When The Smoke Clears

Seeking Solace

It was blustery and chilly the afternoon of Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts, thin clouds scuttling along the slate-gray sky. Throughout the castle, athletes changed out of their school uniform, laced up their Quidditch robes, and strapped their gloves on.

Harry felt more nervous than he had expected, but he pegged it on the fact that he was flying on Ron's old Nimbus Two Thousand instead of his long-lost Firebolt.

"Are you sure you don't want to try out for Keeper?" Harry asked his best friend, who sat on the bed across from him. "You're talented enough, and Ginny will definitely let you."

"Positive," Ron replied, tossing a green apple back and forth between his hands. "Honestly, I can't be bothered. Schoolwork is enough for me this year. I want to keep things laid-back, you know? Speaking of which," Ron threw the apple to Harry, who caught it out of reflex, "I've got a Herbology essay to write that Hermione's gonna help me with. D'you mind if we stay here? You'll make it for sure, anyway."

Harry shrugged and stood up from his bed. "Yeah, that's fine. See you later."

"See you."

Gripping the apple absentmindedly, Harry left the dorm and emerged into the common room, where a handful of Slytherins plus Hermione and the Patil twins pored over their books. Among them was Draco, writing an essay in perfect cursive.

"Where're you off to, Potter?" He asked, without lifting his head, as Harry passed by.

"Quidditch tryouts," Harry said, tossing the apple into the air once and catching it.

"Mind if I watch?" Malfoy said, closing his book with a thud. "I could use a break."

"Yeah, alright. Grab a coat, the pitch gets windy."

"I've been to the Quidditch pitch before, Potter," Draco said dryly. Nevertheless, he picked up the black coat and Slytherin-striped scarf draped on the back of his chair.

A few minutes later, the pair of them strode across the grounds towards the Quidditch field, Harry holding his broom in one hand and tossing the apple with the other.

"Pre-tryout snack?" Malfoy asked, amused.

"What?" Harry looked at the apple and blinked. "Oh. Er... I'm not supposed to bring food. Ron gave it to me, you see, and I forgot I had it..."

Draco sighed loudly, cutting off what would've turned into an aimless, rambling tangent. "Give it here."

Harry obligingly dropped the fruit into Draco's slender hand. The Slytherin eyed it a moment before biting into the waxy surface.

"Are you wearing the necklace?" Malfoy asked in between bites.

"No. Jewelry's a safety hazard."

"Shame. It'd probably be able to warn you if someone intended to send a Bludger your way."

Harry tapped his broomstick against his thigh, thoughtfully. "Huh. I never thought about it that way. Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"If you get caught," Draco said with a smirk. He finished off the apple and tossed its core to the ground.

"That was fast," Harry remarked, watching it roll away in the grass.

"I like apples."

Above the pitch, swirling figures darted around each other like red flies. Ginny's voice shouted from the ground, and Harry's heart skipped a beat as her fiery hair came into view. Clutching his broom tightly, he breathed deeply and tried to shake away his nerves. The youngest Seeker in a century. He reminded himself. Who got dumped by his girlfriend, spoke another thought, but he pushed it away.