Title: Eating Blowfish
Category: Harry Potter
Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Humor
Rating: R
Pairings: So far, H/D, established B/N, Th/Hr
Summary: Harry Potter was a good boy. Despite his various adventures, ya gotta admit he needs to live a little. Is a certain blond Slytherin the right man for the job?
Warning: language, slash
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Chapter One: Extreme Broom Flying, Part One
(Draco's POV)
It was time to put my plan into action. My General had already set up her usual protections around my target, and was working on additional ones. It was safe for me to move. According to the Fairy, Harry Potter spent exactly one hour flying every night, usually to calm down from the days stresses or simply for the feeling of freedom it gave him.
It was ten minutes to 5pm now.
I hope you're ready for this, Harry Potter.
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(Harry's POV)
It was ten minutes to 5pm, about the time I usually went out to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of a fly before dinner. It helped relax me, and today I definitely needed it. In Potions, Snape decided to critique an essay right in front of everyone. And guess whose he picked? Yep, you guessed it! Mine.
Of course, he wasn't happy with it. He pretty much tore it to pieces verbally, then literally. If something was wrong, he told the entire class piece by piece why it was wrong, then spent a moment expounding on my complete and utter stupidity. If something was right, he would claim that I got help from Hermione, and then spent a moment expounding on my complete and utter stupidity.
After a few hours of that, I needed a good fly if not a full body massage and a vacation.
Ah, the vagaries of youth.
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(Narrator's POV: Sort of Harry's)
Harry Potter walked onto the Quidditch field, Firebolt in hand, unknowingly followed by Draco Malfoy with his Nimbus 2001 in his possession. Harry moved to the center of the pitch and took off his school robes. Underneath he wore a loose red Muggle t-shirt that actually fit him (he'd gone shopping that summer) and whitewashed jeans. His new sneakers were already covered in pitch grass from all the time he spent out there.
Mounting his broom, Harry prepared to take off. He was not expecting someone to call his name. He jumped, got tangled in his broom, and ended up sprawled on the ground. When he finally managed to untangle himself, if not get up, a pale hand was thrust into his face. Surprised, his eyes followed the hand to an equally pale arm, then a familiar pointed face. Draco Malfoy was looking down at him. No surprise there. Draco Malfoy was offering his hand. What the fuck?
"Graceful as always, Potter," Malfoy drawled. Okay, that was familiar. "Need a hand?" Harry stared. "I haven't got all day, Potter."
"W-wha…" Harry stammered. Malfoy glared. Slightly cowed, Harry grabbed his hand and was hauled to his feet. "T-thanks," he mumbled automatically.
"Not a problem, Potter. Though you have to work on your land balance. This isn't the air, you know," Malfoy said, smirking.
"I know," Harry snapped, then scratched his head. Did Malfoy just pay him a veiled compliment about his flying skills? "What are you doing here anyway, Malfoy?"
"It's a free Hogwarts, Golden Boy. I can use the pitch if I wish," Malfoy said. His smirk widened as he mounted his broom. "Do you have a problem with that? Because we can settle it right now."
The Slytherin's word choice immediately riled Harry up. "Fine, Malfoy. A race then?" he snapped.
Not quite yet, Potter, Draco thought. "Not something as mundane as that, Potter," Malfoy said, his smirk almost turning into a challenging grin. Almost. "How about a bit of stunt flying? If you even know what that is."
Harry glared. "Of course I do!" NOT. "Bring it on, Malfoy!" he said. Draco smirked. You could always count on Potter's hot head.
"All right then, Potter. First ten successful tricks wins. Ready?" he said.
"I was born ready," Harry said. Damn it. Too many Muggle movies, Harry thought. "Let's go."
"Right, then. On three, Boy Wonder. One…" Harry mounted his broom. "Two…" Malfoy smirked at Harry in exhilaration as well as surety. "Three!" Both boys kicked off hard from the ground, shooting 50 feet in the air.
"Trick one, Potter!" Draco called, waving a pale hand. When he was sure he had the Gryffindor's attention, he straightened his broom carefully; making sure it was aimed away from anything that would hurt if he crashed into it. He planned to do a simple Quidditch victory stance.
Without warning, Draco hopped up onto the broom, balancing on it with only his feet and straightening himself with his arms spread. He soared along, the gel flying from his hair to free his almost shoulder length blond locks. Now it blew in the wind, emphasizing his speed and direction. When he was sure Potter had seen enough, he dropped himself back in his regular position. No need to scar the poor boy for life. Yet.
"What do you think, Potter? Think you can beat that?" Draco called. Harry looked stricken, as if he'd never seen anything like that before. In truth, he hadn't. He didn't even know there were broom stunts, let alone ones done during Quidditch games. (The World Cup had been pretty boring.)
"Any day, Malfoy," Harry called back, a look of extreme determination settling over his features. Bracing himself, he hopped like he'd seen Malfoy do, and landed on the broom with only his feet. One foot slipped slightly, but he managed to regain his dubious balance.
