Harry and Draco had managed not speaking to each other for almost two weeks. Even in Potions class, the only communication they had was pointing the ingredients they needed and scoffing at the other's idiocy.
It was the morning of the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw Quidditch match and Harry was looking forward to being able to switch off from class work, from his own thoughts, from Draco.
He sat at the Gryffindor table but made no effort to eat, he talked with his friends as they decided who they were going to root for.
What was unexpected, was the letter that landed on his empty plate.
"McGonagall again?" Asked Ron with his mouth stuffed with toast. Harry nodded, tearing open the envelope.
Mr Potter,
I ask you to attend a meeting in my office when breakfast ends. Do not go to the Quidditch stadium.
McGonagall.
"Hey, that's not fair!" Said Ron after reading the note over his friend's shoulder.
"Hopefully I'll be able to catch some of the game," Harry shrugged.
"Well, I'll update you on everything when you come down," Ron patted him on the back reassuringly.
"You need to eat something," said Hermione, clearly listening to their conversation. "Please."
"I'm not hungry," Harry replied, picking up a piece of toast and tearing off a piece to nibble on.
"That's not up to you," Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to baby you Harry but you're acting like a child."
Harry didn't know what to say to that, there was truth in her words, but it wasn't the truth he wanted to hear. He finished the piece of buttered toast in his hand and under Hermione's stern gaze, he ate another.
He sat grumpily as the rest of the school filed out of the hall toward the school grounds. The food and plates had disappeared off the tables and Harry fiddled with the piece of parchment in front of him as he waited for everyone to leave.
The walk to the Headmistress' office was long and solemn. All Harry could think about was the game he was missing and how he hoped the meeting would not take too long, so he could be able to watch at least some of the game.
"Dumbledore," said Harry as he approached the gargoyle guarding the office.
"Two of you in one morning? It's too early for this," said the gargoyle. Before Harry could even rebut about how the Gargoyle sleeps all day anyway he was too caught up in what it had actually said. Two of you?
He walked up the stairs and into the office and his stomach dropped. There were two chairs facing McGonagall's desk. Malfoy's blond head turns to look at him with a scowl.
"Potter, sit," McGonagall ordered. Harry did not hesitate in taking a seat in the cream armchair, it wasn't very comfortable, the line layer of upholstery seemed to be stretched over a wooden frame with the bare minimum of padding. "Would you like to explain yourselves?"
Neither of them said anything. Harry avoided her gaze and looked out the large window. He realised that from the tower he could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance.
"Why I haven't received notes of any meeting between the two of you?" She asked. Neither of the boys spoke up, not daring to meet the headmistress' cold stare. "Mr Malfoy?"
"Because we haven't," Draco murmured.
"Haven't what?" McGonagall leans forward in mock interest.
"Met for tutoring," he grumbled.
"Yes, and would either of you like to fill me in on why? I'm sure your excuse will be thrilling."
Again, neither Harry nor Draco spoke up. Harry looked past her out the window. In the distance, small blue and yellow figures dart around. He could barely tell what was happening but one of the yellow blots seemed to score a goal.
McGonagall snapped her fingers and Harry looked back at her. He stole a glance at Draco and he looked as flustered as he felt.
"Why haven't you been attending tutoring?" She asked again.
"We had an, uh, disagreement," Harry looked away.
"Ten points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin," said McGonagall. "You had a disagreement? Would you two act your age for once in your life? You are not first years anymore, you are eighteen. I shouldn't even have to have this conversation with you."
Harry looked out the window again, trying to figure out what was happening. It was impossible to tell from the distance. A blue dot scores a goal.
"Will you two pay attention?" McGonagall snaps. Harry quickly turns his eyes to the professor who placed her face in her hands.
"I-"
"No, Potter," McGonagall shushed him in an exasperated tone. "Both of you are to remain in the castle for the remainder of the game as punishment."
The two groaned but McGonagall was not having any of their complaining.
"Mr Malfoy, I am assigning you to be substitute seeker for the Slytherin team," McGonagall announced.
"What? Why?" Said Malfoy defensively.
"Because as much as you and Mr Potter do not get along, the one thing you both have in common is a passion for Quidditch. I expect you to attend every training period, without question."
Malfoy nodded, looking down at his lap.
"Tomorrow, I understand you share a free period. I want the two of you to go down to the Quidditch pitch and, resolve your differences."
Harry looked at Draco, and Draco was looking at him. He could not tell what the blonde boy was thinking, it was like Draco was trying to understand how he worked. This made Harry uncomfortable, so he scowled and looked back to McGonagall.
+ + +
Harry shrugged off his school robe and placed it on his bag upon the grass. He loosened his tie and picked a hair, presumably Crookshanks', from his jumper.
