Author's note: a short one, since i played Wii too long today and now my entire right arm and shoulder aches... -sigh- uh, and, actually, i have nothing to say, except to thank, as always, our loyal reviewers. we love you all!
Disclaimer: -insert witty disclaimer here-
--kyra

In the aftermath of the detention, I returned temporarily to being a semi-recluse. I stayed in my study, trying my best to banish all thoughts of the monsters that had almost killed me. That had almost killed us. It was hard to forget the Weasley girl. I hated her, of course, but there was no denying that she had been there, and that she'd tried to save me. Her spell had gone wide, but she'd tried. Unlike me, who'd frozen with the terror of the moment. I wondered if I would ever be able to live it down.

Professor Snape didn't mention it to me, but I could see him watching me during the advanced classes twice a week. I refused to meet his gaze, and instead concentrated on whatever he'd assigned us for that particular day. My project with Granger was almost finished, and both of us were feverishly excited about it. Granted, she showed it far more than I did, but that's just who I am.

I carefully avoided any mention of the monsters around Harry. Pansy and Blaise knew, and both had been sworn to secrecy. Even Pansy, gossip-addict that she is, kept silent about it. I knew that she was dying to talk, but she kept her word. I didn't know how to express my gratitude, and so didn't, but I hope that she understood how much her silence meant to me.

Still, I suppose that it was foolish to imagine that he would never hear about it. The Weasley girl was kept in the hospital wing for two days, after all, and he must have wondered about it. The fact that I didn't mention anything probably gave him the final clue he needed. He knew me better than I realized, and he'd watched me closely in October.

It wasn't until a week later that he finally asked me, though. He slipped me a note in Transfigurations. As was our custom, it was both brief and unsigned. If any of them fall into the wrong hands, they won't get too much information. They'll get more than either of us would like, but not enough to convict either one of us. There are certain risks that you have to take, but we did our best to be careful.

Meet me in the Room tonight after dinner.

I caught his eye and nodded briefly, forcing a sneer onto my face. Weasley looked at him in askance, and he murmured something that appeared to satisfy the boy. At least, he stopped looking at Harry in curiosity and started glaring at me as though I were a slug. I ignored him; I've gotten used to it.

We ignored each other pointedly for the rest of the day. For me, at least, it sped by. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Most days, when I'm looking forward to time with him, classes drag on for ages. But that day, it seemed almost no time at all until I was walking past the tapestry on the third floor three times. I stepped through the resulting door, only to find him already there, waiting for me. He smiled as I came through, but his eyes were troubled. I sat, bracing myself for the conversation that I knew was about to follow.

Sure enough, "What happened in the forest?"

I briefly debated the benefits of playing dumb. Though they were appealing, they were far outweighed by the negatives, and I doubted my ability to pull it off in such a way as not to make him furious. With most people I can act anything, but not with him. I never have been able to, and with his admitting his love, it became utterly impossible.

With a sigh, I said, "We went in, we met monsters, we fought the monsters, we ran out screaming. Why do you ask?"

"What kind of monsters?" he asked anxiously.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Big spiders with human heads."

He frowned. Before he could say anything more, I added, "Look. It's over and all of us are alive, and those monsters aren't. In the long run, that's all that matters, isn't it?"

His frown only deepened. "You could have been killed," he said fiercely.

I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me for taking risks," I said dryly. "Are you the only one allowed to do it, then?"

I instantly regretted my words. His face closed over, and his eyes dropped to a rapt contemplation of his hands. "It's different for me," he said quietly.

"Is it?" I should have changed the subject then and there, of course, but for someone who prides himself on reading other people's character, I can be remarkably dense at times.

"Yeah," he answered, still not looking at me. "I have to. You don't."

I snorted disdainfully. "Harry, I think that you're not thinking properly. All of us have to fight this time, you know that. Whether it's the Dark Lord or his monsters, it doesn't matter. All of us have something to battle."

He looked up sharply. "You think they were Voldemort's?" he demanded.

