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Harry Potter had never known that the Slytherin prince, the silver-blonde deviant carved of ice, was afraid of heights. Nor would he ever have discovered this fact were it not for an unfortunate Quidditch accident that took place during seventh year.
It happened throughout the course of one of the more brutal games of the season, a Monday night Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match during a thunderstorm. Harry and Malfoy had both seen the snitch at exactly the same moment. They had shot after it, through the storm, Malfoy getting soaked to the bone in the process and Harry gloating over the fact that Hermione had charmed all of his Quidditch gear to repel water. And then, a very peculiar thing happened.
He and the so-called Prince of Slytherin were blown drastically off course due to a particularly nasty bout of wind.
Somehow they ended up above the Forbidden Forest. Malfoy glared angrily at Harry, his pale brow furrowed as drops of rain slid down his face to fall to the ground below. As the silver-eyed boy glared from behind sopping wet bangs, his soaked-through green robes billowing out behind him like a cape, he hissed above the storm, “I’m surprised with you, Potter. You don’t usually lose track of the snitch so easily.”
Harry merely glowered, adjusting his rain-resistant glasses and stated, “Well, then, you should know that it’s no surprise at all that you couldn’t keep track of it.”
Malfoy glared. Harry turned and started heading back in the direction that he thought they had come from, hoping that it would lead them back to the Quidditch pitch. Malfoy followed along in a sulky silence.
As they fought against the wind, Harry couldn’t help but notice that it always seemed easier to one-up Malfoy when they were playing Quidditch. The blonde’s insults weren’t as scathing or as well-timed as they usually were in the school corridors. Harry’s musings were interrupted when he found himself headed straight towards a figure atop a broom.
How Malfoy had managed to pass by him, he had no idea. He slowed his pace a bit to keep from hitting the other boy and was about to let himself become lost in thought once more when a strong gust of wind sent him careening forward.
“Malfoy! Look out!” Harry shouted as loudly as he could. The Slytherin barely had time to look shocked before Harry slammed into him, let alone time to swerve out of the way. Harry grunted as his breath was knocked out of him, and he thought he heard Malfoy make a small, surprised sound. Thunder washed over Harry, subsiding to reveal a sound that sent chills up Harry’s spine.
Screaming. Loud, terrified screaming.
Instantly, Harry scoured the sky for Malfoy. The blonde was nowhere to be seen, and his broom was spinning wildly away into the dark thunderheads. Harry dove in a panic. It wasn’t that he was worried about Malfoy’s wellbeing because he actually cared. It was because: if Malfoy got hurt, it would be Harry’s fault. And he didn’t need anything like that on his conscience, thank you very much.
Branches whipped at him after a few moments, and Harry’s stomach plummeted as he realized just how far up they’d been. After a fall from this height…Draco could be seriously injured.
The fact that he had thought of Malfoy as ‘Draco’ didn’t have time to register, because all too quickly the ground was rushing up at Harry, and he had to concentrate to pull himself out of the dive. What he didn’t count on, however, was there being a low branch. There was a snap very close to Harry and then he hit the ground.
His vision faded in and out for a few seconds before going completely black, and then there was only darkness.
When he finally came around again, Harry didn’t know how long he’d been out. He took a few breaths, afraid to open his eyes, and became acutely aware of a softly throbbing pain in his right wrist.
He heard something that sounded like a voice and focused in on it, a bit surprised when he realized who it was.
“Potter, if you die, so help me Merlin I will kill you!” Draco Malfoy hissed. A small rock bounced off of Harry’s cheek and he shifted.
“That would be a bit redundant,” he pointed out as he sat up. Draco--…Malfoy fell into a huffy silence and Harry looked around. The entire forest was blurry and he realized that, at some point throughout the entire fiasco, his glasses had fallen off.
“Malfoy, hand me my glasses.” He ordered, not in the mood to play childish sulking games. He could nearly hear Malfoy roll his eyes.
“I can’t reach your glasses Potter. Feel a few inches to your left. They’re on the ground next to your thigh.”
