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“Are you really going to go play quidditch after this?” Hermione asks as she looks up from her Ancient Runes homework. Her eyebrow is arched and she looks almost like a disapproving mother as she dips her quill in a dark bottle of ink. They’ve been sitting in the common room since dinner ended, mulling over homework and assignments that have been piling up on them since the first week of school. “We have exams in a few weeks Harry. You should study instead.”
And really, Hermione does have a point. But sixth year is a nightmare that Harry was not entirely prepared for and he’s barely had enough time to arrange for try outs for the Gryffindor team, let alone practice before the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match that’s coming up in a few weeks. He spends most of the team practices coaching everyone else, including a mildly terrified Ron who looks like he’s going to start vomiting slugs again, anytime the upcoming match is brought up.
Ron snorts as he stuffs a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Bloody hell, come off of it Hermione. These aren’t even proper exams. I would play quidditch too if I wasn’t so behind on that essay we have to give in for Potions.”
Hermione glares at him, dipping her quill into the jar of ink more forcefully then necessary. “Well maybe if you spent more time actually doing homework and less time being called Won-Won, you wouldn’t be so behind,” she says and her voice has gone a pitch higher, and really Harry wants to yell at them both for arguing so much but Hermione scares him a bit, when she’s like this, so he decides it better to keep quiet. Ron’s face almost matches his bright red hair now, and Harry so desperately wants to leave the table so he doesn’t get dragged into one of their meaningless arguments again but he thinks that would be a fairly rude thing to do so he pretends that he’s suddenly very interested in the type of wood the desks are made of.
“I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” Ron says and he tries coming off as uncaring but his ears now match his face which still match his hair so he isn’t really fooling anyone, especially Hermione. Hermione snorts, leaving her quill inside the ink jar and looks directly at Ron.
“I think it’s everyone’s business really, with the way you guys snog in every single corridor in the entire castle at all times. In front of everyone.”
“You know what? I need to actually go now anyways. Lavender is waiting for me. Maybe we’ll snog in a corridor,” Ron says and he pushes out of the plush armchair he’s sitting in and grabs his bag.
“Well don’t let us keep you,” Hermione retorts as she grabs for a hair tie. “She probably misses her Won-Won.”
“I’ll see you at dinner Harry. Good luck dealing with the mental one over here,” says Ron and with that he’s disappeared through the portrait whole leaving behind a very awkward Harry and a very irritated Hermione who is currently gathering her hair up in a ponytail, rather angrily.
“I just think it’s rather annoying that they’re always snogging everywhere, don’t you? Not to mention, we’re at a school. It’s not appropriate,” Hermione says after a pregnant pause and she mostly sounds like she’s trying to convince herself that the only reason she’s annoyed with Ron is because it’s inappropriate. Harry just shrugs because he’s not taking sides, not when it comes to this. He runs a hand through his already ruined hair and adjusts his glasses, at a loss for what to say to Hermione who quickly grabs her quill and continues her homework. Her cheeks are flushed though, and there’s hair falling out of her ponytail and she seems distracted which isn’t normal when it comes to Hermione Granger and homework.
“I think I’m going to the library. It’s quieter there,” she decides as she gathers up the piles of parchment that litter their desk. People have started to enter the common room now, and the third years are always so noisy after their visits to Hogsmeade.
“I think I’ll go to the quidditch pitch now,” Harry says as Hermione gathers all her textbooks in her arms. He’s always wondered how she carries so many things and never complains but he supposes it’s just another one of those things Hermione is brilliant at.
“Are you allowed to go out this late?” she asks him as they exit the common room. A first year with dark hair gawks at Harry as they pass through the portrait hole and Harry doesn’t really know what to do so he looks away, rubbing at his neck nervously.
“I’ve got special permission from McGonagall. I’ve booked the pitch too. She reckons I should get some spare time to practice,” Harry replies as they climb a steep set of stairs. Hermione hums.
“Well be careful, Harry. You know, with everything going on I don’t think you be outside by yourself,” Hermione says and she sounds worried.
“I’ll be fine, Hermione. The pitch isn’t even that far from the castle.”
Hermione doesn’t look convinced but she nods. “I think I’ll be in the library until midnight, I’ve got so much to do!”
