My fic for hd_career_fair: Stray Pucks
Title: Stray Pucks
Author: enchanted_jae
Prompt Number: 162
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Summary: Harry has forsaken Quidditch for ice hockey. An accident brings Draco Malfoy into his life once more.
Warnings: Language
Word Count: 2765
Author's Notes: I enjoyed the prompt, delorispea, and I hope you forgive me for the low rating.
His friends thought he was daft, Harry knew. Mental, Ron had proclaimed. Harry didn't care. He was having the time of his life. What difference did it make that he was living and working among Muggles? For Harry, work involved play--literally. He'd turned his back on Quidditch to pursue the Muggle sport of ice hockey. He had become fascinated with hockey the few times he had managed to see it on the Dursleys' telly.
Harry had booted up his laptop computer and used Google to research the sport in Great Britain. The UK wasn't exactly a hotbed of hockey, but there were several teams that competed in a professional league. After growing complacent and bored in wizarding London, Harry had purchased the Wiltshire Warriors hockey team, and after one season of cheering them on from afar, he had tried out for the team the following year on a whim. He was good on ice skates, having inherited a worn-out pair from Dudley in his youth, and his natural athleticism had allowed him to become a fair stickhandler with a puck. No one had been more surprised than Harry when he had actually made the team. Furthermore, no one except the team's general manager knew that Harold Potter, hockey player, and HP Enterprises, team owner, were one and the same.
Harry didn't mind that he had gone from being a world-class Seeker in Quidditch to a third line right wing in hockey. He was enjoying himself, and he particularly appreciated the relative anonymity he'd found with the Warriors. He was discreet about his personal life, and he got on well with his teammates. For the first time in his life, Harry was happy and settled.
~~~~~
Draco smoothed down his uniform and fought to contain an automatic sneer. Reduced to working for and among Muggles was demeaning, but he reckoned the anonymity would be less humiliating than if he had secured employment among wizarding kind. That was assuming he even could secure employment in the wizarding world. The name Malfoy didn't count for much these days.
Draco wouldn't have had to lower himself to working at all had it not been for the hefty fines the Malfoys had paid and were still paying to the Ministry for war reparations. They were left with barely enough to keep the estate solvent, and they had to eat. Draco hadn't been able to admit to his mother what he was doing for a job. Narcissa believed he'd gotten hired as a secretary to a wizard who worked with investments. Draco feared she would have a heart attack if she found out he was peddling candy floss at a Muggle entertainment venue.
With a sigh, Draco donned his ridiculous cap, grabbed his flat of candy floss, and headed for the concourse.
~~~~~
It had been a good game, Harry reflected, stripping off his gear in the dressing room. The Warriors had won by a margin of 4-2, and Harry had assisted on the game-winning goal. He reckoned that made up for the roughing penalty he had taken, which had led to Sheffield scoring to tie the game early in the third period. Wiltshire's top scorer, Alexandre Lebeau, had tallied an empty net goal to secure the Warriors' victory.
Harry removed his contacts and placed them carefully in their case. He couldn't very well wear glasses and play hockey, and once he'd gotten used to the contact lenses, he'd gotten rid of his glasses altogether.
Grabbing a towel, Harry made his way to the showers.
~~~~~
It had been a dismal evening, Draco decided with a dispirited sigh. There weren't many children in attendance because it was a weeknight, which had hurt the sale of Draco's candy floss. His back was sore, his feet hurt, and he had very little to show for it.
Draco gathered his things and made his way along the virtually empty concourse. As he walked, his left foot slipped, and Draco flailed in an effort to keep his balance. Scowling, he glanced down to see what he had stepped on. It was a roster sheet that someone had carelessly tossed aside. Draco picked it up to throw it in the rubbish when one of the Wiltshire Warriors' names jumped out at him: Harold Potter - RW. Draco snickered to himself. He wondered if Harry Potter knew there was a Muggle who played a plebeian sport and shared the same name.
~~~~~
As was the custom after a home game, Harry and several of his teammates went to their favorite pub to lift a few pints and throw some darts.
"Too bad you can't shoot the puck as well as you can throw a dart, Potts," one of his teammates taunted.
Harry grinned in Luke's direction. "Too bad you can't fend off an onrushing forward as easily as you fend off all your screaming fangirls," he retorted. "Oh wait, my mistake. You don't have any screaming fangirls."
Their teammates guffawed, and Luke made an obscene gesture at Harry. "Piss off, mate," he laughed.
