MEMORY VIAL 4: BEATING HEARTS ON BROOMSTICKS (YEAR 2)

Harry thought he had escaped running into Draco Malfoy by ducking into the black cabinet at Borgin and Burkes after travelling to Diagon Alley with the Weasleys by Floo powder. But, of course, the Slytherin boy happened to be at Flourish and Blotts when Gilderoy Lockhart latched onto Harry like a leech in front of the press.

Harry's throat went dry when Malfoy intercepted him as he was leaving the bookstore. His sneer was just as hateful as ever, but he was well-combed and perfectly groomed like he always was. He certainly wouldn't have been caught dead covered in soot and dust like Harry was, but Harry would rather look squalid on the outside than be rotten on the inside like Malfoy was.

His mind went blank when Malfoy proceeded to complain about him making the front page of the Daily Prophet for simply walking into a bookstore. Draco then proceeded to insult each one of Harry's friends, to warm himself up after having gone a whole summer without somebody to peck at.

Redoubling his attention back onto Harry, Draco said, "Are you the new chimney sweep for Diagon Alley, Potter? What a great way for you to scrape up a few Knuts for a better-looking haircut."

Harry stood rooted to the spot and said nothing, as if the Silencing Charm had been cast over him.

Malfoy snorted pertly at his reticence, when Ginny Weasley stepped up to Harry's side and demanded that he leave him alone.

With a gleeful grin on his face, Draco exclaimed, "Look, Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" A malignant shine illuminated his cold gray eyes, and his face rearranged into a somber frown. "I thought grubby Granger was the only girl for you… Heard you two were snogging in the hospital wing last year. Oh, and by the way, I've got a surprise for you. Something that's guaranteed to get you all hot and bothered…"

Upon glimpsing Harry's scar through his messy hair for the first time, Malfoy drifted closer for a better look, but then was swatted off to the side by his father's cane. Rolling his eyes, Draco subsided into the background, taking up position behind his father while putting on his usual grim front. He relished watching his father belittle the Golden Trio, along with their newest red-haired addition, Ginny Weasley.

Draco was already beginning to notice the way Ginny looked at Harry Potter. Even now, while Mr. Malfoy was giving them all a soft-spoken lambasting, Ginny had her little head turned up towards Harry, her eyes dewy and cheeks bright.

He didn't like it at all. In fact, Draco came to realize that he hated her—possibly more than Hermione Granger, which was saying something…

When Mr. Weasley arrived to herd the children off, and Mr. Malfoy engaged him instead in a whispered dispute, Draco swooped around his father to get a better look at who this Ginny girl was. She was just as frumpy and impoverished looking as any of the other Weasleys, although he had to admit she did not look out of place paired next to Harry Potter with his dirt-smudged face.

When Ginny glanced his way, Malfoy rewarded her with an intimidating scowl.

Hermione tried to block him from Ginny's view, but he merely stalked to the other side of his father—and felt a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach at what he saw.

Harry was watching Draco instead of the adults, a passive expression on his face and a protective arm set around Ginny's shoulders as a signal for him to back off.

Sharp words were exchanged between Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy to the point that Draco felt bold enough to walk past them. He fixed Harry with a defiant look, then spat out several invectives in Ginny's direction.

"I guess this sloppy hen really is your girlfriend," Draco said at the last, grin spreading from ear to ear. "Didn't think a tosser like you would manage to snag a girl at all, but she looks desperate."

"One more word, Malfoy," Ron said menacingly. "That's my sister you're talking about."

"Letting her stand in for you, Potter? Unable to say anything back?" Malfoy's lip curled when Harry tightened his grip around Ginny's shoulder.

"Don't mind him," Harry said to her. "Anything he says about you is only true about his mother."

Draco's eyes flashed. He would have rushed at Harry then, but the adults had launched themselves into a brawl and were being forcibly separated by Hagrid.

Harry shoved Ginny behind him. In a heated whisper, he said, "If you hate me so much, Malfoy, then go ahead and take it out on me. Don't go dumping that sort of talk on a little girl, unless you're that much of a coward."

