“Nott! You! You immensely grotesque, indescribable piece of horri-” Blaise’s shouts were the first thing Draco heard when he woke up. Draco lurched upright, almost rolling down the bed. A tint of yellow hung on the mountain top, the sun hasn’t even appeared, yet.

Snake stirred next to him. The green eyes shined with the same judgmental glare.

“What now?” Draco sat up, yawning. Goyle still snored through the chaos. Blaise’s raven, drenched hair drooped down like some overly watered plant. Beads of water rolled down his face. His pajamas? Ruined by water.

“Hermione was right, Muggle wake-up calls are a piece of genius,” Theo, already dressed in Quidditch uniform, commented. He held two plastic buckets. One was already empty, the other filled with ice water.

Draco gulped as Blaise pointed towards Draco, “Use the other one on him! He needs the Muggle torture as well!”

Theo glanced at Draco, “He already woke up. If he falls back to sleep, feel free to do the honors.” Draco watched in horror as Theo handed the ice bucket to Blaise, who grinned innocently.

Theo waited in the common room while him and Blaise changed to Quidditch wear. Draco kept extra awake as he glanced at the buckets. Muggle menaces.

As their journey to the field, Draco thought over the ways his friends could prank him by having him half-an-hour prior to the meeting. Blaise promised too easily, which meant the vow was useless. He thought to Blaise’s words from last night, no pranks coming from him, Theo or Pansy, including no potion, no hexes, no Polyjuice, no serenading. Draco froze. Of course. The classic Slytherin loophole. Why hadn’t he seen it earlier? It wouldn’t be them pranking him if they found someone else to do the job. That meant the entire student body would be a threat. Very reassuring.

Theo marched in front of them like a man possessed. Blaise yawned, purposefully draping both of his arms over Draco. Lazy, wet bastard. Draco elbowed Blaise, “Stop drooling on my shoes!”

“These are perfectly normal water darling,” Blaise scoffed, his hair still flat and damp.

They reached the field. No one. Unless they counted Nyx. Draco sighted her trotting around the pumpkin patches of Hagrid’s hut.

Theo let out a sigh of relief as he mumbled something about Gryffindor-free zones.

They barely set up the equipment for practice when footsteps crunched the grass. Draco turned. Weasley, Weasley, and Potter. Draco needed to run. He hadn’t considered meeting Harry during practice. He turned to Blaise. His friend decided to torture him by pinching his face and aiming it towards the Gryffindor trio. Theo already greeted them, his eyes piercingly cold as he shook Weasley’s hand again.

Harry whispered something to Ginny, she snorted a laugh. Draco’s stomach coiled with something infuriating. Snake hissed, his tail curling around Draco’s finger.

Blaise, arms still around Draco, muttered to him, “Pansy told me, Theo’s got a small competition with Weasel when he lost chess yesterday. He just won a round by coming earlier than the redhead. Scores are 1-1. This’ll get interesting.”

Draco hummed, not quite registering what Blaise had said. His eyes landed on the golden glint underneath Harry’s hideous red robes. Draco’s stomach stirred.

“Ah… Theo’s having a staring contest with Weasel,” Blaise whispered, his breath tickling Draco. The man had no awareness of personal space. Draco debated on gutting him. Blaise continued, “I’m lonely and I need company, stop mind-shagging Potter.”

This bought Draco back to reality. His face flared red, he stomped on Blaise’s shoe, earning a pained grunt.

“Shut up Zabini,” Draco hissed.

Blaise, being Blaise, laughed and drawled, “Feisty. Love it.”

Draco pretended to not notice Harry’s stare. The emerald eyes burned, glaring at him… or Blaise. Draco’s mind raced. He glanced at his friend. Was Potter… No way. Draco purposefully ignored Harry. Better, safer this way.

Chattering sounded outside the pitch. Robes mixed of green and red neared the field.

“Alright, everyone, gather in a circle,” Ron shouted, “We’ll go through today’s agenda before real practice.”

“Who won the staring competition?” Blaise whispered to Theo.

“I did. 2-1. Weasley can go down,” Theo replied smugly. Draco blinked. Is Theo serious?

The group gathered, Ron and Theo in the middle.

“We’ll do the basic drills together,” Ron started.

