A Dream For The Dead

A Dream For The Dead

Chapter 4

Temporary Wounds

It was ironic, surely, that for someone who found difficulty keeping balance on solid ground, fighting the movement of the Earth at every turn, flying should be such a release. To balance oneself on a broomstick, at fifty, one hundred, two hundred feet in the air, required a very disciplined control of each individual muscle in one’s body.

The broomstick was really not designed for men. It was an old idea, taken from the fairy tale books of ancient youth, where a witch would sit sideways on a broom and fly off into the night. Granted, it was no easier to fly sideways. In fact, it was most assuredly more difficult. Still, it was a strange coincidence that broomsticks became as popular as they did amongst wizards.

They certainly hurt like hell if you were inexperienced in riding them.

Without the proper hold, the proper control, the broomstick could careen off to one side and send you hurtling towards the ground. It could break under your weight if you did not ride it properly. Its magic could fail and drop you to your death. If you let any one of your muscles slacken their hold, their position o the broom, you could slip off the end.

There were so many ways that flying a broomstick could end in death.

Still, Draco found that his only truly free moments were when he was soaring into the sky, high above his Quidditch practice. He would release his hold on the broom and spread his arms wide in the air, as though trying to capture it within him to no avail.

As he flew, Draco felt all of his worries and fears slip through him and fall to the ground. He sensed himself opening to the world. He left his discomfort behind on the grass and the world of the sky welcomed him home.

The air was his world and his world alone. High above the pitch, he could be alone without being lonely. He could feel the air moving, feel the tiny beating of the snitch’s wings all around him. He felt, in those moments, as though he really had a purpose.

And then he soared downward again, joining the rest of the team, and lost the feeling as quickly as it had come. Something Draco learned early on was that it did not do to hunt the wind. It was a fickle prey.

Draco soared around the pitch, idly chasing a snitch he had already located at the start of practice. He took in the sights of his teammates as they honed their own skills. He eyed Abigail Turner as she caught the Quaffle and soared towards the goalposts. James Brookway and Aidan Fitzgerald followed after her, completing the Hawkshead Formation. The Chasers on defense were part of the reserve team. Draco did not know their names. They usually practiced separately and only joined the primary team when Wood wanted to exert a competitive pressure on them.

The Beaters, Stewart Ackerly and Jimmy Peakes, zoomed around the pitch, swinging their bats as they hit the bludgers back and forth to each other. The looks on their faces were rather serene, considering what they were doing. The volleying bludgers attempted to go off course every so often, but were soon driven back to the point. The reserve Beaters had not yet had a chance to come near the bludgers. Draco smirked.

The reserve Seeker, Draco did know by name.

Astoria Greengrass had once been Draco’s fiancé.

The various reasons they did not marry always stung at Draco’s mind when they met during practice. He stared at her, his muted eyes piercing through her expressionless face.

She hated him. And he returned the favour.

Draco had once been under the impression that she only joined the Catapults in order to stalk him. That impression had stayed with him, though he pushed it to the back of his mind every time they met. She was determined to prove that she was somehow a better Seeker than he was.

Draco shot her a cruel smirk and feinted without looking where he was going. He didn’t need to. He could feel the air of the pitch. He knew it better than he knew the Manor, by now.

She followed immediately, not having seen the snitch herself and so being unable to stop herself. Draco sped towards the ground, egged on by the cries of his team behind him. He reached out towards the grass, only a foot beneath him and then abruptly pulled up and sped off into the air.

Greengrass was not so quick.

She crashed into the ground, having attempted to pull up when it was too late. Her leg and broom got caught in the movement and she was hurtled forward, rolling almost comically across the ground before she fell, sprawled on the grass, one leg sticking out at an odd angle.

Draco winced as he watched her from his vantage point. He was floating pleasantly above Wood and the goalposts. The mediwizards that they had stationed on the grounds during their in-season practices rushed to her side to help her. The team went on playing, as though nothing had happened.

