Draco was seething as he stormed back through the castle and into his common room. He sunk into an armchair in the corner, and rotated it to face the wall so nobody could look at him. Perfect Potter, always surrounded by his wonderful, loving friends and admirers. In truth, it had been the fact that even in the brief moment the Gryffindor didn't have anyone with him someone still wanted to see him that had infuriated Malfoy. He, on the other hand, couldn't imagine not being alone anymore.

Once over the initial surge of adrenaline that accompanied his anger, a faint guilt settled in. It had felt so good to punch Harry right in his stupid face, but it wouldn't do to be making even more of an enemy out of the one person who had supported his family and had the adoration of the entire wizarding world. Groaning and placing his head in his hands, he took a deep breath and tried to think about how to proceed.

Apologize? No, he didn't think he could stomach it. What Harry had said about his 'friends' had hurt, even if it was completely true. Explain what he had really meant? Probably wouldn't help, and might not even be believable. Besides, it would make him look weak when he was alone- which was always- and he wouldn't want Potter pitying him.

Try as he might, Malfoy wasn't able to figure out what to do. He had talked to Winky about it in the kitchens that night, after aggressively practicing spellwork to let off some steam, and the elf hadn't suggested anything helpful. On the contrary, she was so genuine and kind that Draco knew he could never bring himself to do anything she would. Winky had even been bold enough to suggest that he should just apologize and tell Harry he had been jealous that people cared about the other boy so much while nobody cared for him.

Draco rolled his eyes as he remembered the exchange. Sure, perhaps somewhere deep down it may be true, but the two had never gotten along. There was much more than Draco's insecurity to blame here. Right? Regardless, Draco Malfoy was simply not the kind of person who could talk about his feelings. Not that openly, and not that directly. He didn't even want to be feeling that way; admitting it to himself would be bad enough, let alone to Harry Potter. The idea of being that weak made his stomach turn.

That was why, on Saturday afternoon, he was heading towards the Quidditch pitch with a weight in his chest. The first match of the season was to be Slytherin-Gryffindor, and it wasn't a secret that Harry was the team captain. Draco, the most established player on the team, was still the Seeker and now the Captain for his house. The two would need to face each other before the match could begin.

Thankfully, his team never needed much of a pep-talk, as they generally always wanted to see other teams horribly defeated and didn't seem to know what it meant to be nervous. By the time they were all gathered on the pitch, they simply settled for the classic Slytherin hide-your-emotions pats on the back and fist-bumps. Draco was particularly relieved not to have to address his teammates at the moment, because as he watched the Gryffindor team emerge from their locker rooms his head was spinning. He had no idea what, if anything, he should say to Harry.

Time flew by in his panic, and before he knew it the other Captain was heading towards him. As he looked at the massive purple and black patch on the side of Harry's face from where Draco had punched him the night before, he decided he would force out a brief apology when he got the chance. His resolve failed, however, when he saw the entire Gryffindor team immediately and resolutely step forward after the Chosen One as he approached Draco. Of course precious Harry Potter wouldn't even be forced to walk five steps across a Quidditch pitch alone.

Harry huddled with his teammates, who were nothing but ecstatic to be starting what they assumed would be a trouble-free season with Harry Potter back as their Seeker. He gave them the usual talk about being particularly careful around the Slytherin Beaters, as they were never anything less than cruel, and encouraged them to get a little rough and hit back when they could get away with it. In his experience, it was the only way to survive the assault that was the Slytherin Quidditch team.

They broke the huddle with a cheer, and Harry turned to face the center of the pitch, where he would have to shake hands before the match. As he strode over to meet the Slytherin captain, he was only mildly surprised to see Draco Malfoy looking agitated. When the rest of the Gryffindor team noticed this, they hurried to Harry's side and stood defensively behind him, not wanting to be far away on the off chance something happened between the two of them. It hadn't taken them long to guess what had happened to Harry's face, after all.

As the Slytherin team tried to follow in response to the Gryffindor team backing Harry, Draco simply waved his hand over his shoulder in a gesture that implied he wanted them to stay back. When he finally stood facing Harry, Madam Hooch began flying over from the sideline in order to announce the handshake and start the match.

