Written for the hd_cliche fest on Livejournal.

Warning(s): Mature content, oral sex, not suitable for minors

"Hey sidekick," Harry greeted cheerfully as he walked into the Locker Room. "Ready for the big day?"

Malfoy favoured him with a classic not-impressed-by-your-attempt-at-humour-you-plebeian look before going back to adjusting his gloves. "You're not as funny as you think you are," he retorted blandly. "And I'm not your sidekick, Concussion Head."

"It was not a concussion!" Harry protested. "It was just a scratch. I didn't see that Bludger coming, is all."

Malfoy snorted. "Tell that to the Field Healers, Potter. I swear, one of these days, you're going to make them cry."

Harry shrugged. Bludgers were just part of the deal as far as he was concerned. Besides, he'd had a great run this season, right until that last match with Puddlemere United. Then Terry Brandt had punted a doozy and clocked him in the head. Honestly, he felt fine but Gwenog was loath to take chances this early in the season. Harry didn't blame their captain. This was her first year with the Appleby Arrows after transferring from the Harpies, and she wanted to make a strong impression. But he still wished he could be out there.

Oh, well. At least they had a great Reserve Seeker on the team. Malfoy would keep the team going until he got back on his feet.

"Seriously, though," Harry began again. "Just make it a short one, yeah? We don't need a long game today. And keep an eye out for that Beater. Jessie Switch can be sneaky when she wants to be, you won't see it coming 'til it's too late. We've only played the Tutshill Tornadoes once before but I think..."

"Potter, honestly!" Malfoy interrupted, casting an exasperated glance in his direction. "You act like I haven't been on the field in years! I'm a Chaser, remember?"

He nudged Harry playfully, prompting a chuckle at their private joke. It was actually a funny story. Two years ago, they had both tried out as Seekers for the Appleby Arrows. Of course, their school rivalry had reared its ugly head during the tryouts. Harry had won by a hair and he may have...gloated a little. Malfoy responded with all the maturity and professionalism of a seasoned Quidditch player. He threw the Quaffle right at Harry, clocking him in the face with point blank accuracy.

He was drafted in as Lead Chaser two days later and the rest was history.

"I know you're a good Chaser," Harry conceded. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and Harry rolled his eyes. "A great Chaser. But you don't play Seeker that often and I'm just saying you could use a few pointers in th—hey!"

Malfoy smirked as Harry tried and failed to wrestle the practice net off his person. "I'm fine," he repeated firmly. "You just focus on keeping your fat head out of Bludger range this time, yeah? Shouldn't be too hard if you're benched but then again, it's you."

"Haha," Harry groused sullenly, struggling to sit up again. "See if I ever try helping you again."

Malfoy just laughed and went back to straightening his gloves. The laces came loose again and he bent his head to tighten them with his teeth. Harry's eyes drifted over. The brown leather string was digging into Malfoy's lower lip. His teeth cinched around the lace almost delicately as he pulled his head back and...

Harry blinked. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

Maybe he did have a concussion.

"So, anyway," he blurted out, a little gruffer than usual. "Just relax and go with your gut. Remember, you were a Seeker first and a damn good one. I always had to fight tooth and nail to get past you."

Malfoy's grey eyes darted to his face. There was surprise there and a...softer expression that Harry couldn't quite place. Something in his chest fluttered when Malfoy smiled.

"Thank you, Potter," he said quietly. "I appreciate it."

His hand wrapped around Harry's in a brief squeeze. Harry swallowed. The flutter thing in his chest made an unexpected comeback and his tongue felt all fuzzy.

Words.

He needed words.

"Uh...I'm just...well, it's..."

Words, damn it!

"I should get out there," Malfoy said. He got up and dusted his robes off, effectively breaking the sudden tension. "I'll see you in the stands, yeah?"

"Of course!" Harry exclaimed, standing up as well. "And hey, don't worry. The Tutshill Tornadoes are okay but their Seeker's not nearly as good as you. You can win this thing without trying."