Harry enjoyed the easy camaraderie he'd found here. It reminded him of the Gryffindor boys' dorms but without the specter of a madman looming in the background, trying to kill him.
~~~~~
The game versus the Nottingham Panthers was going to be intense. The Warriors and Panthers were bitter rivals, and the players fed off the frantic energy of the fans. Harry felt it when the teams stepped onto the ice for the opening faceoff, and he couldn't wait to go over the boards for his first shift.
Once on the ice, Harry made it a point to check every opposition player in his path. The crowd cheered their appreciation and encouragement. Wiltshire jumped out to an early lead, only to have Nottingham score to tie it. Despite the even score after one period, the coach yelled at the Warriors during the first intermission. He was frustrated with the tight checking on their top line, and he demanded more scoring effort from the other forward lines.
When Harry jumped over the boards in the second period, he was determined to at least get a shot on goal. He finally got his chance on his third shift of the period. Harry's center dished off a pass to him in the slot, and Harry snapped a hard wrist shot at the net. He was dismayed when one of Nottingham's defensemen got a stick in the way and deflected the shot over the glass. As Harry's eyes tracked the puck, he was horrified to see it strike one of the vendors in the head and drop the man in his tracks. "Fuck!" Harry spat, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.
One of his teammates nudged Harry in the direction of the bench. "Come on, Potts," he said. "That bloke will be alright."
"I certainly hope so," Harry mumbled to himself.
~~~~~
Draco blinked his eyes open and groaned at the dull pain throbbing in his skull.
"I see you're finally back with us," chirped a cheerful voice.
Draco turned his head with an effort and saw a plain, older woman standing at his bedside. Bedside? "Who are you?" he croaked.
"I'm Nurse Bilby," the woman announced.
"Where am I?"
"St Ignatius Hospital."
"Hospital?" Draco frowned. "What happened?"
"You poor dear, don't you remember anything?" tsked Nurse Bilby. "What's your name?"
"Draco Malfoy."
"And who is the Prime Minister?" she asked.
Draco scowled. Was he required to know that? As he puzzled it over, the nurse shook her head.
"I'll fetch the doctor," she said.
~~~~~
Draco was lying, tense and in pain, in his narrow hospital bed. All he wanted was to go home, but the diabolical Muggle healers wouldn't allow it. His mum must be frantic with worry, and Draco had no way to contact her. His wand was with his regular clothing at the arena, and Draco had no way to escape the hospital, either. As he lay there, contemplating this disturbing turn of events, Harry Potter strolled into the room. Draco blinked. At least he thought it was Potter. This bloke wasn't wearing glasses, but there was that head of messy hair...
"Malfoy, how are you feeling?" That was definitely Potter's voice.
"Like I've died and gone to hell," Draco muttered. "What are you doing here, Potter?"
"I wanted to make sure you were alright," Harry told him. "I was at the arena when you were injured, and after the game I found out it was you and which hospital you'd been taken to."
"Why did you bother finding out who was injured?" Draco asked.
Harry ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, er, I'm the one who shot that puck into the stands and hit you," he admitted with a sheepish look.
"You troll!" Draco growled. "How dare you do such a thing?!"
Harry's back stiffened. "It was an accident! I meant to put that shot on goal, but one of the Panthers deflected it into the seats. I had no idea you were even at the game, Malfoy. All I knew was I'd struck someone, and I was sick with dread, and...stop smirking at me, Malfoy."
Draco sat up with a wince. "As long as you're here, Potter, do me a favor and help me escape."
"I don't know if I can do that--"
"Potter, they are holding me prisoner!" Draco hissed. "Surely, there are Muggle laws against that?"
"I'm certain they merely wish to be convinced you are fine before releasing you."
Draco summoned what little wandless magic he could do and rattled the window panes.
Harry twitched in surprise. "Calm down," he placated. "I'll see if they will release you to my care." Harry rushed from the room, intent on finding a nurse or doctor and securing Malfoy's release before he did something to pull the wrath of the Ministry down on both of them. At the nurses' station, he said, "I'm a friend of Draco Malfoy's, here to see him home."
It took some doing, but he finally convinced them to release Malfoy. He had to promise to take the patient home and wake Malfoy up every hour to be sure he wasn't suffering from a concussion. After seating Malfoy in his small auto, Harry drove them to his home in a modest estate. He settled Malfoy in the guest room, promising to send an owl to Malfoy Manor letting Narcissa Malfoy know that Draco was alright. Malfoy wrote a quick note, and Harry attached it to his nondescript barn owl and sent Raleigh winging away into the night.
