The Gryffindors flew through the clear blue sky, their shadows following them across the ground where their captain stood and watched. They were so used to these drills that Harry didn't need to direct them. They just flew, aware only of each other, not of the perfect weather or the shadows they were casting. It was amazing to watch them so high up, knowing what it felt like to be a part of it.

They were a team. They worked together without questions or doubt or insecurity. Every person in the team had to trust and support the others or they couldn't move forward. It was never a single player that won the game. There weren't any heroes in Quidditch. That was one of the reasons Harry loved it as much as he did.

He didn't notice the Slytherin team at first, and then he was about as happy to see them as he'd ever been. Urquhart and Vaisey booed the people flying overhead. Montague walked too fast for Ollerton, who was clinging on to the chest more than she was holding it up. Harper wasn't with them. He was notoriously arrogant and thought that he didn't need to practice. Warrington was pale, sneezing, and looked like he would throw up at any moment. Bletchley stuck close to Draco who just ignored him.

There was a reason Slytherin hadn't won the Quidditch Cup in six years.

As they approached Ron broke formation and landed next to Harry. He held his broom like a weapon and stood slightly in front of him. Harry was glad to know his friend was looking out for him, but he wanted to talk to Draco, not scare him away.

"We'll be using that end of the pitch today." Draco's voice was completely devoid of emotion. He turned and went on like Harry had disappeared. "Vaisey, Urquhart, do shut up. Montague, put the chest over there. Ollerton, you'll play as Keeper and I won't hear a word from you about it Bletchley, if you keep going on about your girlfriend you'll be benched in the next match. I don't care how the Ravenclaws are practicing. We should only care about ourselves. Alright, hurry up. The Gryffindors are in the air already."

And with that they began to walk away.

It was nearly a minute before Harry realised that he could run after them.

The pitch was hard underneath his feet, not made for walking on. He was closer, and closer, and finally close enough to catch onto Draco's arm. Draco spun to face him with anger that Harry was actually glad to see. Anything was better than that emotionlessness he'd shown ever since he'd found out about Adeline. Anything was better than being ignored.

"What?" he hissed.

"I just...I wanted to talk to you." Harry found he was a little out of breath. Not from the run, but from the thrill of running after someone.

"I don't believe you."

"To explain-"

"I can't believe you!" Draco was suddenly much angrier and Harry couldn't understand why. "You can't do this, Potter! You're not the type to do this! I've left you alone, alright? Why couldn't you do the same for me?"

"Wh-what?"

"You think it's okay to do this at practice, the only time when I have no option but to talk to you? With everyone watching? Do you want to make this more complicated? I left you alone so you could go off with your Veela, keep being the hero everyone wants you to be. I tried to make this easy! Fuck you, Potter!"

He was close to tears. Harry wanted to hold him and comfort him. But Draco turned and walked away for the second time. Still not understanding what he was trying to say, Harry ran after him again, and Draco shook off his hand with such force that Harry took a step back.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Merlin, Potter, I'm not speaking French!"

"I'm sorry...about that. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I was learning French so that I could speak to her-"

Draco laughed. "I don't think you had any problems there."

"What do you mean?"

Draco stared at him like he couldn't understand how he could be this stupid. "She had an accent. French isn't her first language. Don't tell me you didn't even know that about her, Potter? You should be talking to her instead of wasting your time with me."

Harry hadn't thought for a minute that Adeline might not be French. She lived in France with her family – Gaspard spoke French fairly often – she'd spoken easily with Draco – what did all of that mean? It was true. He didn't know anything about Adeline. His mistake had hurt all of them.

"If it's not about that, why did you stop talking to me?" he asked.

For a few moments Draco just stared at him. Then he shook his head. "Because she's a Veela. Because I won't die without you. Because you were going to choose her eventually, and I just...I wanted to make it easier...for you, and for me as well. Whatever was between us, it was nothing. It doesn't matter. Go and marry that girl and don't worry about me. Because I know you will. It was-"

"Nothing?" Harry was shaking with emotion. How could Draco have made this decision for him? How could he have put both of them through this, just because...because...

Draco looked relieved that he finally understood. "Yes."

If there was nothing between them, he would make it something.

That was all Harry could think of in that moment.

He put his hands on Draco's shoulders and pulled him roughly over. One moved to the back of Draco's neck, firmly but not cruelly, and his hair was soft underneath his fingers. His heart beat quickly. His body understood even before his brain did exactly what was about to happen. Harry leaned down and kissed him.

It was nothing like the first time. This was warm and gentle and they were so close, closer than they'd ever been when they were fighting or talking or studying together. Draco held onto his robes and kissed him back, and Harry could feel his chest rising and falling against his own, and this was such a nice thing to do he wished they'd done it long before. He angled his head and Draco stepped in closer, and he hadn't realised they could be closer than this, because it seemed like so much already, more than he could ask for, more than he ever knew he could experience.

Eventually they parted, but neither could bring himself to move away. Draco's hair brushed across his cheek. Harry's fingers played at his nape. They could hear each other breathing. It felt so comfortable.

And then awareness slowly crept in.

They were on the pitch. With their teams. Who were watching them. They had just been arguing. About Adeline, who still needed to be considered. People were going to talk. They needed, even more now, to talk. There was reality to deal with. Beyond this moment of happiness there were problems for both of them.

Draco stepped backwards, and turned around, and walked over to his teammates.

Feeling as though he'd been hit with Obliviate, Harry did the same.