Harry's POV

The quidditch match, surprisingly, went pretty well.

I knew Malfoy was a good player - I'd played against him loads of times - but he was better than I thought he'd be, especially after being out of the team for so long.

He was quick, and he knew what he was doing. I found myself stopping to watch him a few times, just admiring his form, and how perfectly he held the broom.

I'd realised early on that this was a good strategy; watching the other players rather than just searching for the snitch yourself. It meant less unexpected crashes, which had been an issue a number of times in the past.

I'd hit into Malfoy before, not long after we'd both joined the house teams. It was painful, and dangerous. I didn't fancy losing an eye, or the bones in my arm ever again, so I'd started to stick by this strategy above all others. Of course, it didn't always work, but more often than not it was pretty effective.

It was more difficult with less people, too. In practices there was less to watch, and in one on one matches it was better to keep an eye on the pitch as well.

I wondered if Malfoy knew what I was doing. His hands were tight on the broom handle, like he was scared of falling, and there was a red flush to his face which really only made his hair seem more luminous than usual. It was weird the things you noticed from watching others like this.

I looked away from Malfoy since he clearly had no idea where the snitch was, and instead inspected the pitch. The snitch had completely disappeared - which wasn't unusual at all. The first time I'd seen it released, I thought it was some kind of magic that actually made the snitch go invisible, but it turned out it was just very small and very fast.

There was a flitter of something green and platinum off to my left. I snapped my attention back to Malfoy just in time to see him dart forwards. After what? I scanned the air before him, all across the stadium, and then I saw it.

The snitch!

It was buzzing in a small, uneven circle some distance away from my opponent.

Now, the chase would really begin.

I swung my weight forwards and dove towards the Slytherin. The wind whistled in my ears, fleeing through my hair like it was trying to pry me from my broom. I pushed myself closer to the broom, and gritted my teeth against the wind. I needed to pick up speed if I was going to catch up with Malfoy. He really did have perfect form, it was more than admirable to see.

The first time I'd seen him on the Slytherin team, with the new brooms and that shit-eating smirk of his, I hadn't realised that he was pretty good at the sport. It was like he'd bought himself a place in the team, rather than earned it himself.

Now, I had evidence that he was maybe a worthy opponent.

The snitch was quickly growing in size, glimmering in the sunlight and feinting left and right in various attempts to throw us off.

Malfoy was a blur to me now, a figure in the background. He was close by, but he wasn't close enough. The wind in my ears sharpened my focus, blurred my vision.

One downside of wearing glasses was that when they didn't do their job right, I couldn't see at all. That was a problem sometimes in quidditch, because of rain or dirt or steam. This was one of those times, and so for the next few seconds, I was working pretty much blind, only just able to see that jerking golden sphere. I had to trust my instincts. There was no way I could let Malfoy beat me here.

I took my right hand off of the broom, and in one swift movement, reached forwards, and closed my fist on the air where the snitch had been.

Confusion settled in my mind after a second or two as I started to slow down, still pretty much blinded.

I'd caught something, but it wasn't the snitch, and it was holding me as well.

It was only when I'd slowed down a bit more and wiped my glasses quickly on my robes that common sense caught up with me.

I looked at my hand, where the snitch should've been, and realised what had happened.

It was Malfoy. I'd caught Malfoy's hand.

Still shocked, I looked up at his face, to see that he was looking at me like I was a loaded gun. What was he expecting to happen? Did he expect me to attack him or something?

I looked down at our interlocked hands again, then back up at him. A slight smile played on my lips. Any annoyance I'd expected to feel had faded away. This situation was too ridiculous for it to be anything other than funny. I gave his hand a slight squeeze, and then let go, grinning at him despite the fact I'd just lost a point. "Looks like the first match goes to you then, Malfoy. Don't bet on beginner's luck winning you the next one," I teased.

Our brooms were less than a foot apart, and so I moved a bit further away just in case there was a gust of wind or something. We were a couple dozen feet above the ground, and the last thing I wanted was to break a leg this early in the year. Or to have to haul Malfoy to the hospital wing.

Something told me he wouldn't appreciate that much either anyway.

He opened his hand, looked down at the snitch, and then, for a second, an a genuine smile showed itself on his face. It was gone just as fast, but there was no way I'd imagined it.

He looked good when he smiled, more alive than haunted like he'd seemed recently. I wanted to see it again, I wanted to be the cause of it again.

'Shut up, Harry'

A cocky smirk had replaced Malfoy's smile, and he closed his hand around the snitch once again. In just a few seconds more, his demeanour recovered too. It was a strange thing to watch him change from I'll at ease to what I knew as A Malfoy. It was just like he was putting on a costume.

"I should think so, Potter. If only you'd been a second faster, maybe you'd have had a hair of a chance at success. We will see whether beginner's luck is to blame or not." His smirk quivered again, nearly widening to a smile, but instead he tossed the snitch in front of him, and before I could say another word, he shot across the pitch.

