Some Other Metal Than Earth

Part 3: Wednesday

 Wednesday

Draco slumped down on the couch next to Potter. Thankfully, it was the one furthest from the fire, though he hadn't actually thought to check ahead of time. He wondered briefly if Potter had trouble with fire too, after their shared fiendfyre incident, but shoved the thought aside. There were far more important things to think about.

"Merlin, Potter," he exclaimed, swiping one of the cushions Harry had been leaning on, "I had no idea you were so obsessed with me! Your friends spend the entirety of lunch wondering if I was OK because I wasn't talking about me enough." He paused, frowning. "That sounded incredibly odd."

Potter snorted. "Yeah, well, your friends just spent the entire lunch period mocking you." He affected a passable Pansy impression. "Oh, Draco, darling, what fascinating things do you have to tell us about Potter today? Has he combed his hair? Perhaps he's wearing that green shirt that brings out his eyes?"

"Shut up,"Draco said, laughing. "She did not."

"Oh, believe me, she did."

"It was a tolerable impression, I suppose," he allowed, considering.

"It was a great impression."

"It was adequate."

"Prat."

"Tosser."

Draco sat up straight as he caught sight of Pansy and Blaise entering the room. They strolled over to the couch Draco sat on and Pansy drawled, "Why, Blaise, I've found Draco — and look. He's with Potter. How utterly surprising that is."

Draco collapsed back onto the couch, snickering, as Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Pans. They're obviously busy."

Potter hit him with a pillow as soon as they were out of hearing range. "Now that you've chased away your friends, what shall we do?" he asked. Draco considered, not bothering to glare at Potter for the pillow. He'd get him back for that one later. He chewed his lip for a moment, wondering how Potter would react. "Seekers game?" he offered.

Potter's eyes lit up. "Now that is the best idea I've heard in a long time. Race you to the pitch."

"But Harry—" Granger said, as they crossed the room to fetch their brooms. She looked up from her frantic scribbling, sticking her quill behind her ear.

"Let him go," Weasley said, leaning back to look up at her and swiping his thumb across the ink smudge her quill had left on her cheek. "It's too nice out to study, 'Mione."

They grabbed their brooms and hurried out before anyone else could try and stop them.

—

"Best of 45?"

"Come on Malfoy, admit it. We're too evenly matched." Potter slumped lazily across his broom, wobbling dangerously before he managed to balance himself.

Draco sighed, but nodded, swiping his hand across his forehead and tugging irritably at an unruly curl. "It's a wonder you can see through this fringe at all, Potter. Haven't you considered getting it cut?"

"It doesn't make any difference," he said lazily. "It grows back overnight. Don't ask me why. It just always has." He snorted. "It used to drive Aunt Petunia mad. As if I could grow my hair out on purpose," he scoffed. "She even had the barber shave it a time or two. Not that it made any difference. Next morning, poof! Same as ever."

Draco considered this. "I suppose you can be forgiven for having such atrocious hair then. Since there are obviously extenuating circumstances. If shaving it didn't fix it, then nothing you or I could do would."

Harry threw back his head and laughed, free and easy as he rested atop his broom. They floated there in silence for a moment as the sky darkened around them and the lights came on in the castle.

"Come on Malfoy. It's getting late. We'd best head back."

"In a minute. I'm enjoying this too much to stop now." He idly tossed the snitch up and caught it a few times.

Potter bit his lip. "We could do this again, you know. It was fun."

"You'd do that? Spend time with me voluntarily?" Draco stilled, surprised.

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? If we're together, we're less likely to slip up."

"Oh. Right." He squashed down the burgeoning disappointment. Of course Potter didn't actually want to spend time with him. It was just to cover himself so his friends didn't suspect anything.

"But I actually have had fun with you, Malfoy," Potter continued, giving him an odd look. "I'll spend time with you anyway." He drifted closer on his broom, knocked knees with Draco, and then extended his hand. "Let's try this again. Friends?"

Draco clasped his hand and held on as he looked up at him, searching his eyes. "Why didn't you accept my hand that day, Potter? I've been dying to know what I did wrong for years."

Harry dropped Draco's hand and scrubbed a hand reflexively through his hair. Draco resisted the urge to tell him to stop messing it up.

"Come on," he said, jerking his chin toward the ground. "This is a conversation that deserves solid ground, I think."

"You mean it's so weighty it will drag you down?" Draco asked, as they dismounted.

Potter shook his head, leaning against his broom and scuffing the toe of his trainer in the dirt. "Honestly, you reminded me of my cousin. You were bratty and spoiled and you said mean things about Hagrid, who was the first person to ever really be nice to me. Then you insulted my new friend."

Draco thought about that for a minute. "Oh. In my defense, I was nervous. I hadn't met anyone my age before without our parents shoving us together. But I suppose I can see why you refused." He grabbed Potter's hand and gave it a determined shake. "Friends."

Potter grinned at him. "In that case, I think we need to drink on it. Come on."

"You have alcohol back at the dorm?" Draco asked, scandalized. "In my room?"

Potter laughed. "Hardly. With McGonagall in charge? No, I was thinking hot chocolate. We can go to the kitchens and wheedle it out of Dobby. Race you?"

"Oh, you're on, Potter."