Accepted (Drarry/Pansmione/Linny)

Chapter Twenty Two - Draco

AN: I am SO SORRY. I cannot believe I haven't updated this since August. I've been meaning to get back to it for months, but for some reason I just couldn't write this chapter in a way that I liked. I really want to get back to at least semi-regular updating, but mental health + my overall lack of motivation might make that impossible. Enjoy this chapter anyway! If you're still here I love you

"It's not that hard," Draco argued.

"You've been doing this for years!" Harry huffed. He threw his broom down and sat in the grass. "I'm never going to be able to talk to the Snitch."

"Didn't you at the tryouts?"

"No. I just got lucky enough to see it."

Draco adjusted his grip on his broom. He didn't quite know what to say to stop Harry from giving up. Communicating with an enchanted object was a difficult form of magic for a lot of people, which was why professional Seekers were often the most admired members of their teams. It was probably wishful thinking that Harry would share the same knack for it as Draco. Hopefully, Draco's leg would be better enough by the next match so Harry wouldn't have to play and discourage himself even further. Draco really didn't like seeing Harry like this.

Oliver Wood came around the corner with the rest of the team, looking wildly distressed and muttering to himself.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked quietly, shutting down the way Draco noticed he did when someone else was upset. Harry always let someone else take priority over him, and it was stupid.

"I'll ask," Draco said. And then I'm coming right back to you, he added silently.

"Good luck."

Even in the short time that Harry had known Oliver, he had discovered how insane the boy was when it came to Quidditch. He was right to wish Draco luck. Oliver might bite his head off for daring to interrupt his internal rant - or at least make them all train until they passed out.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, leaving his broom with Harry and limping over to where Oliver had paused, his right arm tensed and lifted a bit. Had he been about to punch a hole in the stands? Something was really that wrong?

"Bloody schoolwork!" Oliver snapped, whipping around to glare Draco in the eyes. "We're down a Chaser because apparently the O.W.L.s are more important than winning the Quidditch Cup. We don't have time to hold more tryouts before the match, and we don't have any reserve Chasers because everyone in Gryffindor is shit on a broom!"

Oliver paused in his yelling and looked over to where Harry was still sulking in the grass.

"Your friend, Potter," he said, in a quiet, even tone - which was for some reason scarier than the yelling had been. "He's good on a broom. Can he throw?"

"Maybe?" Draco responded. He truthfully didn't know.

"Well, we know he's got good hand-eye coordination," Oliver reasoned. "It'll have to do. Potter!"

Harry looked up from his sulking, confused.

"Get over here!"

"What's up?" Harry asked when he got close enough. He shot Draco a concerned look, but Draco could only shrug.

"You're our new Chaser. A real one, not a reserve. I expect you to practice throwing and catching, alright? Katie and Angelina will help you."

The two girls looked between each other in concern, but they seemed to realize that Oliver was technically right about Harry being their best chance.

"Wait, but I've never - "

Draco kicked Harry with his good leg before he could finish his sentence. Harry shot him a panicked glare, but Oliver had already started talking again.