After Practice [Harry and Draco]

[Draco Malfoy]

Practice was something the team was apparently still getting onto the swing of it. A lot of people complain and left early to a few people's dismay. On top of that, Potter stayed on the field longer than the others, as always. By the time it was just the two of them Draco gave up and headed back to the locker rooms.

He had been feeling a little dizzy through the practice, but hid it well enough. The room was mostly empty, the last person leaving as he came in.

Draco took his time peeling off the uniform. He was actually thankful for there being no one else, because with his shirt off he couldn't hide how thin he was getting. As always, it could be worse, but it could be much better. He had to fix that. Skinny was good, but not this skinny.

He sighed as he grabbed a towel and headed to the shower. Hopefully he could enjoy a long shower without interruption, but after all, Potter was still out o the field.

[Harry Potter]

date: ?? september 2005; ???day

[/b][/size]arry had loved the skies for as long as he could remember.

In the Potter family's photo albums, most of the pictures of Harry that were not dressed up for an event or candid shots during a holiday involved a broom. Whether he was on one, holding one, cleaning one, or admiring his father's, he'd been obsessed with taking to the skies for as long as anybody could remember. He had many other hobbies, of course - he liked to generally consider himself a decently well-rounded, curious sort of fellow - but flying had always, always taken the cake. There was just something about the freedom of three-dimensionality motion that called to him.

Children often spoke of the various exciting careers they wanted to pursue when they got older. For little boys, being an Auror was always one of the top picks. Growing up tended to lead them down various paths, of course, as the number of people who made it into the Auror program and completed the training successfully was not impressive; however, Harry had always been absolutely certain that one day, one of those numbers would be him. It had never been casual play for him; it was something he knew he would do. Yet even with that stubborn determination, everyone around him knew that whether or not he became an Auror, that wasn't what he'd truly been born to do.

He'd been born to fly.

It was fun to fly when there were other people on the pitch. Whether it was for practise or a match, he enjoyed weaving around other players, darting between them nimbly in pursuit of a Quaffle. He enjoyed showing off, nearly running into them before pulling a sharp left or right or up or down to just barely avoid a collision, often getting him cursed at. He enjoyed watching other people fly well, picking up tips through sheer obsessive observation. But he really loved to fly when Quidditch was over - there was nobody else in the sky, and it was just the clouds and birds and open air and himself.

He often thought he'd like to become an Animagus one day, like his father. With how much people told him he was like James, he wouldn't be surprised if his Animagus form was a stag. But sometimes, quietly, just to himself, he thought he'd much rather be something that could fly. Would it compare to racing around on a broom, defying gravity - flying with your own wings? Would it make Quidditch pale in comparison? Or would they simply be two different sorts of amazing?

It was not unusual for Harry to stay on the pitch for an hour or two after practise ended, or leaving the pitch to travel around the castle grounds. Today, however, another team had booked the pitch so he couldn't fly for as long as he would have liked. It was a good thing, then, that Quidditch got out early thanks to his lazy, whingy teammates and he got at least a little bit of solo time. Still, he landed a good twenty minutes before the next team would arrive and headed into the Slytherin locker rooms, fully expecting it to be empty. The sound of running water caught his attention, however, and he blinked before peering in the direction of the shower. Malfoy, his brain supplied helpfully. Malfoy had been the last one he saw leaving the pitch, and he entertained the notion that perhaps the blond had been waiting for him - or more likely, waiting for him to leave.

You're hopeless, he berated himself. Shaking his head, he began whistling a bouncy little tune to warn his teammate that somebody else was there so as not to startle him, and headed for the showers.[/ul]

[Draco Malfoy]

Draco sighed, leaving his towel on one of the hooks by the shower stall as he stepped in and under the spray. He heard Potter whistling as he came in and rolled his eyes. He stepped into the spray, letting it fall over his hair and face. The room was filling with steam and he tried to just focus on just finishing his shower.

He closed his eyes, ignoring Potter, wherever he was. Draco started to wash his hair, wondering if his fatigue had been obvious today. He had been tired, and still was. After he had sworn he would get out of this rut before quidditch, he had failed. It was irritating. He was trying to be better about it, but he couldn't eat properly when he felt so sick.