I grimaced. I hadn't intended to admit that suspicion to anyone. "I don't know," I said honestly. "It's probable, though."

His eyes dropped back down to his lap. "Then it's my fault," he said miserably. "He sent them to get me. Is the only thing I can do is get my friends killed?"

I looked at him sternly. "Harry, you know perfectly well that that's not all you do. And it might not be you that he's after."

"Who else?"

"Me. Weasley. Granger. Professor Snape. Dumbledore. There are a hundred people in this school that the Dark Lord would want eliminated. It's not always you, you know."

"In the long run, I'm the one he wants," Harry countered.

I sighed. "Look," I said, doing my best to soften my tone of voice. "We're all right, it'll be fine." He looked utterly miserable, and I couldn't find it in myself to be angry with him any longer. I don't think that I ever really was; I was just reacting to his accusations.

"But you were attacked," Harry told me, still not looking up. "You were attacked by Voldemort's monsters and I couldn't save you."

We were back to that, were we? "You can't always be there for me, Harry." Me and my big mouth. His face fell even further, and his voice was little more than a despaired whisper.

"But I wasn't even there right after."

"I didn't tell you. How could you have known?"

"I should have been able to tell."

I reached over and touched his hand. He clutched it, and I said soothingly, "Harry, we all have our own lives to live. I need you as my partner, not my mother." I grimaced slightly. "I already have a mother, after all."

He didn't laugh, but his mouth twitched slightly into a matching grimace. Heartened by this, I went on. "I don't need that from you. I need you to be my friend and my partner."

"But why me?" he demanded.

I smiled sweetly at him, for once with no trace of cynicism. "Because I love you, Harry."

He stared at me, finally raising his eyes to meet mine. He didn't say anything, but stood up and moved closer to me. I stood as well, and we embraced tightly. I could feel the fear he'd felt in his grip, and I felt so ashamed that I hadn't seen it before. I don't know what he felt in my arms, but he didn't let go for a long moment. When he finally did, his eyes were bright with love and unshed tears. He wiped them off with his sleeve, and I realized with a start that my own eyes were slightly moist. I blinked hard, banishing the moisture. I'd cried enough this year to last me an entire year.

He glanced at his watch, then grimaced and looked back up. I looked at my own. Almost curfew. We had to get back to our respective dormitories soon, or Filch would have two more students to torture. He smiled a little sadly at me, then reached up and drew me into a long, slow kiss. I answered his with my own, and we stood there for a long, timeless moment. We separated again, and left the Room together. He turned to me in the hallway.

"I'll see you, then," he said.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. He smiled one last time at me, then headed off towards the Gryffindor common room. I watched him leave, then turned myself and walked briskly towards the dungeons, knowing that I was going to catch hell from Pansy when she found out and not caring a wit.

I didn't really dare hope that he'd remembered. After all, there was a lot of stuff going on with both of our personal lives, not to mention school, mass breakouts, and mysterious monsters. I couldn't really expect a birthday present as well. Even so, I was very slightly disappointed when he didn't even notice me in the hallway. Of course, we never really communicated in the halls, but he didn't even acknowledge me. I tried to contain my disappointment as I walked with Blaise to Astronomy. We'd been alternating day and night classes, and both of us agreed that it was rather stupid. Still, we weren't the ones who'd made the schedule, and we had no choice but to follow it.

Both Pansy and Blaise had given me token gifts that morning, and I was grateful for that much. Even better was the knowledge that I was now officially of age. I didn't need a guardian, and it didn't matter if both of my parents were on the run or not. I could access all of my money, my share of the fortune, and strike out on my own. It was the best gift I'd ever been given, and I spent most of the Astronomy class period planning different methods of striking out. I supposed that I should start with a house. There was no way that I was going to spend my life at the Manor, after all. A small flat in muggle London, maybe. Not too far away from the Ministry, but not too close either. I was actually mentally designing what it would look like when the hour rang. I realized that I had absolutely no idea what had just been covered.