As Malfoy spoke, Harry noticed that his voice sounded a bit far off, and he wondered why that could be. He felt around in the mud for a moment until his hands closed around his glasses. He slipped them on, blinked twice, and looked around again.
His broom was laying a few feet away, a little bit wet but generally unscathed. Rain still fell from above, though it had been thinned a bit thanks to the canopy of trees up above. And…where was Malfoy?
As if he’d been reading Harry’s thoughts, the blonde in question spoke. “Up here, oh great and brilliant savior.”
Harry looked upwards. About twenty feet up, sitting on a tree branch and still soaking, was a thoroughly worried Draco Malfoy. Harry arched an eyebrow.
“What are you doing in a tree?” he asked.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. Again.
“You knocked me off my broom, you git! This tree is the only reason I’m not dead right now, no thanks to you,” he spat venomously.
Harry glared angrily up at Draco--…no, wait. Mal- oh, forget it. If he was going to randomly think of Malfoy as Draco, so be it.
He glared up at Draco and said heatedly, “Look, I tried to warn you! And it’s not like I ran into you on purpose! Now climb down so we can find our way out of this place.”
Draco licked his lips and scooted closer to the tree. He looked away and mumbled something that Harry couldn’t understand thanks to a loud peal of thunder.
He frowned. “What?”
Draco narrowed his eyes and repeated himself, speaking slowly and loudly. “I. Can’t. Climb. Down. Potter.”
“Why not?” Harry brushed some of the dirt off of his robes and retrieved his broom, cautiously moving his right wrist back and forth, and then doing the same to his right elbow. That hurt. He winced slightly and let his arm fall to his side again. It was probably just a sprain anyway.
“Because.”
“…Because?”
Draco scowled. “Yes. Because, Potter. Does something about that answer offend you?”
“No. It’s just not very helpful.”
Harry watched as Draco considered this for a moment and then inclined his head slightly towards the dark-haired Gryffindor in a gesture of agreement.
“I suppose you’re right, for once. I…” he hesitated and looked down his nose at Harry, “I can’t climb down because…I’mafraidofheights.”
Harry wrinkled his nose.
“What was that last part, again?”
Forgetting about the fact that he was, in fact, twenty feet above the ground, soaked to the bone with rain, and very likely to fall, Draco clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white and shouted, “I’m afraid of heights, all right!?”
Harry tilted his head. “Is that all?”
A distinctly shocked look flitted across Draco’s face, only to be replaced with a look of complete rage.
“Is that all? What do you mean is that all!? It’s a bloody ridiculous phobia, Potter! You ought to be ridiculing me right now or something!”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ridicule you, Malfoy?”
“…No?”
“I didn’t think so. Now, hang on a second. I’ll levitate you down.”
Draco clung to the tree, his grey eyes wide, face gone suddenly pale. “Don’t you dare! If you even attempt to levitate me I’ll curse you until you die!”
The very corners of Harry’s mouth turned upwards with amusement. “What is with you and my imminent death, Malfoy? Honestly. People will start to think you don’t like me or something.”
Draco smirked and shook his head. “Alas. What a terrible tragedy that would be,” he teased.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and drummed his fingers against his broom. “Mmmm,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose the only way for me to get you down is to fly, then…” he commented hesitantly.
Draco turned this idea over in his mind a few times before sighing. “If it’s the only way,” he finally muttered, not looking at all thrilled at the idea of Harry Potter rescuing him from being up a tree.
Harry mounted his broom and kicked off, rapidly rising the twenty feet so that he was level with Draco. “Okay, now just…slip off the branch and onto the broom and hang on.”
Draco hesitated. “How do I know you won’t let me fall to my death?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Honestly Malfoy. It’s twenty feet. The worst you could do from this height is maybe break an arm.” Unless you land directly on that silver-blonde head of yours, he added silently.
After a moment more, Draco slipped off the branch and onto the back of Harry’s broom. Immediately, and rather on instinct (at least, Harry hoped it was on instinct), Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and clung to him. Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he told himself that it was only because Draco was freezing. In fact, now that he noticed it, the Slytherin was shivering against him.
Harry delivered them safely to the ground, which, upon reaching, Draco nearly hugged.
