Please Be There If I Remember

Chapter Forty-Two: Catching

"This broom might be the worst thing I ever laid eyes on," Draco said bitterly, staring down at the chipped wood beneath his hand. "I'm going to die today, Harry. It's finally going to happen; this broom is going to be the death of me."

"Oh come on, Malfoy. Don't be a spoil-sport; you'll live. Let's go, I want to get up in the air—it's been ages since I was able to."

Harry's voice was tinged with excitement, and even the sight of the old, tattered brooms did nothing to lessen his evident eagerness. In fact, it had only seemed to increase once his hand had taken hold of the object, his eyes glinting dangerously at the small light from the moon.

Draco huffed but listened to him, swinging his leg over the small piece of wood.

"If I die by falling off this...thing, I'm blaming it on you," he warned before turning and shooting off into the sky, a grin plastering his face the second his feet left the ground.

It didn't take long for Harry to follow him, Draco hearing the sudden woosh behind him as he too lifted off the ground and soared into the sky. The wind was cold on his cheeks, and he knew that even with the previous warming charm he had cast, they would still be a chilled red once he got back down to the ground.

Draco whooped, speeding up on the broom and turning just like Ron had shown him in a dizzying spiral towards the earth. He pulled up earlier than he would have on his own broom, though, for the fact that the flimsy little thing was wobbling beneath him precariously, and as much as he had joked with Harry, he really didn't feel like dying from a large fall.

Harry was not far behind, watching Draco whirl around with a fond smile on his face. Once he got his balance under control, he flew up to him, not trying to hide his joy.

"This is going to be fun," he huffed out, breathing deeply after his little show. "You have the snitch?"

Harry smirked, taking out his wand, holding onto the broom with one hand as he cast with the other.

"Accio snitch."

A small orb of blinding gold zipped through the black sky, Harry reaching up and catching it with precision and accuracy that only a seeker could have.

That reminded Draco.

"Hey, Harry?"

He looked up at the words, face relaxed at the height they were in the air. "Ya?"

Draco chewed his bottom lip. "I heard someone say that you were the Gryffindor Seeker in that game a few weeks ago, but you weren't on the field that day." He hadn't asked a question, but it lingered behind his words all the same.

Harry tilted his head at something behind Draco like his thoughts were drifting into a memory. "Umbridge took away my flying privileges."

Harry hadn't even given Draco a chance to breathe. "She did what now?"

His anger for the women—somehow—managed to grow sharper every day. It was a miracle things hadn't started exploding.

"Don't worry—based on the other things she's done, things hardly compare anymore. It's just," Harry's face twisted up, "flying and quidditch was my only escape and she took that away. Forgive me if I am a little angry."

"Trust me. If I were you, I would not have been able to refrain from cursing her into oblivion and beyond."

Harry looked at him, smiling at Draco's not-so-subtle protectiveness.

"I'm sure the day will come. And if it's not me who does it, I'm sure the cursed DADA position might help it along a little bit more."

Draco, as much as he wanted to ask what that meant, had been sitting uncomfortably on his broom in the sky for much more than what was an acceptable amount of time and wanted to see Harry fly already.