Fic: Starting Over
Title: Starting Over
Author: enchanted_jae
Pairing: D/H
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mild angst
Word count: 1184
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble/fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: Written for snottygrrl for being the winner in last month's JMDC random drawing. She asked for Draco adores Harry and has for quite some time, but believes he isn't good enough for the chosen one, so hides his affection behind sneers and jibes. Post-war please with happy or hopeful ending. *wipes brow* I think I managed all that!
Summary: As a professional Quidditch player, Draco has been traded to the team Potter plays for, forcing him to deal with his attraction to the other Seeker and his own feelings of inadequacy.
"Would you care to dance?"
Draco swiveled on his bar stool at the question, finding himself face to face with Potter. Certain the git was only asking him to dance due to the amount of alcohol he'd no doubt consumed, Draco was quick to turn him down. "Thanks, but no thanks, Potter," he drawled. "Go back to your groupies." He turned back to the bar, completely missing the look of hurt disappointment that crossed his teammate's face.
"Right, then," mumbled Potter. "I'm going to head back to the hotel, since we have practice in the morning."
Draco waved him off without turning to look at him again. When he was sure Potter had left, he picked up his Scotch and downed the remainder of it in a single gulp, relishing the fiery trail that burned down his throat. Damn Potter, anyway, and damn Puddlemere United. Draco had been quite content playing for them, but then they had traded him to Chudley--Potter's team. Suddenly, Draco was forced to spend a lot of time around the one person he'd always wanted but never felt worthy of.
Worst of all was the shower room after practice or a game. It was all Draco could do to keep his eyes off of Potter's body--toned and hardened by six years of professional Quidditch. In Draco's estimation, the only thing that could have been worse was if Potter were having an affair with one of their teammates. Thankfully, he'd been spared that trauma. At the most, Potter merely flirted with some of the guys and seemed to keep his sex life off the pitch. Still, all those feelings that Draco had thought he'd gotten over long ago had bubbled once more to the surface, leaving him frustrated and irritable. He dealt with it by being unaccountably cool to Potter on a good day and downright rude to him on his bad days. Unfortunately, Draco's bad days far outnumbered his good days. Really, he couldn't understand why Potter continued to make friendly overtures to him.
Draco debated ordering another drink, but ultimately decided not to. After all, as Potter had pointed out, they had practice in the morning.
~*~
The next few weeks passed quickly. Chudley won the majority of their games, with Draco and Potter playing Seeker on a rotational basis. Draco managed to avoid Potter for the most part, only seething silently when he observed his fellow Cannon flirting with everyone else on the team. The few times Potter had tried to flirt with him, Draco had sneered at him until the other Seeker had subsided into stammering before slinking away.
Draco couldn't deny he felt a thrill each time Potter tried to engage him in playful banter, but he knew the other man felt no more for him than he did any of their teammates, and possibly less so. Sometimes, he wondered if Potter was being deliberately cruel by taunting him with things he could never have. Things such as his attention and affection...things that Potter would never bestow on a former enemy and son of a Death Eater.
Mulling such things over is why Draco had lingered overlong in the shower after practice this day, which is why he was just now getting dressed. He had stepped into his trousers and was shrugging into his shirt when he felt a distinct presence behind him. Turning, he spied Potter lounging in the doorway, and Draco's heart sped up. Striving to appear casual, he turned his back on Potter again and began doing up the buttons on his shirt.
"You can't avoid me forever, you know."
The voice came quietly from behind him...quiet, yet firm with conviction, and Draco's back tensed in reaction. "I haven't been avoiding you, Potter," Draco scoffed. "In order to avoid you, I'd have to take you into consideration in the first place." There, that should give the git the message that he was not interested. Never mind that Draco was very interested, indeed. There was complete silence from behind him, during which time Draco's fingers fumbled clumsily with the buttons on his shirt as he did his best to ignore the fact that Potter had yet to leave.
Finally, Draco felt, rather than heard, Potter straighten, and the other's voice came to him, low, angry and frustrated. "You know, Malfoy, I'm getting tired of you acting like you're too good for me."
