Dear Mr. Potter

Chapter Forty-One

Saturday dawned bright and clear. The sun was warm, the sky was blue and the Quidditch fans were excited. Harry and Draco made their way out towards the field. A hand grabbed his arm as Harry turned to join his friends in the stands.

"Best not be cheering for the other side, Potter," Draco said with narrow eyes. Harry smiled and pulled his arm away.

"You are the other side, Malfoy," he quipped.

"Don't cheer for me, then. But you also won't root for the Cravenclaws, either."

"Don't you know name calling is infantile, Draco?" Harry shot off as he walked away with a smug smile.

"I'll be watching you!" Draco called after him.

"And that's why you'll probably lose!" Harry called back. He tossed off a wave and headed for the Gryffindor stands. He climbed up and spotted his friends toward the front waving like mad at him.

"Hey, Harry! Got you a great seat!" Ron said excitedly.

"Great! Thanks!" Harry squeezed past his housemates and settled between Ron and Neville. Hermione looked around Ron and gave Harry an appraising look.

"How are you feeling, Harry? You look to be in a great mood?" she asked.

"I'm fine. And why wouldn't I be in a great mood? I'm about to watch Draco eat pitch!" A round of laughter followed his comment.

"Have you found anything missing yet?" she asked, with a narrowed eye.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, no. But I forgot to ask Draco, so you never know." Harry quickly turned to Neville and began discussing the newest Herbology assignment.

Soon the roar of the crowd brought Harry's attention down to the field. Madame Hooch was stepping out onto the pitch toward the chest that housed the quaffle, snitch, and bludgers. Suddenly, the two teams flew out onto the field and the crowd roared again. Harry immediately zeroed in on a head of white blond hair. Draco came flying by and smirked. Harry smiled back and then began pantomiming drinking from a cup with his pinky finger out in reference to a familiar Quidditch taunt:

"Oh your seeker can not see.
(clap, clap)
Might as well stop
For a spot of tea."

Draco narrowed his eyes and nodded his head, taking on the challenge. Then he flew off to take his position in the start of game formation. A shrill whistle and the game began. The Ravenclaws were a crafty bunch and had learned never to play by the book. Which made them a perfect adversary for the Slytherins. Draco had said that playing Ravenclaw made you have to think. They could catch a cheat maneuver before it had even been brought to fruition. Gryffindors, Draco had explained, were too image conscience to play dirty but what they lacked in brain they made up for in courage. Harry hadn't known what to think about that backwards compliment, but he hadn't had much chance to say anything because Draco had increased his thrusts at that moment and Harry's thoughts had turned to mush.

"Ten points to Slytherin!"

Harry's thoughts were brought back to the present and he watched as the Slytherin chasers punched the air in victory. Harry searched the skies until he focused on Draco. The Slytherin seeker was making large figure eight patterns as he sought the little gold flash and kept an experienced eye on the game. Suddenly he plunged down for a heart stopping second and narrowly missed being knocked off his broom by a bludger.

"Harry! Sit down! He's fine," Ron said and grabbed Harry's cloak to pull him back to his seat. "You're making a scene, for crying out loud."

Harry sat and looked around him to see a lot of Gryffindors' eyes conspicuously turned away. He cleared his throat, blushed, and resumed watching the game.