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“Ginny!!” Harry yelled as he entered her office in Magical Games and Sports. “Can you explain the meaning of THIS?” He huffed as he stomped up to her desk.
Ginny sat with an unamused stare as he thrust the parchment in her face.
She already expected his intrusion—she honestly thought he would have been here sooner.
As it was, he was still dressed in his Falmouth Falcons practice uniform and clearly apparated to her office when he read the offending notice.
“It's your roster for the upcoming Quidditch Intramural Little League team,” Ginny drawled as she leaned back in her chair and smirked at the very irate Savior. “This is your fourth year as a coach, so I assumed you would recognise the official documents from QUILL by now.”
The glare Harry sent her would have made lesser wixen run in fear, but Ginny spent five years married to the man, so his stare had less than the desired effect.
“I know what the roster looks like,” he scoffed. “But tell me why the names of BOTH of our children are missing from my lineup?”
“Oh, that's simple,” Ginny said as she idly stamped parchments and sent them off with her wand, “Some of the parents complained that professionals coaching their own offspring was biased and a blatant advantage.”
Harry stared at her drolly as her accent changed, and she imitated a familiar voice, but she continued before he could interrupt.
“The rest of the Department believed the complaint had merit, so the rule was changed to prohibit children from playing on the team their parent coaches.”
“And you didn't think to tell me this?!” Harry sputtered at her. “QUILL should have at least informed the coaches,” Harry huffed and threw himself into the chair at her desk.
Ginny smirked, “We did…. In writing… In the documents you signed without reading.”
Harry grumbled, and Ginny laughed at both his obliviousness and predictability as she heard him mutter something that suspiciously sounded like “hermionewasbusy.”
“Fine,” Harry said with a frown, reluctantly admitting defeat. “This was a plot against my team and our three-year winning streak. But fine…. Now please tell me who IS coaching James and Albus this year?”
Ginny leaned forward with a gleeful smirk just as another unannounced visitor trounced through her wards.
“Ginevra!” came the shout from right beyond the door, “What part of my complaining about Potter and his blasted coaching abilities made you think I would want to coach your Demon spawn? This is an outrage!”
Ginny rolled her eyes as Draco Malfoy came barreling into the room, also in his Quidditch Uniform, before skidding to a stop in front of her desk. His eyes widened, then narrowed at Harry’s presence in her office.
“You were the complaint?!” Harry screeched as he jumped up from the chair and continued talking over Malfoy.
“Wait, you're the boys’ coach??”
“I did not intend for this department to pull Scorpius from my team!”
“If I can’t coach my kids, YOU can’t coach yours!”
“This is unbelievable; I should lodge a complaint—“
“You already did, Malfoy!
“Stop shouting!” Ginny finally yelled over the din, shooting sparks from her wand. “And sit down,” she glared at Harry first, and he sank sheepishly into the chair.
Draco smirked until Ginny pivoted her gaze on him. “Both of you.”
He spared her one withering look and then sunk gracefully, arching one pale eyebrow but otherwise staying silent.
“First off, Harry, while Draco did…express his opinion… over your team, it was Pansy and me who petitioned for the change.”
Both men leaned forward to shout, but Ginny raised her hand and halted them. ”I don’t want to hear ONE word. The rule makes sense, and you both know it’s beneficial for talented young players to be exposed to different coaching styles and techniques.”
They both grumbled in agreement and then stared at each other in shock because of their shared opinion.
“And you two need to stop this ridiculous and petty rivalry,” she said while wagging her finger at the two men. “You are grown professionals with children—children who are best friends.” She leaned forward for emphasis, “this stops NOW.”
She let the silence stretch as both men remained stubbornly silent.
Their squabbles as adults were ridiculous, and honestly, she was sick of it.
The two of them had been forced to interact enough times over the last few years that she and everyone else had grown weary of their repetitive grievances. Draco had long ago made reluctant friends with the rest of the Gryffindors when she and Pansy started dating, but things between him and Harry remained frosty, even after Harry and Pansy began to get along, and Albus and Scorpius became inseparable.
Especially when Quidditch was concerned.
“I do not want any trouble from either of your teams. If I even hear whispers that you two are acting like idiots, I will have you both suspended. From. The. Regular. Season.”
“You can’t do that!” Harry yelped and then looked at Draco, who was also incensed. “Can she?”
