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Chapter Text

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The Sorting Hat's dusty voice echoed throughout the Great Hall. The girl who had just been sorted took off the talking hat and walked over to the Hufflepuff table, where cheers erupted as she sat down, grinning. Harry's eyes followed her as she sat down but then turned back to the front of the room, where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, stood.

"Students and staff, may I please have your attention?" He waited until everyone was quiet before going on. "First of all, I would like to congratulate all of our first years on being sorted. I do hope you all become comfortable in your houses, as you are stuck there for the next seven years." Dumbledore winked and a low chuckle rang out as he continued.

"Now, I have an important announcement to make. In these past few years, I've noticed that the four houses of Hogwarts haven't been getting along very well, especially the quidditch teams. Now I understand that it is quite normal for everyone to be competitive, especially when it comes to exams and quidditch. But, parents and teachers alike have reached out to me, expressing their concerns regarding the safety of the students, especially after Andrew Kirke had to take medical leave because of a particular unsportsmanlike match. We all feel that the amount of competition is a bit much and some of us have taken these light competitions a little too seriously..." Dumbledore gave a pointed look to the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams before continuing.

"As a result, the rest of the staff and I have concluded that it would best for all of the quidditch teams to spend some time together this year. So, I have arranged a vacation for the quidditch teams to enjoy. During the winter holidays, all students in the teams will go on a two-week-long vacation to the beach. Of course, this beach is hidden from muggles, and protective barriers will be set. There is a quidditch pit where you can all practice. Now don't worry, we have already contacted all of your parents and guardians, and after a couple of months, we have received a permission slip from everyone on the quidditch teams. Madame Hooch will accompany the teams, along with Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall.

Now I know that it may not be fair for the rest of the students, so Professors Lupin, Flitwick, and Hagrid are going to take all the other students to the mountains. The vacation to the mountains isn't mandatory, but if you do wish to go, you need to give your Head of House a permission slip with your parent or guardian's signature by November 15th. The rest of the students may either go home for the holidays or stay here at Hogwarts with Professor Trelawney and me.

That is all for now. If you have any questions, please ask your prefects, Head Girl and Boy, or Head of House. Now please, enjoy your meal!" With that, Dumbledore went back to his seat in the middle of the High Table. Then, just like always, food appeared on the tables and everyone started eating.

Harry, who had been starving just minutes before, didn't want to touch his food. He had lost his appetite after hearing that he would have to spend an entire fortnight with all of the other quidditch teams. He was fine with getting to know the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams better, but he refused to get along with the Slytherin team. After all, his biggest rival, Draco Malfoy, was the captain of said team.

Ever since Draco and Harry had become the quidditch captains of their respective houses, their hatred toward each other had grown immensely. It didn't help that the entire school was watching their every move, waiting for one of them to crack under the pressure. Even now, Harry could see people whispering and pointing at him and Draco, waiting for their reactions.

Harry tried not to look over at the Slytherin table, but after a few minutes of fighting against himself, he finally gave up and searched with his eyes for the tall, blonde-haired boy at the snake table. Sure enough, the Slytherin boy was sitting there, facing him in the middle of the table, with Crabbe and Goyle on either side. The two captains made eye contact, and a look of pure hatred spread across Malfoy's face like a knife through soft butter.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked next to him, with a concerned look on his face. "Do you think that you'll be able to survive two weeks with Malfoy? I'm sure the professors will make you and him spend a lot of time together, seeing as you're rivals and all."

"Yeah," Harry nodded grimly. "I'll have to manage somehow."

***

Lying in his bed after dinner, Harry couldn't fall asleep. He had barely eaten anything, so his stomach was grumbling loudly. His mind kept going back to Dumbledore's speech from earlier, saying that he would have to learn to get along with Malfoy. How was that even possible? Malfoy was just an arrogant prick who always bullied everyone and somehow still got his way every time. How could anyone get along with someone like that? It was way too preposterous to even try!

