Scarhead (A Drarry Fic)

Chapter Twenty-Drapple

Time passed as normal until a few days before the Christmas holiday, Harry and Draco sneaking into the astronomy tower every night, classes, and even Quidditch practice, although this was extremely stressful for Harry who was made the captain at the beginning of the year. It was the first Quidditch match of the year, against Slytherin, and Harry was determined to beat Draco's overconfident ass. He told his team his goal when in the locker rooms before the match. They just rolled their eyes and asked him to shut up about Draco.

"Okay Ron, I need you to try your hardest to keep the Quaffle out"

"Yeah, I know. You want to beat Malfoy. I get it. Stop reminding me, I know how to play Quidditch"

"Sorry I just-"

"Yeah, you just want to beat Malfoy,"

"He has a name you know."

"To me, he will always be Malfoy. Nothing more."

"What about when he takes my last name."

Ron stared wide-eyed at him and he turned beet-red. He had not realized what he had just said. " Harry! You can't...you can't already be thinking about that."

Harry turned away from him. Did he really want to spend his whole life with Draco? Of course, he did, but farther in the future. So many things could happen, what if they fought and grew apart? What if Draco did not want to get married? What if he really was a death eater? Harry cringed at the last one. It had been a long time since he had brought that up with himself. Besides its not like he would want to get rid of his last name, he would want Harry to be a Malfoy.

The team began to file out of the locker rooms out onto the pitch, the Gryffindor cheered as the strode to the center. As Harry looked over the Slytherin team he noticed that Draco was not there. He nudged Ron and pointed this out. He just shrugged and said "big deal".

He pushed past him and went up to the Slytherin captain, "where is Draco?" He demanded.

"He called in sick."

"Mount your brooms, please." he heard. Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand. Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. He kept thinking about Draco, he would never miss a chance to show off or to play Quidditch. He must have been really sick to take this game off. But he had been fine the night before. Harry told himself to focus on the game, he could think about Draco later. He flew around the pitch looking for the golden ball, dodging Bulger's every so often. 

He needed to win this game quickly so he could go and see Draco, it must be mighty terrible if he was taking off a Quidditch match for it. Patrolling the sky with great fortitude, he soon had the snitch in his view. He flew with immense speed toward the small golden ball, not taking his eyes off of it.

"Harry Potter has spotted the snitch!" he heard the commentator yell. The Slytherin seeker had turned around and was now racing after him, an ugly sneer on his face as he tried to make his broom go faster. The ball took a sharp right and Harry turned with the same amount of agility, sliding a bit off the edge of his broom. His arm shook as he reached out in front of him for the snitch, he was just a few finger lengths away. He took both hands off his broom trying to gain a longer arm length. The ball stopped abruptly which caused Harry to run into the ball. Hitting his chest with a great amount of force, he knew he was going to have a bruise.

He grabbed at the spot where the ball had hit him and cupped his hands around it. Feeling a considerable amount of satisfaction. The team met at the center of the pitch. Cheering Harry's name whilst the Slytherins glared in their direction, talking in low angry whispers.

"Gryffindor has won!" the commentator yelled throughout the stadium. The crowd cheered, apart from the Slytherin who booed. 

He quickly got across the field and back into the locker rooms. Pulling off his Quidditch uniform and putting back on his robes, he strode to the hospital wing. "Draco," He called as he entered the room.

From the other side, Madam Pomfrey let out a loud "shhh"

"Sorry, is there a Slytherin boy named Draco Malfoy in here?" he looked around the room but he did not seem to notice him.

"No, I'm sorry he is not here," she responded.

"Did he come by, you know, to pick up a potion for something?"

"No," she said shaking her head. She then turned away from him and kept folding the bed sheets, signaling that the conversation was over. 

He left the room feeling a bit discouraged. If he wasn't ill enough to go to the hospital wing then why had he not gone to the Quidditch match? Draco would never miss a match unless it was serious.

"Potter!" he heard from behind him. Turning quickly he faced a distressed looking Pansy, "have you seen Draco, he told me he was ill before we left for the match and I thought he stayed in the common room but he's not there and he's not in any of the other places where he normally is." she balled her hands into fists.

"No, I was just looking for him. I thought it must be pretty bad for him to miss the game but he isn't in the hospital wing nor has he even gone there today."  

She growled and stormed off in the opposite direction. Harry took the time to wander back up to the seventh floor, taking a longer route than usual. Passing along the seventh corridor, he took a moment to stare at the spot where the room of requirement was. It had been suggested that he continue the D.A meetings, but Hermione did not think it was necessary to since they now had a defense against the dark arts teacher who would actually teach them something. He sighed loudly at the memory of the meetings and advanced down the hall, instantaneous, From behind him he heard a door slam.

"Harry?" Draco's questioning voice rang through the hall. He turned. Draco stood in front of him clutching the wall where the door had been. "Didn't expect to see you here. How are you?" he held a brilliant green apple in his left hand.

"Draco? Were you in the room of requirement?"

"No"

"I'm not dumb Draco. Please don't lie to me."

"Yes. I just felt like I needed to get out of the common room for a bit." he brought the apple up to his mouth and took a bite. Spinning it lazily in between his thumb and middle finger.

"You missed the match Draco. Why?"

"I was feeling ill. Didn't they tell you? I asked them to." he tossed the apple high in the air so that it almost touched the ceiling, catching it gracefully when it came back down.

"You look fine to me."

"Well yes, I always look fine to you."

"Not what I meant."

"Yes well, It was worse this morning." he took another bite of the apple. "Care for a bite?" he asked offering him the apple. He shook his head.

"Draco, are you okay?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I be? Joie-de-vivre, potter."

"What the hell does that mean?" He snapped, suddenly annoyed at Draco's attitude towards the situation.

"The joy of being alive, if you would open a book sometime." he took Harry's hand, opening his fingers he placed the apple inside them and then closed his fingers around the apple. There was something off about his behaviour. Harry knew he would just keep avoiding his questions so he kept quiet. He would eventually get him to talk, at the right moment, he just had to wait. So he let him walk past him. He let him leave, thinking that he had escaped his questions and gotten away with whatever he was doing that he was trying so hard to hide. 

He would, however, do whatever it took to get the answer from him. He took a bite from the apple Draco had handed him, tasting the savory flavour of the fruit. I will find out what you're up to Draco, he thought, I will.