Draco's fingers closed around the Snitch. For a moment, he nearly dropped it in surprise, but the feel of Potter's touch against the back of his hand made him tighten his grip.

Draco had caught the Snitch.

He had caught the Snitch before Harry Potter.

Shocked green eyes blinked at him and Draco returned the stare before holding the Snitch aloft with a thrill of victory. The shocked silence from most of the onlookers was nearly as tangible as the screams of excitement from Slytherin house.

Potter fell away as Draco was mobbed by teammates, all of them shrieking congratulations, pounding him on back and shoulders, and laughing. The glee was infectious and Draco allowed his surprise to ebb away, although he kept a tight grip on the Snitch, in case it was nothing more than a dream.

When his feet touched the ground, he was attacked by Slytherin fans. It was the first time they had beaten Gryffindor in recent memory, and Draco's first time beating Potter… at anything.

"How did you outmanoeuvre Potter, Draco?" asked a Fifth-year girl. The question was quickly echoed by many others.

Draco sneered. "Better flying, of course. Maybe the Chosen One should give up Quidditch and stick to vanquishing Dark Lords."

Riotous laughter met Draco's words and he grinned and held the Snitch aloft once more to allow the cheers to wash over him. He glanced over at the Gryffindor team to see Potter watching him, not balefully, as Draco expected, but simply looking. Draco wasn't sure what to make of it.

Then his teammates whisked Draco away for the celebration that would last most of the night. For the first time, returning to Hogwarts for his "Eighth-year" was starting to look a bit of all right. Perhaps Draco's luck had finally changed.

xxXxx

Draco was drunk.

The party had started in the Slytherin common room and spilled onto the grounds. The younger students had been herded inside at curfew, but the adult students had been allowed to remain outside, provided they "behaved responsibly" and did not give the Headmistress grounds to expel them the next day. One thing for old McGonagall, she knew how to appreciate a good Quidditch game.

Draco shivered and cast a Warming Charm, but miscalculated and suddenly felt like he'd been flash-roasted. He pushed away from Pansy, whose head lolled against his shoulder, and got to his feet. She barely noticed, other than to make a petulant sound and roll over to put her head on Blaise's lap. He made a mental note to tease her about that the next day.

Draco left the group and walked down the shoreline of the lake, seeking the cool breeze that blew over the water. The other students were sprawled in drunken huddles near the bonfire, which was starting to burn down. Some of them had wandered off to engage in drunken sexual acts, something that Draco was heartily in favour of, except that there was no one attractive in the entire school anymore. Well, no one except—

"You know you got lucky."

Draco stopped short at the sight of Harry Potter materializing out of the darkness. Damn that invisibility cloak of his.

"Not yet, Potter, but the night is young," Draco replied with a smirk.

Surprisingly, Potter looked away. Draco wished it was light enough to see the prat's face, but he could barely make out the wind ruffling Potter's hair. Draco wanted to reach out and touch it. He frequently suspected it would feel like a bundle of firestarting twigs, but he was willing to be pleasantly surprised. Hair-touching would be better than Potter deserved, of course, but Draco was feeling magnanimous.

"Very funny. I meant during the game," Potter corrected.

The urge to touch Potter's hair vanished. Draco scowled and jerked his hand back. "Lucky? Lucky how?" Trust Potter to ruin a perfectly good mood.

Potter sighed loudly. "Never mind, you'll just accuse me of making excuses. Congratulations on your win, anyway. Goodnight." Potter's inflection of the word win was sarcastic in the extreme, and Draco reached out and grabbed his shoulder to prevent his departure.

"I caught the Snitch fair and square," Draco said through clenched teeth. Sobriety was returning quickly with an onslaught of rage and he vaguely mourned the floaty tipsiness.

"You keep telling yourself that," Potter said and sneered. He shook off Draco's hand and started away.

"What was lucky about it?" Draco demanded. "I caught the bloody Snitch before you did! What does luck have to do with it?"

Potter spun back. "Because I was distracted. A buckle on my bracer was loose and I was trying to fix it for the entire game."

About to snarl something like, "Excuses!" Draco choked it back. He had seen Potter messing with one forearm, had noted his distraction, and had, of course, used it to his advantage. But the insinuation that he could only win due to Potter's distraction was enraging.

"You're full of shit," Draco snarled. "I beat you to the Snitch and your distraction had nothing to do with the outcome."

"It had everything to do with it. If I had been in top form, you would never have got to the Snitch before me. That's been proven time and again."

"Fuck you, Potter! You just can't handle the fact that someone is better than you."

"I can handle it just fine when it's true."

Draco's rage knew no bounds. He wanted to hex Potter. He wanted to punch him in the face. He wanted to hit him with a blunt object until he stopped issuing sounds from his mouth and used it for more interesting things that Draco should really stop thinking about, especially when he was shouting at the utter berk.

