The curtains snap open, and I shoot Walburga an innocent look. "No, Aunt Walburga."
"Then what's he doing here?" She says, her portrait reddening as if for a shriek-fest. "And I just heard that other one, too, filthy blood traitor-"
"He's, uh, he's my hostage. I captured him." I lie, and Potter's explosive laughter is held off by my hand clapping over his mouth. He tries to nudge it away, but I hold firm. A short tussle ensues.
"Oh, wonderful!" Delight fills her face. "Well, you torture him good, you hear me? Do you know the toenail-removing Charm? I was fond of that one, especially…"
"Thanks, Auntie. I'll do that." I say sweetly, still wrestling with Potter.
Her curtains close, and we barrel into the parlour. "You're welcome." I say, extricating myself and dusting off my robes.
"That's one way to do it, I suppose." Potter says, eyes shining. "You know, I haven't had this much fun in… a long time."
"You mean, shagging the Weaslette isn't a grand old time?" I say sarcastically, and Potter punches me on the arm. I glare at him and rub the feeling back into it, then sit myself down. I prop my feet up and close my eyes to relax.
"No, really." I say, with my eyes still closed. "If it's not fun, just ditch her."
"We're not even together." Potter says, and I hear the other side of the loveseat creak as he deposits his weight on it. "I don't know why she came over."
"I know why." I smirk.
"I think she hates being at Hogwarts while the rest of us are here." Potter says, creaking the loveseat some more. I open one eye and he has crossed one ankle over the other knee.
"I refused to go back for our 8th year, so I don't blame her." I say, letting myself be honest. "I don't think anyone would care if she dropped out. None of us have our N.E.W.T's either."
"No, but the Holyhead Harpies are checking out recruits at Hogwarts this year. So she's staying for tryouts. You really missed an opportunity, there. The Cannons are coming by too, for the Semi Finals."
"Merlin, I haven't played Quidditch in years. Has it really been years?" I say, mostly to myself. Did I let it get that bad?
"I'd offer to play, but it's fucking freezing out." Potter says flatly.
I decide to have a little fun, and settle deeper into my chair. "That's alright, I wouldn't want to subject you to the ridicule of losing to a Slytherin anyway."
"Malfoy, you just admitted you haven't played in years. I was captain of the team at school. What makes you think you could take me?"
"Pure skill, that's what." I say. "But I understand, you have plenty of excuses to stay inside. Where it's warm. And safe."
Potter stands up. "Come on then, let's go."
I laugh, not realising it would be that easy. "I was joking, Potter. I'm not going out in this."
"Yes you are. I've got a spare broom you can borrow-"
That makes me stand up. "I'm not having the spare one, I want your Firebolt 5, you can have the rickety old spare one."
"Either way - I'll destroy you out there, Malfoy."
I cast a few rain-repelling Charms on myself while Potter's fetching the broomsticks, and a Warming Charm, just in case.
He leads me through the back door, and it's exactly as wet and cold as I expected it to be. Potter gasps and curses at the wind. He points out the boundaries of the Anti-Muggle Charm, and I nod.
When he releases the snitch, we're off, and I see a glint in Potter's eyes before his glasses get pounded by rain. The feeling of flying, on top of the drinks we had at lunch, makes my heart leap and my head want to explode. Merlin, I have missed this.
I keep my distance from him, knowing the Firebolt could catch up if he did spot the snitch first. The Firebolt 5 goes from nought to sixty in about half a second. But scanning the sky, all I see is grey rain, and scanning the ground, all I see is grey dirt, with patches of grey grass.
Potter searches the field like he's panning for gold, in short zig-zag sweeps. I use the grid method, personally. I watch him flop his wet hair out of his eyes three times in a row, and chuckle. Then I realise I'm watching him more than searching for the snitch, so I get back to work.
When I sweep past him, I call out, "Toasty enough for you, Potter?"
He points his tongue out at me, and I keep looking. It strikes me that I could use this thing he has against him. The thing for me. So I keep closer to him, trying to keep his attention on me. I circle him as I look, and it makes him defensive.
"Bugger off, Malfoy!" He calls into the wind, with a laugh.
I just grin at him, my best, most dazzling smile, usually reserved for charming witches and getting out of trouble with Mother. He shakes his head, and pretends to continue searching. But I notice his eyes flick over to me every time he's done with one of the zigs or zags of his search.
After a while, I start to think the Snitch has gone out of bounds. The freezing rain comes down in sheets, and I am frozen to the bone. I almost want to suggest that we call it a draw, but then I see Potter's normal eyeing of me change. He is now staring at me with purpose. And flying towards me.
I glance around, confused, and there it is! The Snitch is right by my temple! I snatch it right before Potter collides with me, his arm outstretched, and as we descend in a tangle of broomsticks, I let out a victory howl. I've never beaten Potter before! Never!
We trudge across the grass, soaked to the skin and me still beaming and doing a little victory dance.
"Alright, alright." Potter says, smiling. "Well done, are you happy now?"
"I am, actu-" Wait a minute. I let my Snitch-hand drop to my side. "You didn't let me win, did you?" I accuse.
"Of course not." Potter says over his shoulder. "I would never."