“Then, they’ll be individual practice stations that will be assigned shortly,” Theo continued, shuffling in front of Ron. Draco’s lips twitched. Blaise stifled a laugh beside Draco.

“There will be three stations that practice four skills,” Ron stepped forward.

“Passing, dodging, beating, and diving” Theo added.

“Dodging and beating will be practiced on one station. Let’s start with some warmup laps, everyone,” Ron gestured.

Next to Draco, Blaise whistled as they kicked off the ground, “That’s a solid 2-2. Weasel got the first and last words. He knew how to play.”

Draco rounded another lap in strolling speed. Half a lap in front of everyone, Weasley and Theo raced like one would in a match at the Quidditch World Cups. Draco snorted.

“Idiots, aren’t they?” Ginny mused next to him. Her Gryffindor robes flapped against the wind. Why is she talking with him? This is getting weird.

“Yeah,” he glanced at Theo and Weasel. Theo turned with a dangerous angle, cornering Weasley to the stands. Slytherins didn’t play dirty after the war. Apparently, exceptions could be made.

“I wanted to talk with you about Harry,” Ginny continued. Oh. This should be the part where she gets into the role of “jealous ex”. Draco groaned. He was not ready for drama at seven in the morning.

“What about him?” Draco tried to keep his snap in.

“Do whatever you want with him, just don’t break him.” Ginny said. Huh? This is new. Ginny didn’t appear fazed at Draco’s surprise, “You might want to tone down whatever you’ve been doing. Harry dazed off for at least 20 minutes last night. We still need a seeker for the match. Don’t try to break him until that.”

Twenty minutes? HOW? Draco didn’t really do anything. Except running away, which was equivalent to negative. Still, under Ginny’s pressuring glances, Draco nodded and promised, “No breaking Harry until Quidditch’s over. Got it.”

Ginny grinned and sped up her broom.

Seconds later, green robe flashed beside him, stopping as their shoulder-to-shoulder. Draco turned. Blaise’s wicked grin plastered at least half of his vision-field.

“What did the Weaslette tell you? Details,” Blaise teased, bumping his shoulders with Draco.

“Nope.” If he did tell, Draco would never hear the end of it.

“I’m asking her then,” Blaise made a gesture to speed up.

“Wait! I’ll tell,” Draco almost yelled. His broom swayed momentarily from his panic.

“She told me, and I quote, ‘Zabini’s hair looks like a dying kitten drenched with life regrets and enchanted seaweed’.”

Blaise gave an unimpressed glance before touching a strand of his hair. Draco felt Snake cackling under his robes. At least someone had a sense of humor.

As they finished the warmup drills, Blaise whispered to Draco again, “4-3. Weasley’s currently in the lead! Nott better slither his way out!”

In front of them, Theo’s eye twitched. Perfect.

“Practice stations now. Dodging and beating will be on this half of the court,” Theo started.

“Passing will be by the hoops, and diving will be somewhere around the middle,” Ron gestured.

“Very specific,” Theo interrupted with his annoyed voice, Draco watched Ron’s face flush with pink.

“Psychologic warfare. Theo’s upping the intensity,” Blaise announce-whispered to Draco.

“Gryffindors will follow our dear Weasley. Slytherins stay with me. We’ll assign your practice stations.” Theo continued.

Ron looked like he was fuming. Draco caught Ginny smirking at her brother, entertained by the show.

Beside him, Blaise’s snickers were hushed, “Dear Merlin. Dear Weasley. He really said that. Theodore Nott really said that. This’s better than your Hippogriff incident.”

Blaise squeezed Draco lightly. Draco huffed.

Snake has been vibrating under his robes for over half of the practice. He glanced at Harry. The Gryffindor followed Ron, conversing like normal. Draco hadn’t missed how Harry’s shoulders were stiffened. Lion glinted under Harry’s wrist, vibrating and thrashing. Harry ignored it.

“Greengrass, you’re at diving with Malfoy. Montague, go to passing… This’ll be everyone,” Theo announced. Draco eyed Greengrass, the girl did a mocking expression at him. She never hid her ambition to be a seeker. Truth to be told, the extra pressure lead to Draco performing over his own expectations.

“Zabini, you’re on couching duty for beating. I’ll be at dodging with him. Weasley’s at passing,” Theo continued, unfazed. Please let Ginny be at diving. Please Ginny. Anyone but – “Potter’s at diving.” Merlin. Draco’s face dropped. Of course, he’s a bloody seeker. All he does is dive, way too dangerously.

