Parseltongue Pandemonium - a Drarry fanfic

Chapter 4 - Origami

Draco was very concerned by how quickly living with Harry became normal. They went to their classes and ate their meals at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He and the Weasel weren't talking, so they mostly sat with Granger. They spent an awkward free period with Blaise and Pansy, talking about the weather and classes, while Pansy shot dirty looks at Harry.

Draco didn't miss his friends much, he had been getting very tired of the Slytherin crowd even before his transformation. If he didn't miss his old housemates, he certainly missed his house team. He was no longer allowed to play Seeker for Slytherin.

The third night after 'The Mishap', Harry got out of his armchair early, and began to pack up his homework. It was much too early to be going to bed, they had just come back from dinner, and Draco asked him where he was going.

"Quidditch practice," Harry said as if it was obvious.

Draco felt a twinge of jealousy. He stayed quiet until Harry had come back down the stairs in his Quidditch robes, his broom slung over his shoulder where Draco usually sat. "Can- can I come with you?" he muttered, staring at the book he was reading without reading a word.

"I guess," Harry said, frowning. "You can't steal our tactics, you most likely won't be able to play for the rest of the year anyway." He held out a hand, and Draco slithered over the textbook, and up Harry's muscular arm.

They got down to the pitch before the rest of the team, and Harry explained that he'd wanted to warm up before facing the team. "I bet some of them don't even think of me as a Gryffindor anymore," he told Draco sadly.

The creamy snake rolled his eyes. "People don't just forget what house you're in." He wasn't just talking about Harry, but the other boy was too distracted to notice.

He released his broom, and it hovered beside him at waist height. "Do you want to sit in the stands?" he asked Draco. "Or stay like this?" he gestured at his neck.

"And fall fifty feet the to the ground, when you knock me off the broomstick? No way!" Draco slid off down Harry's arm, and onto the broom, wrapping himself around it between the seat and the handle.

Harry nodded at him and threw his leg over his Firebolt behind Draco. He smiled, and took off, gripping the broom six inches above Draco's head. It felt amazing. Harry was a great flier. He enjoyed not having to steer, just relaxing into the broom, feeling the wind gliding over his smooth scales.

Harry had flown him out of the Room of Requirement the year before, but it had been much too hectic to calm down and appreciate how fun it was to fly while someone else did the work. Harry also had a better broom than Draco had ever had, and Draco audibly gasped when Harry did a full 180°.

It wasn't long before the rest of the team came out. They gave Draco some raised eyebrows but didn't mention it. They all got on their brooms and took to the air. Harry guided them through many different exercises, which, Draco had to admit, were quite clever. No wonder they always beat us, he thought, staring as Ginny Weasley practiced punting the Quaffle through the fifty-foot goal hoops.

The practice was done before Draco knew it. It was very peaceful up in the air. The team skidded to the ground, and traipsed into the changing rooms, mopping their faces and chugging assorted drinks. Draco was deposited on a wooden bench, where he sat patiently as the team changed back into their school robes.

Harry praised them all one more time, and they got up, filling out through the door, laughing and teasing. The mood was light and happy after a satisfying practice. Draco marveled at the way the team interacted. They were practically family, and treated each other as such. No one in Slytherin ever treated their fellows like that.