“Yeah, but you’re you so you’ll most likely get it all done,” Harry snorts and Hermione still looks nervous but she smiles nonetheless.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” she questions, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.
Harry nods in confirmation. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”
*****
The weather is pleasant, and there’s a cool breeze that ruffles Harry’s hair as he walks to the Quidditch pitch. It’s quiet outside, although Harry isn’t surprised since there have been strict rules about leaving the castle after sundown especially after what happened at the Ministry of Magic last year. Everyone at school looks at him differently now, either frightened or in awe. He prefers when they’re scared of him though; it stops people from walking up to him and asking him what it’s like fighting the Dark Lord or if he really doesn’t have a nose, because Harry isn’t that brilliant at making conversation with eager first years who won’t take a hint and leave him alone and he doesn’t particularly enjoy discussing that night because he feels like he’ll start crying and throwing things again if he does.
When he gets to the pitch he makes a beeline towards the changing rooms and strips off his robe in favour of wearing his quidditch uniform. The locker room smells stale and Harry wrinkles his nose as he leaves it. When he gets to the pitch though, he has to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose again when he notices a boy standing there with pale blonde hair and a smirk on his face. He’s dressed in the Slytherin uniform already and his hair is slicked back, like it always is.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry asks and he tries keeping his voice level but he really wants to punch Malfoy in the face.
“I didn’t think the pitch was yours, Potter,” comes his reply. Harry clenches his jaw.
“I’ve gotten special permission from McGonagall to use the pitch tonight,” Harry says through clenched teeth.
“Well I’ve gotten special permission from Snape to use the pitch tonight too actually. Funny that,” Malfoy says. Harry resists the urge to snort.
He knows that there’s nothing he can say to get Malfoy to leave so he grips his broomstick tighter, before turning around and walking towards the other end of the pitch. He gets out the snitch before releasing it into the cold air and quickly mounts his broom before giving it a few more seconds. Once he’s counted to ten in his head, he launches off behind the golden ball and he feels it whiz past his left ear and zoom away. He chases it for twenty minutes before he catches it, and he does that three times before he realises that there’s nothing else he can do to practice. He lands onto the soft grass and drops his broom, deciding that he’ll come back when Ginny or Katie are free to help him practice. But just as he turns to leave, he hears someone call for him and he turns around to find Malfoy jogging towards him. Harry grits his teeth.
“Leaving so soon, Potter?” he sneers, as he runs a hand through his mussed up hair.
“Why do you care, Malfoy?” Harry asks, tiredly. He’s not in the mood to argue with someone, especially someone as snarky as Malfoy.
Malfoy stops smirking and suddenly, he looks nervous. “I was thinking-“
“Well don’t hurt yourself,” Harry interrupts and Malfoy frowns.
“Piss off, Potter,” Malfoy frowns before continuing. “I noticed that you weren’t practicing and I can’t do anything on my own either so I figured we could practice together.”
Harry’s eyes are probably as wide as saucers and he’ll bet his broomstick and his invisibility cloak that Malfoy’s joking, but the other boy stands there looking slightly nervous and Harry notices that his jaw is clenched.
“Are you kidding, Malfoy?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes. Draco glares back.
“You know what? Never mind. You would be awful to practice with anyway, Potter,” he says and turns around to leave.
And suddenly, words are coming out of Harry’s mouth and it’s like he has no control over what he’s saying and he’s pretty sure his own eyes widen when he responds to Malfoy. “Fine. I’ll release the snitch and whoever gets it first, uh, wins?”
Draco snorts and runs a hand through his hair. The pale strands stick to his forehead and Harry is fairly sure it’s the first time he’s ever seen his hair this messy. “Get on with it, Potter.”
Harry glares this time before releasing the snitch and immediately mounting his broom. He kicks off from the ground and follows the snitch although it disappears in the blink of an eye. Draco is suddenly next to him, shooting him a smirk before whizzing ahead. Before he can try catch up, a glimmer of gold catches the corner of his eye and Harry takes a sharp turn and follows the golden ball. Malfoy seems to have seen the snitch too because he’s right behind Harry, cursing under his breath. Harry reaches forward, stretching out his arm as far as he can and it’s like he can feel the snitch in his hand but out of nowhere, Draco moves right past him and grabs for the snitch at the same time. He’s not too sure what happens next but suddenly, he feels himself falling and he grabs onto his broom as tight as he can and swerves upwards.
