Beautiful World ~ 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀

Chapter 7

It was dusk, and the setting sun offered only a very slight respite from the intense heat. But Harry was in a better mood than he could remember being in days, and he nervously approached the Quidditch pitch where the game of football was still going strong.

"Can I play?" he asked quietly, unheard over the laughter and shouting.

It was Ron who noticed him. "Harry!" he cried. "Come and play! You can be Keeper for my side, Neville is rubbish!"

"Oi! I'm not!" Neville shouted.

"Goalie," Dean yelled.

"Umm, sorry, Nev, old boy," Seamus called apologetically. "But you wanted a chance to kick the ball and not have it kicked at you anyway, didn't you? This is your chance! You can be a Beater!"

"Right back," Dean corrected in an exasperated tone. He was grinning from ear to ear, however, and Harry felt himself relax into the easy shallowness of the entire exchange. This was simple, easy. He knew the rules to football of course, and that made this entire thing... somewhat predictable. Safe.

He took his post as goalie and lost himself in the monotony of only having to move when the ball came at him. By far a better Seeker than a goaltender, Harry still managed to stop a few of the shots.

His game grew steadily worse, however, when he noticed someone flying a short distance away. Draco Malfoy. Harry's first instinct was to glance around for potential threats, having come to associate Draco's presence with near-death experiences. There was nothing, however, besides the warm breeze and the Quidditch pitch of football players.

A coincidence, then. It was a novelty and Harry found himself watching Draco fly more often than he watched the ball. The other boy was circling rather aimlessly, his newly polished broomstick shining in the bright twilight. Flying out of boredom, probably, or wanting to feel the wind moving against him in an attempt to escape the heat.

"Oi! Harry!"

He looked up at Ron's shout in time to see the football kicked by Seamus coming right for him. "Shit," he mumbled, managing to catch it and kick it to Neville, who squealed in delight and quickly lost it to a Hufflepuff on the other team. With an eerie war cry, Ron launched himself at the ball and took it, kicking it down the field, and Harry let his eyes wander back to Draco, still making lazy loops over the lake.

***

Draco had heard of football of course. Once or twice. He wasn't familiar enough with the game, however, to recognize it, and it was pure curiosity that drew him closer to the strange game taking place on the Quidditch pitch. He didn't understand; it looked like a bunch of random players running around the field, chasing a single ball. Odd, there being only one ball and all. It seemed terribly simple but beyond him all at the same time.

Biting his lip and flying closer, Draco frowned. It made no sense. Who in their right mind would play a game that simple instead of Quidditch? Then again, Dean was leading the game and he was a Mudblood, wasn't he? That meant it could be a Muggle game and Muggles were notoriously simpleminded.

He circled lower, trying to see any sort of strategy or pattern in the game below. Longbottom kicked the ball almost randomly and it shot into a net on one end of the field. What happened then so revolted Draco that he almost flew away right then. Lifting his arms, Longbottom shrieked and spun about, flailing his arms and crowing like a rooster.

It was that distraction that nearly cost Draco his life. He was staring in horror at Longbottom when the Keeper or whatever dropkicked the ball and it came at him fast, hitting him in the side of the head and knocking him off his broom.