Draco's mouth twitched. Swallowing back his shame, he dodged around the struggling adults as they backed into him, then shoved forward until his face was only a handbreadth from Harry's.

Draco spoke under his breath. "Want all of me for yourself, do you? Alright then, Potter… Have it your way. I'll see you at school."

After exchanging glares with all of them, he drifted towards Harry once more with a sullen look, then stormed out of the bookshop when his father summoned him.

Harry let out a long-held breath, then rubbed at his neck which was feeling stiff. He wiped soot off his cheek absentmindedly, wishing he hadn't looked so dirty throughout that exchange.

"I hate him…"

Harry's words were magnified by the sudden silence of the bookshop now that the scuffle had been quenched.

"He's a prat if I ever did see one," Ron said, looking Ginny over a bit worriedly.

Hermione frowned. "Don't give him another thought."

"That's like asking me to ignore a pebble in my shoe." Harry watched Draco through the bleary windows until he stepped beyond his view.

"He can only bother you that much if you let him—if you think he's important," she went on to say, "which he's not. And, Harry… I remember you once said you wish he was nicer, but the fact is—he just isn't…"

"There's poison in his blood, there is," said Ron, stroking Ginny's arm in brotherly affection.

Poison in the way he looks at me, Harry thought as he followed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley out of the bookshop. Like he's a snake and I'm his prey, and the more I writhe, the tighter he holds, the deeper he bites…

His heart was pounding, and his ears were ringing full of Malfoy's scathing words.

Draco Malfoy is a snake, he thought darkly.

"Next stop," Mrs. Weasley announced, after having thoroughly castigated her husband for his unseemly behavior, "the Leaky Cauldron!"

Malfoy hadn't been lying when he said he had a surprise that would put Harry's nerves on edge.

Several days into the new school year, Oliver Wood gathered the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team for their first early morning practice. Furious at their performance last year, he was determined to drill the whole team harder than ever to make sure they won.

But when they finally exited the changing rooms after a long presentation of strategy diagrams by Wood, they discovered that the Quidditch field had been granted to the Slytherin team by special permission from Professor Snape— "owing to the need to train their new Seeker," Oliver Wood read from the letter Marcus Flint had handed to him. "You have a new Seeker?" Wood asked irately.

Harry never could have prepared himself to face the boy who stepped out from the throng of Slytherins. Draco Malfoy stood beside Marcus Flint, slighter and skinnier than the other boys—but also more handsome, even with that punchable smirk marring up his face.

Harry's heart skipped a few beats when the boy's cold eyes eventually alighted upon him. He found himself saying Malfoy's name, and the boy stepped forward as if it were a summons, smile broadening.

"All right there, Potter?" Malfoy said. His whole team seemed to be stifling their mirth. "You should see your face. I knew you would be beside yourself."

It was difficult to hide the smile Harry had almost let break out, but he managed to screw it into an expression of disbelief instead.

And then, a strange and pointless thought occurred to Harry out of nowhere: what would Malfoy look like splattered in mud upon his broom and drenched in rain? Certainly, he couldn't let his perfectly combed hair get soiled and mussed during a match. More than likely, he would whip a comb out with some hair product before even attempting to launch after the Snitch.

Harry's composure disintegrated when Malfoy gestured for him and the other Gryffindors to get an eyeful of their new racing brooms, all of them the latest model.

"Look, Potter." Malfoy stepped closer for Harry to get a better view. "A solid piece of artwork, isn't it?"

"Merlin," Angelina Johnson said in an expression of defeat. "Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones… what are we supposed to do against those?"

"Easy," said Fred.

"Collect them for kindling when they're not looking," muttered George.

Harry was deaf to the dialogue taking place between the two captains, Wood and Flint. He was too absorbed in committing the smug look of his rival to memory, with his billowing green robes and unnerving smirk that made Harry's stomach turn and clench at once.

I hate him, he thought, unable to stop glancing between the beautiful broomstick and its owner's gaze. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him… I hope it breaks into a thousand pieces during our first match.

Malfoy angled the broom's handle in such a way that invited Harry to touch it, but the dark-haired boy hung back. "Go ahead," Draco urged with a cajoling grin. "Go on, hold it. Check it out for yourself."