With the steam in the room he was starting to feel dizzy, but he ignored it. He had been dizzy almost all day after all, so it was nothing new. He turned his face to the spray to wash shampoo out of his hair and off his face.

With the shampoo done with he started to spread the soap across the rest of his body. He had to stop to brace himself against the wall for a second to steady himself, still stubbornly ignoring the dizziness.

[Harry Potter]

date: ?? september 2005; ???day

[/b][/size]ettling himself into a nearby shower but leaving a few stalls between the mystery teammate likely Malfoy and himself, Harry began his own shower. It didn't take long, as he wasn't generally the sort to stand around soaking unless the point of entering the shower was to unwind; a quick soap and rinse, washing the shampoo out of his hair, and he was done in five minutes. Thus, it was with no surprise that when he stepped out, the other shower was still going.

Towling dry took a few more minutes and he slipped his trousers back on before peering quizzically at the other shower. He hadn't heard much going on for a few minutes in terms of splashing water, bottles of shampoo or the like, and that seemed a bit strange. He tried to ignore it - whoever it was, they wouldn't likely want their shower disrupted - but worry gnawed at him. What if it was the captain trying to drown himself because practise had gone so badly ? What if it was Malfoy because the git still wasn't eating right as far as he'd observed ? What if it was a saboteur who'd snuck into the locker rooms and was waiting for him to turn his back to attack, or leave to damage their equipment ? What if some moron had just left the water running ?

He looked away. Then back. Then away. Then back. Finally, he sighed. "Is someone alive in there ?" he called, trying to keep his tone more sarcastic than wary or concerned. "A shower stall's not a good way to drown yourself."[/ul]

[Draco Malfoy]

Draco sighed when he heard Potter yelling. "I'm not trying to bloody drown myself." he muttered, turning off the shower. He had been just letting it run over him for a while. He reached over the door to grab his towel from the hook. With it wrapped tightly around his waist he opened the door and stepped out.

"If I was trying to off myself I would do it much more glamorously." he said, keeping his hand against the frame of the shower doors and his eyes closed. It was much too warm in there and he felt a little woozy. Fuck.

Draco groaned, covering his eyes with the hand not against the shower frame. He was feeling much too weak but dammit this couldn't happen in front of Potter, and certainly not in nothing but a towel. He would be okay. He had to be okay.

A few steps proved him wrong and pretty soon he was falling forward, not very glamorously. He was dizzy and weak and his eyes wouldn't stay open any longer. He wanted to puke and just give up, and it seemed his body had agreed because everything was going black before he could tell whether or not he had hit the ground.

[Harry Potter]

date: ?? september 2005; ???day

[/b][/size]art of Harry was smugly pleased that his guess had been right, even if it had really just been the most logical one. Another part of him, however, was just panicked: he really did not want to see Malfoy straight out of a shower. Well, he did, but... that was dangerous. Or potentially dangerous. At the least, it would probably scramble his brain a little more than he was willing to allow to happen.

Fortunately, when Malfoy stepped out and Harry turned around to face him, a sarcastic barb prepared on his tongue, any unwanted physical reaction died instantly when he saw the state the blond was in. Skinny - definitely far too skinny, he was not like that last year, he had so many ribs - and his voice and stance were not nearly as strong as they should have been. "Malfoy -" Harry wanted to tell him to stay still, don't move, he was a mess, he'd go get Pomfrey - but it was too late and Malfoy was tipping. Slipping. Falling. Fuck Pomfrey.

Darting forward without thinking, Harry caught the stupid - reckless - what the hell - why was he so light - gods he was too light - what happened idiot before he could crack his skull on the floor of the locker rooms. "Fuck, what - Malfoy ! Malfoy, snap out of it !" he urged, cradling him in his right arm as he gave him a shake. Gods, he was so thin, thinner than a bloke his age and height had any right to be. They were fed to the brim by house elves, so what on earth was going on ? What was he supposed to do ? He couldn't just leave him here, but how was he supposed to carry a practically naked student taller than himself across the school and up to the hospital ward ? Granted, he probably could lift and carry him fine at this point, but Malfoy would never forgive him the shame of it.[/ul]

[Draco Malfoy]

Draco felt heavy, too heavy to hold himself. His eyes would't open but he could hear Potter's voice. He could feel the arm holding him, how strong he felt. How light must he be that Potter could hold him with one arm? Part of him wanted to get up and snap at him that he didn't need help, but the other just wanted to stay there and not put in more effort.