"Gareth's alright," Malfoy replied thoughtfully as they walked out. "He's a little shaky on the uptake but he can hold his own, I think."

"Well, that's true but...wait. Gareth?" Harry turned to his teammate with a perplexed frown. "You know this bloke?"

"Well, I should hope so," Malfoy replied with a cheeky grin. "I'm dating him."

Wait, what?!

Harry faltered and skidded to a halt again. Malfoy slowed down beside him, looking somewhat confused,

"Dating?" Harry blurted. His pulse was racing. His heart thudded and the world looked shakier all of a sudden. "Like...dating dating?"

Surely, there was some kind of mistake. Malfoy was his teammate! They spent so much time together. He would have known if...

"Is there another kind?" Malfoy asked with a shrug.

Harry just stared at him, completely unable to come to grips with the situation. "But...you...no, wait a minute. When did you even…"

The whistle blew at cut him off. Cheers went up in the stadium. Malfoy hoisted his Firebolt Special Edition on his shoulder. "Here we go. Wish me luck, Potter."

He walked away, leaving Harry to watch his retreating back.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "Good luck."

The giddy fluttering had gone away. Now, his chest just felt heavy. And ironically, hollow.

Harry's shoulders slumped and he trudged his way to the stands.

Twenty minutes in.

Arrows: 30, Tornadoes: 20.

Harry jiggled his foot nervously and turned his eyes skyward, anxious not to miss even a second of this match— a match which, for some unfathomable reason, had become extremely important all of a sudden.

Malfoy was killing it out there.

The Snitch was elusive so far, except for one heart stopping moment when the Tornadoes' Seeker nearly got his grubby paws on it. Malfoy had successfully blocked him, but at the expense of his own shot at the Snitch. The Chasers were holding their own too. Malfoy's replacement— that kid, Michael— was doing a good job. But all Harry could focus on was the Seekers.

Malfoy flew overhead, circling the pitch gracefully. The Tornadoes were clearly not prepared for his manoeuvres. Harry suspected that they had practiced with his own direct style in mind. Malfoy played differently. He was all sly twists and clever feints and the opposition just couldn't deal with it.

Of course, one would assume that his boyfriend would be familiar with those...moves.

Harry's jaw clenched and he turned his gaze away from Malfoy resolutely. That only left one target. Gareth was hot on Malfoy's trail, apparently having elected to tail him rather than bother looking for the Snitch himself. Harry made a small noise of disgust in his throat. He hated that move. It was lazy and unsportsmanlike. His flying was clumsy too. He was so shaky that Harry actually feared for him in the event of a stray breeze.

Merlin, what was Malfoy even doing with this loser?

He could do so much better. He deserved better. Someone as fit and smart and clever as Malfoy could have anybody he wanted. There were blokes— nice, decent blokes who could fly in a damned straight line— who would be honoured to have Malfoy by their side.

Maybe...maybe those blokes should have said something. Maybe those blokes had missed their damned chance because they were too thick to see what was right in front of them. If someone had told Har—those blokes that Malfoy was a prize who would be snatched away just like that, they might have done something about it.

And now, it was too late. Malfoy had Gareth (for Merlin's sake, man! It's a broom, not a merry-go-round!) and there was nothing to be done about...

"There! I see it!"

The crowd erupted around him and Harry jerked back to reality. The glint of gold at the corner of his eye instinctively drew his attention.

The Snitch!

"Malfoy, go!" Harry yelled. "To your left! Your left!"

Malfoy pulled a sharp left and headed back. Harry's heart pounded as he picked up speed. He was going against the wind and that would slow him down but on the plus side, it would slow the Snitch down too. Gareth had spotted the commotion and was hot on Malfoy's trail. He was catching up. Harry's heart did a somersault as Gareth swerved right next to Malfoy and... was he trying to shove him?!

"Foul!" Harry yelled angrily. "That's a fucking foul! Where's the Ref?!"

But there was no time for protests. The Snitch was hovering uncertainly, seemingly caught between an air current and the two Seekers. Malfoy swerved ahead, stretched out his hand and...

