yes, well, it's not really unexpected, is it?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, it's rather obvious to anyone who knows him."

"I can't wait till dad gets them for something…" Ron growled, the spark of revenge lighting in his eyes.

"Ron. Calm down." Harry said nervously, "You're scaring people." Indeed, Ron's rage had left a few of the younger Gryffindor students cowering in their seats.

"Set an example, Ron, you're a prefect!" Hermione hissed, smiling encouragingly at the scared students. This, of course, served to make them even more terrified.

"Preferably not a bad example." Harry said warningly, barely suppressing a grin, "But I agree, I can hardly wait till they get done in for something or other."

"Harry, are you still not hungry?" Hermione turned to the bespectacled sixteen-year-old. "There's only another hour until the match, and you need to keep your strength up…"

"Hermione, Harry knows what he's doing. He'll be fine." Ron said impatiently, throwing Harry a grin over his shoulder. Hermione muttered something that sounded like 'Boys' under her breath, and went back to reading. "Look at the time…we ought to be getting down to the pitch, I'll get the rest of the team." Ron said, jumping up with a wide grin on his face. "Don't sweat it, Harry. We're going to be great."

In the event of both Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell leaving the team, Alicia Spinnet had been offered the role of Quidditch Captain. She had politely turned it down, saying that she didn't feel up to more responsibility, especially as it was her NEWTs year. Therefore, Ron had been promoted to Captain. Some felt that this was a slight erring in judgement – however, Harry was just fine, feeling that Ron needed as much encouragement as he could get…and besides, although Harry would have liked very much to be Captain, the weight of destiny leant upon him like an unconscious Dudley Dursley.

"Yeah. We're going to be great." Harry repeated, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something was about to go incredibly, spectacularly wrong.

-

"And it's Alicia Spinnet, Felix Butcher and Ginny Weasley as the Gryffindor Chasers, with Flynn McCormack, Zahir Webbster and Julius Sneddon as their Slytherin counterparts!" Seamus Finnigan announced with gusto, having taken over from Lee Jordan when he had left the previous year. "And Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke for the Gryffindor Beaters, who have certainly improved since last year, with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle as Slytherin Beaters…" He shouted, as four more players zoomed onto the pitch. "And, the Keepers are Captain Ron Weasley for Gryffindor, fantastic Keeper that boy, and Matthias Dryden for Slytherin, a new addition for their team." The Keepers flew on to a massive yell and cheer, mainly from the Gryffindors in support of their Captain. "And the focal point for this match, Seekers Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, for Gryffindor and Slytherin respectively!" There were huge whoops of glee from the Slytherins, and the cheers from the Gryffindors were no less enthusiastic.

Madam Hooch stood with her whistle around her neck, next to the crate that contained the four balls. The jet black Bludgers were straining at their harnesses, and the Snitch's wings were humming. The sky was beautifully clear, the sun shining brightly. Sweat ran down the back of Harry's neck, and a lively breeze whistled in the trees.

"Captains, shake hands." Madam Hooch said loudly. Ron stepped forward, glaring daggers at Draco Malfoy, the new Slytherin Captain. Harry could tell that, once again, the two enemies were desperately trying to break each other's fingers. Draco's sneer was marred by the angry red patches on his cheeks, and Ron's scowl was pretty terrifying.

"On my whistle, then. Mount your brooms, please." Madam Hooch shouted. Harry felt the familiar tingle of anticipation as he swung one leg over his Firebolt. "Three…two…one…" There was a shrill blast as Madam Hooch kicked the crate, and the Bludgers burst out of their straps. The Snitch hovered in the air for a split second, and then zoomed off into the confusion of the pitch.

Weaving in between and above the other players, Harry couldn't help but admire Ron's tactics. Ginny, who was quick on her broom, had managed to snatch the Quaffle from mid-air and was now hurtling down the pitch at breakneck speed towards the new Slytherin Keeper. The third year boy was covering his hoops closely, with a mean expression that made him look like a gorilla. However, it didn't intimidate Ginny one bit, and the Chaser made an excellent throw at the left-hand hoop…

"Ginny Weasley shoots, and…GRYFFINDOR SCORE!" Seamus shouted into the megaphone, "What a wonder that girl is, barely a minute into the match and Gryffindor are already leading ten-nil!"

Harry barely heard the cheers resounding inside his head. All his concentration was focused on spotting that little flash of gold that would win the match. He noticed Draco Malfoy scowling in a mutinous fashion, and casting a dirty glance at Ginny as she high-fived Ron.

"And we resume play, with Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle. That's Zahir Webbster speeding up the pitch, and a quick back-pass to Julian Sneddon, and he's away!" There was a muffled thud, and Seamus winced in sympathy, "That's a Bludger in the leg for Julian Sneddon, he's dropped the Quaffle! And away goes Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle, dodging a nasty Bludger there, and oh! Surely that's a penalty to Gryffindor?"