"No thanks, Malfoy," Harry said, feeling harassed. "You and I both know you aren't really being nice…"

"You think so? Here I am trying to admire a piece of magical engineering with you, and you accuse me of being unfriendly?"

When Harry said nothing, Malfoy exhaled and continued with, "I'm willing to let you ride it. Feel the difference for yourself. It rides easy and yields at the slightest touch."

"You don't really want me on your broom," Harry said, slipping back a couple of steps.

"Don't I?" Draco strode forward, closing the distance between them once more. In a petulant display of quiet anger, he shoved the new broomstick towards Harry, but Harry would not comply with such a dubious invitation.

"I'd rather not."

Draco shrugged and then finally backed off. "We're going to have a lot of fun, I think," he said conversationally, while the two captains continued to argue over who had rights to the Quidditch field. "Can you imagine it? In just a few short weeks, we'll be in the air together fighting for the Snitch. Except, you'll be on that pitiful broom of yours, when you could've been on my team if you'd gotten into Slytherin last year. You could've owned the very best of everything just for knowing me. As it is, you're at the mercy of the teachers' favoritism and handouts."

"I'm not poor, Malfoy. But even if I was, you couldn't buy me."

The smug twist of Draco's mouth loosened somewhat. "What was that?" He leaned forward and cupped a hand around his ear. "Couldn't hear you over the supersonic speed of my broom, Potter, you're going to have to speak much louder."

"I said you could never buy me," Harry said vehemently, loud enough this time for everyone to hear.

"Of course not." Malfoy gave him an imperious look. "That much is obvious. I don't tend to shop second-hand."

"Piss off," Harry hissed through gritted teeth.

"Draco," said Flint, interrupting the exchange. "Since Wood and I both have the field reserved, and they aren't willing to be understanding about us needing to train you, why don't you challenge Potter to a race? The winner's team gets to claim the field for the whole day."

"It isn't fair," said Wood, having already debated the idea with Flint. "Harry's broom'll be outdone."

"True," Flint said with a sly but quelling look. "But Draco has had his broom for only a month and spent most of that time indoors with an academic tutor. He hasn't got as much experience as Potter has. That evens the odds, I think, and unless you want to get the professors involved in this—and you know whose side they'll take—this way you'll at least have a chance."

Elated at the proposal, Draco perched himself onto his broom and hovered readily towards Harry. "How 'bout it, Potter? One race? You and me to the tallest tower of the school and back. What do you say?"

"Don't," Wood admonished Harry. "Don't fall for it. He's baiting you."

"Anything to wipe that slimy smirk off your face." Harry mounted his broom and then kicked off so he was in the air with Malfoy, the gentle breeze catching in his scarlet robes.

"I'd love to see you try and do just that," Draco said with an excited grin.

"On the count of three," announced Flint with a trollish grin. "One… two… three!"

Draco was off, and Harry didn't wait a split-second longer, although he failed to manage a quick enough reflex like Draco had done.

Harry soared in Draco's wake, feeling positively electric at the cool wind dragging at his face. But an inchoate fear thrust itself to the forefront of his mind, nibbling at the edges of his thought:

What if Draco succeeded in humiliating him now and during their Quidditch match in the future? What if he lost every Quidditch match for the House team for the rest of the school year, and for every year after that?

Heart pounding in his chest, Harry shoved the thought aside and kept his eyes on the green-robed boy in front of him.

Malfoy managed to widen the gulf between them, but when he glanced back over his shoulder, he lost a significant amount of speed.

Harry nearly shoved into him, shoulder scuffing against Draco's leg.

When Draco redoubled his focus, Harry lagged behind again and could do nothing but will his Nimbus to go faster to no effect.

Harry panicked when Draco gained the apex of the tallest taller—but sharp turns were Harry's specialty, and he succeeded in angling his broom back towards the Quidditch field in enough time that he was neck and neck with Malfoy.

Worried at his rival's show of competence, Malfoy crouched low to make himself as aerodynamic as possible.