"Are you just saying that?" I start walking again to keep up with him. "Or are you denying it to make me think you did let me win, to attempt to take away from my victory?"
"Now you've lost me." He says with a smile.
"Hold on a minute!" I say, grabbing his arm to turn him around. "I'm serious! If you let me win, just tell me right now and we'll rematch."
"I didn't let you win, honestly, Malfoy. I deserved to lose, I was staring at you more than watching for the Snitch. I only happened to see it because it was right by your head."
"Well I only saw it because I saw you watching me, and I saw you see it." I admit with a laugh, still high from the victory.
He gives me a look, and I have about a third of a second to prepare for it - he pulls me to him and presses his lips to mine. My heart pounds and all thoughts leave my fizzing brain. Our broomsticks clatter as they're dropped, and as our bodies press against each other, it's like a million fireworks going off at once.
Then, through the haze, I remember everything that's happened. Every lie I've told. Vanessa. So I pull myself away, and Potter looks guilty, as though he's the one that's done something wrong. "I'm sorry." He says. "I just thought…"
I don't say anything, and just kind of half shrug, and nod back towards the house. Our things make it inside, muddying up the entire hallway, except the Snitch. I think I dropped it somewhere.
And just before the silence gets completely unbearable, I announce I'm tired and head to my room. I can sense Potter watching me as I go up the stairs, but he doesn't speak.
I close the door behind me and allow my heart to take a few more million thunderous thuds, and then force myself to calm down. I need a plan. This is definitely not the plan. Not being here, not this, definitely not that.
When I come to my senses, I notice an annoyed-sounding tap on the window. My heart leaps as I see my owl, and I let him in quickly. He shakes the water off his feathers onto me, but I can't get any wetter anyway, so I don't even care. Mother hasn't sent a note, just the key and the owl, but that's enough.
Once again, I attempt to dry myself off, and Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Alone, this time.
Stepping out of the fireplace, I bump into another Auror trainee, the Ravenclaw whose name I can never remember. "Malfoy." He greets me coldly.
"Excuse me, I'm very busy." I say, to cover up the fact that I can't remember his name. I step around him as a woman - his date - steps over to him, and I almost bump into her, as well.
"Hi." She says, beaming at me. "Are you a friend of Michael's?"
Right, Michael. But, Michael what? "I wouldn't say that. We work together."
She laughs, and her long gleaming hair falls down her shoulders. "I'm Astoria."
"Well, if you'll excuse me." I say, with a very quick bow, and I leave them to it.
Within 45 minutes I have picked out my new flat, the old lady one - determined to evacuate every single doily I see - and been on a mini shopping spree. All new robes, boots, and a wonderfully thick, heavy cloak. I couldn't get it from Twillfit and Tattings, because I never realised how outrageous their prices are - fifty galleons for dragonhide gloves! - but Madam Malkin's had a decent selection. And at least she didn't jab me with any pins, this time.
Dave's secretary said he'd meet me at The Leaky Cauldron with the keys at six, so I have a couple of hours to kill, and I head back there early for a hot drink and something to eat. I'm in a decidedly better mood now, and I don't want to spoil it by going back and having to discuss anything with Potter. Like emotions. Or the fact that I'm the one who's sheltering a Dark criminal in my house that I can never go back to.
I pile my bags on a chair next to me, and let myself slouch under the weight of how tired I am. I thought weekends were supposed to be relaxing? Every single one of my muscles ache from being on that broomstick. I missed it, though, the thrill of flying, and chasing the Snitch.
That's probably why things got so heated… at the end. The nostalgia of playing Quidditch again. I'm sure of it. Life was simpler when all we did was play Quidditch in the rain.
My hot buttered rum arrives, The Leaky Cauldron's alcoholic equivalent of a Butterbeer, and I take a grateful sip.
But my good mood dissipates as I spot a bright red head in the crowd. I shuffle round, so my back is to her, and quietly hope she doesn't even notice me.
"Hi, Malfoy." Comes a female voice, and I inwardly wince. It's the Weaslette. She plops herself next to me and steals one of my chips. "Seen Harry?"
"No." I say stiffly, and she leans back in her chair and fiddles with her hair.
"Hm. Is he still at the office, d'you think? Last I saw, you two went there together."
"No, he came home. I mean, he was home, at his home, this morning. And today. I don't know where he is now." I can't seem to untie my tongue.
"Right." Weasley says, and as she leans forward, all innocence is stripped from her face, and she glares pure evil at me. "I know what you're up to, Malfoy. And if it's a war you want, you won't win."
And with that, she pats me on the shoulder and slinks away.
Great, so now as well as avoiding Potter, I have to avoid crazy jealous redheads. Easy.
Actually, it will be, now that I have my own place. Except at work, where Potter is my boss. And Weasley is his girlfriend. But at home, I'm golden.
Six o'clock rolls around, and then so does seven o'clock… By 8 I'm really not happy.
I storm over to the estate agents, or storm as much as I can while laden with about fifteen bags. It's closed, locked, and dark inside.
Except for a note on the door that says, Malfoy, family emergency - pick up your keys tomorrow. Dave.
I huff, snatch the note down, and grudgingly head back to Grimmauld Place. If I'm lucky, it'll be late enough to avoid seeing any of them.