Why couldn't the git just take him somewhere already and stop standing around like a fool? On second though... that would be embarrassing.

He tried to move again but only managed to move his head and groan. He still felt like he wanted to throw up. "Help me up." he muttered, groaning again as he lifted his arm to gain balance, slinging it around Potter's shoulders.

Draco's head was still spinning. "Help me get my bloody robes on so we can get out of here. It's too hot." he said, the words less forceful than he intended. He could still barely open his eyes without everything spinning, let alone get himself up alone.

16 September

[Harry Potter]

date: ?? september 2005; ???day

[/b][/size]ot having relished the idea of dragging an unconscious teammate across the castle, Harry was relieved when Malfoy came to - relieved enough that he didn't question the blond drawing closer, or even get annoyed at what was invariably a habitual attempt at a snarky tone. Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry grinned for a moment before resuming a serious expression and shaking his head. "Stop it, you idiot - the first rule of blacking out is to stay down for a few minutes," he chastized, sinking down to settle on one knee on the floor. He held Malfoy upright against his chest - so warm, stupid git's too pale, such smooth skin - but refused to let go, not wanting him to try getting up again. At least from here, if he blacked out again he would just slump rather than keeling over and cracking his head on the floor. "You're hot because it's humid and your blood pressure's fighting its way back to normal. Let yourself recover first."

In truth, Harry had no idea where he'd even heard that, or how he was able to pull the words from his brain in his state of concern. It was as he asked, "What's your name ? What year is it ?" that he abruptly recalled a voice asking him the same stupid questions to determine if he had a concussion. Ah, yes: his mother. A practise Snitch had gotten stuck in a tree and he'd climbed up to retrieve it when one of the Weasleys had jokingly released some sort of joke product that caused an intense, abrupt earthquake sensation upon the object it was released on. The tree hadn't been very stable to begin with, however, and under the sudden rattling, the branch he'd been leaned out on had given way and sent him crashing to the earth below head first. "When was the last time you ate something ?"

That particular question was not to check for a concussion and more to see if that could be the cause of the fainting spell. He leaned Draco back against a bench before getting up to open up the windows and fetch his wand. Returning, he knelt and pulled Malfoy back against himself without thinking before running a cooling spell over him. "Any better ?" he asked, placing the back of his left hand against Malfoy's forehead to check for a fever in case he was just sick.[/ul]

[Draco Malfoy]

"Potter, you know my bloody name and the year." Draco scowled. He head was pounding like he never remembered feeling before. "I ate in the great hall today, same time as everyone else, big meal for practice. Whether or not it stayed down is a different story," he said, feeling more sick at the memory and putting his hand over his stomach. He felt bad about, not eating, fainting on Potter like this, but it's not like he did it on purpose.

Draco sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He was tired to say the least and the only reason he had wanted to go somewhere was so that he could pass out again. He didn't complain when he was pulled forward again.

Potter was warm, but the spell was cooling, making Draco moan quietly. "Better," he muttered. He rested his head against the hand. He had moved his arms back around Potter's neck to keep himself up and even if he wasn't blacked out, he was still groggy from it, and weak from everything else.

"You know you could have left me here. Then you wouldn't have to deal with me insulting you all the time. Maybe it's just your hero complex that made you save me." he mumbled aimlessly. It probably wasn't in his best interest to be saying something like this, but his mouth was working faster than his mind and at a time like this he didn't take much time or effort to censor himself.

[Harry Potter]

date: 20 september 2005; tuesday

[/b][/size]rinning in spite of himself at the snarky retort, Harry shook his head. At least he was coherent, and apparently feeling better enough to be... well, himself. Honestly, it helped to alleviate some of Harry's own panic. He didn't like the idea that Malfoy was apparently throwing up, though. "Do you throw up a lot ? Doesn't Pomfrey have anti-nausea potions ?" he asked, keeping the cooling spell going for a few more seconds before releasing it. It wouldn't do to make him catch a cold, after all; he was still dripping wet.

