The Other Side

Chapter Twelve

Harry was resting on his bed in the Gryffindor dorm room, staring at the ceiling. He turned to the left side of the bed, then to the right. He couldn't get comfortable and sleep. He was turning in his bed, for what it felt like, hours. He needed to just do something.

He pushed the covers aside and got up, picked the jumper that he had thrown in the end of his bed before going to bed and dressed it also putting his shoes on, searching his trunk for the invisibility cloak. He rummaged through his clothes, and finally fished out the soft piece of fabric, with the marauder's map. He glanced around for a while, just to make sure that everyone was asleep. Getting out of the castle at night wasn't easy but with his recent and serious insomnia, Harry had mastered that skill.

Ron was snoring loudly, and Harry was tempted to use a silencing charm, but decided against it. He could hear soft whispers from Dean and Seamus' side of the bed, and they were probably awake, but didn't stop him. He slipped under the cloak and out of the common room.

The castle was quiet, and dark. He scanned the map for a moment, looking for Filch.

He knew exactly what he had to do to get to the Quidditch pitch, and he knew that it'd calm him down. He silently treaded away from the castle, keeping a constant check on the map.

Harry stopped by the Gryffindor changing rooms, got his broomstick and quickly moved to the Quidditch pitch. He took out the invisibility cloak and dropped at the edge of the pitch, with his wand and map in his pocket and the broomstick between his knees he was ready to fly.

Harry mounted his broom and kicked off, flying laps and allowing his brain to empty of all stress and worry and thoughts of anything. He looked down and saw a certain blond standing at the entrance to the pitch, broom in hand and looking directly at Harry, chuckling softly. That pale skin and almost white hair were unmistakable. "Malfoy?"

He'd avoided him for a few days, because he just didn't know how to approach Draco. He wanted to talk, to fix it, but he decided to play it safe.

The blond kicked off the ground, and circled around him, with a wolfish grin on his face. He raced around the pitch and hoisted himself even higher, steering straight towards him at an incredible speed that his broom could possibly muster. He felt the rush of wind as Draco came to a halt right beside him, their knees touching. "Hey Captain." Harry flinched and had to marvel for the millionth time that the reaction didn't hold the same vindication it used to. Instead of being pleased that he had hurt him, he was actually feeling terrible.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry mumbled.

"Ooh, language, Potter. You're in the presence of a school prefect, you know." Draco chuckled. "Did we not agree that you're NOT getting into trouble this year?"

Harry cursed under his breath, Malfoy wrinkled up his forehead and he detected a slight shake to his head. "We might've." Harry said.

"And?" Draco asked.

"I can't sleep." Harry explained hesitantly. "Fancy a game?"

"With the wonder boy?" He mocked with glee. "I mean, since you rely on your broom-

"Shut up," Harry laughed. "I'm an excellent seeker, and I don't rely on my broom."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, of course you don't," He said, sarcastically. "It just happens to be the fastest broom there is."

"You did buy your way in, Malfoy. Also-

"That's cold, Potter" Draco interrupted. "I surrender."

Harry laughed, as he fished out a small golden ball from his pocket. It fluttered open, resting impatiently against Harry's palm.

"Capture the snitch?" He asked, while Malfoy scowled. "You could try, and win probably."