Draco's heart almost stopped when he saw that Harry could have fallen. He almost reconsidered the whole thing, simply to keep the wizarding world's Savior from breaking his neck, but Harry hadn't learned his lesson yet. Aside from that, Prince or not, going in front of the Council with a failure as large as this one, considering the gravity of his request, could knock him from his seat of power.
That horrible thought in mind, Draco continued. He waited until Harry had reseated himself with a "Take that, Malfoy!" and prepared for his next trick. "Take this, Potter!" He called into the warm summer air. He loosened his lower body, putting all his strength in his arms, and moved them closer to the middle of the broom. What he was about to do was very dangerous, and he hoped Harry had enough raw talent with that broom of his that he wouldn't kill himself. He could just imagine explaining that to the Headmaster. Sorry sir, but the reason your Golden Boy is splattered on the pitch is because I was showing him extremely dangerous, almost illegal stunt moves for the first time, he tried them, messed up, and plummeted to his death. I think I'll have one of those lemon drops now.
Shaking his head to clear it, Draco pushed himself up on his arms, standing completely vertical on the broom, only upside down. Breathing very carefully, he risked a yell. "Two in one, Potter. Pay attention!" Regulating his breathing, he moved quickly up his broom by his hands. Speed was important with this one. Taking a deep breath, Draco lifted one hand and quickly twisted it around the other with all his strength while twisting his body slightly in the same direction. His lithe form spun around with his wrist, turning him in the opposite direction he'd started in.
Quickly, Draco reseated himself. He smiled. A successful handstand reverse. Morgana, he was good. He turned to see Potter staring at him with a sort of shocked awe. He crossed his fingers. Please, please, please, Potter. "I…can't do that, Malfoy. C-could you… blush…show me?" Thank you, Merlin's lacy bloomers! Sighing in relief, Draco quickly rearranged himself and landed. Potter landed beside him.
Draco turned to Harry, and tried not to stop breathing. The Gryffindor's raven's wing hair was tousled and unmanageable as usual, but his eyes were a brighter green, almost glowing like emeralds in the light. His clothes were rumpled, and the red shirt was twisted to reveal just a bit more chest. In short, the poster boy for the Lion's Den looked good enough to eat.
Shaking off his slight distraction, Draco smirked. "So, Potter doesn't know something I know, hmm?" He murmured, watching the boy carefully. "I didn't think it possible."
Harry blushed and glared. "Don't mock me, Malfoy," he growled.
Draco laughed. "Me, mock you? Not at all, Potter. I was merely surprised that the Guru of the Broomstick that Witch Weekly claims you are didn't know something as well known as extreme broom flying," he drawled. Harry looked indignant, but a slow smile soon spread across his face.
"You subscribe to Witch Weekly?" He asked, grinning. A faint blush rose on Draco's pale cheeks, an answer in itself. Harry laughed.
"Shut it, Potter, if you want to learn anything," Draco snapped. Harry went silent. "Good. Now mount your broom. I'm about to teach you how to live a little…"
They never did make it to dinner.
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(Harry's POV)
Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy, poster boy for the Junior Death Eaters Association (JDEA, Hogwarts Chapter), was into extreme wizarding sports? Who would have thought there were extreme wizarding sports? I certainly didn't. And the things that blond could do with his broom. Wow. Ron would love this.
But I can't tell him. He hates Malfoy with a passion that rivals his secret love for Hermione. I could hear him now. He's trying to trick you, Harry! He's evil, evil I tell ya! He's one of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters! Don't you see, Harry? Everyone's out to get you! Don't be a bloody idiot! Well, fuck you, Ron! Whoops, getting angry at your imagination isn't good. What was it Hermione said? Hearing voices isn't a good thing, Harry. Even in the wizarding world. Kinda makes you wonder, huh?
I really do hope this isn't one of Malfoy's ploys to get me in trouble or lead me to the Dark Lord. This stunt thing looks exciting. And truth be told, Malfoy looks pretty exciting too. Kinda makes me wonder what else he can show me.
Well, he's offering to instruct me in this for a week. I really want to do it. For some reason, I trust him in this. If nothing else, I'll tell Hermione all about it. For now, I think I'll take a leap for once.
"All right then, Malfoy. Teach me."
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(Draco's POV)
Potter agreed. Amazing. Of course, it was what I was hoping for, but a Slytherin isn't supposed to get their hopes up. Rule #45 of Snape's Rules for Surviving Slytherin without Embarrassing Us to the Point Your Gonads Need to Be Removed (Or Something Equally As Painful for Females) by Polonius Severus Lucien Snape the 3rd. Anyway, we've been at it for a week, and I've managed to teach him a forward and backward handstand, a handstand reverse, a handstand reverse double, a catwalk (forward and backward), a handstand somersault (and the same, with a reverse), a two armed split, a one armed split, handstand split (one or two armed), a one armed handstand reverse, broom trust 101, a triple stationary back flip,(one of my favorites) the personal savior, and the dive and glide.
Potter was a fast learner and a bit reckless, exactly the composition needed for someone planning to do half the things I was doing that first day. From what I could see, Operation: Get Potter a Life, Sub-operation: make him mine was going very well.
I guess raw talent really could make up for actual skill.
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TBC…
