House: Horned Serpent
Class: Flying
Task 2 - Chasers: Write about a chase
Prompts: [Character] Draco Malfoy (main), [Character] Harry Potter, [Object] Broom
WC: 1095
TW: None
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The morning air was crisp, biting Draco's cheeks into a dull, rosy red as he slipped out the small side door into a courtyard. His Quidditch robes were heavy across his shoulders, but they kept him warm. They snagged on a few of the crawling plants that had pushed their way through the disused fountain in the centre, and Draco sighed, frustration biting at his throat.
His broom was well-worn, so he placed it down carefully, bending over to untangle his robes. It almost seemed to hum as he picked it back up, eager to finally get back in the air. So much had changed since Draco last allowed himself to fly, just for fun, not focused on being perfect or hiding from scouts. And it was the perfect morning on which to do so.
Exams were over, a brief moment of respite before the real world came calling again.
Dew soaked through his shoes as he moved towards the Quidditch Pitch, breath fogging on the air, but there was a lightness in his chest that was foreign to him. Draco kicked off into the air the moment he passed through the team entrance. He hadn't lingered long in the changing room: the banners were discoloured now, hanging limp with the edges tattered. It was exhilarating, the wind rushing past his face.
It would have been perfect, except for one small issue.
"Malfoy."
Draco felt his lip try to curl into the old sneer he always used to greet Potter with, borne of childish hurt and embarrassment, but he pushed it down. He was too tired to uphold a grudge that had festered for so long.
"Potter."
Potter seemed almost taken aback, the emotion passing as clear as day as across his face, swaying on his perch on his broom. He drifted away, momentarily buffeted by the wind before he rearranged his grip on his broom, and drew back to Draco's side.
"I guess we've both had the same idea," he said. A Snitch fluttered up behind him, a bright flash in the air, and Draco watched it spin and twist as he thought of his answer. It was difficult to let go of the restraint of his upbringing, the memory of his mother and father's steely gazes causing his words to become trapped in his throat.
"It seems that we have, although I was expecting more solitude." The words came out harsher than he intended, and Draco winced. The hurt on Harry's face was like a cloud passing over the sun. leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
"I can go, if you'd prefer."
Precious Potter, always so self sacrificing. Draco could read his reluctance in the way he shifted on the broom, barely glancing at the ground even as he kept his eyes fixed on Draco.
"It is a big pitch, Potter. I think, even you should be able to stay out of my way for an hour or so."
Draco ignored the way his stomach flipped at the sight of Potter's grin, directed at him for the first time rather than glimpsed in profile or from across the Great Hall. He busied himself with his broom, hooking his feet securely into the rests, smoothing his hand over the name embossed on the handle.
Potter dropped away from him in a rush of air, a whoop trailing in the absence he made. The Snitch hovered for a moment, almost seeming to watch Draco with its almost blank metal shell. There seemed to be an engraving on it, and Draco stretched out, despite himself.
The metal was warm as his fingers brushed it, then it fell. He leaned over to watch, the broom responding to his touch. His own Snitch sat in his pocket, a burnished silver that caught the sunlight as he took it out. It took a moment to respond, a double set of iridescent wings unfurling before it took flight.
Draco watched it flit downwards, buffeted by the faint air currents he could sense more than see, and dropped after it.
It was freedom. Any of Draco's thoughts that plagued him, the seemingly endless sleepless nights and worries that haunted him, fell away as he chased after the Snitch. He didn't have to think when he was chasing the Snitch, reacting purely on instinct. During Quidditch matches, there was strategy to consider, the constantly shifting mass of the other players and all the dangers that they presented; but here there was nothing but the chase.
The Snitch twisted and moved, just out of his reach deliberately, prolonging Draco's sense of calm. In the moments when rational thought reared its head, he wondered if that was what meditation would feel like. Somehow, he didn't think his court appointed therapist would approve of it.
Dimly, he became aware that Potter was watching him. Blaise referred to it as a sixth sense, often to tease and for the other boy to make Draco blush — his pale skin a curse as he would flush pink up to his hairline — but it fit. He would be difficult for anyone else to watch: a near invisible blur of scarlet red, pressed flat to his broom as he chased after his own Snitch, but Draco was a Seeker. He could pick out the intense look of concentration on Potter's face, brow furrowed and barely breathing.
Potter had removed his own worries, much like Draco had, in his chase. His face was absent of its perpetual pinched look, a guilt deeper than his bones resting across Potter's shoulders momentarily set aside. His world had narrowed to nothing but the Snitch he was chasing after.
Draco circled, waiting for his moment. Potter glanced up towards him, and Draco dropped, plastering himself to his broom. The look of surprise on Potter's face was delightful, and Draco felt the urge to try and pull other expressions from him, other than the sad disappointment or rage he was accustomed to. Draco's hand closed around the other Snitch as Potter passed through the space he had been occupying a split second before.
Draco's hand ached as he wrenched up on his broom, the handles biting into his ankles as he pressed against them, but it was a good pain.
"You're not a bad flyer, Potter," Draco remarked airly, studying the engraving on the Snitch — 'I open at the close', infuriatingly cryptic, and yet, it seemed to fit the other man. "But I'm better."
Potter's grin was blinding, thankfully picking up on the olive branch Draco was offering. "Want to go again, Malfoy?"