He mounted his broom and hovered a few meters off the ground, flying around lazily.
He could think of a million better things to do than being here in the brisk November air waiting for Malfoy. He could be playing Wizard's Chess with Ron or finishing his Transfiguration homework to name a couple.
"I don't have a broom." Harry spun on the spot quickly to see Draco in his school robes with his arms crossed against his chest.
"Ever heard of the Broom shed?" Harry asked sarcastically. Malfoy rolled his eyes before strolling toward the shed.
Harry smiled to himself and raced toward the wooden structure, confident that he would arrive before Malfoy in any world.
He swung the door open and grabbed the first broom he saw, tucking it under his arm and flying back to an unimpressed Malfoy.
He tossed it to him and Draco's seeker's reflexes caught it without hesitation. His expression made it clear to Harry that he was not impressed.
"You expect me to ride a Shooting Star?" Malfoy asked with disgust as he ran his hands over the handle.
"It was only an invitation," Harry shrugged defensively. He knew, perhaps deep down, that their fighting was purely childish. Malfoy had chosen the side of the light in the end, there was nothing more than old resentment between them now.
Malfoy never ceased his glaring at Harry whilst he mounted the broom begrudgingly. Harry laughed under his breath as Malfoy kicked off the grass and rose in the air, clutching the rickety broom for dear life.
Harry shot off to the centre of the pitch and did a loop, just to show off. He wasn't sure why, it just felt good to out-do Malfoy.
"Accio Quaffle!" Harry pointed his wand at the broom shed. A small red ball flew out the open doors toward him, he tucked his wand up his sleeve just in time to catch the Quaffle with both hands.
He held it up, looking at Malfoy. If they had to be here together, Harry thought they might as well do something productive.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and turned away from Harry, clearly pretending to be interested in the hem of his robes.
Harry shook his head before throwing the Quaffle toward the goal post, recalling it with the summoning charm when it passed through a hoop.
He did this for a while, looking behind him every so often at Malfoy who still refused to look at him, hovering only a few feet above the ground.
Harry dropped the ball, bored of aimless tossing the Quaffle. It was no fun without a keeper.
"Oi!" Malfoy yelled. Harry turned just in time to see a Quaffle just before it hit him square in the face.
Harry flew back and caught the quaffle before it fell to the ground. "What was that for?"
"What was that for? You threw it at me!" Malfoy bellowed.
"No, I didn't! Depulso!" Harry used the banishing charm to send the Quaffle back toward Malfoy, he tried to avoid it, but the Shooting Star was not quick enough, and he was hit in the arm.
"Ow!" Malfoy grabbed the ball out of the air angrily. "Depulso!"
Harry quickly avoided the Quaffle on his vastly superior broom. "What was that?" Harry chuckled, circling around and snatching the ball out of the air. "Too slow. Depulso!"
Malfoy flew to meet the ball and caught it, grunting with the force he took to his chest. "Is that the best you've got, Potter? Depulso!"
The ball had no chance of touching Harry. He swiftly moved out of its path, laughing mockingly as he did so. With a flick of his wand, he summoned the ball to him and had it hover in front of him.
"Oh, don't you worry, I'm just getting started. Depulso!" He smirked. Malfoy lowered himself before kicking off the ground to build what little speed he could muster on the school supply broom. He raced to meet the ball.
"Arresto Momentum!" Malfoy shouted. The ball slowed as it landed in the Slytherin's hands. "You're going to have to change up your strategy, Potter. You're getting lazy."
+ + +
"Shit, what time is it?" Draco asked as he caught the Quaffle thrown at him.
"We should have left five minutes ago," said Harry after glancing down at his watch. He rushed to the ground to grab his bag and robe.
"This is all your fault!" Draco grumbled as he threw the Shooting Star and the Quaffle into the Quidditch shed.
"Maybe if I didn't have to wait for you to get off the ground, we could have left earlier," Harry teased. Malfoy glared at him as he flicked his wand to lock the shed.
"I'm writing home tonight for my broom, Potter, you best be lucky you've already played Slytherin," said Malfoy warningly as he picked his black school bag off a bench.
"Oh, the Nimbus 2001," Harry said in a mocking tone. "Doesn't that belong in a museum."
"Yeah, ha ha. Very funny," Malfoy rolled his eyes as he caught up to Harry.
Harry, as he walked, paused for a second to render the fact that Draco Malfoy was walking beside him. Willingly. Without ill intention.
"What are you looking at Potter?" Malfoy snapped. Harry hadn't realised he had been looking at the boy beside him.
"Nothing, sorry," mumbled Harry, looking forward quickly.
The two walked in silence up to the castle before parting ways to attend their separate classes.