The dark-haired boy stood tall, though still not as tall as the casually-slouched captain he was facing, and watched Malfoy intently. The other boy hadn't looked directly at him yet, and it was only when he ran a hand through his blond hair, pushing it up and to the side out of his face, that he made eye contact with Harry. The grey eyes that met his were reminiscent of the sky on a rainy day, on which the sun may occasionally attempt to peek out from behind all those heavy clouds. He thought for a moment he heard Draco scoff, snapping his mind back to the present. As he looked at the taller boys' face, he saw that his expression had changed to one of a dark intensity.

Hooch, from Harry's perspective suddenly there out of nowhere, told the captains to shake hands before the match could begin. Each taking one big step forward, Harry and Draco closed the gap between them. When Harry held out his hand, the other boy grabbed it pulled up, forcing him to stumble even closer still to the Slytherin's chest. Now only their arms, Harry's hand firmly in Malfoy's grip, separated them.

Harry looked up into those grey eyes again and his breath caught in his throat, as he saw Draco looking at him with a burning and chaotic intensity. It was impossible for Harry to identify what emotions those eyes were reflecting, and his teammates had started mumbling protests at the Slytherin which seemed to fall on deaf ears.

He was frozen on the spot, as he had hardly expected this interaction and was unsure how to proceed. To make matters worse, the blond boy leaned in towards him and brought his face close. Harry hoped Malfoy hadn't heard the small gasp that escaped his lips. It seemed, however, that Draco had indeed heard, as he smirked. Harry scowled at him and tried to jerk his arm free, but Malfoy held him steady. Barely above a whisper, with a smug expression, the Slytherin mocked him.

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish," the raven-haired boy snapped back.

With an even stronger pull, Harry ripped his hand free of his opponent's, and stepped backwards. Jeers came from the teams standing on either side of them. Seemingly unphased, still smirking, the blond whipped around – Quidditch robes flaring dramatically behind him – and turned to face his team. As he walked back towards them, he threw his first in the air and yelled something that was indistinguishable to Harry. Whatever it was was met with a resounding cheer from the Slytherin team, and Draco took his broom back from Goyle with a rather conceited air.

Still giving the other captain a dirty look, Harry felt Ron pressing his broom back into his hands.

"Bloody git," the redhead snarled, "forget him, Harry."

Giving the Captain a firm pat on the shoulder, Ron mounted his broom and flew into the air like the rest of his team had. Harry followed suit and allowed himself to rise up much farther than the rest. The whistle blew and the players were off, battling for the quaffle as intensely as ever. A few minutes into the game, Harry noticed it getting particularly rough. It seemed that although nobody was in support of dark wizards at the moment, Slytherin was still not feeling inclined to be any nicer. If anything, they were somehow meaner. He suspected their new captain might have put them up to it.

Try as he might to follow Ron's advice, the Gryffindor Seeker couldn't get himself over the exchange that had occurred just before the start of the match. He gazed at the opposing Seeker from across the pitch, as they both circled slowly on opposite sides of the stadium. Harry was curious, trying to label what he had seen in those grey eyes that handful of minutes ago.

Hatred? No. Not quite, and that wouldn't completely make sense given what had happened in the past year. Perhaps resentment or frustration, but for some reason it hadn't felt entirely negative. Admiration? The thought almost made Harry laugh out loud. No, definitely not. Absolutely not, not with the obvious darkness in his eyes. The look had been angry, as if the Slytherin had wanted to watch Harry being torn apart. Yet it had not been malicious, almost having some sort of warmth buried deep within his gaze.

All Harry knew now was that it left a tightness in his chest.

"… and Harry seems a little out of it," said today's announcer, who was immediately identifiable as Luna Lovegood. "I hope he's ok! Though after the year he's had…"

The echoing statement dragged Harry's mind back to the present, and he sped up on his broom slightly. He had no idea how long he had been unfocused for, but thankfully it hadn't mattered, as it seemed Draco hadn't seen the snitch yet. That quickly changed, though, as he took another glance at the blond boy across the field. No sooner had he looked over at the other Seeker than he noticed the figure in green straighten up, lean forward, and speed towards him. Squinting through the air, Harry noticed a flash of gold close to the ground between the two of them. He quickly joined Draco in the descent and tried to close the gap.