"Yes!" Harry howled.

Malfoy's fingers wrapped around the golden ball. He raised his fist and the Snitch fluttered petulantly in his fingers.

The crowd went wild.

"Appleby Arrows: 180! Tutshill Tornadoes: 20!" yelled the announcer. "The match is over. Arrows win!"

Harry whooped as loud as he could and applauded like a madman. They'd done it! They'd won the match! All thanks to Malfoy.

Gods, that was amazing.

He was amazing.

The Arrows landed on the pitch one by one, whooping and cheering. Malfoy grinned good-naturedly and accepted handshakes and pats on the back from their team. The Tornadoes shuffled over, some nodding gruffly and others offering half-hearted handshakes.

That's when it happened.

Gareth strode up, purple-faced and furious. Harry gaped as the man waded through the group before coming to a halt in front of Malfoy. Gareth said something and Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise. A second later, they narrowed and he sneered. Gareth was yelling now— the words still faint, but Harry definitely heard the phrase dirty cheater thrown in there.

Oh, hell no!

His jaw clenched and he leapt over the stands. In seconds, he was making for the small crowd gathering around the two Seekers.

Gareth was shouting again, waving an agitated hand around. The Tornadoes' Keeper came forward, presumably to lead him off. Gareth shoved him and barged into Malfoy's personal space.

Harry was barely ten feet away when Malfoy spoke up, his tone cool and condescending.

"Can't handle a little competition, Gareth?"

Evidently, that was the last straw. Gareth swung his fist back and hit Malfoy right in the face. Malfoy went down with a sickening crackand Harry's vision went blood red.

"You bastard!" he snarled, practically sprinting forward.

Malfoy was on the ground and Gareth was pulling his fist back again, apparently intending to follow up his unwarranted assault.

Harry didn't give him a chance. He practically launched himself at the arsehole and threw him off Malfoy. And then he landed a punch of his own.

Gareth went down and Harry went with him. They rolled on the muddy pitch, throwing punches and kicks. Gareth was bigger but Harry had speed and sheer adrenalin-fuelled rage on his side. He pummelled the bastard right into the dirt and then he did it again. All he could think about was the crack of Gareth's fist against Malfoy's face, the way Malfoy had hit the ground, the bruise blooming against that pale cheek. Harry snarled and landed a solid uppercut again, sending Gareth sprawling.

He wasn't even aware of the crowd around them until two sets of hands pulled him off. Harry struggled in his teammates' grip, ignoring their shouts and attempts at placation.

"You don't get to hit him!" he yelled at the groaning lump of Gareth. "Don't ever touch him again, you sick bastard! I'll kill you if you do! I'll fucking kill you!"

"Potter!"

Harry's vision cleared and fixed on his furious Captain.

"You're suspended!" Gwenog yelled. "Get off this pitch now! Now, Potter!"

Harry sneered and shoved past her, making for the Locker Room with angry strides. From the corner of his eye, he thought he caught a glimpse of Malfoy staring after him.

Harry didn't look back.

He didn't think he could handle the knowing look in those grey eyes.

Harry was man enough to admit that he was sulking.

"I don't need a Pain Relief Potion!" he growled at the harassed Field Healer. "Just leave me alone, will you? I wasn't even in the match. Read your job description!"

"I've got this, Sharon. Thank you."

The familiar voice made him jump.

Oh no.

Malfoy approached and waved the Healer away. She left with a grateful nod and a dirty look in Harry's general direction. Harry scowled and averted his gaze, staring resolutely at the wall. His head was throbbing, his fist was bruised and he was in no mood for a shouting match right now.

Or worse, pity.

Malfoy sat on the edge of the bench.

"I spoke to Gwen," he began carefully. "She's agreed to review your suspension. Chances are you'll be Seeker for the next match, provided you can behave yourself on the pitch. Her words, not mine."

Harry snorted. He wasn't interested in Quidditch at the moment. All he really wanted to know was...

"I also had words with Gareth."

