DISCLAIMER: Alright listen up. Everyone please be seated, buckle your seatbelt and make yourselves comfortable. Today the journey goes to Slash Island of the HD Association. Of course it would essential to mention that the author does not own anything. Please do not sweet talk the characters, do not feed or pet them, they tend to get attached. If they run off with you, I will be disabled from writing about them.
WARNING: May I also please remind you that this is a slash story, meaning that this contains lovers of the same gender. If this does not strike your fancy, then please take your leave, I do not wish for the characters to feel subjected to prejudices. Thank you.
So to Thank the Reviewers:
Fantasy101: Thank you and I hope you enjoy this chapter too.
Mentaru: Yeah, your review was short, sweet and to the point. Hope you like this chapter as well. And you're always welcome to speak your ideas, they might just venture onto the set of the story.
Slash-Lover: It's going to take while for them to hook up, got to make them partially friends first.
Zoomaphonethepirate: Thank you and here's an update for you.
Dragon Chronicles.
By Nuin
02. Fair Play?
Merlin, how I hate those unbearable Gryffindorks.
It's Quidditch season, well it has been for quite a while now. But that's not what I meant. No, Quidditch season only starts, when the first game between the inept, foolishly fair playing team and the most debonair, most talented and hottest team commences.
What?
We, Slytherins, play fair?
Don't make me laugh.
No, really.
Malfoys do not laugh, we smirk deviously.
Slytherins playing fair would be like the Hufflepuffs actually doing something wrong. Like getting a detention for playing a prank on a teacher or simply just cursing. Not going to happen.
Tch.
Slytherins play to win.
All that gibberish about 'It's not how you win, it's how you play that's important'. Please. Let me bring out me violin and cry you a river.
The key word is ambition.
We are Slytherins, as in ambitious, sly and cunning people.
Not fair, sanctimonious and Muggle-loving Gryffindorks.
All right back to the Quidditch game that is to commence today.
Why am I writing such difficult words?
Wait it wasn't some idiot with a brain capacity of a first year Mudblood that made you, was it?
No?
Thank Salazar. I was beginning to think that I would have to destroy you.
Yet, you have nothing to do with Muggles or Mudbloods, right?
Good.
After all I bought you in that book shop in Knockturn Alley. As if one could buy a Responding Journal in one of the goody-goody shops in Diagon Alley. Really.
Now, can I get back to writing about Quidditch?
Finally.
Well. Today is the first real Quidditch game. Slytherin versus Gryffindor.
The only game that is worth something, even though we all know how it ends. With the epitome of Gryffindor-ness catching the Snitch. As always.
Though I am NOT going to make it easy for him. He will eat my dust. I have learned a few moves that would put anything he does to shame.
He will never know what hit him upside down his scull.
And with Weasel as their Keeper, he'll have to catch the Snitch with the first five seconds. Just enough time for us to score at least 20 goals.
The game in Fifth year was just a fluke.
A fluke that has been repeating itself ever since.
I hate those self-righteous, pompous, scarlet and gold wearing bastards.
The door to the Seventh year boys' dorm burst open and Draco whirled around to face Blaise Zabini standing there with a scowl on his features.
"Do you know that you're going to be late for the game, Draco?" The brunette hissed as he strode over to the blonde. When Blaise saw what Draco was doing, his eyes went almost comically wide and he began to laugh slightly.
"What?" Draco asked annoyed.
"Oh, my. It's that 'journal' again, is it?" He casually slung an arm around Draco's shoulders, leaning in over the blonde to peer at the book on the desk.
"Your point?"
"So? Written more about how much you 'loathe' Potter?"
"Sod off, Blaise."
"No, no I want to have a look. If it's as good as last time, I definitely want to see it." Blaise smirked and made an attempt to get a hold of the book. Though this time Draco was ready, he did not want another repeat of what had happened in the Great Hall earlier this week.
He pushed the brunette off of him and onto the floor. Draco quickly sealed the journal away in his trunk, casting every locking charm he knew on it.
"You are not to go anywhere near that book. Understood?" Draco hissed dangerously as he held Blaise's throat at wand point. Blaise shivered and nodded his head frantically. Draco could understand him. It was never nice to be at the receiving end of a Malfoy's anger.
"Good." Draco smirked and let Blaise up.
The brunette hastily straightened himself and brushed the none existent specks of dust off his robes. He gave Draco a wary smirk, still a little shaken from earlier, but managed to hide it somewhat successfully. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.
"Well, shall we go then?"
Draco just nodded his consent and stalked out through the door, Blaise following closely behind.
They entered the common room and were met with the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. The team glared at Draco for being late, but otherwise ignored them. Then everyone began to file out of the room and down to the Quidditch Pitch.
The moment they flew out above the Pitch to the sound of the commentator, Draco found himself opposite of Gryffindor's Seeker, Harry Potter. He sneered scathingly at the black haired teen in front of him. The other just glared back at him.
"Ready to be beaten once and for all, Potter?" He jeered over the roars of the crowd.
"I could ask you the same thing, Malfoy." Potter just grinned in return. Draco growled at the display of Potter's certainty that the Gryffindors would win today.
"You will lose today, Scarhead."
"You say that before every game, Malfoy." Potter continued to grin. "It hasn't come true yet and it won't come true today either."
Draco snarled in contempt and looked instead to Madam Hooch as she whistled for the game to start. She hadn't released the Snitch yet. He again turned to look at Potter, who was content with just hovering about for the moment. Draco knew he had to keep an eye on Potter. It was always he, who caught sight of the Golden Snitch first. How, Draco couldn't phantom, especially since he knew how thick Potter's glasses were, maybe he had transfigured the glass into binoculars.