This was professional Quidditch. Not Hogwarts.

Draco decided that it had been long enough and he immediately began to soar around the pitch. He spotted the snitch again and smiled to himself. He flew fast and hard, directly towards Wood. He held out his hand as he approached and Wood smirked at him.

Draco’s smile widened and he brushed past his Captain, his long fingers wrapping around the tiny ball floating just next to Wood’s shoulder. Draco felt the light touch of a hand on his back as he flew through the goal hoop and around, clutching the snitch.

Soon after that, Wood called for the end of practice. Draco continued to fly around, as per usual. He did not enjoy spending time in the change rooms with everyone else. Particularly not with what was now probably a murderous Greengrass there as well.

After roughly half an hour, Draco began his descent. He reached the ground knowing that the team was gone by now, yet also aware that Wood would be waiting for him just outside the doors.

Draco walked determinately towards him, his broomstick over his shoulder as he did. He paused next to his Captain, who was leaning leisurely against the wall, and dropped the little snitch into his hand before walking into the change room.

Wood followed him.

“You can’t leave her be, can you?” Wood asked abruptly, a hint of anger in his voice. Draco knew this was coming. “You can’t have one practice without managing to send her flying into the ground, or getting knocked out by a bludger, or something of the like.”

Draco merely walked over to his locker. He opened the door and placed his broomstick within before pulling off his robes and shirt and tossing them into his bag. He dropped down onto the bench and leaned back against the cold metal.

“It’s not my fault she’s bloody –” Draco began but Wood cut him off.

“Yes, it is your bloody fault!” Wood was clearly angry about something else entirely. Draco closed his mouth and watched him. Focussing on his body helped him ignore the movement of the world. “I know you’ve got your issues with her, but she’s on your side, Malfoy! She’s on the same team.”

“She is not,” Draco said coldly, sitting up. “She is not on my side, nor my team. She has nothing but ill will towards me.” He leaned back against the metal and tiny little bumps raised all along his flesh. “What am I to do? She fucking hates me because I married Aurora instead. Not like she wanted to marry me anyway. Greengrass didn’t give a damn about me. It was just a blow to her pride, or something.” He spat his words as though they were poisonous. He looked off to the side, unable to continue staring at Wood. “I suppose she thought that since the Malfoys had fallen from grace I should be honoured to have her.” His words were laced with bitterness and pain. He pulled the latter from his face. “Too bad for her that Aurora understands me for who I am.”

Wood smacked his hands against the metal on both sides of Draco’s head, jerking him out of his thought with a sharp clang. He leaned in, his face only inches from Draco’s.

“Does she, Draco?” he asked softly. “Does Aurora really get you? Does she know who you really are?” Wood was breathing heavily and his warm breath ghosted over Draco’s face. He was momentarily stunned by their sudden proximity. Then his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“More than Astoria ever did,” he answered silkily. Wood leaned in even closer, asking a silent question. Draco opened his mouth for a moment, trying to find an answer. Then he felt the world tug and slip beneath him. He felt dizzy and couldn’t breathe. It was as though all the air was sucked from his lungs without passing through his mouth or nose. He suffocated for a moment before placing his hands on Wood’s forearms.

“What’s wrong?” Wood asked, his voice softer. There was a strange look in his eyes. He seemed worried about the state of his prized Seeker, but also about something else. Draco closed his eyes for a moment.

“Nothing,” he answered, glad that his voice was not wavering. “Just a bit of vertigo or something. Guess I did too much diving today.” He did not move his hands from Wood’s forearms. “It helps when someone touches me.” He said it without meaning to. He looked up abruptly and saw a hungry glint in Oliver’s eyes.

“Then I’ll touch you.”