“Are you alright?” Malfoy asks and he looks almost concerned.
“I’m fine,” Harry grits out and then he sees the golden flicker again so he moves straight ahead, leaving Malfoy floating idly on his broomstick. He hears him grumble something under his breath but he honestly does not care, and the snitch is right there so he continues moving ahead. He lets out a small whoop when he feels the ball in hand and slows down to a stop, landing on the wet grass. Draco follows, and he looks like how he always does when Harry catches a snitch. Annoyed.
“That wasn’t fair Potter, you know that,” he says as he gets off his broom. He runs a hand through his hair.
Harry adjusts his glasses. “You’re just a rubbish loser.”
“Then you wouldn’t be bothered by me asking for a rematch then?” Draco asks, sounding smug because he knows that Harry never backs down, especially when it comes to Quidditch.
“Fine,” Harry says and he’s about to get back on his broomstick but Draco starts talking again.
“Next week, same time,” he says and before Harry can ask him why they can’t just do it now, he’s turned around and walked away, posture as straight as an arrow.
*****
“How was Quidditch?” Hermione asks him as he piles cereal into a bowl. Ron is sitting on the opposite bench and he perks up at the mention of the sport.
“How did you even practice on your own, mate?” Ron asks him between mouthfuls of bacon. Hermione wrinkles her nose but there’s a small smile on her face. They’re back to normal again, as if yesterday’s fall out never happened.
“Well, uh, I didn’t,” Harry says and shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
“Oh,” Ron remarks. Then, “was Katie on the pitch too?”
“No, uh. Someone else was.”
“Are you going to tell us who it is or do we have to hire Sherlock Holmes?” Hermione asks before she plops a slice of fruit into her mouth.
Ron furrows his eyebrows, looking confused. “Who’s Sherlock Home?”
“Holmes,” Hermione corrects. “He’s this muggle fictional character, a detective that solves mysteries.”
Ron nods and then turns back to Harry. “Yeah, do we have to call him or summat? Who did you practice with?”
Harry shoves another spoonful of cereal, swallows, takes a sip of orange juice and then answers before he loses his nerve. “Malfoy.”
Hermione’s fork clatters against her plate and she looks at him incredulously. Ron’s eyes widen comically and his mouth opens and then closes.
“Malfoy?” Hermione asks and Harry can hear this distaste in her voice. “You practiced with him?”
“Blimey Harry, why would you put yourself through that kind of torture, mate?” Ron questions and Harry glares at them both.
“He had booked the pitch too, and it’s not like I could make him leave so we practiced,” Harry says and then shoves a third spoon of cereal into his mouth.
Hermione is looking at him like he’s grown a second head and Ron is looking at him like he’s stabbed him in the chest and Harry can feel his face heating up.
“We didn’t even practice for that long, alright?” Harry defends as he looks at the two of them. Hermione still looks sceptical but she nods and Ron, well he still looks like Harry twisted a knife into his stomach. Hermione changes the subject after that, talking about their potions practical and how difficult it was and Ron heartily agrees. Harry shrugs whenever she directs a question at him and Hermione seems satisfied with that as an answer and before he knows it, they have class, and for the first time in his life he’s relieved that they have to go to Snape’s dingy dungeons.
*****
The rest of the week passes by rather quickly, each day bringing a new set of homework that needs to be completed. Harry, Ron and Hermione spend most of their spare time in the common room although Hermione sometimes opts to work in the library instead. Before Harry knows it, it’s Tuesday again and the three of them are at a small table in the corner of the common room, away from the Seamus’ noisy impersonations of Slughorn that has Dean cackling.
“Are you going to the pitch again?” Hermione queries as she pets Crookshanks, much to Ron’s dismay although he doesn’t say anything.
“I think so, yeah,” Harry says.
“I wish I could come,” Ron groans. “But Slughorn gave me detention for not handing in that bloody essay in on time. He told me after class, when you lot had already left.”
Harry gives him a sympathetic smile but Hermione looks almost smug as she runs a hand through Crookshanks’ brown fur.
“Will Draco be there?” Hermione asks, casually. Ron becomes more attentive and they’re both looking at Harry.
“Probably,” Harry responds trying to come off as nonchalant.