That gave him an idea. Potter was practically blind without his glasses. If he could somehow knock them off of the brunette's face, the other wouldn't be able to see anything, let alone the Snitch. He snickered quietly to himself. They would win today, rules be damned.
Draco surveyed Potter's movements as the other scouted for the little golden ball, they both knew would be released soon. The black haired teen was almost lazily searching the sky, observing the other players as well as being aware of any sightings of the Snitch.
For a moment Draco caught sight of Potter's body covered by the tight Quidditch robes and he had to stop himself from drooling. Every sinewy muscle in the other teen's body was encased delightfully tightly in leather and wool, making them stand out perfectly. True he had seen the other in this outfit several times before, he just hadn't given Potter's appearances much thought.
He quickly shook his head to get rid of the nearly unwanted images the sight produced. And he definitely didn't want to remember all the lewd opinions that Blaise had offered since the first and only time he got a hold of Draco's journal. Draco was certainly not allowing his friend to get that opportunity any more than he wanted to take care of a bunch of Flesh Eating Twigworms.
Care of Magical Creatures really was load of rubbish with that oaf teaching them.
The Bludger that zoomed past his right ear brought him out of his studies of the Boy-Who-Lived. He quickly swerved out of the way in case the Bludger decided to come back.
Then he saw it, Potter had caught sight of the Snitch.
The black haired boy was leaning closely into his Firebolt to gain greater speed and less friction in the air. He quickly cast a glance at the scoreboard, 70 to 150 to Slytherin. He needed to catch the Snitch. Draco soared after Potter, struggling to catch up with the other Seeker. Soon they were neck and neck in the race to win the game.
Draco tried several times to rid Potter of his glasses, though it was as if they had been spelled to stay put, which was probably what had happened, surely thanks to Granger.
The Snitch wasn't far ahead and somehow Potter managed to get away from Draco and closer to the means of winning the game. Then Draco saw it. A Bludger closing in on the Gryffindor Seeker and Potter hadn't noticed it yet. Draco felt eerily reminded of the game in second year as he saw the Bludger getting nearer and nearer to the black haired teen.
He looked hastily between the ball and the brunette. Damn, he couldn't believe that Potter was so oblivious. And he couldn't believe what he himself was about to do.
He cranked up the speed of his broom and flew past the oncoming Bludger to get up on the side of Potter. The other Seeker momentarily looked at Draco, surprise apparent in his features. Draco paid no notice to it, but steered his broom into the path of his classmate and jabbed his left elbow into Potter's side throwing the other off.
However Draco had underestimated the Bludger's force and speed. Suddenly he felt a singeing pain in his right arm and found himself falling off his broom. He fell into another body and together they tumbled towards the ground.
They landed hard on the grass, Draco on top of the person he had dragged down with him. Draco managed to lift his head from its position in the crook of other person's neck. Blurred silver eyes met green.
"Hi." Draco said weakly.
"Uh…hi." Potter replied, confusion in his eyes.
"You okay?" The blonde asked, the world began slur in front of his eyes.
"…Yeah."
"Good." And with that Draco fell unconscious.
When Draco woke up, his head was pounding heavily with the most evil headache he had ever experienced. He tried to sit up, but was to sore to move. He groaned in exasperation.
"Now, now Mr. Malfoy. There's no need for you to get up." Madam Pomfrey bustled into his sight, dressed in a nightgown with a robe thrown over. "After all it is in the middle of the night." She smiled at him.
"Wha-" He slurred, his throat dry.
Madam Pomfrey shoved a glass into his hand, he stared at it.
"It's just water, for your throat, Mr. Malfoy. Now drink." She chuckled, he obeyed. "Good." She continued and handed him a phial. "It's pain reliever." She handed him another one, after he had gratefully downed the potion. "And this is SkelleHeal. For your broken arm. I didn't want to risk anything with you being unconscious. The bones could have mended wrong without your own magic supplying the charm, and it was very low during your short trip into oblivion."
"Why don't you just use the charm now?" Draco asked.
"Because right now I am too tired to use it. It could botch up, Mr. Malfoy. Now drink up." When Madam Pomfrey was satisfied, she told him to go back to sleep and she would check up on him in the morning.
Draco awoke again to the incessant sound of tapping against wood. He slowly opened his eyes to find Blaise sitting in a chair beside his bed. The dark haired boy's left elbow was resting on the bedside table, his chin in the palm, while the fingers of his right hand were tapping impatiently on the arms of his chair.
"Would you stop that infernal tapping, Zabini?" Draco growled. "It's bloody annoying."
"Oh! You're awake then?" Blaise jumped in surprise.
"No. I'm talking in my sleep." Draco deadpanned. "Of course I'm awake!"
"Eh…alright then. Well, Madam Pomfrey said that you could go once she's looked you over."
"Good."
"I'll go get her then?" Blaise offered and left to retrieve the matron.
Soon after a session of prodding, poking and non-stop questions about how he was feeling from Madam Pomfrey, he was allowed to leave for breakfast in the Great Hall.
The minute they sat down at the Slytherin table, Draco was ambushed by concerned classmates. He calmly answered their questions until they began grating on his nerves and he snarled at them to mind their own bloody business.
It was then he glanced over at the Gryffindor house table. Potter was watching him out of the corner of his eyes. Draco smirked at him and Potter quickly diverted his eyes. The blonde arched a delicate eyebrow in puzzlement, he thought that Potter would have come over and thanked him for saving his life by now.
Potter was the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the epitome of all things righteous and noble, if someone did something for him, he would thank them. So were was his appreciation and adoration for saving the raven-haired boy? It wasn't fair. Just because he was a Slytherin and Potter's rival, wasn't he allowed to be shown gratitude for a deed well done?
Stupid Gryffindors.
A/N: Read & Review please, it's what keeps the fickle muse happy, sated and full of inspiration for the next chapter.
