Icicle Fingers (Drarry)

Chapter 14

(Lmao this chapter is dogshit)

•Harry•

"We're not playing Slytherin anymore." was the opener to Gryffindor's final remaining quidditch practice before the first match. Which was avidly supervised by Madame Hooch as ordered by Professor McGonagall. "They changed it to Hufflepuff last second. Something about their seeker still being injured." Oliver Wood's voice was somewhat lacklustre, and Harry could tell he was holding onto his usual enthusiasm by a thread.

"What!?" the red and gold clad horde, Harry included, chorused.

A steady drip of complaints began to ooze out over the pitch, his own being; "There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm! He's got those dumb bandages off and everything! Besides, I was fine just a few days after growing my bones back!"

"Don't worry everyone! This is probably more of a blessing than you lot realise!" the mellow voice of Fred Weasley came from somewhere behind Harry, a slender arm suddenly loosely wrapped around his shoulders. "We beat Hufflepuff in basically two seconds last year! We'll do fine. Besides, the world did us all a favour by making sure we avoid that egoistic prat!"

"Now Fred, Hufflepuff's got a completely different approach this year! Their captain and seeker Cedric Diggory has made quite a few changes to-"

"Yeah, yeah we get it Oliver. We'll take Hufflepuff and that dunce Diggory very seriously." George said, idly swinging his beater's bat a few feet away.

"Dead seriously!" Fred added. Harry couldn't see his face, but knew he was grinning mischievously as always.

"Is there anything specific Diggory has changed with the Hufflepuff team?" Katie Bell interjected. "I mean, last time we played Hufflepuff Harry caught the Snitch in under ten minutes. He can't have made the team that much more skilled right?"

"Even if the Hufflepuff team is weaker than I've heard it is, Diggory is an excellent seeker! And I'm sure they'll be at least twice as good as last time! " Oliver Wood's grew uneasy again, his hands waving around with a mind of their own. "Heavens I was worried you'd be this lax! We can't lose concentration, we must win this match!"

***

Friday had arrived at the foot of Harry's bed, Saturday slightly visible through the tumultuous rain outside the glass windows of the Gryffindor common room. Harry prayed that it would stop soon, as the wind looked fierce enough to tear the flesh off of his bones. Trees with even the thickest of branches looked like cooked spinach as they were flattened by it. Some smaller ones already uprooted from the ground, flopping around like giant, animate broomsticks. All in all, not great quidditch weather.

The frost of the cold day in mid-autumn seemed to melt off of him whenever he saw that arrogant dingbat Malfoy. He felt his stomach acid be set aflame as that blond head turned to face him in the corridor. The contempt dancing in those cold eyes was enough for an incredible urge to wring the taller boy's neck to echo several times within Harry's head.

"Oh, if only my arm were a little bit better. I would love to fly during these conditions, I really do love rain." the sarcasm in Malfoy's words was evident, and Harry felt his hands fold into fists. Emulating how hard they would squeeze around the sides of the Slytherin's throat if given the chance.

•Draco•

⚠️(rest of chapter)

He wasn't exactly lying, Draco convinced himself. He did love the rain, though maybe not in this quantity.

He wasn't exactly provoking Potter on purpose, he told himself. He had been looking forward to the match that Saturday. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore, the damn Gryffindor, maybe Slytherin could've won this time, as they were in surprisingly good shape.