Ginny answered her ex with a raised brow, “Do you want to find out?”
“Potter, even you shouldn’t be dumb enough to piss off this witch, Parkinson or Granger.” Draco huffed. “Fine. I’ll be civil. For Little League Season,” he emphasised as he met her gaze head-on.
Ginny gave Harry her best hard stare and was gleeful when he shrank back a touch and huffed, “I will if he will.”
“You both will.” Ginny declared. “Now, as wonderful as your interruption has been, I have last-minute things to organise before the first training session.”
Ginny shooed them from her desk. “And it won’t be so bad, Harry; you know Scorpius is a delight, unlike his father.” Ginny teased, immune to Draco’s outrage.
“Wait, you get to coach Scorp, and I get stuck with both your Potter spawn?”
Ginny laughed, trying to hide her amusement, “Oh no, Draco, that wouldn't be fair. Al is on Oliver’s team. You’ve only got Jamie.”
Draco grimaced slightly at the fact that the more troublesome of their kids was, of course, the one he got stuck with. She knew he actually liked Albus.
Ginny smirked as she delivered the last bombshell, “and Freddie!”
“The Terrible Twosome!?!” Draco screeched in horror.
Harry, meanwhile, was doubled up from laughter, clutching the walls of the ministry, as he gasped out, “Good Luck, Malfoy, you’re going to need it.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, shook her head and hoped this didn’t blow up in her face.
------
“Potter, I want to call a truce.”
Draco spent most of the previous day being simultaneously lectured at and mocked by Pansy because of his behaviour towards Potter, and as much as he hated to admit it, the witch was right. He needed to get over this childish grudge and be civil towards Potter.
Maybe even friendly.
“You want to do what?” The man turned abruptly from where he was tucked in the shadows observing the families milling about for league orientation.
Draco squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.
He would be the bigger person this time and extend a genuine olive branch because this feud was getting them nowhere. And since Draco mainly initiated the insults and mocking in the past, he had to be the one to make the first move.
Even Scorpius had asked last night if his coach and his father would be able to get along. Draco couldn’t look into his son’s steel grey gaze and lie, so here he was, offering to put the past behind them.
Draco cleared his throat. “A truce. My son is on your team, and he loves Quidditch probably even more than we do. So, for his sake, I would like to try and get along.”
Potter raised an eyebrow, and his green eyes burned with mirth. “Does this have anything to do with the lecture Pans gave you last night?”
Draco went to huffingly deny that it did indeed have a fair amount to do with it—
“Because Gin gave me one as well, and you know how scary she can be when pissed.” Potter intoned.
“Honestly, I don't know why people fear you when it's her they should all be frightened of.”
Potter laughed, bright and open, and something in Draco’s chest shifted at the sound. “Try being married to her. I love Gin dearly, but I'll let Parkinson deal with her temper.”
Draco couldn't help the smile that curled over his lips.
Then Potter thrust his hand out, offering it for Draco to shake. “Okay, Malfoy, truce. Let’s agree to start over.”
Draco stared at the proffered hand, a million emotions running through him at the sight, but ultimately, he realised he wanted to be on friendly terms with Potter.
They shook hands.
And because the silence between them was unnatural, Draco quipped, “Just so you know, Potter, just because my son is on your team, don’t think I'm going to go easy on you.”
Draco smirked. “I'm still going to win.”
“I’d like to see you try Malfoy!” Potter laughed.
“Oh, I’m not going to just TRY—that trophy is as good as mine.”
“The last four years say differently,” came Potter’s cocky reply.
“I wasn't even a coach until last year!! You didn’t have proper competition.” Draco huffed, a slight warmth stealing over his cheeks.
It was too easy to be friendly with Potter, mainly because their bickering didn’t stop. It just changed in tone.
“I still don't,” Potter boasted.
Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Well, Potter, I’d better go make sure my team hasn’t already descended into chaos. And we have a trophy to win.”
“Hey, Malfoy,” Potter called out as Draco was several feet away.
“If you want a smooth first day, spell Freddie and Jamie’s pockets shut. They always have loads of Wheezes shoved in there.”
Draco just looked at the man with a flash of horror before nodding once.
“Thanks for the tip, Potter.” Draco croaked out. When Potter smiled at him, he couldn't help himself. “Have a good practice.”