Harry started to feel his tiredness from the day get the better of him and he started to lull himself to sleep by repeating the same sentence to himself over and over again.

"I will not make friends with Malfoy. I will not make friends with Malfoy. I will not make friends with..." His mumbles trailed off as he fell into a deep slumber.

His dreams that night were filled with the trip he had been dreading since the moment Dumbledore had announced it. Sure enough, as Ron had predicted, Harry and Malfoy were forced to spend an inhumane amount of time together. They practiced quidditch together, ate their meals together, and even shared a room! The worst part was that Draco was still acting like the insufferable git that Harry had known him to be ever since he insulted Ron and his family at the beginning of their first year. He was a lot more forward than usual though, pinning Harry up against the wall, whispering insults in his ear. Harry hated all of it. He hated how close Draco was to him, hated how he could feel the other's breath on his face, hated how good his cologne smelled. But most of all, Harry hated how Draco Malfoy made his knees weak and his heart thump louder. He hated that prat so fucking much.

***

Harry woke up the next morning with his blood boiling. This dream was exactly the reason he simply would not survive spending a minute with Malfoy, much less two whole weeks! He hated the other so much that the thought alone made his stomach turn.

As he got dressed for his first full day of classes of the year, he vowed that he would find a way to get out of this godforsaken trip. Whether he had to fake being sick, plead with the headmaster, or even run away when the time came, Harry was hellbent on getting out of this "vacation" with Malfoy.

Chapter Text

Before the Start-of-Term Feast, Draco had been excited to go to school for once. He had been excited to get away from the cold tension that constantly loomed over his house. He had been excited to leave the cold gaze of the Dark Lord, his eyes never leaving Draco when he was in the room. He had been excited to finally be able to breathe for the first time, away from his parents' expectations about him following in their footsteps. But he wasn't so sure he was excited anymore.

As soon as Dumbledore announced the trip, Draco turned to look at Harry so fast he got whiplash. The brunette was still looking up at Dumbledore, but Draco could see his fists were clamped and he was clenching his jaw, trying hard not to show his anger on his face. The blonde was quite familiar with that look, seeing as how Harry nearly always had it on his face when Draco taunted him. It was quite an amusing expression, but he hated how annoyed it made him feel that he wasn't the reason it was on Harry's face. But, he supposed, indirectly, it was his fault. After all, if they hadn't been practically sworn enemies (Draco was dramatic, but not nearly dramatic enough to call Harry his sworn nemesis like a child) then Dumbledore probably wouldn't have felt the need to make them go on what was, essentially, a get along-trip.

When Harry finally tore his eyes away from the High Table, Draco watched him talking to his friends, obviously annoyed at the news of spending two weeks with the Slytherin quidditch team. Draco finally looked away from the brunette sitting across the room, focusing instead on the food that had appeared in front of him. He found, however, that nothing seemed to appeal to him. Knowing that he would be hungry that night if he didn't eat something, Draco started nibbling on some chicken and potatoes. He barely got through a potato and half of his chicken breast when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up, making eye contact with Harry, a sneer flashing across Draco's face when he saw how angry the Gryffindor was. Harry was the first to break eye contact, turning back to his friends when Weasley addressed him. Draco turned back to his chicken and found that he had lost his appetite.

***

Lying in bed that night, surrounded by soft, silk sheets and pillows, Draco found that he couldn't get comfortable no matter how much he tossed and turned. After about 20 minutes of restless wriggling, the blonde decided to get up. He slipped out of his bed quietly, although he doubted anyone would've heard him even if he had stomped around. Draco didn't expect anyone to wake up to his tiptoeing, seeing how loudly Goyle always snored.

The Slytherin walked over to the window, sitting on the bench underneath it. The window of the Slytherin boys' dormitories showed nothing but the dark, murky waters of the Great Lake, with the occasional fish or mermaid swimming past. Draco had started to find comfort in looking out of the algae-covered window. Out there, in the lake, no one was expecting anything from him. No one was looking over his shoulder, daring him to mess up. Out there, there was nothing but fish, mermaids, and a giant squid. Draco wished he could join them and swim away from all the expectations that the land carried.