The Slytherins whooped and yelled as Draco beat Harry by a wide margin. They clapped their Seeker on the shoulder when he set his feet onto the ground, then hollered about how they'd be undefeated once again.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron had climbed down from the stands where they, Colin Creevey, and a few other students had been watching.

Harry landed clumsily on the spongy turf. He could feel the eyes of the Slytherins bearing down on him, and could hear the drawling laughter of the snotty boy he was growing to hate more and more each day.

"So what if they're faster?" Oliver Wood said when Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindor team circled around Harry. "We can play smarter. The game isn't all about speed."

"Shut up, Wood," Angelina muttered. At the same time, Draco beamed triumphantly at Harry from across the way.

"Good, isn't it?" Malfoy said, expecting Harry's approval.

"That wasn't even fair," Hermione shouted, taking in Malfoy's Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

Harry was seeing red and didn't hear the following insult coming out of Draco's mouth.

Hermione said something back, and the noise in Harry's head died down enough to hear the rest of what was said.

Malfoy put on the most hate-filled scowl Harry had ever seen. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

Even though Harry didn't know what Mudblood meant, he picked up on the switch in energy that took hold of the Gryffindor team from there. Ron extended his Spellotaped wand towards Malfoy's face, and Flint and the other Slytherins hemmed in around their Seeker to protect him.

Ron's spell backfired and launched him backwards, just as Harry caught a glimpse of Draco from between his team's green robes. Draco had a strange look of disappointment on his face, which had nothing to do with remorse but something else…

Picking up on the commotion that had resulted from the rebounded spell, Malfoy quickly returned to himself and laughed at Ron along with the rest of the Slytherin team.

Harry couldn't stop staring at the back of Draco's head during Potions class. A knot of butterflies had wandered into the pit of his stomach ever since the fair-but-unfair race.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, having noticed how distractible he was acting.

Harry rubbed his belly, then simpered awkwardly. "My stomach's acting weird… I think it's the Fluttering Sweets." It felt as if the candied butterflies were flipping somersaults in his intestines.

"You should chew them more thoroughly," she said. "That happens sometimes, but the good news is, the butterflies in your stomach should pass after about twenty minutes."

Harry had eaten his last Fluttering Sweet over an hour ago at lunch, but the butterflies had redoubled their efforts when Malfoy had strutted into the class with Pansy Parkinson hanging on his arm.

Unless he had eaten too many, which he supposed was possible, the candies weren't the real culprit of the odd sensation.

Peering up at the blond one more time—Hermione noticed the trajectory of his gaze—Harry frowned when Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting next to Malfoy, scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder.

Lowering his head, Harry waited to see how Draco would react or if Professor Snape would break them apart even though they were his favorite students.

Several minutes elapsed and nothing happened. Hermione nudged Harry to continue his classwork, and, shaken out of the abstraction, Harry returned to the assignment.

"I don't think I can face him in a match," he murmured under his breath to Hermione, hoping Professor Snape was out of earshot.

"But you will," Hermione encouraged. "Look at all the amazing things you've done so far. Beating Malfoy could hardly be a challenge. You have a keener eye."

"But I feel like it's all been luck up until now. And luck runs out. Malfoy beat me when we raced, remember?"

"If you evened the odds and put him on the same broom as you, Malfoy wouldn't stand a chance."

"A chance against what, Ms. Granger?" came Professor Snape's predatory voice. He grasped the backing of her chair as she gulped and promptly tucked back into her notes. "Admiring the Slytherin's new Seeker, are you? Because, of course… you wouldn't be spreading unsportsmanlike gossip around in the middle of my classroom…"

Hermione bit her lips shut, otherwise she might have said something about Malfoy "buying" his way onto the House team and gotten points taken off from Gryffindor for backtalk.

"Tens points from Gryffindor," Professor Snape announced loud enough for the class to hear, "for your impudence in talking about Mr. Malfoy behind his back."

Draco's back straightened at the sound of his name.

Muscles tensing, Harry gripped the pages of his textbook.

Pansy lifted her head from Draco's shoulder as well, but he didn't turn around to see who had been talking about him.