potter! (drarry one-shots)

three: cheating

Harry Potter fixed his glasses upon his nose, heart skipping a beat when Ginny Weasley reached over to fix them properly.

"Honestly Harry, it's as if you've never worn glasses before," he laughed and lifted of the ground, raising into the air until he could feel the wind on his cheeks, and the feeling of weighing nothing flowing through him.

"No fair!" From where he could see from up above, Ginny stomped her foot and hopped on her broomstick; he had to be quick if he wanted to get out of this.

Merlin knows what happened last time Harry had gone up in the air before her.

They hadn't been playing with a snitch, the rain too heavy for that. He was grateful for the spell he had casted on his glasses, feeling a tad bit guilty for having a slight advantage.

Poor Ginny had to deal with her long, matted hair.

This is what they did on rainy days, when they needed time to blow off and get away from all the school work.

Ron had threatened him once, thinking they were sneaking off to snog ("or worse, Hermione! She's only fifteen-") behind the broomshed. Ron didn't believe him at first when Harry, red-faced and embarrassed, told him what they were doing.

Look, it was either whoever catches the snitch first or...

Listen, hide and sneak was really fun when it was played at dangerous heights, and you could only hide in so many places.

Today, the rain had decided the rest.

As Harry flew around, drenched in chilling rain but with a heat in his chest, he hoped the weather and him flying off ("it's not cheating, Ginny.") gave him some help.

Ginny always hated when he flew off before she did, but that was the point of the game. Whoever was last on the ground had to find the first person in the air.

He wondered why Ginny still went along with it, knowing Harry almost always got off the wet grass first.

He was looking around, knowing all his hiding spots were off the table, when he saw the Slytherin stand. Brilliant, because Ginny loathed the snakes as much as he did.

He wouldn't go there voluntarily in a million years, but he was desperate.

What Harry found there, though, was a shock.

Standing there, soaking wet, he knew he had to hide. Transfiguring his broom into a scarf, a dripping wet scarf, Harry ran to hide underneath the stairs.

Draco Malfoy was an unexpected sight.

Dry as a summer's day, a ('is that what I think it is?') smoke hanging from his pink fingertips. They both hit there heads on the top of the stairs at the same time, accusations written on their faces before they even spoke.

"Potter, what are you doing here!" Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his shoulders back, trying to be as threatening as he could, on his knees smelling like wet dog.

"I could ask you the same thing, M-Malfoy. Smoking? Very M-M-Muggle-like of you." Malfoy sneered, pulling the cigarette up to his lips for the most shameless drag Harry's ever had the pleasure of seeing.

He made sure to pull his wand out, a jet of water coming out from the end of it to hit Draco straight in the face.

That was the most entertaining thing Harry had seen in years, watching Malfoy splutter and slip. Harry would have laughed if he hadn't been freezing his fingers off.

A simple drying spell would have fixed it, but Harry's teeth were chattering so bad he couldn't get a proper sentence out.

Besides, they all knew what a little bit of mispronunciation could do. It was a bad idea to waste the last of his energy on wetting Malfoy.

"You arse!" Malfoy followed the hiss with a spell, and both were dry, much to Malfoy's dismay.

"W-what, spells aren't working out for you? Must be all that i-incest in your blood." Malfoy grumbled, pulling a leather pouch out.

Harry watched in detached amusement as Malfoy tried to roll another cigarette, hands trembling and tobacco spilling. If he wasn't so cold, he would have cast another water related spell.

"Y'know, smoking kills." Malfoy scoffed, finally lighting his crooked smoke, tobacco falling out the end.

"Y'know, being a bitch kills, too." Harry wiggled closer then, looking across at Malfoy with a taunt in his eyes, it was dark, and the rain was filling the void between them and the world.

"Oh yeah, how?" Malfoy snickered then, smoke spilling from his lips and from his nose.

"I have a wand, Potter. Do you know how many potentially life-threatening light spells there are?" Harry pulled out his wand, casting a warming charm on his clothes.

"Too bad the Ministry is tracking what spells you use, and how you use them, huh?" Harry stretches out now, using his transfigured scarf as a pillow. He doesn't pay too much mind to the now seething Malfoy, who was taking another puff.

"So, tell me..." Malfoy put it out, burning his fingers. Harry watched him roll another smoke, this one slightly damp where he had put too much saliva.

"Tell me, what is Saint Potter doing, underneath a Slytherin stand, not even choking on second-hand smoke?" Harry watched, still as he tapped his wand against the wood.

"I'm playing a game with Ginny." Draco stared at him, lighting his cigarette with his wand. They sat in silence until Malfoy caught Harry's eye again.

Right, he hadn't answered the other question.

"My cousin used to smoke, alright? Getting a lit smoke shoved down your throat to say, 'stop coughing, you faggot puss, it's only smoke,' really did it for me. Plus, my godfather used to smoke." Malfoy stared at him, hair slick against his head despite the heating charm.

Or maybe because of it.

"So, what did you do? Did you rip him a new one?" Harry stared at Malfoy, wondering what language he was speaking when a water drop landed on his eyebrow.

"No, because my cousin was a wank-stain, and my aunt and uncle could care less." When Malfoy transfigured a stray leaf into a paper jumping frog, Harry didn't incinerate it at first.

He played with it until he could breathe again.