Harry was stretched, and ready, and rather looking forward to the Quiddich game. Not because he particularly liked the game, and certainly not because someone might try to kill him.
But at least Oliver Wood would be off his back.
Harry knew his friend Hermione, and Ron worried about him - that they'd told him to be extra careful, and that they'd have their wands about.
What they could do against an experienced, full-fledged wizard? Harry didn't know, though Hermione could at least try to put a bloke on fire. Again.
He couldn't convince his friends that it was nearly certainly not Snape, and that if it had been Snape, he'd been doing it with entirely other goals in mind. (Harry took the next five minutes coming up with dozens of reasons why, anything from removing Dumbledore as Headmaster due to incompetence, to Snape trying to get Harry to be better at Potions.) That last one was such a stretch that it was a relief that Ollie said, "Up and out!"
They were all on the field, and Harry shook hands with the bloke who was at least triple his size. Cedric was what the announcer called him.
Harry gave a wide, barred-teeth grin.
If Snape was refereeing, Harry fully intended to make the game worth his while.
As the whistle blew, Harry started to fly, like a peregrine falcon, swirling circles heading higher (there were no limits to height in Quiddich). Cedric followed him, and Harry started making swallow swoops, using eight of them in a row to put him below the level of the hoops, and then, in a twisting barrel roll, he headed straight vertical.
Harry felt gleeful, just enjoying the wind whipping past his face. He knew his lips would be chapped, and everything.
He caught sight of the snitch, and felt his entire world narrow to that one point. He avoided it, carefully, drawing Cedric into flying through hoops and down under the goalposts, smoothly sliding out from under the Beaters, and dodging the quaffle while he was at it.
Harry kept feinting, kept working to keep Cedric away from the Snitch, pretending he'd seen it, over and over again, keeping Cedric following him as quickly as he could.
Thirty minutes in, almost as though Harry forgot to not chase the Snitch, he grabbed it.
Gryffindor still won, which was disappointing. Harry, though, wasn't about to apologize. He'd done his part, procratinated, even - and enjoyed the hell out of having a fine flying partner like Cedric.
It wasn't at all like flying against Slytherin.
As they all landed, Harry offered Cedric a handshake, saying, "Good Game!" Cedric grabbed Harry's small hand in his big bearpaw, and then tugged him close, giving him a bearhug. Harry, first, had to fight to avoid flinching, and then fought to not quiver - dozens of scenarios where Harry's vision was obscured, and therefore he wound up dead, danced in his head.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught Snape, still flying, eyes fixed on the crowd.
Cedric's hands were on Harry's shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "You too." Cedric said with a gleaming grin.
There was a rollicking party in Gryffindor that night, but Harry slipped out carefully, before people really got drunk. He was sure the twins noticed, and hoped Ron didn't. Ron was quite content to eat Harry's share anyway.
[a/n: Review? Harry's a bit more canny than canon.]