I hadn't expected any less than a scathing reply like that. My scowling response had been ready to go even before he'd finished speaking.

I stared after him again, telling myself I was giving him a head start. I wasn't staring at his arse; why would I do that? I tilted my broom to the left and started to search for the snitch for the second time. This time, I'd win the match.

He couldn't win twice in a row. The pratt was full of himself as it was - the late thing he needed was more to boast about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just after three, I headed out of the pitches with Malfoy a few feet away to my right.

As it had happened, we'd lost count of who had how many points after a while. We'd brought in two bludgers at one point, but that had only ended with me being flung from my broom since they were all but unchecked, and so we'd scrapped that idea and settled for playing seeker v seeker.

The snide comments, the thrill of being back on the pitch, the fact that it was Malfoy I was up against, all of that made the time fly. I hadn't even realised how hungry I was till I'd set foot on the ground again.

I'd been plastered in sweat, and so had Malfoy, so we'd headed straight to the showers to freshen up a bit, and now we were walking back towards the school building.

Malfoy had become a lot less closed off over the course of the games, it made me wonder if maybe he really had been serious about agreeing to be friends again. I hoped so. There was something about him that made me want to see him more, had me enjoying spending time with him.

I suppose it was because we'd been enemies for so long. I'd known him for years, and yet I'd never really had the chance to get to know him.

We talked idly about the game as we walked. It was the usual stuff; insults and boasting. Every-time we spoke, I was amazed by how nice the familiarity was. One thing that had just never changed, the insults.

I turned to face him once we'd made it back to the hallways. Neither of us had classes, and I hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, so I decided to make him an offer, half expecting him to refuse it.

"Want to join me for lunch? They'll still be serving food in the hall," I asked, unsure how he'd actually respond.

Malfoy's analytical grey eyes narrowed. He thought it over for a second or two, and then they narrowed some more. "I'd rather not, Potter. I have some catching up to do from last year. Revision. I will see you later, if that mop on your head doesn't weigh you down too much to reach the dorms." He started to walk away, broom held tightly in his left hand. His knuckles were white on the handle, but then he was pale. Then, he stopped, and half turned around, fixing me with that cold gaze of his. "I had fun, Potter. You're not as uselessly uncoordinated as you would appear." He continued away.

"Alright, see you then," I replied, only following him with my eyes for a second. I headed towards the Great Hall, thinking over that.

What was that final comment about? Was that a compliment? It definitely wasn't an insult - not completely, anyway. From Malfoy, That was as much a compliment as any other. Maybe I was getting through to him more than I'd figured.

It was strange how he'd seemed to consider my offer before rejecting it. What could've stopped him? Maybe I was expecting too much. If I'd had Voldemort living in my house for a year, I probably wouldn't be overly ready to be social either.

We'd all been through a lot, and there was no doubt in my mind that Malfoy had too. Maybe there was more than I knew, maybe more had happened in that Manor than anyone out with it had been aware of.

"Harry! Where you been? Was trying to find you earlier, me and 'Mione were going to head down to Hogsmeade," Ron appeared from a staircase at my side, startling me even though after knowing him for six years, I should've been used to his  random appearances.

"Sorry mate, I was at the pitches with Malfoy," I replied, seeing his face instantly wrinkle with distaste.

"Really? All afternoon? Hope you didn't let the smarmy prick win. How's dorming with him anyway?"

I laughed for a beat at that, "'Course I didn't! He's not that bad though, he won the first match." What was dorming with Malfoy like? It was difficult to describe. "It's not so bad either, surprisingly. He's still an annoying git, but he's not said much so far. That was kinda why I got him to play a couple of games,"

"Huh. Always woulda figured he slept in a coffin or something," Ron remarked, shaking his head at the thought of Malfoy. I doubted he'd ever get over the deep rooted hatred he had for the other pure blood family. I couldn't really blame him - Malfoy did deserve his hatred after what he'd said to him and Hermione. And, I suppose, to me as well.

"What were you saying about Hogsmeade, anyway? You went with Hermione?" The hall was still alive with the voices of hundreds of people. The tables were being used for games and studying, and in a few instances for lunch, but most people had came and left hours ago.

"What? Oh, yeah. We were gonna go, but we couldn't find you, so Neville took us to see his plant collection in the greenhouse. Wasn't as bad as you'd think. One of them breathes fire," he replied, holding his hand up so I could see the reddened patch of skin on the back of his index finger. "Tried to eat my hand too,"

I found myself laughing again at the image of that. Me and Ron sat down closer to the door, where it was quieter, so we could hear each other talk more easily.

There was a plate of sandwiches on the table, and so I helped myself to a couple, allowing my mind to wonder - not for the first time - to a certain blond Slytherin as I settled into the atmosphere of the Great Hall once again.

🏳️‍🌈Happy pride!! 🏳️‍🌈

That's right people! Nearly two whole years later, Chapter 15 is up and running!

Since it's been so long, if any of you have any suggestions for how you think the next few chapters should go, drop them in the comments!