+++++

”Their tactics have never been great, frankly. They hardly have more to boast about than the Canons. Honestly, you can’t be suggesting that the Falcons will beat the Catapults this year…”

“Oh certainly I can, and I am. That is, if the Catapults beat the Tornadoes, which is still in the air. The Catapults have some strong players, sure, but the Falcons are quickly proving their intent on winning the cup this year. Just look at their recent defeat of the Bangers, two-hundred and ten to nothing! I’d say that’s an accomplishment.”

“Please! The Bangers are known for their uselessness at the game. Frankly they should be removed from the League. Such a landslide defeat of their team is all but expected from a team that has made it past their fifth game. And do you really think that the Falcons stand a chance against the Catapults with Wood as their Captain? He’s proven time and again how vehement he is in winning.”

“As I said, the Catapults have some strong players…”

“Just strong? Half of the teams in the league can’t meet my eyes when I interview them about facing Wood and his team. Furthermore, how could you possibly think that Brigsby stands any kind of chance against the Catapults’ Seeker, Malfoy?”

“See, I don’t understand what the big deal is about Malfoy. He’s not that impressive, really. I mean, sure, he’s a fair Seeker and I know there are hordes of witches out there weak in the knees from one look at him, but he’s nothing special. In fact, his blatant disdain for his position and his fandom suggests to me that he could care less about the game! Pardon me, but he’s bloody lucky that the League even allowed him to join, after what he is responsible for in the War. I, for one, think that he should be removed –”

“Removed?? Are you mad? Malfoy is the best Seeker that the League has seen in a century! Perhaps longer. He’s hasn’t lost a match yet! Well, that is to say, he hasn’t lost a Snitch.”

“What pride is there in catching the Snitch if you can’t win the game for your team? Why do you defend him so when he clearly puts his own pride above the needs and necessities of the team? That’s all that catching the Snitch without ensuring a win is, after all. He’s catching it for his own pride –”

“Please, pride! What would you have him do? Just sit idly by and watch as the opposing Seeker catches the Snitch because he knows that, even if he does, they won’t win? It is a sign of strength for his team, that he can make the decision to catch the Snitch and salvage some kind of win for them when they have fallen so far behind –”

“Will you turn that bloody thing off?” Harry snapped at Seamus. The Wireless device on Seamus desk had been ranting for an hour about Quidditch tactics. Harry’s ears were buzzing with the incessant chatter and backtalk. The two announcers were always bickering about which Seeker was worth their weight in salt and which should be chucked from the League. They never agreed on anything at all and Harry was getting sick of it.

Seamus sighed and flicked it off. He stared into nothingness for a moment, flicking a knut in his fingers before he turned to Harry with a broad smile. Harry tried to ignore him, knowing that a conversation about Quidditch was imminent. Harry wished that he could say he was infinitely busy, but Seamus knew full well that he wasn’t. Harry was never busy with anything of consequence anymore.

“So, Harry,” Seamus began, attempting to be nonchalant. Harry rolled his eyes and reshuffled his papers. “Who do you think’ll win the next match? The Catapults or the Tornadoes?” He rocked back on his chair like an excited child.

“I can honestly say I don’t care,” Harry shot, dipping his quill in his inkpot before realizing he had nothing to write. He groaned softly and dropped the feather before picking up a file at random on his desk.

“How can you not care??” Seamus demanded, apparently flabbergasted that Harry took no interest. “This is the first game that the Catapults have played against the Tornadoes in almost thirty years. One team or the other always gets knocked out before they can. Do you know how huge this is? The Catapults haven’t been able to defeat the Tornadoes since before Plumpton in 1921! Everyone’s saying that Malfoy’s good enough to beat them, but that he’ll never beat Plumpton’s record of three and a half seconds.” Seamus was rambling now, as Harry had suspected he would. Harry rolled his eyes and turned angrily to his officemate.

“Listen, Seamus,” he said as calmly as possible. “I just don’t care. I get that this is supposed to be hugely important in Quidditch history and all, but I just. Don’t. Care.” His face was set and his lips were a thin line. “I haven’t followed Quidditch in a while. I lost interest.”

