#his wings fluttered when he was excited in season 3 he'd REALLY flutter around his conjunx

[nami-writes]

Seek, And Ye Shall Find - Harry Potter

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snakes and ladders.

He goes up to the Astronomy Tower a few more times after that but either he misses Malfoy every single time, or Malfoy has just stopped going up there after Harry invaded his space. Fair, he supposes. He doesn’t even know why he’s seeking him out.

Instead, he starts visiting the Quidditch pitch. Between classes, after school, and late at night, he brings his broom and the Snitch Dumbledore left for him two years ago and he throws it up in the air to chase until he catches it. The habit makes him late to class more often than not, but it's worth it to him— it gets him focused, gets his heart pumping, and he can miss a little bit of class to hone his skills until the Quidditch season begins for the year.

Sometimes, during the day, people join in to practice or just to have a little fun. But at night, he partakes in it alone. He likes it either way.

Even if he does sometimes wish he had company.

—

The wind presses hard against his face as he flies through the hoops in the sky, eyes locked on the Snitch as it darts in and out of them. Just as he's catching up to it, it stutters, falls back behind him, and he has to spin back around to follow it as it speeds away towards the edge of the pitch. It curves out of sight behind the Hufflepuff stand and he stations himself on the other side to anticipate its reappearance, but it never shows.

Instead, a moonlit haze of shadowed green rises with a raised fist, fluttering metal wings fighting to escape its grasp.

“Verse me,” Malfoy says.

Harry stares, dumbfounded. “What? How? Quidditch teams are supposed to be seven players.”

“You’re a Gryffindor. You're supposed to be stubborn,” he responds simply. “Figure it out.”

Stubborn isn't quite how he'd put it, but Malfoy takes off without another word and Harry snaps back into action. He should ask questions, but he doesn't; he just wants to play, Malfoy or not, and he doubts Malfoy wants to explain himself either.

Malfoy doesn't let go of the Snitch as he flies so Harry gathers that he wants him to take it from him; a game of Capture the Flag. Suddenly, it becomes less about practice and more about proving that he's still better than Malfoy. He doesn't care how it might piss him off.

They dodge and weave in and out of the hoops on alternating sides, Harry on the left when Malfoy is on the right and then swapping as Harry goes in to grab the Snitch and Malfoy dips out of the way. He takes them low to the ground, so low Harry feels the grass brush against the soles of his shoes, and dangerously close to the stands when Malfoy dashes through the open fronts where people would typically sit. He goes around the entire field and Harry diverges from the path to try and cut him off further down, only to miss so narrowly he can feel Malfoy’s windstream pass him as he whips around in a sharp turn and escapes to his rear. Then he turns and follows so quickly his head spins, and yet he’s never had so much fun playing Quidditch before in his life. He forgot that Malfoy really was good at Quidditch, whether he bribed his way onto the team or not. He never really needed the bribe in the first place.

They're out of bounds now, heading for the top of the Astronomy Tower, and he buzzes with excitement because this means they aren't following traditional Quidditch rules. In proper Quidditch, he can't grab Malfoy or his broom and he can't use magic. But Malfoy isn't letting go of that Snitch unless Harry makes him. He needs to make physical or magical contact one way or another.

A jinx or a hex might be too foul a play. And he doesn't want to knock Malfoy off his broom at this height— they must be hundreds, maybe even approaching a thousand meters into the air, and he doubts Malfoy would like to risk falling that far.

But Harry wouldn’t mind.

He predicts the peak of Malfoy’s ascent, where he levels out at the top of the tower, and he drops down with him just half a second before he does. The distance between them closes, neck and neck as they barrel towards the ground at twin speeds, and Harry grabs Malfoy’s left arm with one hand to reach for his right with the other. In a last ditch effort, unable to fly any faster, Malfoy’s right hand deactivates the Snitch and catapults it down at the ground.

Harry lets go, crouches on his broom, flips upside-down, and kicks himself off.

Hand outstretched, he glances behind him to see Malfoy’s horrified face, then looks back down where the gleaming gold seems to grow bigger with the ground. Eyes locked onto it, he prays— come on, come on…

Solid metal collides with his palm with a soft thunk. He whoops with joy and a childish giddy excitement— and then remembers he's plummeting a thousand meters down at the very hard, very solid, very deadly ground.

Oh, fuck.

“Malfoy!” he yells in a panic, turning around in midair, and it's clear Malfoy already understands the immediate danger Harry has stupidly put himself in.

There's no time for him to think. Harry’s cry offers no solutions but Malfoy leaps from his Nimbus to Harry’s free-falling Firebolt beside him and leans as far down as he can, chest to the broomstick, face set with determination. He positions himself directly above him and the wind Harry’s body parts as he falls makes room for Malfoy. Slowly, gradually, he gains speed and reaches out. “Grab on!”

He stretches both hands towards Malfoy, trying not to think about the ground rapidly coming up at him, trying to focus on the lifeline that is Malfoy’s hand. The wind on either side of him makes his arms shaky and uncoordinated but when their fingertips brush, he grabs the end of Malfoy’s finger and uses it to pull himself up and cling to his wrist for dear life. The entrance to Hogwarts is going to rise in the corner of his eye any second now and he doesn't know how Malfoy is going to slow their combined weight down enough to not make a bloody human soup of them both.

Malfoy rears back hard, fingers clamped around Harry’s wrist hard enough to leave bruises, and Harry pulls his legs up as he prepares to hit the ground.

It’s just enough deceleration for Malfoy’s Nimbus to catch up underneath Harry. His hands are left feeling empty as Malfoy lets him go but he’s quick to use them to yank up the front of the broom, almost hearing the screeching of a car’s braking tires as he pulls back. His heels hit the dirt at an angle but he levels out just enough for them to drag along the ground instead, and not a single body part of his shatters. Malfoy never even touches the ground.

“Now, that,” Harry grins breathlessly, dry of sweat only because of the wind, “is what I would call Gryffindor bravery.”

Malfoy, on the contrary, isn't so happy. “You bloody fucking stupid git! You could’ve died! I could’ve died! Fucking hell, Potter, you bloody Gryffindors will be the death of me!”

But Harry isn’t going to let a sore loser like Malfoy spoil his fun. “Oh, sod off. You’re just mad because I caught the—”

…Snitch, which is no longer in his hand.

He looks up with disbelief— maybe he dropped it in his panic?— to find Malfoy’s hatred melting away into the tiniest of smug smiles. He holds up his hand, the same hand Harry had clung to, and opens it to reveal the gleaming Golden Snitch inside.

“Not Gryffindor bravery,” he says, “Slytherin cunning.”

Harry stares, mouth agape, absolutely astounded at the brilliant play Malfoy just made, and then they both break into laughter.

It's the most carefree he's felt since… ever, really.

#hp #hp fanfic #fanfic #writing #hp harry #hp draco #love this chapter title #check tags under any chapter to see if it has a deeper meaning #bc i love infodumping about my chapter titles