***

Draco woke up to the prodding fingers of Blaise, who was trying furiously to get the blond up in time for their first classes of the semester. As the blonde opened his eyes, he realized that he was not in his bed. Rather, he had fallen asleep on the bench beneath the window, lulled to sleep by the waves of the Great Lake lapping up against the glass. His back was aching and his hair was a mess, but he managed to get ready fast enough to grab a piece of toast from the Great Hall before going to their first class of the year: Double Potions.

As Draco descended the stairs, still nibbling on his toast, he thought back to the events of the previous evening; the announcement, Potter's expression, the eye contact, the restlessness. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wouldn't be able to endure a fortnight with Potter. He just couldn't. Draco needed to come up with a plan if he was going to get out of this vacation.

He realized, about halfway through Potions, that he might not need a plan to get out of the trip, but rather, a plan of how to avoid spending time with Potter during the trip. Maybe if the teachers saw how much they hated each other, they would finally give up trying to get them to get along. Even if they didn't give up, Draco knew that he would enjoy tormenting Harry, seeing that look of pure hatred on the brunette's face that only the Slytherin seemed to be able to provoke.

***

As Draco continued to construct his ingenious plan in his head, the hour-and-a-half potions class carried on. It was only when Professor Slughorn brought up love potions that Draco perked up a bit.

"Alright, class, who can tell me what Amortentia is?"

Granger's hand immediately shot up, and Professor Slughorn called on her. "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion known to wizards. Although it cannot replicate true love, only a powerful obsession. It has a mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from it in spirals. Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what attracts them."

"Very good, Miss Granger," the potions professor praised. "Now, who wants to find out what they truly love?" The students started whispering to each other, obviously excited to find out what they smelled. Professor Slughorn beckoned them to come closer, the sixth-years scrambling out of their seats and forming a single-file line in front of the potion.

Draco had heard about Amortentia from Professor Snape's classes the year prior, but he had never actually seen it before. He'd be bluffing if he said he wasn't curious to know what he smelled in the love potion. The blonde rose from his seat slowly and strode over to the back of the line. A few minutes later, once everyone was in line, Slughorn signalled for the first person (it was Granger, of course) to step up to the cauldron and smell the potion. A content look crossed her face, making Draco all the more interested in finding out what he smelled.

"I smell freshly mowed grass," Hermione said, the dreamy look still apparent on her face. "New parchment, spearmint toothpaste, and.." she stopped talking abruptly, whispering something no one caught. She shook her head, rushing back to her seat. As she passed Draco, he saw that the tips of her ears were the colour of Weasley's hair.

As the line got shorter, students described what they smelled, and everyone was in a better mood. Draco realized, when there were about three students left in front of him, that he wasn't sure what he loved. He loved his mother and quidditch, but he wasn't sure what else he would smell. This revelation only made him more eager to find out.

The closer he got to the front of the line, the more excited, but also nervous Draco got. What if he couldn't smell anything? What if he smelled death and found about some sort of love for killing? Before he knew it, he had gone down a rabbit hole of worry and found himself at the front of the line. The Slytherin tried to push down his doubt and worry as he stepped up to the potion.

The Amortentia swirled around in the cauldron, its pearly white colour making it positively hypnotizing. As soon as Draco bent down, he was hit by the smell of his favourite tea - Earl Grey. The delicate fragrance transformed into a scent that smelled exactly like the quidditch pitch did in the early hours of the morning. The grassy smell faded into the smell of old books and parchment, which reminded Draco of the quiet hours in the library in the dead of night when the whole world was asleep. The calm, comforting smell morphed into the aroma of the Malfoy Manor's kitchen when Draco was just a little boy. He and his mother would bake biscuits late into the night when they couldn't sleep. The blonde remembered sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of milk and cookie, his mother sitting beside him, telling stories of her childhood. A sense of sadness and melancholy filled Draco, but not for long, as the last smell of the potion filled his senses.

