No matter how many times Harry tried to explain that it made no difference if Draco watched the team practices or was on the other side of the school, the fact that his lover still cheered for Slytherin at matches made the Gryffindor team nervous if he stayed around the pitch. The fact that Harry and Draco talked tactics all the time, often while he coached his house team, did not seem to have factored in to his house mates' mental attitude. Hence when Gryffindor practiced, Draco usually made himself scarce.
Harry was sitting on the Firebolt, which Draco had picked up in his sixth year, above the game that the main house team and the reserve team were playing, watching for any obvious mistakes. To some it might have seemed odd that Harry was sitting on a borrowed broom while the Gryffindor seeker used his, but in Harry's mixed up world it made perfect sense.
[Ashfield is really beginning to play well,] Harry commented to his soulmate thoughtfully, [next year he'll make a good beater.]
[You can train even the slowest dog to do tricks eventually,] Draco replied dryly.
Draco had not been in a good mood all day and it was showing in his acid tongue. Being friends with Hermione for six years Harry was well aware that girls had days of the month when you just smiled and kept your head down if you wanted to keep it; having shared his life with Draco for months Harry had come to realise that some males cycled as well. When his lover was brooding Harry had learned to ignore what he said and rely on what Draco was feeling instead: hence he did not rise to the bait. Instead he kept one eye on the game and changed the subject.
[Did you find the information you were looking for in the library?] Harry asked.
[Actually I did,] Draco replied, his tone changing completely as the topic of conversation moved on to the only thing he seemed interested in today. [Snape's a sly old dog; he left the clues all over the notes from Monday's lesson. The key ingredient is wormwood...]
Draco stopped talking very suddenly and Harry felt a momentary spike of alarm. It was not a feeling that sent Harry shooting off at speed to rescue his lover from whatever was going on, but it was enough to make him lose all interest in the Quidditch practice and concentrate solely on Draco.
Since Christmas the pair had been experimenting with what Hilde referred to as 'rapport'. They had been able to send each other images, thoughts and emotions from the outset, but rapport was a little more than that: it was the melding of minds. Harry and Draco had achieved it many times when in physical contact; then it came naturally, but according to Hilde and their other sources it was possible when they were apart as well.
So far they had not been completely successful, except once when Harry had tripped over his own robes and fallen head long over the common room sofa and Draco had found himself looking out of his soulmate's eyes when he was actually upstairs in their room. They could manage sound okay so one or the other could eavesdrop in the other's head if they let them, but vision was not as easy.
Turning his awareness inwards Harry gently nudged Draco's mind to let him in and then he was listening to whatever was going on around his soulmate.
"Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini, Pansy," Harry heard Draco say evenly, "this is a surprise."
"What, no Gryffindors to protect poor little Draco?" Pansy replied with a tone to her voice that Harry did not like at all.
From the feelings coming from Draco he did not appear impressed with her opening gambit.
"Let's not pretend," his soulmate said pointedly, "you know I am alone or you would not be here. What is it going to be: straight down to business or are we actually going to talk first?"
DU LIEST GERADE
Gold Tinted Spectacles (Hecatemus Book #1)
Fanfiction(Drarry) Harry Potter is about to enter his seventh year, and things are not quite what he expected. He is no longer the angry boy who watched his world fall apart at the end of his fifth year, but neither has he completely found his place yet. He i...
