and when he was playing he wasn’t thinking of anything at all. Usually he never felt better or more free then
when the wind was in his hair and the ground was a mile below his feet, and nothing could ever beat the
feeling of a victory lap around the field with the snitch clutched in his fist, tiny wings protruding from
between the cracks in his fingers and beating helplessly.
But Harry had found a new addiction. A new drug, a new heroin, a new rush. An addiction that had been cut
off, cold turkey, and he’d had to try to go back to his old addiction, but it was an addiction that was gone
from his life. It was too weak a drug. He needed his old addiction back, his old rush, his rush of blonde hair
and seeking lips, of hot breath and teasing fingers.
And now his two addictions were facing off, mixed together, both on the same field. Harry was perched on
his Firebolt, eyes scanning the ground below for glittering gold... and across from him, mirroring him, trying
to catch his eye even for a fleeting moment, was Draco Malfoy.
*If he wants to play, we’ll play* Harry mentally snarled, going into a sudden dive straight down, effortlessly
entering the Wronksi Feint, a move he’d mastered two years ago. Startled, Draco dropped his broomstick
nose and followed, eyes darting frantically around to see the Snitch as Harry obviously did. He saw nothing
but the rising ground, and then he knew. Two seconds too late.
Madam Pomfrey blew her whistle hard as Harry pulled a sharp turn out of his dive, calmly avoiding the
twisting broom handle as Draco slammed head first into the ground and flipped over the top of his broom,
crashing hard into the grass. A collective groan roase from the Slytherin stands even as the Gryffindor side
exploded with cheers. Draco’s team mates were at his side in seconds, swooping around and shooting Harry
murderous looks, but their downed companion brushed them off as he stumbled to his feet, a trickle of blood
dropping from his nose. He didn’t look at Harry as he slowly mounted his broom.
*Out of breath, Draco? Dizzy? Confused? Good. Now you know how I felt the first time you kissed me.
Remember that you son of a bitch? Remember how you pinned me against the wall in potions, and then left
without saying a word? Do you!?*
Harry flew in close to Draco as he tentively rose into the air, smirking at him even as he avoided his eyes.
Retribution was coming, and everyone knew it, fans and spectators, so it was no surprised when the
Slytherin beaters simoultaneously batted Bludgers at Harry, and while Fred and George managed to over
come one of them, feebly smacking it away, the other flew straight for Harry’s face. The entire arena tensed
up as they prepared to watch the seeker get knocked clean off his broom, but at the last second he calmly
side stepped.
The bludger flew straight on, catching Draco in the stomach, and the Gryffindo side cheered again as he
doubled over, but it was a nervous cheer, confused. This wasn’t the way they were used to seeing Harry
play, he always simply avoided danger himself and moved when he saw the Snitch. This more agressive side
of him was obviously effective, but it was also disturbing... he was playing like a Slytherin.
*Hurt, Draco? Trying to swallow and cant? Feel that pain in your gut, that twisted feeling? That ache in the
back of your throat and the taste of bile? Now you know how I felt when I saw his lips on yours, his hands
on you, his tongue tracing your jawline.*
Draco was visibly shaken now, the blood running from his nose had increased and was dripping sloppily
down his chin and splattering on his rumpled robes. He had lost all pretense of looking for the snitch and
was focusing instead on recovering and staying the hell out of Harry’s range. Instead of looking for the
snitch he was looking for incoming dangers, and whenever he could spare a free moment staring at Harry
with an unreadable expression.
*Regret, Draco? You aren’t sorry, don’t pretend. You’re only sorry you were caught, sorry you have one
less toy to play with, one less puppet to move around. My strings are cut, Draco, but I didnt cut them. You
did, the second you touched him*
Draco’s eyes widened in fear as Harry launched straight at him, his Firebolt kicking into full speed in less
then a second, broom front pointed right at Malfoy’s forehead. He uttered an unitelligible scream and fell
back, summersaulting upside down on his broom as Harry zipped over head. The pale faced boy managed to
right himself as the fans exploded, both in cheers and groans. Turning around, Draco saw Harry, ignoring his
victory lap and sinking to the ground, Snitch clutched tightly in his hand.
*Upset, Draco? Hurt, out of breath, feeling sick? Welcome to my world.*