"Do you want my notes, Draco?" Blaise asked, when I pointed that out.

I shrugged. "If you're willing to let me copy them."

"Well there's no one else to ask," he said practically. "Meet me at lunch."

We separated met up with Pansy then, and the three of us walked to Transfiguration together. McGonagall was officially my least favorite teacher, and the only reason I was attempting to pass her class was that I'd already made it this far. I doubted that I would be taking it again next year. The period dragged on, with all of us trying, with varying degrees of success, to repair the tears in the dummies that she'd provided. We were studying Healing, something I have no interest whatsoever in, and barely any of us managed to smooth the tears seamlessly back together. Neither Harry nor Weasley could manage, and even Granger appeared to be having some trouble, for once. My own dummy stayed stubbornly torn, and I glowered at it in frustration. McGonagall sniffed at it, and swept on. I was grateful that she didn't take any more points away: she'd taken enough away to last the rest of the year and next as well.

"By the way, Draco," Pansy said, when McGonagall had passed on. "What are you going to do tonight?"

I blinked. "What do you mean?" I asked, bewildered.

She rolled her eyes. "For your birthday, Draco. Are you going out?"

"I wasn't going to, no," I said.

She smirked. "Two of us are of age now," she pointed out. "And I'm sure Blaise wouldn't mind chaperoning, would you?"

Blaise grimaced. "If you two are going to get drunk to celebrate…" he cautioned.

She laughed. "Not very drunk," she said lightly. "Just enough to mark the occasion."

"I don't think so, Pansy," I interjected. "Maybe some other time."

She looked disappointed. "Neither of you know how to have a good time," she pouted.

Blaise and I traded glances, and wisely kept silent.

The day crept past. By the end of Potions, I was seriously beginning to consider Pansy's offer. It would mean getting out of the castle, after all. But at the end of the class, Harry came up to me. He didn't speak, but deftly pressed something into my hand. I waited until everyone had left the classroom to look at it.

Meet me before dinner in the RR.

I crumpled the note quickly, disposing of it in the bin on my way out. Pansy's idea would have to wait another day.

I arrived at the Room of Requirement after Literature. Harry was waiting for me, and he grinned as he saw me. "I'm glad you came," he whispered.

"So am I," I answered. "Shall we?" I nodded towards the tapestry, and followed him up and down the three necessary laps. He pulled me through the door, and into what looked like an informal dining room. A small table with two chairs was set in the middle, set with matching plates and silverware. It was bare of food, but I knew Hogwarts well enough to realize that it wouldn't be so for long.

He pulled the chair farthest away from the door out for me, and I sat, watching as he took his place opposite me. "What's this all about?" I asked, gesturing to the Room in all its glory.

He looked at me in surprise. "Have you forgotten?" he asked anxiously. "It's your birthday, isn't it?"

My eyes took on a mischievous gleam. "Actually, Harry, it was last week."

He looked horrified. "I was so sure!" he burst out. He looked at me desperately. "I'm so sorry," he managed.

I gave in to my urge to laugh. "Don't be silly, Harry!" I gasped. "Of course it's today!"

He looked infinitely relieved, and I felt a little guilty about teasing him.

"Don't do that to me!" he exclaimed. "You had me believing you!"

"I'm sorry," I told him earnestly, trying to restrain my mirth.

"No you're not," he said bluntly. "I'll forgive you anyway, though."

I smirked. "Of course you will. So, are you actually going to feed me, or are we just here to admire the décor?"

He shrugged. "Which would you rather?"

"I like the décor," I said, looking straight at him. He blushed a delightful shade of scarlet when he realized what I meant, and hurriedly closed his eyes. Food appeared on the serving dishes, and I snickered at him.

He threw up his hands in defeat, and then deftly served me. I grinned at him, and began to eat. Once again, I sent a heartfelt thanks to my metabolism. It's always been fast, and it has served me innumerable times.