He couldn't identify where it came from, only that it smelled familiar; like home. It was the smell of grass and smoke and sweat and the wind mixed together to make an elixir that Draco just couldn't seem to get enough of. He found that he couldn't focus on anything else, just the sweet, sweet smell that he couldn't pinpoint.

It was only when Professor Slughorn snapped his fingers in front of Draco's face that the blonde came back to his senses. He blushed, mumbling an apology, before slinking back to his seat. He plopped down and buried his face in his arms. Blaise gave him a funny look, but other than that, no one seemed to notice that Draco was having an existential crisis. Where in the world did he know that scent from? Surely he must've smelled it before, as he seemed to be completely enamoured by it. He just couldn't figure out why...

As the rest of the class finished smelling the Amortentia, they started taking their seats. Draco watched as Potter walked back to his seat, his easy smile no longer apparent on his face. The Slytherin wondered what in the world could remove the cocky grin from the Gryffindor's face. He must've smelled something that confused him, just like Draco had.

The blonde let out a sigh, burying his head deeper into his arms. He couldn't wait for this class to be over. All he wanted was to go to the library, or brew some Earl Grey tea, or go to the quidditch pitch, or eat his mother's biscuits, anything to make him forget about the mystery smell he seemed to adore. Anything to make him forget that he had never felt so safe as he did when that smell arose from the cauldron. Anything to make him forget the feeling of complete and utter certainty that this was the smell of love, of home.

Chapter Text

Waking up to Ron and Seamus bickering at 8am about who stole Ron's lion socks was not something Harry had been planning on doing. In fact, he had been planning on sleeping in until around noon. He had been planning on going down to the Great Hall to get breakfast when he should've been getting lunch. He had been planning to space out until it was time for quidditch tryouts in the late afternoon. Overall, Harry had been looking forward to spending a great Saturday doing absolutely nothing. His ingenious plan had been ruined, however, when Ron and Seamus had decided that instead of letting the quidditch captain sleep in before the tryouts, they would start fighting over socks practically right next to Harry's bed.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Shut it, both of you!" Harry groaned, throwing the object nearest to him - which happened to be his Charms textbook - in the general vicinity of the squabbling Gryffindors. The textbook didn't actually hit either of them but landed instead loudly on the floor next to Ron's sockless feet.

"Jeez, Harry! No need to be so violent.." Ron mumbled, ducking under the slipper thrown from the quidditch captain's bed.

Although Harry had been annoyed about being woken up, he was glad he was awake now. He had realized that he didn't exactly have a plan for the tryouts. He had talked to Ginny about it during dinner last night, but since it was his first year as captain and Ginny had only been a player for a year, they weren't exactly sure how to go about it.

As Harry descended the Grand Staircase, his eyes barely open, he realized that apart from Katie Bell and Ginny, he had no idea who would end up on the team this year. He really hoped that they would be able to find a good set of players for the group. He didn't want to disappoint anyone, especially Ginny, who had been playing quidditch since before she could walk. It wouldn't be fair to her if the team was terrible.

The Gryffindor walked into the Great Hall, looking to see if any of his friends were already sitting at the lion table. He spotted Ginny - thank Merlin, they still needed to go over the plan for the tryouts - having breakfast while talking with Neville.

"Hey guys," Harry said as he sat down. They smiled at him as he joined them, greeting him. Neville went back to eating his toast and Ginny turned to Harry to discuss the tryouts.

"So, do you know how you want to test the candidates?" She asked. Harry groaned, "Merlin, Ginny, I don't even know what I'm having for breakfast, much less how I'm going to choose a bunch of players that could be the difference between us winning the Quidditch Cup or not." He slumped forward, putting his head into his arms, groaning. Ginny patted his back soothingly.

