𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄

Chapter 3

Gryffindor already had taken the pitch when the Slytherin team was announced. It was the first quidditch match of the year and Harry felt anxious. His… relationship with Draco was still tentative and unstable. They had kissed again, three days ago, but only once, and Draco had felt so out-of-sorts afterward that they had to part ways soon after so that they could pull themselves together again. Harry found that controlling his emotions was going to prove a lot harder than he'd originally thought, as his were often dictated by Draco's.

He didn't know what to expect after quidditch. They were both competitive people, and neither would dream of backing down as Seekers, or letting their team down, but their competitive spirit had never seemed healthy when pit against each other's before, and Harry couldn't see how any result on the pitch today would turn out well.

"Oh, buck up, Harry," Ron said, clapping Harry's shoulder. "It's only Slytherin."

"Er," Harry said. He'd yet to explain to Ron and Hermione what had happened on Halloween and his plans to continue seeing Draco. He ought to do that, and soon. It wasn't as if he was trying to keep his feelings for Draco a secret. "Right. But… well, there's something I ought to tell you, but not now. I don't want to throw your game off."

Ron cringed, glancing around nervously. "It can't be good, anytime you won't tell me what it is."

"It's not – no, it's just…. It's good," Harry settled for. "Very good. It's just unexpected is all, and I don't want you to be so surprised and, er, happy for me that you can't concentrate on the game." Harry seriously doubted that Ron's initial reaction to Harry's news would be one of happiness for him. That would come later – much later, by Harry's estimation – once Ron had come out of his apoplectic fit.

"See if I can concentrate now," Ron muttered as they took to the air. Quaffle and bludgers were released first, and the snitch last of all, once everyone was circulating up in the air. Draco seemed to have the same concerns on his mind, because he stayed far away from Harry, on the other side of the pitch, as they sought out the golden snitch.

But even this didn't seem like a good enough precaution. Draco was in a very foul mood, and as the game progressed, Harry noticed that some of the players and spectators alike began to get frustrated and angry. Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott seemed especially upset, and were practically hanging over the bleachers as they screamed at the players to pull together. Even Harry couldn't control his broom with as much as ease as he usually did, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"TIME!" called Vaisey, the Slytherin quidditch captain. Hooch blew the whistle, and Vaisey called a huddle.

"Slytherin scores and calls for a time out – typical behavior for that lot – and the score is 70-40 in favor of Slytherin," said Michael Corner, who'd taken position as quidditch commentator after the debacle that was Luna Lovegood last season.

Harry dropped down to talk to Ron.

"I don't know what's bloody wrong with me!" Ron howled as soon as Harry came into earshot. "I haven't played this poorly since Weasley Is Our King!" Ron growled, and Harry glanced surreptitiously at Draco. He'd broken out of the huddle and went to speak with Professor Snape in the teacher's box. Snape handed him something and Draco downed it. With any luck, it was a cheering draught, because this had turned into one of the saddest games Harry had ever witnessed. "And it's not just me, either! You're off – and so is everybody else! I'd say it's those Slytherins, but they're having just as bad a time of it."

"Cheer up, Ron," Harry unenthusiastically advised. "It'll be better in the second half."

Harry was somewhat right. Hooch's whistle blew, and the game resumed. For this half, people were cheering rather than cursing, and Ron seemed elated as he caught quaffle after quaffle. But Harry felt near to swooning, and he'd unwittingly found himself drifting closer and closer to where Draco circled. It must have been a cheering draught after all, but fat lot of good it did Harry.