The two Slytherin Beaters, Crabbe and Goyle, had closed in around Alicia, and Crabbe had dealt her a hefty blow with his Beater's bat, causing her to drop the Quaffle. Madam Hooch's whistle blew, and she awarded a penalty to Gryffindor. Felix Butcher, a skinny second-year, took it, putting it away with remarkable accuracy. The Slytherin Keeper wasn't looking too good. Gryffindor lead twenty-nil.

Harry just had time to see Draco Malfoy hissing angrily at Crabbe and Goyle, gesturing violently, when a flicker of gold caught his eye. He sped towards it, and Malfoy raced after him in hot pursuit.

They were neck and neck…hurtling towards the ground with impeccable accuracy, Harry's entire mind was focused on one thing – get the Snitch.

The tiny ball seemed to sense the impending Seekers, and just as Harry reached out his hand to grab it, it sped away, narrowly missing Draco's left ear. The blond Slytherin pulled sharply out of the dive, and Harry followed, curses running through his mind.

"And that's nearly a catch for the phenomenal Harry Potter, who is Seeker for Gryffindor! Too bad, Harry, better luck next time!" Seamus' voice echoed around the stadium.

A further two goals later, Slytherin had evened up with Gryffindor, Ron saving one shot but missing the others by a hair's breadth. Harry was getting worried. If Slytherin got the Snitch, the match was lost.

"And it's Ginny Weasley again with the Quaffle, marvellous Chaser that she is…and Ginny Weasley scores for Gryffindor! They lead thirty-twenty!" Seamus yelled into the microphone, evidently suffused with excitement.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a flash of white-blond speeding down towards the Slytherin goal-posts. Harry hurtled after Malfoy, gaining on him with every second. They were dangerously close now, heading straight towards the ground, each facing the other. With a gasp of triumph, Draco pulled out of the perilous dive, grinning smugly at Harry.

"Wronski Feint." Harry hissed, also spiralling upwards into the charged atmosphere. He was furious – with Malfoy, for tricking him, and with himself, for falling for it. Although he hadn't been 'ploughed', as the technical term went, he had wasted valuable time. It was only so long until Slytherin pulled into the lead, and if that happened, Gryffindor couldn't be sure of a victory.

It was very close. Slytherin had scored again, bringing themselves equal, but then a surprise goal from Alicia Spinnet had brought Gryffindor back into the lead. The game was tense, and a surprisingly strong wind had blown up, making it hard for the players to execute complicated techniques without being blown off their brooms.

"Harry, what are you playing at?" Ron yelled at his friend. Harry realised that he had been completely stationary for thirty seconds, and now, a Bludger was heading right for him. He was too shocked to respond for a moment, and in that moment, Jack Sloper came hurtling in front of the Bludger, and dealt it a hard blow which sent it spinning off towards Slytherin's Chaser Flynn McCormack, who had the Quaffle. The fourth-year yelped in surprise, dodging just in time, but the Quaffle fell from his hands and into the waiting ones of Felix Butcher.

"All right there, Malfoy?" Harry shouted with some amusement as the younger Malfoy scowled horribly.

"Just fine, but I'll be even better once we've secured the Quidditch Cup." Draco spat, a malicious sneer lighting up his face.

"You wish." Harry yelled back, spiralling off into the more open air above the frantic match below.

Draco sneered once more, and then zoomed off to the outskirts of the pitch, weaving in and out of players as he flew. Although his talent didn't match that of Harry's, Draco possessed a certain elegance and carelessness that was a mighty contrast to Harry's breakneck speeds and death-defying, although pinpoint-accurate, dives. Just as Harry noticed this, he saw the Snitch hovering a little way to his left.

"Yes!" He breathed, urging his broom forwards, faster and faster until his hair was all blown backwards, and the resistance made his eyes sting…he was nearly there…he nearly had it…

All of a sudden, a green blur appeared directly in front of Harry. He tried to stop, and managed it, but not soon enough. Draco Malfoy was knocked from his broom by the force of Harry's accidental collision, and was rapidly dropping to earth. Harry didn't notice this, as his hand closed around the Snitch, and he turned round, the golden ball clutched in his fist.

Then he turned round, and saw Draco Malfoy lying spread-eagled on the grassy pitch floor, his eyes closed, his face scratched, and both of his legs bent at angles Harry was sure that legs were never meant to achieve.

Disclaimer – all that you recognise belongs to JKR. All that remains for me is the general plot.

AN – I will try to keep in character with these guys. If I don't, shout at me. Loudly. And beat me with spatulas. This WILL be SLASH. Do NOT say in your review 'Ewwww, it's SLASH, I wouldn't have read it if I'd known!' because I have just told you.