"It's okay, Harry. I dunno what to do either; it's my first time doing this too. We'll figure it out together," she reassured him. "Also, you do know what you're having for breakfast. You're going to have what you usually do; toast with butter and pumpkin juice." She said, sliding a plate of toast and a glass of pumpkin juice in front of him.

In all honesty, Harry was so lucky to have Ginny as a friend, backing him up. She was loyal to a fault, fiercely protecting those she cared about or comforting them when the situation called for it. She always knew what to say - or sometimes, when not to say anything and just silently support her friends - and always gave an objective view on things when asked. She and Harry had had some very deep and interesting conversations regarding all kinds of topics; social and racial backgrounds, being raised surrounded by magic vs being raised isolated from it, and so on. They'd even had a couple of conversations regarding sexual and gender identity. Ginny was easily one of Harry's closest and deepest friends, someone he could really confide in.

In fact, as a result of their closeness, a lot of people had mistaken them for being in a relationship. Neither of them had known about those rumours until Draco - of all people - had made fun of them during a particularly nice day by the Great Lake when Harry had fallen asleep with his head in Ginny's lap. That night, they'd had a serious conversation about their friendship and where they stood. They both agreed that they didn't have any romantic feelings for each other and Ginny had opened up about her sexuality.

Since then, Harry had cheered on Ginny's efforts to pursue Luna, the girl she had been crushing on since before she even knew she was attracted to girls. Harry and Ginny's friendship had become so much stronger after that conversation, both of them confident with the status of their relationship. Harry was pretty sure Ginny was the friend he was the most himself around, and vice versa.

***

But even Harry and Ginny's amazing friendship couldn't prepare them for the tryouts. Since the candidates were only asked to show up in the late afternoon, theoretically, they had lots of time to strategize. But of course, things never go according to plan with Harry's "Chosen One Luck" as Hermione liked to call it.

Just after breakfast, which had been full of attempted strategizing which only resulted in harry sulking and Ginny turning her attention to the Daily Prophet, the pair were meant to meet up with Hermione at the library to see if they could find any books about quidditch tryouts in the past and what type of criteria they might've used.

Unfortunately, Hermione had to help Ron out with a last-minute assignment he had completely forgotten about - typical Ron, like honestly - and Ginny had to stop a bunch of bullies from hanging Luna's shoes from the ceiling again, so Harry was pretty much on his own, trying to figure out what quidditch books to look at.

After a good hour and a half, Harry decided to give up, having combed through most of the school's books on quidditch and not having found even a mention of tryouts anywhere. He decided that he had earned a well-deserved stroll through the halls, pondering about the tryouts.

The problem was that the tryouts were one of his lesser worries. The quidditch holiday was significantly more severe, and the fact that he might have to even try to get along with Malfoy was one of his biggest concerns.

But Harry couldn't think about any of that at the moment, he had the tryouts to stress over. If he didn't get the perfect team ready there was no way they would survive the quidditch holiday, much less win the Quidditch Cup.

With a clear goal in mind, Harry decided to get to the pitch a bit earlier, maybe scope out some of the other houses' players, scan for any threats and how he could counter them.

***

Unfortunately, his brilliant plan didn't really work out. By the time he got to the pitch, the Ravenclaw team was already putting their equipment away and getting ready to go back. The Hufflepuff team had had their tryouts earlier that morning, and the Slytherins were scheduled right after the Gryffindors.

Sighing defeatedly, Harry decided to get ready for tryouts a bit earlier, making sure to grab his broom and the chest with the magical balls needed for the game. He walked out onto the field, not expecting anyone to already be there. To his surprise, Ginny, Katie, and Ron were all there, in full uniform, ready to go. In only a matter of a couple of minutes, the field started filling up with eager Gryffindor candidates, all excited to try out for the team with the youngest seeker in almost over a century.

