The Secret's In The Telling by Sakuri

chapter 35

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter 35: Creativity

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"Your Mum's gone home then?"

"Yep. She had the House Elves take her things from the Manor last night, left this morning."

"...And she's... y'know, taking it well?"

Turning his head slightly so that the wind blew his hair away from his eyes, Draco shrugged. "Surprisingly, yes. She cried a couple of times – God, I hate it when she does that – and she still wants to watch Lupin die a painful death, but... yeah. She's okay with it." He frowned, still vaguely amazed at the thought.

"I thought she would be," Harry said calmly, his breath coming out misted in the cold air as he walked alongside the blonde, his trainers crunching the frosted grass underfoot.

"Oh come off it," Draco muttered, glancing sidelong at his companion with narrowed eyes. "I know damn well what you thought, Potter. You expected my second disownment of the bloody month."

The Gryffindor snorted in amusement despite himself. "I did not..." he protested feebly, grinning.

Draco made some sceptical sound and shook his head wryly. "It's a good job you're better at Quidditch than you are at lying, because this would be an entirely pointless exercise otherwise..." That said, he shrugged the broom he carried into a more secure position on his shoulder and glanced smugly at the other boy.

Harry, Firebolt in hand, glared back as they made their way onto the pitch. He hadn't bothered changing into his Quidditch robes, instead donning scruffy jeans, old jumper and Gryffindor scarf. Similarly, Draco seemed to be dressing down as well – in a way Harry hadn't believed him capable of – wearing the only sweater he possessed that wasn't tailored and his own House scarf.

He stared up at the stands and the empty air of the pitch thoughtfully, hearing the echo of cheers and taunts that had rung out over the years and, even now, resounded in his memory. Next to him, the Slytherin wore the same contemplative expression, no doubt reliving his own experiences of the game.

Harry elbowed him before moving to mount his Firebolt. "Ready?" he asked, eying the little golden ball the other Seeker held, already struggling for freedom.

The blonde answered by swinging his leg over his own broom, kicking off into a slow ascent as he stared expectantly at the Gryffindor. Harry followed, his eyes darting to the side as the Slytherin released the Snitch and it streaked away from them.

"You'd better not play any cheap tricks like Chang did!" Draco called to him as they rose into the air together.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and had to smile. "And there I thought you'd have called that a Slytherin trick," he pointed out with false innocence, echoing the words he'd once taken as an insult.

"Watch your mouth, Potter!" the blond snapped, looking offended. "There's a very short list of people I give that honour to, and she's not on it!"

The Gryffindor chuckled. "And I am?"

"You have your moments," the Slytherin consented, grudgingly. His expression remained aloof for a few more seconds before a smile of genuine amusement crossed his features and he laughed. "Well, what are you waiting for, Potter? An invitation?" And, without any other decent warning, he accelerated with a surge of speed, bursting into the sky on the trail of the Snitch.

Grin feral, Harry took off in hot pursuit.

xxx

With classes finished for the day, Ron sat in the common room with nothing to do. He hated to admit it, but he was bored. Hermione was in one of those moods that meant you couldn't get her attention unless you were quoting "Hogwarts: A History", and Harry... Well. Ron didn't know where he was, and didn't care to find out, thank you very much.