He was tempted to sarcastically ask if it might not be morning sickness, but didn't want Malfoy to overexert himself immediately trying to deck or hex him. Not only would it possibly make him black out again, but he sort of... kind of... maybe liked the feeling of Malfoy's arms around his neck. Okay, so he liked it a lot, and there was something very, very wrong about finding any sort of enjoyment in this kind of situation. Malfoy had just blacked out in the bloody locker room, after all. He very easily could have concussed himself while falling, or worse. Still, he seemed to be more or less okay now (aside from weak and obvious in need of calories), and Harry was a healthy teenaged boy; it wasn't his fault his eyes automatically sought out movement, especially when that movement came from watching the shine of the water slick down smooth, pale skin...

Quickly reigning in his thoughts again, he focused on the blond's words instead. Those words earned him a frown. "I don't have a hero complex," he protested habitually, having been told that same thing many times before. As far as he was concerned, wanting to help people didn't give him a hero complex. He didn't want to be hailed as a hero; he just wanted to put wrongdoing in its place. "But you just blacked out. How could I leave you here ? Pucey, maybe," he joked with a wry smile in an effort to take away some of the seriousness of the situation. Pucey had been a huge headache at practice that day, and largely responsible for the whole thing ending early; Harry wouldn't be surprised if he got thrown off the team altogether very shortly. Pushing thoughts of his teammate aside, he smirked, eyes glinting teasingly as he brushed some of the pale blond fringe out of the tired grey eyes. "Besides, this way I get to rib you for the rest of our days about fainting in my arms like a damsel in distress."[/ul]

scribble here

((OOC NOTE: I assigned a random date to this thread so I could keep my thread tracker in chronological order. Let me know if this date won't work for you !))

[Draco Malfoy]

"Don't make me sounds like one of those stuck up bulimic twigs." Draco said, glaring at the other. He hated that he was still entertaining the idea of falling asleep right here in the git's arms. His body was naturally warm and welcoming, just begging Draco to do it already, fall asleep. He'd have a perfectly fine excuse too. "It's not like I'm trying to do it on purpose. And definitely not to kill myself. I'd find a much more elegant way to do that than letting myself fall apart like this." he huffed.

He chuckled at the obvious discontent with their teammate, but he couldn't blame him. Even he knew one more mess up from that boy and the whole team would suffer. He closed his eyes as Potter moved his hair out of his eyes a bit. He was beginning to think that the other was being maybe even a little too but. But when he made the damsel comment Draco groaned, hiding his face against the other's shoulder. He wanted to disappear, or punch him in the face. Except he didn't really want to punch him in the face, that would mean he might have to give up on being held like this.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will do my best to make your life a living hell." he hissed. Not only would it be embarrassing, but he also wanted to have this to himself, no one else poking their opinions about him actually enjoying it a bit. A thought entered his mind briefly, very briefly, about what would happen if he tried to kiss Potter. The damsel in distress always seemed to reward the hero with a kiss in most fairy tales after all, but traditionally, the damsel was of the female variety. He groaned to himself again, still hiding his face and the hint of blush that had come with that thought.

"It's still too bloody warm in here, can't we leave? If you won't let me walk I'm sure you're plenty strong enough to carry me." Draco knew if Potter chose the later it would be very embarrassing for him, but he was convinced the warmth of the shower room was messing with his mind. That's why he was thinking about things like kissing Potter and falling asleep in his arms.

[Harry Potter]

date: 20 september 2005; tuesday

[/b][/size]olling his eyes at the defensive complaint, Harry still frowned sharply at the next bit and waited for Malfoy to finish before speaking sharply. "I'm just saying nausea's treatable, you vain idiot. Although I'd believe bulimia at this point, with how skinny you are. Anyway, suicide's not a laughing matter," he chided, not liking to hear the blond even considering the concept and unconsciously holding him closer in reaction to it. He didn't think Malfoy was suicial, but with comments like that... It upset him. It upset him a lot, and if he weren't so upset he'd be surprised by how upset he was. It wasn't as though he actually cared about Malfoy behind general human compassion and superficial physical attraction. He had no reason to; they'd never been anything but rude to each other. And yet... "Elegantly or not, don't you even think things like that, or I'll make your life a living hell."