"I hate you. What did you even come out here for? To be a complete arse? Mission accomplished."

Potter had turned away again, but his steps faltered and he stopped walking. "No. I'm… You're right. I shouldn't have come. Sorry for disrupting your festivities."

"Seeker's game," Draco hissed.

"Pardon?" Potter asked, pausing again.

"You fucking heard me. I want a Seeker's game. You against me. We will see who is better. And no distractions. No bloody bracers or capes or gear. Just you, me, two brooms, and one Snitch." The words spilled out, hot and angry. Draco knew he should just let it lie, but he could not seem to stop himself.

"When?" Potter asked.

"Tomorrow night. Midnight. on the Quidditch pitch."

"Midnight?"

"Scared, Potter?" Draco's sneer recalled the words he had thrown at Potter years before.

Potter sneered. "I'll be there."

With that, Potter pulled the hood of his invisibility cloak over his head and disappeared.

xxXxx

Draco slept until mid-afternoon and then spent an hour wondering why he had taunted Potter into a Quidditch match on a day when he would be suffering from a hangover and far from on his best form.

He dragged himself out of bed, drank copious amounts of water to rehydrate, ate a decent meal, and then went back to bed to sleep the evening away.

At 11:30 pm, his alarm charm woke him and he reluctantly shook off sleep, took a five minute shower to wake himself up, and grabbed his broom. The entirety of Slytherin house seemed to be fast asleep, except Theo Nott, confirmed night owl, who barely looked up from his book to nod at Draco as he left. Nott had no curiosity and would probably not even remember Draco's appearance, which suited him just fine. He preferred no witnesses, just in case he lost to Potter.

A wave of heat hit Draco when he slipped out the front doors of the castle. The temperature had been bizarrely warm the past few days, and had apparently soared into the realm of unbearable that day, although Draco had missed it during his self-imposed seclusion in the cool dungeon.

It must have been wretched during the daylight hours to still be so warm. Draco was not pleased to find he was sweating by the time he reached the pitch. Potter was already there, flying lazy circles in the air. Draco mounted his broom and rose to meet him.

"Glad you could make it, Malfoy," Potter said.

"With my game-winning Snitch," Draco replied and opened his hand to reveal the tiny golden ball.

"How are we supposed to see that in the dark?" Potter asked.

"You've never played night-Quidditch?" Draco tsked and cast a spell on the Snitch, which glowed faintly, like a large firefly. The wings unfurled and it lifted into the air. "Fly away," Draco said.

It buzzed upwards, hovered for a moment, and then zipped between them and was off in a trail of light. Potter snorted. Draco cocked a head and examined him.

"No broken buckles?" he taunted.

Potter lifted a hand and waggled it. He wore only Muggle jeans, a plain dark t-shirt, and trainers. Draco was similarly dressed in black trousers, a stone-grey shirt, and black shoes. No cloaks, gloves, or protection. Better for speed, Draco thought. With that, he turned and shot backwards, spiralling down and away from Potter.

Ten minutes later, Draco was cursing the heat, and himself, but mostly the heat. The air was cloying, despite the hour. Potter flew nearby, watching him. Draco drifted closer.

"You might be able to win in a minute, Potter," he admitted. "Keep your eyes open."

"Why?"

"Because I'm taking off my shirt. The Snitch loves to appear during moments of distraction, right?" With that, Draco reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, holding to his broom with only his legs. He unbuttoned quickly and shrugged the shirt off, then let it go. The fabric floated to the ground far below. To Draco's surprise, Potter was not looking for the Snitch. He was watching Draco.

"Much better," Draco said and stretched, enjoying the slight coolness. Potter swallowed and looked away, then glanced back at Draco's torso, and away again. Something tightened in Draco's midsection and then seemed to unfurl in a long, slow spiral of possibility. Bloody hell, how had he never seen that before? He had never even suspected it. A test was in order. He moved his broom closer to Potter. It was far too dark, even with the light of the nearly-full moon, to see Potter's face clearly. "You should take yours off."

There was a pause, and then, "Does it really help?" Potter asked.

"No need to take my word for it." Draco leaned back a bit and drew his fingers from his navel up to his collarbone in a slow slide. Potter's jaw gaped and Draco's thrilling suspicion solidified into certainly. Harry Potter liked cock. Oh, it was just too delicious! Draco's thoughts were racing, plotting and discarding ways to turn his newfound knowledge to his advantage.

"All right," Potter said. He yanked off his shirt with a swift motion and tossed it aside. Draco kept his jaw firmly shut, even though it was difficult and the urge to lick his lips in appreciation was great. It was too dark to make out facial expressions, but definitely not too dark to trace the curves and lines of Potter's lean torso.