“Harry, Ron and I were talking about this and, well, it’s alright if you’re friends with him,” Hermione says, voice careful.
Ron looks disgruntled and Hermione nudges him. “Yeah mate, even though he’s the biggest git in the world, wha- ouch Hermione!”
“What Ron is trying to say is that just because he can be rude, doesn’t mean you should at least give him a chance. Maybe he’s changed,” Hermione says.
Ron is rubbing his elbow, looking even more disgruntled but he agrees. “He hasn’t done anything annoying this entire year, so I suppose he’s alright.”
Harry doesn’t really know what to say at all, so he just nods and clears his throat. “Uh, thanks guys. That’s, er, nice of you. Although it’s just practice, I don’t think Malfoy and I are best mates or anything.”
“Obviously, we’re your best mates,” Ron says, still rubbing his elbow although he’s got a grin on his face. Hermione hums in agreement.
“We realised we came off a bit strong last week when you told us, so we just wanted to let you know that it would be okay if you did become friends. Malfoy even spoke to Ron and me about it,” Hermione adds and she smiles at him, almost smugly.
“I think I’m going to the pitch now,” Harry says slowly.
“I’ll join you from next week, Harry,” Ron confirms and Hermione waves at him as he leaves, still very confused as to what just happened.
*****
“You’re late,” is the first thing Malfoy says when he gets there.
“You spoke to Hermione and Ron about the possibility of us becoming friends?” is Harry’s response and he sounds confused and also slightly annoyed. Malfoy looks at him sheepishly. He turns around and mounts his broom.
“I get to release the snitch this time,” is the only answer he gives Harry. And then, he’s off, and Harry spots a flicker of gold and shuffles onto his broomstick before following Malfoy. The blonde boy is already a few meters ahead of him and suddenly, he takes a sharp right and Harry follows. They slow down after that, since the snitch seems to have disappeared. A few seconds later, they both notice it zoom past Malfoy’s ear and suddenly, they’re shoving at each other’s broomsticks, each trying to get to the snitch first. Harry stretched his right arm as far ahead as he can and just as he thinks he’s about to catch it, it’s gone and Malfoy is cheering loudly and flying towards the ground.
“I told you I could beat you, Harry,” Malfoy says and his eyes are bright and Harry is fairly certain this is the first time he’s said his first name without sounding condescending.
“You got lucky,” Harry says as he gets off his broom and Draco just smiles – not even smirks – back at Harry. Harry doesn’t know if he should smile back.
“I think you’re the sore loser know, Potter,” Draco says happily.
Harry just snorts. “I guess we’ll see who actually wins at the match next month.”
“It’s late, we should get back to the castle,” Draco says suddenly, as he puts the snitch back into a small velvet pouch.
Draco starts walking off the pitch and when Harry doesn’t join him, the boy looks at him expectantly. “Do you want a hand written invitation?”
Harry narrows his eyes, but walks with him anyways. After a slightly awkward silence, Harry asks, “Did you really talk to Ron and Hermione?”
Draco looks sheepish again but rearranges his features quickly, leaving behind no trace of nervousness. “Does it bother you that much Potter?” he questions and he sounds a bit defensive.
‘No, I don’t really care. It’s just odd,” Harry responds. Only, he does care a little bit and he’s more than slightly curious as to why Malfoy is taking this so seriously.
“Odd,” the other boy repeats, but instead of looking offended he looks pleased. They walk to the castle in silence after that, and when they get to the doors, Malfoy slips in before Harry. Harry doesn’t expect Malfoy to wait for him but he does, and they walk to the staircase in silence.
“You know the next time we do this, it doesn’t have to be at a quidditch pitch,” Malfoy says when Harry moves to climb the steep flight of stairs. Harry pauses.
“Do what?” he asks, carefully although his heart is starting to beat faster.
“Hang out,” Malfoy says. And with that, he moves past Harry and climbs up the stairs. When he reaches the top, he turns around and smirks. “I’ll see you around, Potter.”
And then Harry is alone although his heart is still beating fairly quickly and he doesn’t mean to smile, but he can feel his lips stretching just the tiniest bit and he suddenly remembers the smug smile on Hermione’s face and the amused look on Ron’s and he supposes that quidditch with Malfoy isn’t all that awful at all.