Draco whirled around with a surprised snort of laughter. "Too good for you?!" he exclaimed. "What makes you think that?"
Potter was glaring at him. "Oh, just the fact that you either turn your nose up or your back on me or both whenever I try to talk to you," he said sourly. "You act like I'm not fit to polish your broomstick, and I'm fed up with your attitude."
Draco barely contained the shiver that coursed through him at Potter's broomstick reference. "Fool," he muttered beneath his breath, but even Draco didn't know if he meant Potter or himself.
Potter took two angry steps and was directly in front of Draco. "What did you say?" he asked hoarsely.
Draco squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "I said you were a fool," he snapped, his own frustration boiling dangerously close to the surface.
"Why would you call me foolish?" demanded Potter, running an angry hand through his hair.
His very nearness was intoxicating, and Draco reacted without thinking. "You're a fool for believing I think I'm too good for you, when the truth is, I'm not good enough!" he yelled back.
Potter stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. "What?" he finally managed to squawk.
Draco deflated and took a nervous step back. He hadn't meant to let that slip, and now it was time for damage control. Pasting on his best sneer, he said, "You're the Hero, Potter. The Golden Boy, the Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, ad nauseum. I'm the son of a dead Death Eater, whose only redeeming quality was that I was cunning enough to take my mother and flee to France until the War was over. Save your flirtations for someone more worthy of them." With that, he turned his back on Potter once more, cursing his clumsy fingers as he tried desperately to finish dressing so he could just leave.
"Is that what you really think?" asked Potter incredulously.
"I just said as much," Draco responded in a monotone. He tensed when he heard Potter's low laughter from behind him.
"Ah, Draco," he said, almost teasingly. "You're the only fool here, but I'd be an even bigger fool if I let the opportunity to start over pass me by." A hand gripped Draco's shoulder gently and turned him to face Potter's smiling countenance. Potter thrust his right hand forward and announced, "Hello. I'm Harry Potter. Welcome to the team."
Author: enchanted_jae
Pairing: D/H
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mild angst
Word count: 1184
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This drabble/fic was written for fun, not for profit.
Author's note: Written for snottygrrl for being the winner in last month's JMDC random drawing. She asked for Draco adores Harry and has for quite some time, but believes he isn't good enough for the chosen one, so hides his affection behind sneers and jibes. Post-war please with happy or hopeful ending. *wipes brow* I think I managed all that!
Summary: As a professional Quidditch player, Draco has been traded to the team Potter plays for, forcing him to deal with his attraction to the other Seeker and his own feelings of inadequacy.
"Would you care to dance?"
Draco swiveled on his bar stool at the question, finding himself face to face with Potter. Certain the git was only asking him to dance due to the amount of alcohol he'd no doubt consumed, Draco was quick to turn him down. "Thanks, but no thanks, Potter," he drawled. "Go back to your groupies." He turned back to the bar, completely missing the look of hurt disappointment that crossed his teammate's face.
"Right, then," mumbled Potter. "I'm going to head back to the hotel, since we have practice in the morning."
Draco waved him off without turning to look at him again. When he was sure Potter had left, he picked up his Scotch and downed the remainder of it in a single gulp, relishing the fiery trail that burned down his throat. Damn Potter, anyway, and damn Puddlemere United. Draco had been quite content playing for them, but then they had traded him to Chudley--Potter's team. Suddenly, Draco was forced to spend a lot of time around the one person he'd always wanted but never felt worthy of.
Worst of all was the shower room after practice or a game. It was all Draco could do to keep his eyes off of Potter's body--toned and hardened by six years of professional Quidditch. In Draco's estimation, the only thing that could have been worse was if Potter were having an affair with one of their teammates. Thankfully, he'd been spared that trauma. At the most, Potter merely flirted with some of the guys and seemed to keep his sex life off the pitch. Still, all those feelings that Draco had thought he'd gotten over long ago had bubbled once more to the surface, leaving him frustrated and irritable. He dealt with it by being unaccountably cool to Potter on a good day and downright rude to him on his bad days. Unfortunately, Draco's bad days far outnumbered his good days. Really, he couldn't understand why Potter continued to make friendly overtures to him.