Finally, though, neither one of us could eat any more. I felt pleasantly stuffed, and he seemed to be feeling the same. A bottle of wine had materialized without my realizing it, and we'd both consumed rather more than we should have. I realized that it didn't taste as vile as I'd thought, and wondered idly about stocking my as yet unpurchased apartment with a decent wine cellar.

The table had cleared itself of all food, and our chairs seemed to have moved closer together during the meal. We were almost touching now, and Harry reached over to stoke my hair out of my face. I smiled at him, and his eyes seemed to be boring holes into my soul.

"No birthday present?" I said, a little weakly.

He laughed, though his eyes didn't lose much of their intensity. "Isn't dinner enough?" he asked huskily. "No? Well how about this?" He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to mine. I closed my eyes in bliss, and deepened the kiss. We stayed that way for a long, wonderful moment, then he pulled away. "Well?"

I grinned, a little shakily. "I love it," I told him honestly. "It's the best birthday present anyone's ever given me."

His eyes lit up. "Is that so?" he asked. "Then I suppose that this won't matter, will it?" He summoned an object, and handed it to me. It was the model of a broom. I studied it for a long moment, then squinted at it to see the maker. Firebolt. I gasped.

"Harry," I whispered. "Are you…?"

"Giving you my Firebolt?" he asked, grinning. "No." He waited for my face to fall, which it didn't hesitate to do. "I'm giving you your Firebolt."

I stared at him, then down at the model in my hands. "Where?" I asked, hardly daring to believe it.

He took the model back, and tapped it with his wand. It grew steadily until it was the size of a usual broom. I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched it grow. I'd dreamed of having a broom like that ever since they came out. My father had informed me that I had a perfectly good broom, and that it was foolish to buy a new one, but I hadn't been able to stop dreaming.

He was looking at me, and I realized all of a sudden that I could wait to try my new broom out.

Harry woke around four in the morning. He looked over his shoulder in the light of the moon, seeing Draco's sleeping form sprawled out next to him. He was struck with incredible tenderness, and amazement at the beauty of the blond boy. His features were so delicate, not feminine, but sharp and well defined. Harry reached over and stroked Draco's hair softly, loving the feel of its silky texture. He adored Draco's hair, had done from the first moment he touched it. He marveled again at how he could have ignored Draco's good side for all those years. He must have been quite stupid, and highly unobservant to have dismissed Draco so easily. He gently caressed the other boy's face, adoring the small smile that crept over Draco's features at the touch.

He didn't know how long he lay there, stroking Draco, but eventually the newly seventeen-year-old wizard opened his eyes. He smiled at Harry. "What time is it?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea," he admitted. He glanced at his watch, but it was too dark to read it. He wished that he could tell the time by the position of the moon, but neither Trelawney nor Sinistra had covered that aspect of the heavens.

Draco too looked at his watch. He frowned, then closed his eyes. A moment later, a clock appeared in front of him. He glanced at it, then put it on the table. "Quarter 'till five," he announced.

"We so broke curfew," Harry said, grinning.

"Then we'll just have to stay here until morning, won't we?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. He didn't feel tired anymore, and a strange alertness was coming over him. There was only one thing he wanted to do with Draco.

"Do you want to try out your broom?"

Draco's eyes lit up, but then he frowned. "What about you?"

Harry shrugged. "I can get mine, or I can ride yours."

Draco considered it carefully. "Get yours," he said finally. He grinned at Harry. "Not that I'd mind terribly if you rode mine, you understand. It's just that I'd love to race you, and it's hard to race your own broom."

Harry nodded. "Give me fifteen minutes," he said. He rose languidly, dressed hastily, and stepped out into the passage. It had been years since he'd gone out after hours with neither cloak nor map. He felt a strange kind of exhilaration at the prospect, and set off towards Gryffindor tower with a delicious feeling of danger. It was a totally different danger than the kind posed by Voldemort, and he courted this kind willingly. God, he'd missed this! He decided, in the future, to make a point not to always rely on his tools, but to try it sometimes on his own, relying only on his natural skills. It would be good training if he wanted to be an Auror.