Harry stiffened and turned to look at Malfoy. He still had a slight bruise from the brawl, but it was already fading. "And?" he demanded.

Malfoy smirked and waggled the vial. "I'll tell you if you drink the Potion."

Sneaky git.

Harry grudgingly downed the foul liquid. The throbbing in his head receded a little and the swelling in his wrist dissipated. Harry sighed in relief. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. Suddenly, something cool and wet brushed his forehead. He jerked up, only to be steadied by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Normally, I'd use a spell," Malfoy murmured, dabbing the cloth and pressing it to Harry's bruised forehead again. "But I find this more relaxing, don't you?"

Harry didn't reply. He was too busy trying to keep himself from shamelessly staring at Malfoy's lips—which were now within kissing distance— as he leaned over to tend to Harry's wounds. Harry swallowed audibly and focused on a spot on the wall behind Malfoy, trying to keep his hands from planting themselves on those narrow hips.

Malfoy seemed rather oblivious of the precarious position he was in. He just went on with his impromptu healing, dabbing Harry's wounds with a gentleness that seemed very uncharacteristic.

"You're an idiot, Potter."

Ah, yes. There it was. There was the Malfoy he knew and lo...knew.

"What were you thinking jumping in like that?" Malfoy demanded. He sounded angry but his touch was still almost painfully gentle. "He's twice your size, Potter. Did you honestly think I was going to let him get away with that punch? I can fight my own battles, you know. Did you really think..."

"No."

Malfoy paused and gave him an enquiring look.

"No, I didn't think," Harry clarified sullenly. "He hit you. He hit you. So no, I wasn't thinking. I was too busy trying to tear his head off to think."

Malfoy's expression softened a little. "I suppose that's as good an explanation as any," he conceded. "If it makes you feel any better, he's in a bad way. He couldn't even move his jaw enough to talk when I broke up with him."

Harry shot up in his seat at that bit of information. "You broke up with him?"

"Well, obviously," Malfoy scoffed. "The man's an idiot and a sore loser. And he can't fly to save his life."

"I know, right?!" Harry exclaimed enthusiastically. "Did you see that formation loop? So sloppy!"

"Very sloppy," Malfoy agreed with a fond smile. "Nothing like yours."

"Yeah! Like he had a Bludger up his...uh, mine?"

"Mm hm," Malfoy replied noncommittally. He put the cloth down. Harry inhaled sharply as deft fingers brushed his temples, pushing his hair back gently. "He doesn't move like you do. He never could."

"I...um..."

"You know what I mean, Harry." Malfoy slid closer. A sly smile played on his lips. "The way you move on the pitch. Fierce. Determined. Swift. You strike like lightning. You're a force of nature."

Harry's brain was struggling to keep up. "Me? But I...I'm just..."

"Sometimes I wonder," Malfoy mused, raking a hand through his messy hair again. Those slim fingers massaged his scalp and Harry emitted an involuntary hiss of pleasure. "I wonder," Malfoy continued, "if you employ the same moves...elsewhere."

"Oh. I, uh..."

"But there's more to you than how good you look on a broom, isn't there?" Malfoy's fingers trailed away, only to be replaced by cool lips against his skin. "You're so generous too. And good. And brave. You fought for me today. I can't tell you what that means to me."

"I couldn't...let him..." Harry stuttered as those lips traced his throat.

"Can I tell you a secret, Harry?"

Oh Godric, anything.

"Okay," Harry squeaked.

"I only dated Gareth because," Malfoy paused and brushed his lips against Harry's. The soft touch was electric, sending sharp pulses down his nerve endings. Malfoy gazed up with hooded eyes and continued, "I didn't think I could have the man I really wanted."

"Who..."

"You, idiot."

Draco pulled away. His lips twitched at Harry's whine of dismay. Harry gazed at him with wide, confused eyes and Draco's smile softened. "I've always wanted you, Harry. I just didn't think you could ever want me back. Not until I saw you today. How furious you were, how badly you wanted to hurt him for touching what was yours. Do you want to touch me, Harry?"