Potter gave him a strange look, then replied, “You too, Malfoy.”
Then he jumped on his broom and flew away, and Draco couldn’t do anything but stare at his retreating form.
Being friends with Potter was going to do terrible things to Draco’s heart and make him want more than he ever had before.
--------
“Good Practice! See you all for the game tomorrow.” Harry yelled as over a dozen kids on brooms descended from the sky and began grabbing their gear. It was a month into the season, and so far, Harry had a strong team, if he did say so himself.
He landed—stopping to answer questions and give last-minute instructions to the team as he went—and couldn't help but look in Scorpius’s direction. His eyes involuntarily searched for a matching head of platinum hair.
“Well, they didn’t look completely terrible up there today,” Came the drawling voice that never ceased to send shivers up Harry’s spine.
“You’re looking at an undefeated team up there, Malfoy,” Harry smirked. “But you already knew that, didn't you?” Harry’s tone was teasing, but it stopped him short at just how much he LIKED bickering with Malfoy.
“Daaad!” Scorpius yelled as he raced across the pitch and careened into Draco’s legs. “I caught the snitch three times in practice today. In RECORD time, according to Coach.”
“He really is good out there, Malfoy.” Harry couldn't help but interrupt, and Scorpius beamed at the praise.
Harry turned to Draco’s mini-me, “Scorp, can you do me a favour and go round up Jamie and Al? Lily is already with Aunt Pansy!”
Scorpius shot off in search of the rest of their lot. Since the truce, all the kids seemed to travel in packs between the adults.
“So why were you spying on my practice, Malfoy?”
Harry watched as Draco rolled his eyes playfully and then fell into perfect step with him as they crossed the field to put away the training equipment and head home.
Harry still marvelled a bit at how easy his friendship with Draco had come in the weeks after their tentative truce.
“I wasn’t spying, you cretin. I'm only here as an interested parent.”
Harry snorted in amusement.
“Besides, your team isn’t the only one undefeated, Potter. My team is fantastic, and that trophy will look great in my manor.” Draco preened, and Harry couldn't stop himself from staring at how handsome the man had become.
He was always attractive, even when Harry actively disliked him. But now, his whole persona changed, and he was even more striking, especially when he laughed.
“Keep dreaming.” Harry poked at the man beside him.
Then, Scorpius returned with Al, Freddie and James, the whole lot squabbling with each other and crowding the adults, so he reluctantly pulled his attention from Malfoy.
“Boys, ensure you have all your stuff; the girls are having a spa night, so you’re coming with me. We’ll order takeaway.”
After three resounding cheers, Harry started gathering their things to floo home when an idea popped into his head. “Hey, Malfoy, why don’t you and Scorp join us for dinner?” Harry asked before quickly adding. “If you don't have any other plans.”
“Two-on-two Quidditch!” James yelled as he pumped his fists, and Al started chasing him.
Harry watched Draco look at Scorpius’s pleading face and give in.
“We’d be delighted to join you,” Draco said after a pause. “If it's not too much trouble.”
Harry swallowed down the butterflies at Draco’s acceptance. This was more than just friendly conversations and seeing each other in group settings. This felt deliberate.
“Not at all. And Draco, maybe we should make it three-on-three and show these boys how it's done.”
Draco’s smile and competitive gleam made Harry’s insides twist. “You’re on Potter.”
All four boys cheered.
--------
“You know, this was an enjoyable evening.” Draco found himself saying as Potter sat next to him on the porch and handed him a beer. After several rounds of seekers games and Quidditch drills, the boys had drifted down to the den to watch the Telly, leaving the two men outside alone together.
“You sound surprised,” came Potter’s reply.
“I actually am,” Draco answered honestly. “And I only fell for one of the twosome’s pranks. I call that a win.”
Potter laughed and took a sip of his ale. Draco watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple and the sharp line of his jaw with fascination.
Potter was terribly handsome. It was rapidly becoming a problem, especially since he genuinely enjoyed being friends with the git.
“I hate to ruin it potentially, but there was something I wanted to discuss.” Draco broke the comfortable silence around them. “I consulted Ginervra, but she told me to do whatever I thought was best…. So I’m asking you.”
Draco hesitated.
“Spit it out, Malfoy.”
“I want to move James to Chaser permanently.” Draco took a swallow of his ale and waited for Potter’s reaction.