Grumbling over the fact that he had an early practice in the morning, Harry set his alarm to go off in one hour so he could check on Draco.
~~~~~
Draco was tired and out of sorts. Potter had prodded him awake all night long, asking him inane questions and insisting on shining a dim light in Draco's eyes. He made Draco get up in the morning and eat something, asking if Draco felt nauseated at all. Draco slammed his spoon down, tired of eating the bland porridge Harry had set in front of him. "I would like nothing more than to go home now," he gritted.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I have practice this morning," Harry sighed. He stood and removed the breakfast dishes from the table, taking them to the sink. "I won't be gone for more than a couple hours. While there, I can get your wand from your locker at the arena and bring it back to you. Is that agreeable?"
Draco gave a tired nod and slumped into his chair.
"Why don't you go lie on the sofa and relax until I return?" Harry suggested.
~~~~~
After practice, Harry went to the locker that Draco told him was where he stored his regular clothing when he was working. He had yet to get the story from his guest as to why Malfoy was working at the arena in the first place, but he reckoned he could ask when he returned home. Checking to be sure no one was looking, Harry performed a simple Alohamora on Draco's locker and retrieved the clothing and wand within. Slamming the door shut and locking it once more, Harry headed to his vehicle and the short drive home.
When Harry walked in his door, Draco was seated on the sofa while flipping absently through the channels on the telly. "My wand?" were the first words out of his mouth.
Harry handed it over, not missing the sigh of relief from his guest. "Thank you, Potter," Draco said, sounding civil. "I'll just nip on home and be out of your hair."
"Wait!" Harry cried before toning it down. "I, well I wanted to talk to you." Draco's eyebrows lifted, but he relaxed back into the sofa cushions. Harry sat at the other end of the sofa and bluntly asked, "Why are you working in a Muggle arena?"
Draco glowered at him before answering, "If you must know, Potter, it's so my mother and I can eat."
"I don't understand."
Draco leaned his head back with a weary sigh. "As punishment for our part in the war, the Wizengamut fined our family so heavily that we were left with barely enough funds to keep the estate afloat. I had to seek employment so that we have enough to eat, Potter."
Harry swallowed heavily. "That's barbaric," he whispered.
"It is what it is," Draco said, rising to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, there's a concert at the arena tonight, and I have a job to do."
"Malfoy, don't go yet."
"Potter," Draco snapped, "I can't be faffing about with you all day."
An idea was forming in Harry's head. "Hear me out, please," he wheedled, relaxing when Malfoy sat down once more with an irritated frown. "Very few people know this," he began, shooting Draco a stern look, "but I don't only play for the Warriors, I also own the team."
"Bully for you, Potter."
"May I continue?" Harry asked with a scowl. At Draco's stilted nod, Harry went on. "The woman who handles the team's merchandising is going to have a baby in a few weeks, and she has indicated she won't return to work once her child is born. We need to replace her, and I think you would do well at the position."
Draco was gobsmacked. "Me?" he blurted. "I don't know anything about--"
"You don't need to," Harry assured him. "Carolyn can train you before she leaves."
"Why are you offering me the job?" Draco asked, suspicion coloring his tone.
"You have a good head on your shoulders, Malfoy," Harry told him. "Aside from that, I think you'd rather keep track of inventory and order merchandise than sell food to a bunch of pissed blokes in the stands, am I right?"
Draco managed to nod and sneer at the same time. His pride rankled at the thought of accepting another helpful handout from Potter, but on the other hand, an office job would be preferable to carrying flats of candy floss through the arena night after night.
"Say yes, Malfoy," Harry coaxed. "If nothing else, working in the office will keep you from the path of any more stray pucks." His expression was both sheepish and hopeful.
"There is that," Draco agreed, rubbing the back of his head with a wince. He considered Harry's proposal, acknowledging to himself that he would be foolish to pass up such an opportunity. "Potter, I will accept your generous offer," he declared, "but I insist you allow me to buy you dinner when I've received my first cheque."
"It's a deal," Harry replied, extending his hand. Draco gave it a firm shake and then stepped away from Harry and Disapparated. Harry was left smiling at empty air. He was pleased with how things had fallen neatly into place. He was going to enjoy seeing Malfoy around the arena, and Harry hoped that dinner would be only the first of many dates to come.
*grins* I didn't tell you all that I was writing for this fest, because I knew it would be way too easy to guess which fic I'd written!
Cross-posted to hd_career_fair
Brawling on the Ice