Potter shot his broom forward in an explosion of motion and Draco followed, heart pounding, hoping Potter hadn't seen the Snitch. He wasn't ready for the game to be over now, not by a long-shot.

Thankfully, Potter pulled up after a quick circle of the pitch and Draco stopped next to him, hovering his broom even closer. Potter said, "I thought the wind might help. It sort of doesn't."

"Not when it's roughly the temperature of a smelting room," Draco said dryly. He kicked off his shoes and let them fall. It was time for the second salvo. He unbuttoned his trousers, slowly, keeping his eyes on Potter.

"What are you doing?" Potter yelped.

Undressing on a broom was difficult, but not impossible. Draco lifted one leg out, shifted his centre of gravity, and then took out the other. He dropped his trousers and then took off his socks and let them go.

Potter was staring at him. "You're insane."

Draco laughed. "Gryffindors are so modest. What are you afraid of? There is no one out here. And it's much more pleasant." Draco pointed his toes and flexed them, giving Potter an excellent view of his legs. Potter was trying vainly not to look, but Draco could see his quick glances. He suspected Potter's face was beet red.

Fortunately, after years of taunting and goading, Draco knew just how to play Potter. "You'll probably fall off your broom trying to take yours off. It takes a lot of coordination."

Potter's glare was visible even in the dark. As expected, the derision worked like a charm. Potter tugged at the button and zip of his jeans. The broom dipped only once as Potter struggled out of them. Draco watched with interest, hoping Potter didn't wear pants, but he wasn't disappointed by the tight, white briefs that covered Potter's perfect arse.

Potter let his trainers fall, then the jeans, and finally his socks. His chin lifted and he watched Draco, probably suspecting a trick. Draco smiled, because he definitely had a trick in mind, but it was one Potter likely wouldn't see coming.

"Better?" Draco asked mildly.

Potter nodded curtly and then turned away to watch the sky. Draco half-heartedly searched for the glow of the Snitch. He thought he spotted it near the Ravenclaw stands, but Potter made no move to go after it, so he either hadn't seen it, or it wasn't really there. Draco watched intently, but he didn't see it again.

Minutes ticked by with neither of them speaking. Draco trailed his fingers over the bulge of his cock, teasing it lightly through the black silk fabric. It took Potter a moment or two to notice. When he did, his breath sucked in sharply and his entire body seemed to tense.

"What—?" Potter choked off the words.

"Do I really need to explain wanking?"

"Of course not, but why are you doing it now?"

"Maybe you turn me on, Potter. Want to watch?" Draco slipped his thumb into the waistband of his pants, lifted the fabric over the crown of his cock, and pushed it down, exposing himself completely. His cock had grown into a full erection beneath Potter's shocked perusal. Draco had always got a bit of a thrill from people watching him, but it paled to nothing next to the excitement of Potter watching him. He stroked lightly with his fingertips, giving Potter an excellent view.

Draco half-expected Potter to fly away, but instead he seemed riveted. Draco leaned back and nudged his broom even closer to Potter, masking the movement with a breathy moan and closing his fingers around the base of his cock.

"Fuck," Potter said and licked his lips.

Draco stroked three times. An electric tingle of exhilaration suffused him, making his toes curl. He bit his lower lip and fought not to come, knowing he needed to draw this out as long as possible. Harry Potter was watching him wank. It was like a thousand fantasies rolled into one.

Potter's briefs left nothing to the imagination, and if Draco had assumed Potter perfectly straight before, that notion was dispelled at the sight of the white fabric stretching around what looked to be a very impressive erection. Draco needed to see it.

"Don't be shy, Potter," Draco coaxed, keeping all sarcasm out of his voice, sensing it would only take a nudge to have Potter fleeing. Draco eased closer and his knee brushed Potter's. The touch seemed to jolt Potter into motion and he reached down to press the heel of his hand against his bulge. "That's it," Draco whispered, eyes fixed on Potter's crotch.

Something seemed to decide Potter and he gently pulled the waistband over his cock and down, exposing the head and a bare inch or two of the shaft. Draco might have moaned aloud; he didn't think it was Potter.

Potter stroked two fingers up his cock and over the head, brushing so lightly Draco feared he would never get off if he didn't apply more pressure than that, but if his intent was simply to tease Draco, he was on the right path. Draco wanted to touch it. He wanted to taste it and swallow it and feel it rutting between his legs. The thought should have been disturbing, because it was Potter, but then their eyes met and Potter looked so fucking surprised and debauched that Draco felt everything click into place; the reason he had been so agitated and prickly whenever Potter was around suddenly made sense.

Draco's epiphany might have resulted in some soul-searching at another time; now it only made him reach out and wrap two fingers around Potter's cock to push back the foreskin. The action made Potter gasp harshly, but he didn't pull away.