“What?”
“He is a good Seeker,” Draco fidgeted as he replied. “An excellent Seeker, but I think he fell into that position and would benefit from learning to be a chaser.”
“What does James want?”
“To make you proud. He thinks being a Seeker will do that.” Draco met Potter’s gaze head-on and was surprised to see the contemplative look on the man’s face like he was considering Draco’s opinion carefully.
“It does, but not because of the position… Quidditch is the one thing that boy takes seriously, and that makes me proud because he puts his all into it.”
Potter was silent for a moment. “You think he’d be a better chaser?”
Draco decided to be as honest as he could. “I do. He reads the quaffle naturally, and the way he can telegraph his teammate's moves is practically unheard of. He’s strongest with Weasley…. They practically think as one. But I think as a chaser, he could be better than both of us.”
Potter stared at Draco like he was reading his soul and broke into a small smile. “Well then, go ahead and switch him. I trust you.”
Draco’s heart leapt as those three little words were offered so freely. Trust, Draco knew, was something Potter valued above all. The fact that they had come so far, so fast, sent tingles down his spine.
Then Potter smiled fully and quipped about how terrible a coach Montague was, and Draco just looked at the man— green eyes gleaming and lips upturned in an easy, open smile— and realised that as much as he liked being Potter’s friend, he wanted more.
With Potter, he wanted everything.
-------
It happened in an instant, and there was nothing Draco could do to prevent it.
A rogue bludger, hit by an opposing team during the Quarter-final match, struck James. His body hit the ground before anyone even realised he had been thrown from the broom. Draco reacted the minute he knew James was hurt, apparating to the boy’s side and refusing to let go.
Now he was in the waiting room of St. Mungo’s emergency ward, frantically pacing and waiting for Ginerva and Potter to respond to his Patronus. George Weasley had been pitch-side when it happened, and he agreed to take over the team as Draco rushed James’ limp body to the hospital.
Potter was the first to arrive.
“Draco,” He shouted as he barreled through the waiting room doors, still in his coaching gear. His own game probably wasn’t even finished. “What happened? Where’s James?”
Draco ran to Potter’s side to give him as much information as possible. He was shaking and frantic with guilt. It was all his fault James was hurt, and Potter would probably go back to hating him after this.
“Draco.” Potter’s strong hands on his shoulders shook him out of the spiral his mind was doing. He was right in Draco’s face, green eyes vibrant and bright with worry. “Just take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
Draco swallowed and relayed everything the medi-witches told him since they arrived; Potter leaned up against the wall and just listened as Draco described all of James’ injuries.
“I’m so sorry. This is all my–”
“Draco, it's not your fault. It happens. Especially to a daredevil like James.” Harry said, voice steady even amidst all the worry. “He’s going to be okay. He has to be.”
Draco turned and mirrored Potter’s pose, barely any space between them. Their hands were so close, and he just wanted to reach out and take Potter’s hand to comfort him. “Potter, I should be the one reassuring you.”
Harry moved his hand over an inch so that it was practically resting against Draco’s own, their pinkies touching against the wall.
Draco watched Potter give him a shaky smile and almost went weak in the knees when he replied. “You are.”
He didn't move his hand until Ginevra, and the rest of their gang burst into the waiting room.
Afterwards, once James was on the mend and given a speedy recovery diagnosis—and Pansy and Ginny had mothered him and checked him over a thousand times—Draco watched as Potter settled down beside his son.
He gave Pansy one desperate look that she understood from years of friendship, and the witch immediately bundled Scorpius along with Al and Lily and took them home while Draco remained behind.
He sat down on the long sofa the hospital provided. Potter startled a bit when he realised he wasn't alone and that Draco was sitting just a bit closer than was strictly necessary, but he didn't make any effort to move over.
“Thanks for being here and reacting quickly when he was hurt,” Harry said with a yawn, reaching and patting Draco’s leg in a friendly gesture, leaving it resting on Draco’s thigh.
The man scooted closer, moving his hand on top of Harry’s. “I'm just sorry he got hurt. He’s grown on me,” Draco paused. “His father, too.”
“You’ve grown on him, too,” Harry said, giving Draco a wink and inching even closer. He took a shaky breath and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder.