Okay, so maybe this wouldn't be a complete bust after all. Maybe Harry, with the help of Ginny and Katie of course, would be able to find a decent team that would be good enough to withstand the "bonding quidditch holiday" and be able to win the Quidditch Cup. Maybe there was hope after all.

***

Okay, if Harry could take it all back, he would. This was a complete bust. He was pretty sure not a single one of the candidates actually knew how to fly on a broom, much less play quidditch. They'd already had to send Terry Criswell to the Hospital Wing after he had fallen off of his broom. All in all, Harry wasn't sure they would make it through the tryouts without at least another couple of visits to Madam Pomfrey.

***

Okay, so maybe he had been exaggerating a bit. It turned out that Ron was a pretty decent Keeper, Katie and Ginny were (as expected) amazing Chasers, and Demelza Robins showed promise. Harry still wasn't sure about the Beaters, but at least this was a start. Maybe he would end up with a decent team.

By the end of tryouts, Harry was fairly confident about his line-up. Katie, Ginny, and Demelza would be the Chasers, Ron the Keeper, Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote would hopefully make good Beaters, and of course, Harry would be the Seeker. All in all, Harry was pretty content with the team he had (with the help of Ginny and Katie, of course) picked out.

As the new team and the rest of the rejected candidates started to make their way back to the changing rooms, Harry noticed the flash of green robes and way-too-expensive brooms. He groaned as the Slytherin team and their candidates exited from their side of the pitch, walking towards the Gryffindors to get to the centre of it.

Harry tried not to react as the Slytherins walked up to them because of course, Draco Malfoy was there, standing at the front of the crowd of candidates with a smirk on his face.

"Why hello, Potter," Malfoy's voice might've sounded pleasant, but Harry knew better than to trust him. He knew that underneath that sickly sweet smile was a predator, a snake, ready to strike at the slightest reaction.

Fine, Harry thought to himself. Two can play that game. "Good to see you, Malfoy," he said, matching his tone to the Slytherin's and grinning mockingly, for good measure. It was worth it when Harry could see Malfoy's play-nice act drop for a second, a scowl flashing across his face before he schooled his features into a more neutral expression.

"Likewise," Malfoy choked out, and it delighted Harry that he seemed to have trouble keeping up the pleasantries. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have a tryout for our quidditch team. The team that's going to wipe the floor with yours, of course." Malfoy's trademark smirk reappeared and Harry was so close to just straight up punching him.

But, of course, that's what Malfoy wanted, to provoke Harry. So Harry just nodded curtly, signalling to his housemates to follow him as he brushed past Malfoy and his team to get to the changing rooms. Harry hated how he didn't have to look back to know that Malfoy was grinning triumphantly from ear to ear.

***

"Ugghh," Harry groaned, dropping his head onto the table, his face smashing into his Potions homework. Their class had been assigned an essay on Everlasting Elixirs and Harry had understood exactly none of Slughorn's lecture about them on Monday. But alas, the essay was due in less than two days and Harry would have to manage somehow.

Sighing as he sat up, Harry grabbed his quill and stared at the empty piece of parchment in front of him, taunting him with its blankness. Hermione was at the library doing research for fun and Ron was already asleep. Realizing he wouldn't get any work done that night, Harry decided to see if he could find Hermione and convince her to help him the next day (even though she had already finished hers and Merlin, Harry, you have got to stop procrastinating on your homework).

After he had grabbed his school things and promptly shoved them on his bed unceremoniously, he grabbed his invisibility cloak (because just in case) and walked out of the Gryffindor Common Room, the Fat Lady's portrait swinging shut behind him.

Harry made his way to the library, his invisibility cloak hidden under his robes since it wasn't very late yet. As he neared the library's entrance, he realized with a groan that the doors were closed, a tell-tale sign that the library was closed for the night, therefore Hermione wasn't there because Merlin forbid she stay somewhere after hours.

Sighing, Harry turned around, starting to make his way back to the common room. After walking for a bit, he realized he didn't want to go back just yet, so he ended up wandering through the halls aimlessly, trying to clear his mind.

