Drarry - It Was All Just A Game (REWRITE - CLEAN VERSION)

CHAPTER 17 - QUIDDITCH

A/N: FYI, this scene mirrors the one from the books, not the movies

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The second he walked back to the Common Room after their date, Harry regretted not having more fun with Draco and enjoying the rivalry of the upcoming match. He regretted every single bad date as soon as he left, guilt consuming him. Draco didn't deserve it. But Harry just couldn't be happy right now. Not with everything going on.

Things would be easier if he were just alone.

Getting ready for the match, however, Harry tried to shake it off. Harry had never played against his boyfriend as he was his boyfriend. As enemies, Harry would admit, playing Draco was actually pretty cool; Draco was a challenge, and the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry was fun to lean into. It was also fun to watch him lose.

But now, they were boyfriends, and Harry wanted Draco to win. Not this match, but all the other matches. This match was Harry's. And Ron's, who was more nervous to play his first match than when they faced a three-headed dog in First Year.

As they floated into position, Harry caught Draco's eye across the packed stadium, which was decorated in shades of green and red. Seeing it and seeing Draco gave him a little joy, but also a sadness and anger in him because he knew he didn't feel as joyful as he should have felt. And any joy he felt took well over more effort than it did before. It was like drowning and reaching the surface, only to be sucked down again before taking a full breath.

They flew to a ready position, Draco directly across from Harry, hundreds of feet in the air.

Harry gave the smallest wink to him, but Draco's face didn't change at all. In fact, there was no hint of anything other than malice and anger. Just like in the beginning of term.

He tried not to read past that; it was just the game.

He looked around, and the thought of looking into the crowd to find a hideous shade of pink made him sick to his stomach.

"We're going to kick your arse," George Weasley shouted from behind Harry.

"Mudblood lovers," Goyle called back.

"Oi, easy," Draco snapped back to him, but before he could say anything else, the whistle blew and everyone flew away from starting positions.

Harry dashed off, and so did Draco. The teams flew and dove in a circus of coordinated moves, throwing quaffles, dodging bludgers, and both aiming and avoiding each other.

It wasn't too long before Slytherin scored several times. Across the way, Ron's face fell.

As Harry flew by the Minister's box, he noticed a white blond hair that mirrored Draco's, and a face of arrogance that held cold, silver eyes.

Lucius wore dark green, luxurious robes and sat next to other ministry-looking officials. Oh no.

Because if Draco lost, his father would probably scream at him. And if Harry lost, his team would hate him more. Quidditch and Draco were the only things, besides Ron and Hermione, that he had. And Ron was on the Quidditch team, so who's to say that would remain if this went wrong.

"So concentrated, Potter?" Draco had followed him. "Would be a shame if someone were to distract you." He smirked. Harry just rolled his eyes in response.

"Another score for Slytherin!" The announcement echoed throughout the stadium after Ron missed another quaffle.

"Come on, Ron." Harry muttered under his breath. But the cheers weren't normal coming from the green side of the stadium. He could hear, "Weasley is our king! He always lets the quaffle in!"