He would, too. He didn't generally like to antagonize others, and even with Malfoy he tried not to let their arguments get bigger than just the two of them (aside from, of course, whinging to Hermione), but if things didn't start changing soon... well, he didn't know yet what he would do short of reporting the pureblood heir to Mental Maladies at St. Mungo's, but he'd come up with something. He didn't want to just be a snitch whinging to Dumbledore, and he sure as hell wasn't going to go talking to that greasy git Snape, but there was no way he'd be able to let this slide without some kind of follow-up action. For now, though, he'd just have to keep a closer eye on him.

At that point, he decided it was probably sane safe to stop cuddling coddling his crush housemate. Really, it was on the verge of questionable, and he was a little surprised and a lot relieved that Malfoy was tolerating it rather than running for the hills screaming a Scouring charm over his skin for being tainted by a filthy queer halfblood. The fainting no doubt helped. "As entertaining as the inevitable and neverending mockery from our classmates at seeing me carry you across the castle would be... no. If you can bitch at me this much, you can probably walk," he decided in a mild drawl. He liked sitting there, holding Malfoy, just the two of them, alone, but actually carrying the taller boy up into the castle to the hospital wing was a whole different story. "The moment you feel hot or woozy or anything again, though, tell me. Or grab me, faint on me, whatever."

That didn't, of course, mean he'd let Malfoy walk alone, or without any support. He slackened his hold and rose to his feet, but kept one arm curled stubbornly around the blond's back for balance and support in case he should crumple again. In fact, a teeny, tiny part of him almost hoped he would feel dizzy again, just to prolong this warm, private encounter... but no. The memory alone of holding a wet, mostly naked and relatively compliant Malfoy while alone in the locker rooms was already going to fuel his fantasies for momths to come. After helping him to the hospital wing and fussing over him there, his role would be done and Malfoy would probably go back to pretending this had never happened. Well... as much as he could, anyway, when Harry intended to be at his elbow with digestive aids and nausea suppressants. He hated potions, but hell, he'd brew them himself if he had to and Pomfrey was out. That, or get Hermione to do it for him. "That goes for more than right now, too. I meant what I said before-- I won't pry into whatever's going on with your family, but if you never need a distraction, get me anytime."[/ul]

[Draco Malfoy]

"The fainting thing, one time deal. Don't you dare be thinking about holding that against me." Draco scowled as he got up, still a little thankful for Harry's help, even if he was becoming a little less happy with it thanks to some inconvenient thoughts. Potter's mention of a distraction didn't help either. He blamed the dizziness for making him take it that way. "You're starting to seem almost annoyingly clingy, Potter. What are you? My mother?" he asked. 'Or girlfriend' his mind added less than helpfully.

With the other's help he did manage to get back to the lockers where his clothing was. The first thing the pulled on was his button up white shirt, only bothering to button it half way. It was getting a little big on him, as anyone could see. He sat on the bench and ran his hands through his hair, helplessly trying to fix it the way he wanted before it dried. He groaned when he finally accepted that it would be a mess until he finally got back to the dorms after Potter no doubt dragged him to the hospital wing. He had always been too concerned with people for his own good... though he couldn't help but think maybe he would be rather concerned if the position was reversed as well.

He took longer than usual, very much getting dressed at his own leisure, partly in an effort to annoy Potter, and partly because he was a little reserved about letting the other see the rest of his body. He was usually plenty confident about it, but it might just make the fussing worse. And he could't help even being a little disgusted in himself for how bad he had let it get.

[Harry Potter]

date: 20 september 2005; tuesday

[/b][/size]aturally, being told not to hold it against Draco only made Harry want to do it more. He didn't generally like to provoke people just for the sake of provoking them, but... well, it was different with Malfoy. Things were always different with Malfoy. He was absolutely certain had it been any other teammate of theirs he would have rushed over to them, made them sit for a bit, and once they were okay, walked them to Pomfrey at a reasonable distance... but he wouldn't have been as panicked or fussy as he was being with Malfoy right now.

