Harry and Draco on the Grass

By Libertine


...They're outside on the grass, watching each others' toes. They should technically be at Quidditch practice, but Draco has made it quite clear to Harry that he has no interest in going, and that he would far prefer to spend quality time with – "You, you dull git."

So here they are, and Harry feels slightly annoyed – he feels that he's wasting his time, because neither of them have said anything and Draco certainly doesn't seem to be in a conversational mood.

"You shouldn't be so cruel to Ron and Hermione," says Harry – to break the silence.

Draco shrugs. "Right."

"You still treat them as you always have. You're not making any friends this way, Draco."

"Gosh. I guess I'm not. How observant of you, Harry."

"It wouldn't hurt you to be friendly to Ron, you know. I mean – you've got a lot in common, in a way. You both grew up in the wizarding world, you like Quidditch, you, um – plenty of things."

"Yes, Harry. Ron and I are birds of a feather. Can you excuse me a minute?  I really feel the need to vomit convulsively – and I can't see even you construing that as a turn on."

"You are such a bitch," says Harry, promptly.

Draco eyes his nails. "Ouch. That hurt."

"Yeah. Well, it's true."

"The agony. The torment. Harry Potter thinks I am a bitch."  Draco swoons, unconvincingly, one arm over his forehead. "I am so horrible. Someone put me out of my misery."

Harry picks at the grass, distracted. He can see the rest of his team flying on the Quidditch field from where he sprawls. He's jealous – not because he really wants to fly right now, but because they're doing what they want to be doing, and he's tied up with Draco here and can't do what –he- wants.

Of course, he isn't sure what he wants to do at the moment, so the whole argument is probably invalid – and he's fairly sure that if he broaches the subject Draco will shoot him down in a hail of sparking rhetoric.


"I'm bored."

"So go do something," says Draco.

"Yeah. But I don't want to leave you here, on your own."

"You doing something doesn't necessarily mean that I can't do it with you. Quite the opposite, really. Hey – one of your blugers just ran into the goal."

Harry squints. "That was one of yours, I'm sure," he says.

"Nah. Definately yours."

"I hope they aren't hurt."

"I hope they don't find out we were lying here, watching, and didn't go for help. We're closest to the school, after all. We could run upstairs and get Madame Pomfrey to come down right now, if you'd like. That'd be a bit of excitement in your otherwise dismal existence, surely."

Harry grunts.

"I thought as much."  Draco puts his hands behind his head. "Hey, would you look at that. There's a cloud that looks just like an elephant..."

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