He turned back to his desk, away from the hurt and bewildered look on Seamus’ face. He didn’t really want to talk further on the subject.

“You lost interest?” Seamus asked him, completely disbelieving. “But Quidditch was everything to you in school! You were Captain of the team and… how did you lose interest?”

Harry glared at the parchment before him as though it had mortally offended him. He bit the inside of his lip and took a deep breath.

“I just did,” he responded, his tone making it painfully clear that there was to be no further discussion. “And it was not everything to me in school. In case you forgot I was also rather preoccupied with defeating evil and surviving countless attacks against me. Then there was that whole Voldemort fiasco in seventh year, if you recall. May have put a damper on my Quidditch interests.”

Seamus gaped at him for a few moments, his face turning a faint shade of pink before he muttered something intelligible and turned back to his work. He scribbled something down on his parchment and sniffed loudly. Harry ignored him and went back to the random case file he had opened.

He frowned when his eyes fell on the small photo clipped to the corner. The long white-blond hair was as telling as the cold eyes, but the face was long and greyed. It was old and worn and, despite the defiant look, was frightened.

Lucius Malfoy’s file was being reviewed. He supposed that it was about time. He had finished serving his sentence roughly five years ago. They needed to update the file, ensure that he was reintegrated adequately in their society and keeping his hands clean of Dark Magic, in order to close the case completely. Harry stared into the piercing eyes and sighed.

He did not see Lucius Malfoy there at all. The white hair and frightened expression reminded him of two separate people at the same moment in time. He had never felt so bad for any one person as he had felt in that moment for those to people.

Images of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts flooded his mind and he closed the file in front of him. He saw a young boy’s shaking form, his resolve faltering, his wand arm falling. He saw an old man, losing his grip on the world and trying to save one last soul. He saw Death and he saw Fear.

Harry closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. He hated reliving that moment. He hated revisiting times before the war because, no matter how painful they were, no matter how frightening, how frustrating and uncertain, they were his time. He longed for the feeling of Hogwarts again.

He felt the world slipping through his fingers, felt the familiar tug and the unknowable voice. He let himself drift off the edge for a moment, let himself feel it once more before pulling back and opening his eyes.

He opened the file again and picked up his quill to make several notes on the last slip of parchment before getting to his feet.

It was only once he had reached the door that he noticed that Seamus had already gone.

He never noticed anything anymore.

+++++

Draco swallowed hard, leaning back against the cold metal lockers. He was on the floor. Wood was leaning next to him, their shoulders pressed together. It was unbearably hot in the change room and the cold metal was a relief to him. He swallowed hard again.

“Malfoy,” Wood said suddenly, getting to his feet. He stared down at Draco, his eyes raking over the blonde’s pale body. Draco felt as though he was floating in the ether. He could not feel the ground beneath him. Wood reached out a hand and Draco took it, hoisting himself up.

Wood’s hand lingered on Draco’s wrist for a moment, the other wrapping around his neck, tilting his jaw with his thumb. Draco did not react. He did nothing but breathe. Wood pressed his mouth to Draco’s and kissed him. Draco’s lips parted as he kissed his Captain and he wondered why Wood did this, wondered why he did this.

Wood released him and smiled a satisfied smile. He picked up his towel and walked over to the showers.

“Don’t be late for practice tomorrow,’ Wood told him simply from the doorway. Draco nodded even though the other man could not see him.

He sighed and slipped on his own robes before closing the locker door. He shook his head and wondered what time it was.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” he told himself. “The wind has no curfew.”

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A/N: So I decided I don't dislike these two chapters (this and the next one) as much as I thought so I'll post them one at a time. I hope you liked it! And Wood/Draco is not really one of my pairings but it just came out that way. Seemed as though it was important to this fic. We'll all find out soon enough I suppose, ehehe. Reviews are love and encourage me :) *hearts*