All too soon, he found himself at the entrance to Gryffindor tower. He hissed the password to the Fat Lady, who opened, grumbling. The common room was deserted, just like it always was at this time of night. Cat-quiet, Harry stole up the stairs to the dormitory, and pushed the door open. Swiftly, he crossed to his bed, and reached underneath. He grasped his Firebolt in triumph, and pulled it out from underneath. He froze as Ron turned over, but his friend emitted a snore, and Harry realized that he was still asleep. Carefully, Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out a pair of gloves for him, and one for Draco. The room would provide them with the rest of their clothes, but Harry had realized that it had a few problems with the more delicate things. He walked back down the stairs, fighting the urge to run. The Fat Lady looked at him irritably, but kept her mouth shut. Harry walked faster and faster until he almost broke into a sprint. He narrowly avoided Filch, and arrived at the entrance to the Room of Requirement out of breath and triumphant. He stepped through, and grinned at Draco, his heart still pounding with adrenaline.

Draco raised an eyebrow in that way he had. "What have you been doing?" he queried.

Harry's grin widened. "Breaking curfew without the help of any tools," he answered. "God, I haven't done that in ages!"

Draco laughed. "Did you get it?" he asked. "Or did you enjoy your escapade so much that you forgot the reason for going."

"As if I would forget!" Harry said, indignantly. "It's right here!" He held up his broom, the double of Draco's, though less polished and new. "Shall we go?"

Draco eyed the window carefully. "Can we get out through there?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's big enough."

Draco's eyebrow went up again. "Personal experience?"

"Lucky guess." He pulled out the gloves and handed a pair to Draco. Draco pulled them on wordlessly, then opened the wardrobe in the corner. He pulled out two thick black cloaks and tossed one to Harry. Harry caught it deftly and pulled it on over his clothes. They each picked up their broom and stepped over to the window. Harry pulled it open, and climbed out onto the ledge. He mounted his broom and pushed off, feeling the wind streaming through his hair and over his face. Draco wasn't far behind, and he was laughing in exhilaration.

"I'll race you to the Quidditch Pitch!" he shouted.

"You're on!" Harry yelled back. He bent over his broom, reducing wind resistance and sped towards the pitch. Both boys were accomplished flyers, and Draco had even more experience than Harry did, but Harry knew his broom better than he knew himself, and he coaxed every ounce of speed out of it. Even so, he only beat Draco by a few seconds. Draco pulled out his wand and cast a temporary ward around the pitch, then turned to Harry.

"Teach me how to fly this thing!"

Harry grinned, and set about explaining everything that a Firebolt could do.

They returned to the Room of Requirement as the sun was just cresting the tops of the trees of the Forbidden Forrest. Both were exhausted, but incredibly content. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. Draco was looking positively radiant, and he cast Harry a delighted glance as they cleaned themselves up.

"That was amazing, Harry!"

"It's a great broom, isn't it?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, but that wasn't what I was referring to," he said patiently. "I meant, you were amazing!"

Harry grinned, remembering the sessions of double flying. He'd never done it before, and hadn't expected to like the sensation. With anyone else, he would have hated it, but he felt so comfortable with Draco that it had been as much an act of love than an exercise.

"So were you," he told Draco. They grinned at each other, then moved closer as though it had been planned. Draco reached out and touched Harry's face, tracing his scar and following the path down the bridge of his nose and over his lips. Harry shivered violently at the touch, aching for more. He brought his own hand up and ran it through Draco's hair. It was the Slytherin's turn to shiver, and they came together in a possessive, almost desperate motion. Harry kissed Draco fiercely, trying to delay their parting through his passion alone. Draco returned the kiss as intensely, and they clung together like the only survivors of a shipwreck, as though they only had each other.

Slowly, sadly, they pulled apart. "You're so beautiful," Harry told Draco earnestly.