Good god. He was being fussy. No wonder Malfoy asked if he thought he was his mother; he was acting like Lily Potter herself when one of her children (husband included) got sick or hurt.

"If you keep doing whatever you're doing, the fainting will probably not be a 'one time deal'," he reasoned instead as Malfoy got dressed, trying to keep an eye on him without actually watching him change. That would be a little too incriminating, and he certainly didn't want to take advantage of somebody who was unwell. But even so, he couldn't help the occasional glances as he spoke. "Anyway, quit whinging when someone's actually showing concern for you. I'm not being clingy, I'm being a decent human being. And before you start getting paranoid, no, I'm not expecting anything for it. If I ever collapsed, I'm well aware you'd happily leave me to rot," he added drily, ignoring the unhappy churning in his stomach at the idea and reminding himself that Malfoy hated him. Just how happy would Malfoy be if he died or transferred out? Probably throw a party in the dungeons.

As he imagined this scenario, his eyes wandered back again. Malfoy was right to think that Harry wouldn't think well of his obvious weight loss, but it certainly wasn't with disgust. In fact, if Harry did feel disgusted, it was at himself for the sick little part of him that was enjoying the slow dressing. Malfoy could take as long as he wanted and Harry would happily stay there waiting. Well... to be honest, he'd rather be doing other things than waiting - helping, maybe - but Malfoy would probably hex him for that if he tried. And then he'd black out again for overexerting himself, and they'd be back at square one. But now that the immediate urgency had passed, he could relax a bit and let himself idly recall the feel of the blond's smooth, pale skin against his rougher uneven summer tan, the soft, silky blond hair as soft as he remembered it from a decade ago against his shoulder, pale eyes closed as he leaned against Harry, held on to him...

Oh, shit. Turning his head away sharply as he realized his attention had been lingering, Harry desperately hoped the lighting in the locker room was shite enough to hide the slight heating of his cheeks. What the fuck was he doing, fantasizing with Malfoy right there? But what else was he supposed to do when seeing so much skin, the loose fabric hanging on him more like folds of a blanket than fitted clothing? Speaking of clothing, what was he doing lounging in wait, still half-dressed himself? Clearing his throat, he got up and turned away. "I'm, uh... going to get my stuff," he announced as he headed quickly for his own bench, mentally facepalming himself. Smooth, Potter. Smooth. He could only pray Drac-- Malfoy was distracted enough by his own embarrassment about the whole situation, by getting dressed, by feeling woozy, by anything, to not notice Harry's little slips. Merlin, maybe the heat was getting to his head now.[/ul]

[Draco Malfoy]

Draco was a little relieved, rolling his eyes as Potter finally decided to move and do something else aside fore loom over his shoulder. He retried the rest of his clothing, pants and trousers, putting them on quickly before tossing his towel on the bench.

He ran his hands through his hair, groaning as he struggled to tame it. "Stupid bloody hair. The one day I forget product. And there no way in hell I'm using that damn spell. Turned my hair orange last time." he muttered. his effort only served to mess it up more. He figured it must be almost as bad a Potter's.

"It extremely peculiar for you to be acting this way. towards me at least. Since when are we civil? It's like cat and dog. You say you don't want anything for it, but you've already got plenty from it. I bloody fainted on you, the fainting alone could do horrible damage to my reputation." Draco said, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest. He grabbed his black school robes and his wand, sitting on the bench as he held them on his lap. All of his quidditch stuff was left in his locker. He kicked his feet against the floor.

He was mostly just hoping his parents wouldn't hear about this. They would make a fuss about it. Usually Draco rather enjoyed being fussed over, but now would not be a good time for that. If they told him to come home he'd have to face Bellatrix as well, and the thought alone was enough to start making him feel sick again.

Draco didn't like having his aunt around. He like it as just his mum, dad, and him. There wasn't room for anyone else. It felt wrong. Of course he tolerated her and he tried to do what she asked, but just so not to get in trouble and be able to be done with her for a while.