Harry couldn’t help but smile at the Slytherin’s sudden openness.
It happened throughout the course of one of the more brutal games of the season, a Monday night Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match during a thunderstorm. Harry and Malfoy had both seen the snitch at exactly the same moment. They had shot after it, through the storm, Malfoy getting soaked to the bone in the process and Harry gloating over the fact that Hermione had charmed all of his Quidditch gear to repel water. And then, a very peculiar thing happened.
He and the so-called Prince of Slytherin were blown drastically off course due to a particularly nasty bout of wind.
Somehow they ended up above the Forbidden Forest. Malfoy glared angrily at Harry, his pale brow furrowed as drops of rain slid down his face to fall to the ground below. As the silver-eyed boy glared from behind sopping wet bangs, his soaked-through green robes billowing out behind him like a cape, he hissed above the storm, “I’m surprised with you, Potter. You don’t usually lose track of the snitch so easily.”
Harry merely glowered, adjusting his rain-resistant glasses and stated, “Well, then, you should know that it’s no surprise at all that you couldn’t keep track of it.”
Malfoy glared. Harry turned and started heading back in the direction that he thought they had come from, hoping that it would lead them back to the Quidditch pitch. Malfoy followed along in a sulky silence.
As they fought against the wind, Harry couldn’t help but notice that it always seemed easier to one-up Malfoy when they were playing Quidditch. The blonde’s insults weren’t as scathing or as well-timed as they usually were in the school corridors. Harry’s musings were interrupted when he found himself headed straight towards a figure atop a broom.
How Malfoy had managed to pass by him, he had no idea. He slowed his pace a bit to keep from hitting the other boy and was about to let himself become lost in thought once more when a strong gust of wind sent him careening forward.
“Malfoy! Look out!” Harry shouted as loudly as he could. The Slytherin barely had time to look shocked before Harry slammed into him, let alone time to swerve out of the way. Harry grunted as his breath was knocked out of him, and he thought he heard Malfoy make a small, surprised sound. Thunder washed over Harry, subsiding to reveal a sound that sent chills up Harry’s spine.
Screaming. Loud, terrified screaming.
Instantly, Harry scoured the sky for Malfoy. The blonde was nowhere to be seen, and his broom was spinning wildly away into the dark thunderheads. Harry dove in a panic. It wasn’t that he was worried about Malfoy’s wellbeing because he actually cared. It was because: if Malfoy got hurt, it would be Harry’s fault. And he didn’t need anything like that on his conscience, thank you very much.
Branches whipped at him after a few moments, and Harry’s stomach plummeted as he realized just how far up they’d been. After a fall from this height…Draco could be seriously injured.
The fact that he had thought of Malfoy as ‘Draco’ didn’t have time to register, because all too quickly the ground was rushing up at Harry, and he had to concentrate to pull himself out of the dive. What he didn’t count on, however, was there being a low branch. There was a snap very close to Harry and then he hit the ground.
His vision faded in and out for a few seconds before going completely black, and then there was only darkness.
When he finally came around again, Harry didn’t know how long he’d been out. He took a few breaths, afraid to open his eyes, and became acutely aware of a softly throbbing pain in his right wrist.
He heard something that sounded like a voice and focused in on it, a bit surprised when he realized who it was.
“Potter, if you die, so help me Merlin I will kill you!” Draco Malfoy hissed. A small rock bounced off of Harry’s cheek and he shifted.
“That would be a bit redundant,” he pointed out as he sat up. Draco--…Malfoy fell into a huffy silence and Harry looked around. The entire forest was blurry and he realized that, at some point throughout the entire fiasco, his glasses had fallen off.
“Malfoy, hand me my glasses.” He ordered, not in the mood to play childish sulking games. He could nearly hear Malfoy roll his eyes.
“I can’t reach your glasses Potter. Feel a few inches to your left. They’re on the ground next to your thigh.”
As Malfoy spoke, Harry noticed that his voice sounded a bit far off, and he wondered why that could be. He felt around in the mud for a moment until his hands closed around his glasses. He slipped them on, blinked twice, and looked around again.
