Expectant || Drarry

13

Harry is pushing the Harpies through their third set of cross-crunches when he notices the lone figure sitting in the deserted stands on the far end of the stadium, the glint of platinum-blond hair unmistakable. Despite the tension that's been building all day in the pit of his stomach, Harry grins broadly.

"Alright, take five and then I'm timing you lot for ten goals," Harry says and gets much groaning in response. "If it takes you any longer than twenty minutes, I'll have all of you flying laps until midnight." He chortles and catches the water bottle that Ginny chucks at him with a scowl from where she's lying spread-eagled on the wet, manicured grass. "Just for that, you're playing defense," he tells her, throwing the bottle back at her. It nearly hits her in the stomach and she squawks, rolling over as she hits the bottle away like one would at volleyball. "Stretch; I'll be right back."

He grabs up his own bottle of water and drains it in one gulp before he jogs lightly towards Malfoy, the ground soft from the rains earlier, the air cool and dense with moisture. It takes Harry a practiced burst of control not to sprint towards the stands at full speed like a maniac but it wouldn't do to startle him and everyone else present — as it is, his feet seem to barely hit the ground but by the time he reaches the stands, he's trembling with the pent up energy his body is demanding he spend.

Malfoy sits with his back very straight, hands clasped in his lap. He's bundled up in a cloak, his hair swept into a tight knot behind his head and he barely returns Harry's smile, seeming preoccupied as he watches the Harpies over Harry's shoulder.

"This is a pleasant surprise," Harry says warmly, taking off his specs and lifting his t-shirt to wipe the sweat and dirt off his face. Malfoy's eyes are instantly raking up his exposed skin, expression still rather empty but gaze dark and hungry. "You done ogling?" Harry teases and laughs when Malfoy's cheeks darken further. "I didn't think you'd come."

"You've been asking me to come and watch you train for over a week now," Malfoy drawls.

Harry flings himself beside him, expecting him to grimace and pointedly pull away and claim he reeks, but Malfoy just turns in place to regard him closely, remaining pressed close. "I never thought you'd actually come, though," Harry says quietly, still smiling at him. "I've been inviting you to the Burrow for months now; you never come."

Now Malfoy grimaces. "Two completely different kinds of invitations, Potter," he says sourly. "I'm not very inclined to come and be poisoned at Weasley's ancestral dump."

"None of the Weasleys are ever going to harm you, Malfoy," Harry says frowning as he rolls his eyes.

"Not even Ginevra?" Malfoy instantly shoots back, narrowing his eyes at the cluster of loudly cackling women in the middle of the enormous, oval field.

"Why would Ginny want to poison you?" Harry asks calmly, reaching over to gently buff a knuckle across his soft cheek. Malfoy just stares flatly at him like he's an imbecile. "Malfoy, she and I dated ten years ago," Harry says with a sigh, clenching his hands as another bout of tremors surge through him.

Malfoy just huffs derisively and fastidiously adjusts his cloak to cover himself more thoroughly. "As if I give a damn," he mutters, twitching out the hem and draping it over his lap.

"Can you take it easy with the cloak?" Harry snaps irritably. "You're wearing robes, and anyway, nobody's going to be able to see your bump from way over there!" Harry gestures wildly across the field. "Just cast a Cushioning Charm and sit comfortably, for heaven's sake. I'll be done in about half an hour and then we can go home." He stands up and stomps down the stands, shaking his head vigorously to throw off the familiar, restless buzzing that fills it.