Draco tried not to let his surprise show. Since that night at Potter’s house, they had become relatively close, inching towards something that neither was ready to acknowledge, but tonight it seemed the barriers had lessened between them.
So Draco just went with it. His heart was already a goner, so he might as well press his luck.
He leaned in, Harry’s messy hair close enough to tickle his cheek. “Get some rest, Potter. You need it.” Draco spelt the lights to dim and then settled back against the uncomfortable cushions, Potter’s deep breathing calming the thudding of his rapidly beating heart.
He thought Harry had drifted off until a quiet voice cut through the nearly silent room. “Hey Draco, I'm glad you stayed.”
“Me too, Harry. Me too.”
The last thought that went through Draco’s head as he breathed in Potter’s earthy scent and felt the warmth of his body tucked close was— he could get used to this.
-------
“Potter, you better not lose this game.”
Harry turned at the now familiar voice, and his heart skipped a beat as he took in Draco, wearing Harry’s league shirt, the words TEAM POTTER emblazoned on his chest.
They hadn't had much time together since the night at the hospital, but seeing Malfoy smiling and smirking at his side made Harry realise he wanted Draco. That wasn’t a surprise. The man was fit.
But what did surprise him was that he LIKED Draco. Really, truly liked the prat. And from the playful gleam in those steel grey eyes, Harry thought his feelings were reciprocated.
He’d sort that out after the game, though. For now, having the man at his side was enough. Besides, he had a fifth championship title to bring home.
“Oh, so NOW you want me to win the League Cup.” Harry teased, nudging Draco’s hip and shouting last-minute instructions to his players circling above.
“Prat. I want SCORPIUS to win the Cup. That you are his coach is just an unfortunate coincidence,” Draco smiled. “Plus, that Heathen Montague is the one that instructed his little beasts to target Jamie. I want him to lose.”
Harry laughed and barely resisted the urge to grab Draco and pull him close. He liked Draco’s little mean streak, primarily when it wasn't directed at him.
“I plan to make him.” Harry quipped. “Besides, my seeker is way stronger than his.”
Draco beamed and looked toward Scorpius, circling high above the pitch.
“Now, either quit distracting me or go sit over in the stands with the rest of the parents.”
Draco remained at his side.
Harry smiled, turning his attention to the game, determined to win.
-------
Harry knew the moment Scorpius spotted the snitch!
Harry’s heart went to his throat as The opposing seeker followed closely, and Scorp shot across the sky. It had been nearly two hours of play, and the points were close enough that whoever caught the snitch would win the game!
The whole team was focused as Scorpius dove, and Harry could hardly breathe as he watched. He didn’t notice Draco’s hand slipping into his own until he heard the man gasp beside him!
The two seekers raced close together at breakneck speed, and the little golden ball could flutter in either direction. It wasn’t until the snitch veered off and dropped that Scorpius reacted. He dropped down and executed a perfect Wronski Feint, the snitch fluttering in his palms as the other seeker gave up the chase.
They won!
Harry let out a triumphant cheer as the boy's teammates crowded him in the sky, celebrating and turned to Draco, “I told you he was good! And he helped me win—“
Harry’s taunting was cut off as Draco grabbed him right there on the sidelines, bringing their faces together and kissing him boldly with a mixture of passion and tenderness.
Harry’s eyes widened for a second, and then he melted against Draco and let himself get lost in the kiss.
Draco pulled away laughingly, “you bastard! I can’t even get mad you won!” A Wronski feint! I can’t believe—“
The celebration confetti and the force of a dozen excited Quidditch players converging on their coach cut Draco off as Harry was swept up by his team.
And then, as Harry was being called over to accept the cup, he paused and ran back to Draco, pulling the man in for another, very public kiss.
“Just so you know, Malfoy! You’re stuck with me now,” Harry grinned at Draco’s shocked face.
Then the man grinned,” I think I’m okay with that!”
Behind them, a very excited group of their kids cheered!
--------
Off to the side, a petite redhead whispered in the ear of her brunette wife, “I knew switching the boys’ teams was going to work.”
Pansy stomped and huffed, “You did not; you know they could have just as easily ended up killing each other.”
Ginny smirked, “oh, come on, just admit I was right!”
Pansy laughed, pulled Ginny close and pecked her on the nose. “Never!”
Harry and Draco continued to kiss in the background, completely unaware of their friends’ meddling.