His broom was laying a few feet away, a little bit wet but generally unscathed. Rain still fell from above, though it had been thinned a bit thanks to the canopy of trees up above. And…where was Malfoy?
As if he’d been reading Harry’s thoughts, the blonde in question spoke. “Up here, oh great and brilliant savior.”
Harry looked upwards. About twenty feet up, sitting on a tree branch and still soaking, was a thoroughly worried Draco Malfoy. Harry arched an eyebrow.
“What are you doing in a tree?” he asked.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. Again.
“You knocked me off my broom, you git! This tree is the only reason I’m not dead right now, no thanks to you,” he spat venomously.
Harry glared angrily up at Draco--…no, wait. Mal- oh, forget it. If he was going to randomly think of Malfoy as Draco, so be it.
He glared up at Draco and said heatedly, “Look, I tried to warn you! And it’s not like I ran into you on purpose! Now climb down so we can find our way out of this place.”
Draco licked his lips and scooted closer to the tree. He looked away and mumbled something that Harry couldn’t understand thanks to a loud peal of thunder.
He frowned. “What?”
Draco narrowed his eyes and repeated himself, speaking slowly and loudly. “I. Can’t. Climb. Down. Potter.”
“Why not?” Harry brushed some of the dirt off of his robes and retrieved his broom, cautiously moving his right wrist back and forth, and then doing the same to his right elbow. That hurt. He winced slightly and let his arm fall to his side again. It was probably just a sprain anyway.
“Because.”
“…Because?”
Draco scowled. “Yes. Because, Potter. Does something about that answer offend you?”
“No. It’s just not very helpful.”
Harry watched as Draco considered this for a moment and then inclined his head slightly towards the dark-haired Gryffindor in a gesture of agreement.
“I suppose you’re right, for once. I…” he hesitated and looked down his nose at Harry, “I can’t climb down because…I’mafraidofheights.”
Harry wrinkled his nose.
“What was that last part, again?”
Forgetting about the fact that he was, in fact, twenty feet above the ground, soaked to the bone with rain, and very likely to fall, Draco clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white and shouted, “I’m afraid of heights, all right!?”
Harry tilted his head. “Is that all?”
A distinctly shocked look flitted across Draco’s face, only to be replaced with a look of complete rage.
“Is that all? What do you mean is that all!? It’s a bloody ridiculous phobia, Potter! You ought to be ridiculing me right now or something!”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ridicule you, Malfoy?”
“…No?”
“I didn’t think so. Now, hang on a second. I’ll levitate you down.”
Draco clung to the tree, his grey eyes wide, face gone suddenly pale. “Don’t you dare! If you even attempt to levitate me I’ll curse you until you die!”
The very corners of Harry’s mouth turned upwards with amusement. “What is with you and my imminent death, Malfoy? Honestly. People will start to think you don’t like me or something.”
Draco smirked and shook his head. “Alas. What a terrible tragedy that would be,” he teased.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and drummed his fingers against his broom. “Mmmm,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose the only way for me to get you down is to fly, then…” he commented hesitantly.
Draco turned this idea over in his mind a few times before sighing. “If it’s the only way,” he finally muttered, not looking at all thrilled at the idea of Harry Potter rescuing him from being up a tree.
Harry mounted his broom and kicked off, rapidly rising the twenty feet so that he was level with Draco. “Okay, now just…slip off the branch and onto the broom and hang on.”
Draco hesitated. “How do I know you won’t let me fall to my death?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Honestly Malfoy. It’s twenty feet. The worst you could do from this height is maybe break an arm.” Unless you land directly on that silver-blonde head of yours, he added silently.
After a moment more, Draco slipped off the branch and onto the back of Harry’s broom. Immediately, and rather on instinct (at least, Harry hoped it was on instinct), Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and clung to him. Harry felt heat rush to his cheeks, and he told himself that it was only because Draco was freezing. In fact, now that he noticed it, the Slytherin was shivering against him.
Harry delivered them safely to the ground, which, upon reaching, Draco nearly hugged.
Harry couldn’t help but smile at the Slytherin’s sudden openness.