The pair nearly collided as they approached the snitch from opposite directions, mere feet above the sandy ground of the pitch, but at the last moment the snitch flitted upwards and sped into the air. Harry felt his shoulder brush hard against Draco's as they adjusted last-second to avoid a serious collision. However fortunate they had been that they had each chosen to lean right to avoid a crash, Harry was far more impacted by the resulting small collision than his opponent was. He suspected Draco had taken the opportunity to lean back into the hit; Harry had spun around a few times, and his momentum nearly pulled him off his broom. In fact, he found himself upside down, hanging on with only his legs and his left hand.

Fortunately, this was far less serious a position than some of the situations he had found himself in during his Quidditch career. Deftly bringing his right hand up in front of where his left gripped the broomstick, he quickly swung his weight around to get back upright. Barely noticing the cheers and boos from the spectators, he glanced up and around until he was able to see the flash of gold and the green robes behind it which indicated the position of the snitch.

Harry sped as quickly as he could to catch up, leaning forward as if to will the broom to go faster. He wouldn't be able to live it down if he let Malfoy beat him even once in his last season of Quidditch at Hogwarts. Cursing himself for not thinking to try to hit Malfoy in their near-collision moments before, Harry finally caught up enough so that his shoulder was at Draco's hip. Leaning to the side, Harry shouldered the other boy with as much force as he could muster, knocking him off path. Within an instant, Draco was back at his side, and although Harry was frustrated, he was glad to see that Malfoy had at least been slowed down; they were shoulder-to-shoulder now. The snitch was only a few feet ahead, and both Seekers were following its path instinctively, knocking against each other as they flew.

Screams and cheers from the crowd drowned out whatever the blond boy decided to yell at Harry as they flew higher and higher. When they had almost caught up to the snitch, the winged golden ball changed course suddenly. As it did, there was the briefest instant in which it crossed close enough to the two of them to be within arm's reach. Both Seekers noticed this, and they immediately threw themselves forward and stretched their arms out as quickly as they could. For a moment, Harry though he had made contact with the snitch. Then, as quickly as it happened, he realized that in their attempts to grab the snitch they had grabbed each other's hands. In the tangle that followed, their brooms collided, flipping them both off.

As they were falling, Draco grabbed Harry's opposite shoulder with his free hand and pulled them chest to chest. As they were nearing the ground, with a quick twist, Draco flipped the two of them around to put Harry above him. Before the Gryffindor understood what was happening, they hit the ground. Or, more precisely, Draco hit the ground flat on his back, and Harry landed on Draco. The crowd gasped, a whistle blew, and everything went silent. After a moment of shock from the impact, Harry found himself laying on top of the larger blond boy, and adjusted his weight onto his right forearm to lift himself off. As he moved to kneel next to the Slytherin, Harry saw his eyes were not open and he wasn't moving.

He saved me from the impact, Harry thought, on purpose.

Grabbing the blond by the shoulders, Harry shook gently.

"Malfoy!"

There was no response. He noticed a small trickle of red starting to creep out from behind the unconscious Seeker's head and gasped. As he looked up to shout for help, a stretcher was already there to bring Draco to the Hospital Wing. For a moment they tried to inspect Harry, but he shrugged them off forcefully. Taking this as a sign he was quite alright, they left for the castle, leaving Harry kneeling alone in the dirt of the Quidditch pitch. The announcement that the victory passed to Gryffindor by default sounded muffled and distant to his ears. He was- yet again- shocked, worried, and full of a feeling he couldn't recognize.

Harry didn't hear a single thing any of his teammates were saying to him as he walked over to where both his and Malfoy's brooms had fallen. He picked his up, sighing in relief when he saw it was undamaged. As he approached Draco's, however, he couldn't say the same. It had broken into two, and one of the broken halves was badly splintered. Collecting the pieces anyway, he turned to leave the field. On his way out, he shoved the bits of Draco's broom into the arms of the first Slytherin he passed, and headed back to the castle without changing.