Draco debated ordering another drink, but ultimately decided not to. After all, as Potter had pointed out, they had practice in the morning.
~*~
The next few weeks passed quickly. Chudley won the majority of their games, with Draco and Potter playing Seeker on a rotational basis. Draco managed to avoid Potter for the most part, only seething silently when he observed his fellow Cannon flirting with everyone else on the team. The few times Potter had tried to flirt with him, Draco had sneered at him until the other Seeker had subsided into stammering before slinking away.
Draco couldn't deny he felt a thrill each time Potter tried to engage him in playful banter, but he knew the other man felt no more for him than he did any of their teammates, and possibly less so. Sometimes, he wondered if Potter was being deliberately cruel by taunting him with things he could never have. Things such as his attention and affection...things that Potter would never bestow on a former enemy and son of a Death Eater.
Mulling such things over is why Draco had lingered overlong in the shower after practice this day, which is why he was just now getting dressed. He had stepped into his trousers and was shrugging into his shirt when he felt a distinct presence behind him. Turning, he spied Potter lounging in the doorway, and Draco's heart sped up. Striving to appear casual, he turned his back on Potter again and began doing up the buttons on his shirt.
"You can't avoid me forever, you know."
The voice came quietly from behind him...quiet, yet firm with conviction, and Draco's back tensed in reaction. "I haven't been avoiding you, Potter," Draco scoffed. "In order to avoid you, I'd have to take you into consideration in the first place." There, that should give the git the message that he was not interested. Never mind that Draco was very interested, indeed. There was complete silence from behind him, during which time Draco's fingers fumbled clumsily with the buttons on his shirt as he did his best to ignore the fact that Potter had yet to leave.
Finally, Draco felt, rather than heard, Potter straighten, and the other's voice came to him, low, angry and frustrated. "You know, Malfoy, I'm getting tired of you acting like you're too good for me."
Draco whirled around with a surprised snort of laughter. "Too good for you?!" he exclaimed. "What makes you think that?"
Potter was glaring at him. "Oh, just the fact that you either turn your nose up or your back on me or both whenever I try to talk to you," he said sourly. "You act like I'm not fit to polish your broomstick, and I'm fed up with your attitude."
Draco barely contained the shiver that coursed through him at Potter's broomstick reference. "Fool," he muttered beneath his breath, but even Draco didn't know if he meant Potter or himself.
Potter took two angry steps and was directly in front of Draco. "What did you say?" he asked hoarsely.
Draco squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "I said you were a fool," he snapped, his own frustration boiling dangerously close to the surface.
"Why would you call me foolish?" demanded Potter, running an angry hand through his hair.
His very nearness was intoxicating, and Draco reacted without thinking. "You're a fool for believing I think I'm too good for you, when the truth is, I'm not good enough!" he yelled back.
Potter stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. "What?" he finally managed to squawk.
Draco deflated and took a nervous step back. He hadn't meant to let that slip, and now it was time for damage control. Pasting on his best sneer, he said, "You're the Hero, Potter. The Golden Boy, the Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, ad nauseum. I'm the son of a dead Death Eater, whose only redeeming quality was that I was cunning enough to take my mother and flee to France until the War was over. Save your flirtations for someone more worthy of them." With that, he turned his back on Potter once more, cursing his clumsy fingers as he tried desperately to finish dressing so he could just leave.
"Is that what you really think?" asked Potter incredulously.
"I just said as much," Draco responded in a monotone. He tensed when he heard Potter's low laughter from behind him.
"Ah, Draco," he said, almost teasingly. "You're the only fool here, but I'd be an even bigger fool if I let the opportunity to start over pass me by." A hand gripped Draco's shoulder gently and turned him to face Potter's smiling countenance. Potter thrust his right hand forward and announced, "Hello. I'm Harry Potter. Welcome to the team."