"So are you," Draco answered. Harry felt his heart warm, as it always did when Draco said it. He resisted the urge to kiss Draco again, glancing at his watch in dismay. There wasn't time for more, and both knew it.

"We'll come back tonight," Draco stated.

Harry nodded. "Of course," he said. They touched hands one more time, letting the contact say all that words couldn't, then stepped through the door and into the hallway.

The day of the Quidditch Cup final dawned, bright and cool. I grinned as I pulled the curtain open, allowing the sunlight to stream through the study. I still hadn't forgotten the loss at the beginning of the season, and I was bound and determined to steal the Quidditch Cup back from Gryffindor. They'd had it for too long. The rest of Slytherin House felt the same way, and there were many shouts of, "Give 'em hell, Malfoy!" as I descended down to the Great Hall. Harry was already sitting with his team, eating breakfast while talking quietly. I knew Harry well enough by now to realize that they were discussing strategy, and I gathered my own team around me to do the same.

"We need to count on their Chasers to be strong," I warned. "They always are. Bulstrode, Jones, you concentrate on getting as many of them as possible. Try to be discreet. Mulhurn, you do your best to keep the Quaffle out of the hoops. Throw it as far as you can, like we've been practicing. Drake, Pierce, Moon, get as many goals as you can. Don't be afraid to plow into them, though I would advise you not to do it too often."

Alex Mulhurn looked worried. "What about you?"

I grinned predatorily. "You worry about yourself, Mulhurn. I'll be fighting with Potter."

Millicent looked sharply at me, but once again refrained from commenting. She was getting on my nerves. "What, Bulstrode?"

"I didn't say anything, Malfoy!" she hissed.

I glared at her, but she looked pointedly away. "Anyone else?" I barked. No one spoke up, and I nodded. "Ten minutes." I stood and strode out of the room, leaving them to their own devices.

Once in the dressing room, I changed slowly into my Quidditch robes, going over my own tactics as I did so. My main weapon was, of course, the broom. Harry knew that I could handle it properly, of course, but he didn't know that I'd been practicing. No one else knew that I had it, and I hoped that it would be enough to intimidate most of the Gryffindor team. Harry, of course, would be my only real problem, but I was convinced that I could beat him.

The rest of the team trickled in, and they looked in mute admiration at my broom. No one said anything, though, and we stepped out onto the pitch in silence. I saw the Gryffindors, resplendent in red and gold, come out at the same time, and grinned inwardly. They would be in for a surprise! We mounted and set off on our warm up lap. Dimly, I heard the commentator, another Gryffindor exclaim, "What's this? Malfoy's managed to find himself a Firebolt! This will be an interesting game!"

There was a buzz from the stands as everyone craned their necks to get a glance at my broom, and I allowed the grin to come out onto my face. They were right: it would be interesting. We landed, and Harry and I advanced to shake hands.

"You sure you know how to fly that thing?" Harry asked, nodded towards the broom. "It wouldn't be fair if you fell off because you couldn't control it."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Potter, but I learned from the best. I look forward to knocking you off your own."

He snarled at me, but I saw him acknowledge the compliment. We didn't wish each other luck, and we maintained hostile eye contact as we returned to our teams. This was serious, not a time for any kind of relationship, romance or not, but the one for being opponents. Madam Hooch gave her customary talk about how she expected all of us to play nicely, which no one on my team listened to. She knew that we weren't listening, either, and directed most of her words in our direction. Finally, she blew the whistle. I shot up into the air, still not over the speed at which the Firebolt managed to go from zero to I don't even know how many. Harry and I faced each other high above the rest of the players, hardly paying them any attention. We circled the pitch like vultures, searching for the elusive snitch.