"Oh god," Potter said and Draco tightened his grip, watching his own fingers move up and down Potter's cock. It was thicker than expected, and straight and lovely and…

"You can touch mine, if you like," Draco said politely and hoped it did not sound too much like pleading.

An instant later, Draco's hand was pushed aside and he felt Potter's fingers wrap around his shaft. Merlin, it was so much better when someone else did it, especially when that someone else was Harry Potter and he was looking like Draco had just given him an early Christmas gift, if his open mouth was any indication. And speaking of open mouths… Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips to Potter's.

Potter kissed much like he flew—with his entire being. Draco wasn't sure he would survive. His free hand clutched at Potter's shoulder, desperate to hold on. He felt a dizzying sense of falling—until he realized they were falling.

The kiss broke and Draco halted his descent. Potter had fallen with him, though they had both released each other's cocks. Draco had one hand on Potter's hipbone and one on his shoulder, half straddling his leg with their brooms crossed. Draco's fingers loosened on Potter, but he didn't let go.

"Shall we continue this on solid ground?" Draco asked.

Potter nodded and they descended again, more slowly this time, until their feet touched the earth. Before Potter could lose his nerve, Draco stepped close and kissed him again, his right hand seeking Potter's cock, as before.

Potter dropped his broom and took Draco's prick in hand; it was even better this time because Potter could use his right hand. Draco moaned into Potter's mouth, drowning in sensation.

"This is… This is okay, right?" Potter asked, coming up for breath and gasping as his hips jerked forward, mindlessly thrusting into Draco's fist. Draco pumped Potter's cock, timing his strokes to match Potter's and avoid smacking their thumbs together.

"It's fucking brilliant, Potter."

"Yeah," Potter murmured and Draco kissed him again to shut him up. Between the wanking and the kissing, Draco was having a hard time staying upright. He let his knees unlock and started down, pulling Potter with him. After a single instant of resistance, Potter followed him. Draco's right knee landed on one of the brooms and when he shifted forward to move it, he nearly knocked Potter over, but they quickly righted themselves and regained their momentum.

Solid ground was much better than the air, and kneeling easier than standing, and Potter seemed to have even more hands when he wasn't worried about falling over, or at least it felt that way as his free hand roamed over as much of Draco as he could reach, stroking and touching and pulling Draco closer. It was amazing.

"Malfoy," Potter said, gasping the name against Draco's mouth. "Oh god, Malfoy. You. You're so—"

Draco nearly stopped stroking, wanting to know what Potter meant to say, but it was too late. Hot liquid splashed on Draco's torso as Potter's cock pulsed in his hand. Potter's come. Draco felt a smug sense of satisfaction at the thought of how many people would have killed to be in Draco's place. Potter's come is on me and not you, he thought vindictively, and his hand is on my cock and his tongue is touching my tongue and not yours and oh, Merlin, yes, be jealous, be so very—

Draco shuddered and came, biting Potter's lip as he did so, and pulling him closer by a tight grip on one arse cheek. He had never thought it possible to see stars with an orgasm, but damn if he wasn't seeing them now, and not just because they were outside.

Draco shut his eyes and rested his chin on Potter's shoulder, breathing hard. Potter wasn't moving and Draco couldn't move either. He simply leaned on Potter and waited for reality to intrude. He released Potter's cock and wrapped his arm around Potter's back to keep him from escaping too quickly. His other hand still gripped Potter's arse, beneath his pants, of course, and now that he could think again, he realized it would be easy to push his fingers down and graze them over Potter's arsehole, just to see what sort of response that would generate.

The thought of it made his cock spasm weakly, already willing to have another go where Potter was involved, even though it was physically impossible at the moment.

"You bit me," Potter said and Draco realized his mistake in allowing the prat to make words that did not include Draco's name and oh and yes.

Draco pulled back reluctantly to look at Potter. He was about to make a snide comment, but a dark smear was visible on Potter's lip. The sight of it caused another rush of lust to surge through Draco. He leaned forward and licked it. The coppery taste was unpleasant, but Draco quickly followed it into Potter's mouth and it was much better when shared with Potter's tongue. Draco kissed him gently, almost tenderly, so not to cause more bleeding. Potter seemed to melt into him and, as a side benefit, had stopped talking again.

Several minutes later, a flash of light caught Draco's eye and he glanced beyond Potter's shoulder to see the Snitch hovering there. Draco reached out lazily and snared it with a pleased chuckle.

"I think my luck has finally changed, Potter."

"Hmmm?" Potter asked, sounding dazed, possibly due to the position of Draco's hand, which had followed the path of his earlier thoughts, and Potter's renewed erection was hot and heavy against Draco's.

"Never mind," Draco said and kissed him again. Yes, his luck had definitely changed for the better. 

End