Harry couldn't have stopped himself if he tried. His hands reached out of their own volition and planted themselves squarely on Draco's hips. It took a few tries but he finally got his tongue untied again.

"Everywhere."

He took a chance and buried his face in Draco's neck. He smelled like leather and fresh grass. It was intoxicating. Draco shifted against him, brushing their groins together.

"I want you to," he whispered. "So badly."

Capital idea.

"But not now."

Okay, less capital.

"Why the hell not?" Harry whined. Surely, Draco wasn't going to leave him in this state? All hot and bothered...he was an injured man, for Merlin's sake!

"You're still hurt," Draco replied gently. "The Healer said no strenuous physical activity for a while. You need to relax."

Oh.

Harry was just about to resume his sulking. Then, something brilliant happened.

Draco slipped off his lap, positioned himself between Harry's thighs and grinned.

"I, on the other hand, can do whatever I want.."

That was all the warning Harry got.

Then slim fingers fumbled with his zipper and tugged at his fly. Draco's eyes narrowed speculatively, sizing him up. The look in them was appreciative and almost...hungry.

Harry's cock preened at the attention.

"Very nice," Draco whispered. His tongue darted out to swipe at that plump lower lip. Harry groaned at the sight, prompting another grin.

"Remember," Draco purred. "No touching. We don't want you to strain anything, do we?"

Harry nodded stiffly and obediently clenched his fists. At this point, he would agree to anything to get this party started.

Draco lowered his head and licked a strip down Harry's shaft.

"Fuck!" Harry hissed, throwing his head back. His fists clenched at his sides and he forced his breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. He had to calm down or this would be over before…

"Oh, god," Harry groaned as Draco sucked at the head, swiping gently with his tongue. "Fuck, Draco! Where...oh, god... where did you learn that?"

Draco released him with a soft pop. "I can talk, or I can continue," he teased. "You pick."

Screw the no touching rule.

Harry clenched his teeth and wrapped a firm hand in those blond locks. Draco's eyes darkened as Harry applied the slightest pressure. "Stop again and I won't be responsible for my actions," he warned the cheeky little shite. "Now. Get back. To work."

His grip on Draco's hair tightened ever so slightly with each word. He may or may not have imagined the slight shiver that ran down Draco's spine, but his tone must have been pretty damn forceful because Draco obeyed without further delay. Harry moaned as those clever lips wrapped around him again, sliding effortlessly and swallowing him right down to the root.

"Gods, yes. Go on, suck me dry."

This time, Draco moaned. Harry's eyes rolled back in his head at the myriad sensations assaulting him— Draco's lips working his cock, his tongue lapping at the head, the hot, wet slide of his throat as he bobbed his head, those clever fingers squeezing gently at his balls.

It was so much. It was so good.

"Faster," Harry hissed. "Merlin, Draco..."

Draco picked up the pace. His throat squeezed around Harry's cock and that's all it took for him to seize control again. Harry surrendered, too caught up in the fantastic sensation to bother with power play anymore. Draco could do whatever he wanted, just so long as he never stopped sucking Harry's cock like it was going out of style.

"Faster," Harry whispered. His hips were bucking frantically, desperate for more. It was honestly a testament to Draco's skill that all the jerking and thrashing didn't even phase him. "Please, Draco. Oh Merlin, please…so close...so damn close..."

Draco raised his eyes to Harry's for one second. Silver eyes, blown with pleasure. Pink lips stretched around his cock. A low hum, deep in that pale, slim throat.

That was all it took.

Harry came with a stifled shout, deep in Draco's throat. Draco's eyes closed in pleasure and he swallowed with practiced ease.

If Harry hadn't just come, that sight would have been enough to send him over the edge again.

"You," he managed, "are going to kill me."

Draco released him with a smug chuckle. "That's the plan," he agreed, crawling up Harry's sated form like a snake and pressing a kiss to his lips. "We've got a whole season to hash this out, Potter. And I've got plans for you."

Harry managed a shaky laugh and hooked an arm around his waist to pull him closer. "Count me in, sidekick."