He couldn't say he was all too surprised to find himself standing in front of the gargoyle leading to the headmaster's office. He would've asked the gargoyle to move or maybe even racked his brain to try and remember the password, but before he could do either of those things, the gargoyle moved by itself and out walked just the man he wanted to see; Albus Dumbledore.

"Oh, hello, Harry," The headmaster said cheerfully. "What can I do for you this fine evening?"

Harry hadn't even realised why he was there until he started talking, "Hello, professor. I was just wondering if I could talk to you about the holiday we're supposed to go on during the winter break."

"Ah, yes, that one," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "What about it?"

"Well, I just wanted to know why. I mean, the quidditch teams have had lots of rivalry in the past, but this is the first time we're doing anything like this."

"Well, my boy, what is a rival if not the one person who sees the real you? An enemy is nothing but a friend in disguise," Dumbledore said as he walked past Harry, before turning back to face him. "Be careful of the monsters who lurk, you may be surprised at what you find."

Before Harry even really register anything or call after the headmaster, Dumbledore swept away and disappeared around a corner, leaving Harry even more confused than before. Realising that trying to follow Dumbledore wouldn't really lead anywhere, he decided to seek out the only sensible teacher at school.

As he neared Professor McGonagall's office, he realised that this could go one of two ways; she would either try to help him understand the reason for all of this or give him detention for being out this late. He really hoped it would be the former.

"Professor?" He asked as he knocked on the door. He could hear some papers being shuffled around before he heard McGonagall sigh slightly as she said "come in".

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," she said as he walked in, not looking up from her papers. "Well, it isn't really evening anymore, now is it? I believe it's only half an hour before curfew." She looked at him from over her spectacles, the disapproving look apparent on her face.

Harry smiled sheepishly before she sighed once more, motioning him to sit down in the empty seat opposite her. He cleared his throat before saying, "So, Professor, I know it's quite late, but I was just wondering about that quidditch holiday we're supposed to have soon. I tried talking to Professor Dumbledore earlier, but he didn't really answer my question."

McGonagall muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "typically Albus" before she gestured for him to continue.

"So, I'm curious why we're going on this holiday all of a sudden, especially since the staff haven't intervened in the rivalry between teams until now," Harry said, leaning forward in his chair a little.

"Well, Mr. Potter, we're intervening because one, the rivalry between the teams managed to send a student to St. Mungo's, and two, you're right, the staff haven't intervened - which I must say is our own fault - so the rivalry has become extreme. And so to prevent any further injuries, we're sending you on this holiday to try and fix the conflict."

"Yes, but Professor, you know how much Malfoy and I don't get along and making us spend time together would just be torture for everyone involved, trust me." Harry all but whined. He really didn't want to spend time with Draco.

McGonagall sighed for what had to be the hundredth time. "Mr. Potter, I understand the animosity between you and Mr. Malfoy, which is precisely why this whole program is happening. The entire holiday was planned with the rivalry between the two of you in mind."

Harry couldn't believe it. He was going to be forced to spend time with the entire Slytherin quidditch team just because he and Malfoy didn't like each other. This was absurd. "But Professor," Okay, now he was really whining. "He's horrid. He's terrible and I hate him."

McGonagall's disapproving look could burn through metal. But as she looked at Harry for longer, her expression softened, just slightly. "Harry, I know that you may not like Draco now, but I'm sure he's not all bad. If you just give him a chance, you might be surprised at what you find."

Harry was surprised, to say the least, that Professor McGonagall had just complemented Malfoy. Maybe it really was the end of the world.

Still dazed, Harry didn't register being pushed, albeit softly, out of McGonagall's office. He didn't register walking through the halls back to the Gryffindor Common Room. He didn't register climbing up to his dorm. He didn't register getting ready for bed. He didn't register getting into his bed. The only thing that he did register was the fact that, one way or another, he would have to spend more time with Malfoy than he would've ever wanted.