“Salazar, what are they thinking? We have a game with Gryffindor just next weekend. Talk about pressuring,” Draco commented to Astoria Greengrass.

The girl laughed, climbing onto her broom, “You’re just nervous I’ll steal your position as seeker.” Unbelievable. Draco huffed.

When they’re at the station, Harry was already waiting. His hands off his broom as he traced the bracelet. Show off.

Harry’s hands jerked back as he saw Draco.

“You all have done diving practices before. Start from the middle line. Pull upwards as sharp as you can. You’ll repeat this til practice ends. I’ll go around and offer personalized feedback as you do,”

“Why not sharing your own experiences, Potter?” Astoria shouted. Snake hissed at her aggressively. Draco prayed she hadn’t heard.

“Diving is something more complicated than holding a broom. Every player has their own style. I’m pretty sure you all got to a level that doesn’t require teaching you how to grab a broom,” Harry retorted effortlessly, his eyes flickering to Draco.

Draco shuddered as the group started practicing.

He chose a distant spot and started the routine. After a few minutes, his ears were starting to ring, his head pounding from the drastic altitude changes, and he thought he had got used to it. Pathetic.

He dived another time. The ground neared him. Adrenaline coursed through along with dread. He pulled himself up, way too early. Utter trash. Miracle he became seeker.

“You need to lean in more. It’s like you’re afraid right now,” Harry observed, flying beside Draco. Snake peeked out from Draco’s robes. Of course it would.

“Tilt you whole body forward,” Harry chuckled lightly as he continued, “Another problem is that you pull away too early. You can dive for at least three seconds more.” Draco’s teeth clenched. Why is he right?

“I’ll dive with you, when I pull up, you will to. We can try to find your physical limits,” Harry suggested.

“Why do I have to listen to you? We have a game next weekend. Might as well make their seeker splat on the ground,” Draco hissed. Yes, avoidance. Love it.

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Harry’s tone suggested nonchalance. When Draco glanced, the emerald eyes were focused at him, flickering over his body, assessing and doing Merlin knows what.

For a second, Draco couldn’t think of a retort. So he agreed.

“I’ll be here, I’ll dive early, you’ll follow me. And hopefully trust my judgements enough to not splat,” Harry instructed, “Think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” Draco’s voice came out hoarse. He could feel Snake vibrating against him.

“Final thing,” Harry continued. Draco hummed, intrigued. Harry flew closer to him, a hand reached out and ghosted over his shoulder.

“Your posture is little stiff right now, relax your shoulders,” Harry’s hand guided Draco, firm and gentle. Draco leaned into the touch. He saw Lion purring under Harry’s wrist and pulled away, slightly.

“That should help,” Harry’s voice came out ragged. Draco noted with some pride that he wasn’t the only one influenced.

Harry pulled away sharply, “On my count, 3.”

Draco tilted to a spot, trying to relax his posture. Focus.

“2”

“1” Harry dived down. Draco followed. At his position, he noticed Harry’s angle, going straight for the ground. Reckless. Draco mirrored it.

The field beneath them neared by the second. Harry still hadn’t pulled away. What is he doing? Suiciding?

Another few seconds passed, Draco could see the tip of grass.

“Now! Draco,” Harry shouted in front of him. Draco’s broom jerked up. The ground didn’t hit him. The tip of his broom brushed past the grass.

He did it. The exhilaration of falling. Of not knowing if you could survive unscathed. The adrenaline of blindly trusting the boy in front of him.

Heat was pouring into his cheeks. His forehead sweating. His hands trembled slightly.

“Merlin, that was terrifying,” Draco laughed, still not down the adrenaline high.

“Told you I wouldn’t let you plunge onto the ground,” Harry stated proudly. His hair was flipped wildly with the wind. A warm tingle shot through Draco, he swore his heart was doing backflips.

When he reached up, Harry went to coach Bell.

Astoria flew next to Draco and whistled, “That’s a solid 7-point dive.”

“What happened with the missing three points?” Draco teased, visibly in a good mood.

“Dive’s too Gryffindor,” Greengrass laughed, bumping her shoulders with Draco. He chuckled sheepishly.