As far as I could gather from the after-game chatter, it was a fast-paced game. There were numerous fouls on both sides, and Madam Hooch even stopped the game several times to shout at people. The Gryffindors were playing brilliantly, but, though they were good, we were better. They work well as a team, but several of their players aren't brilliant at what they do. Harry really is the life of the team, and I can't remember the last time they won a match without him. Slytherin, on the other hand, is composed of six excellent players and myself. I picked them for skill, not connections, and, though there was substantial grumbling at first, our winning streak had turned the tables in my favor. Mulhurn was a much better Keeper than Weasley, and his habit of popping up right in front of the Chasers severely unnerved them and caused them to miss easy shots. Millicent and Jones were working (finally!) as a team, concentrating their efforts on knocking out the opposing Chasers. The Gryffindors were good, but they were getting tired and bludgers show no mercy. Our chasers weren't ideal, though they were the best Slytherin House had to offer, and it was really only Weasley's pathetic playing that kept us ahead. Even so, we had a comfortable lead.

Harry called a time out. I dived down and met my team on the field, looking them over. "Mulhurn, good work. Keep doing that, but be careful. If they catch on, then it'll be much less effective. Keep them off balance. Pierce, Drake, Moon, shape up! You're bigger than they are; use it to your advantage! Bulstrode, Jones, keep concentrating on the Chasers. If we can knock them out, then we're in good shape."

Everyone nodded. We rose back into the air, and faced the Gryffindors once again. Whatever Harry had said appeared to have revitalized his team, because they were working together again, doing their best to ignore us. Unfortunately, people the size of Pierce, Moon, and Drake are hard to ignore. Time and time again they stole the Quaffle from the Gryffindors and threw it through the hoops. Slowly, our lead increased. Harry was getting desperate, and I knew as well as he did that, unless he caught the snitch within moments, it wouldn't matter. I swooped up next to him.

"Scared yet, Potter?"

"Of you? Never!"

"You'd sound better if you were winning, you know."

"I don't need to listen to you!"

I veered off again, making a rude gesture at him as I did so. And suddenly, there it was! Hovering directly in front of me. I leaned forwards, but Harry had seen me move, and as the snitch darted away, he locked onto it. We were flying neck to neck, and I could hear his labored breathing as he strained to pass me. I was gripping the handle of the broom with my left hand, and I flashed him a merry grin. I scooted forwards, still keeping my death grip on the handle, and grasped the snitch, tumbling off the front as I did so. Only the strength of my left hand kept me from plummeting to the ground, and my muscles screamed as I tightened my grip. I was falling, though not too fast, and I knew that if I could only keep holding on, I would land safely.

The descent seemed to take forever. Finally, as my feet brushed the grass, I let go. My muscles were tight with the effort of holding on, and I knew that they would cramp wickedly very soon. The broom dropped to the ground next to me, and I fell to me knees as the full impact of landing hit. Harry landed next to me. His face was utterly furious.

"What the hell did you do?" he roared.

I looked up at him. "I caught the snitch and won the game, Potter. What does it look like?"

He glanced around, then lowered his voice and hissed, "You could have died!"

"No. I could have broken several bones, but I put my trust firmly in Madam Pomfrey's healing skills."

He still looked unconvinced, but he didn't continue the conversation. Instead, he turned on his heels and strode away, returning to his team.

Millicent walked over to where I was sitting, and nodded shortly. "Impressive, Malfoy," she said. She walked away before I could formulate a response. Slowly, I stood and made my way slowly over to Madam Hooch. I gave her the snitch, and she looked at me sharply as I did so.

"You took a risk, Mr. Malfoy. It could have turned out badly."

I shrugged, ignoring the pain that shot up my cramping arm. "Quidditch is risks. I learned that the moment I learned how to fly."

She eyed me closely, but only said, "Poppy will have something for that." She nodded at my arm. I left her company and walked over to the sea of green. I was swept up by my housemates, and we marched back to the common room, shouting loudly and singing 'Weasley is our King' at the top of our lungs. We passed Harry in the hall, and he shot me a fierce glare. I doubted that we would meet that night. Harry's rather competitive when it comes to Quidditch.