The Standard You Walk Past

Chapter 8

Harry hadn't forgotten Draco's words from Saturday afternoon. There were people in the school who had attacked Draco, and Harry had witnessed an attack himself. Granted, that group of students were poised to attack two younger Slytherins, but they had turned on Draco fast.

I—I caught it! I won, Potter! Draco's gleeful thought filled Harry's mind, forcing him back into the present. Draco lifted the fluttering practice Snitch, and it glinted in the morning light, just like his hair.

Harry flew over to Draco, grinning back. "You'll have to beat me for every time I beat you." He held up his hand and pretended to count earnestly. "Now, there was that time during second year, and second year again, and—"

Draco narrowed his eyes. You did not let me win on purpose, did you?

"Merlin, no!" Harry retorted. He lunged, grabbing Draco's fist and prising the Snitch away. "I'm going to win so often so that you'll never catch up with me in your entire lifetime!"

Oh, you're on, Potter! Draco bumped his broom against Harry's. Release the Snitch.

Harry obliged, uncurling his fist. The Snitch immediately zoomed away from them. "Ready—"

Go! Draco cut him off. He shot past Harry, leaving Harry behind in his turbulent wake.

*

They played four games in total: two wins to Draco, two to Harry, and they collapsed on the pitch in utter exhaustion. Draco had the Snitch once again, smiling infectiously at Harry.

Harry grinned. "None of your losses have been made up. We better play again next week, don't you think?"

Draco rolled his eyes, but he continued smiling nonetheless. He held his arm up, pointing the Snitch to the sky and looking at it contemplatively. Harry, however, was looking at Draco, flushed and dishevelled.

A sudden clapping ruined the moment.

Draco's eyes went wide and he sat up abruptly, hand already reaching for his wand. Harry scrambled up less gracefully. Surprise shot through him.

Madam Hooch was approaching them, smiling. Behind her, on the stands, were a smattering of students. When had they come? What had they seen? Had any of them tried to hex Draco while they were still in the air?

"Very good games, boys!" Hooch enthused. "Beautiful flying, Mr. Malfoy, and top form as always, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked back at her, taken aback by the compliments. At the corner of his eye, he could see that Draco was surprised and uncertain.

"Thanks, Madam Hooch," Harry said awkwardly. "I hope we didn't go into some team's practice time, did we?"

Madam Hooch smiled affably. "Not at all. I'm surprised that Mr. Malfoy is not coaching the Slytherin team."

Tell her I don't have time.

Harry blinked. "Err, Draco doesn't have time. He...um, he wants to focus on his NEWTs."

Madam Hooch looked between Harry and Draco with surprise. "I understand," she said sympathetically. She headed off the pitch and Harry and Draco followed her, brooms in hand.

"If you do plan to have longer Seeker games though, you're welcome to book the pitch," Madam Hooch said, looking back at them.

Harry nodded.

"Why don't you return to the castle? You boys must be hungry after all that—and I believe breakfast is still running."

Harry shot Draco a look. "Yep, thanks, Madam Hooch."