When the Snow Melts

For the Love of Heights

Dealing with Ron and Hermione had been emotionally draining. Although they kept pretending like everything was okay, there was an undercurrent of tension that poisoned the mood. It was difficult for him to explain both his escape from Hogwarts and his reasons for taking the enemy under his care. So, he didn't try.

Coming back home was a welcome relief. While dealing with Draco wasn't much better, he did have his moments. The boy was rude and moody – simply infuriating at times – but he was also unexpectedly thoughtful and sincere. His most redeeming quality was that he didn't treat Harry like he was walking around with a big sign around his neck counting down the days until he kicked the bucket. He had no problem telling Harry off without feeling guilty about it five seconds later.

As he entered their shared room, Draco glanced up from his sketchpad with dark raccoon eyes. Harry smirked at the bruising. "Ron told me he did a number on you."

"He was feeling inadequate and he needed someone to blame," Draco explained with a haughty expression on his face.

"And you thought it was a good idea to paint a target on your face?" Harry questioned, eyebrow raised.

The blond shrugged nonchalantly. "Old habits."

Harry let out a long-suffering sigh before taking up his usual chair by the fireplace. Draco studied him intently, obviously mulling a few ideas over in his head. Harry pretended not to notice.

"You good now?" Draco inquired at last.

Harry smiled bitterly at the thought – good was such a relative term. With the nightmares, his friend's suspicions, and his impending doom weighing heavily on his mind, he was far from good.

"For the most part," Harry replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. "They want me to put some more weight on and keep working on getting my strength up."

"But you're cleared to return to normal activities?" Draco pestered further.

Harry eyed him suspiciously before asking, "What have you got in mind?"

Draco smiled mischievously back at him. "Thought you might be itching to get back on a broom. I know I am. Neither of us have been on one in almost two months, ever since..." he trailed off. They both knew the reasons – Harry got sick and Draco quit the team.

"How?" Harry inquired, assuming Draco had a plan.

"Ever been to an Air Park?" the blond asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Me neither," Draco explained. "It's a type of wizard park for broom riding. They are warded against muggles and there's supposed to be a big one just outside of London. It has obstacle courses set up and brooms that you can rent. Should be a lot of fun. I've always wanted to go to one, but my father wouldn't hear of it. 'Air Parks are for wizards who are too poor to afford enough land to fly on their own property' is what he would always say."

Harry was surprised that Ron had never mentioned an Air Park before. Then again, the Burrow had enough land for flying. Maybe it was just an urban thing.

"Sounds fun," Harry replied, eyes sparkling in excitement.

<<<<<   >>>>>

Harry hollered as he launched himself into the sky. He felt exhilarated. Being on a broom again felt as natural as breathing.

Draco pulled up beside him, cheeks rosy from the cold.

"I take it you're happy?" he inquired loudly over the rush of wind.

"Deliriously so," Harry exclaimed in wonder, coming to a stop in mid-air. He closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath of clean winter air before starting the obstacle course in front of them.