Soul Mate - Chapter 23:
Harry hadn’t played Quidditch in a long time, which made him more excited than he expected.
He mounted his broomstick, soared into the sky, and felt an irresistible impulse to speed through
the air and shout at the top of his lungs. From above, he called to Draco,
Hey Draco, hurry up! I can’t wait any longer
Oh Harry, you’ll never learn what it means to be graceful and polite,
Draco raised an eyebrow and flew alongside him.
Harry rolled his eyes dramatically. Come on Draco, put aside your noble etiquette for a bit.
Don’t you find it exhausting? This is what I call a lack of passion.
Draco studied him silently for a moment, then held out a hand.
Resting in his palm was a small, shining golden ball, the Golden Snitch.
There aren’t any complicated rules, he explained. Whoever catches the Snitch first wins.
Don’t worry, I’ve set a limit it won’t fly outside Malfoy Manor
Harry squinted. I know it’s unlikely, but are you sure it won’t fly inside your house?
That little ball could hide anywhere inside rooms, under furniture.
What if it does?
Draco’s forehead veins bulged, trying to contain his exasperation at this lion-brained fool.
He reached out and gave Harry a sharp tap on the forehead. Gryffindor idiot!
You brainless idiot! And you’ve been your house’s Seeker all this time?
When have you ever seen a Snitch fly beyond the boundary,
huh…..
That really hurt, Draco, Harry complained, rubbing his forehead
I genuinely wonder how you survived the war.
Maybe I should start admiring Granger a lot more,
Draco muttered with biting sarcasm.
Why, Harry asked.
Because she managed to take care of two complete idiots without letting their stupidity
rub off on her. That alone deserves my utmost respect, he added with a smirk.
Harry almost kicked Draco off his broom but restrained himself.
After all, he was a guest here, not an adversary. Fine, he said.
Whatever you say, let’s start.
Draco glanced at him, released the Golden Snitch, and called out.
One, two, three… go
The Snitch shot through the air like a streak of light.
Harry immediately pursued it while Draco lagged behind for a split second.
They kept a half-body distance between them, but Draco barely noticed the Snitch.
His eyes were glued to Harry.
The black hair rippling in the wind, the green eyes sparkling
with joy, the relaxed, effortless expression, the perfect
flying posture… a sight he could never replicate.
Quidditch had once been about the sport itself,
but now it had become about this one person,
that dazzling red streak soaring across the sky.
He hated red, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
This might be his last game of Quidditch. Draco’s expression was calm, controlled.
From today onward, his life would follow the path laid out before he was born,
moving step by step under the gaze of envy, admiration, or disdain, never turning back.
Like Quidditch, no matter how much he loved it, it wasn’t truly his
Yes, it didn’t belong to him, never had, never would.
Yet even if it didn’t… he wanted to hold onto that warmth, even if only as friends.
Draco slightly lowered his head, golden hair tousled by the wind.
A faint smile touched his lips, and with a small resolve, he accelerated, chasing after Harry
It was a reckless, moth-to-flame determination
Meanwhile, Lucius sat in his study. The expansive windows gave him a perfect view of Harry and
Draco streaking across the sky. Watching them, he felt time rewind,
as if twenty years ago he and James Potter were on the Quidditch pitch,
one Slytherin, one Gryffindor, competing fiercely against each other.
How long had it been since he’d last played Quidditch himself?
He remembered being obsessed as a child.
But after graduating from Hogwarts and entering the Ministry,
he never touched a broomstick in play again.
His role had become merely spectating from the VIP stands,
exchanging polite conversation while masking political maneuvering behind smiles.
Politics was always ugly beneath the glittering facade.
Years of surviving it had honed Malfof’s ability
Lucius stood, moving to the window. That boy really did resemble his father
innocent, naive, meddlesome, soft-hearted, and mischievous.
No wonder Snape had often blamed James Potter’s past antics on Draco.
It was too easy to confuse father and son.
Narcissa entered, linking arms with him. Thinking of the past,
weren’t you, she asked.
Lucius nodded wordlessly, eyes lowered, reflecting. Very much alike.
But back then, because of Snape, his relationship with
James Potter wasn’t nearly as close as Draco’s and Harry’s.
Meetings had always been tense, full of sharp glares and barbed words.
They argued for six straight years at school, Narcissa reminded herself, laughing softly.
Kids’ tempers. Once they untangled their misunderstandings, reconciliation came easily.
I remember your relationship with Lily Potter was quite good, he recalled.
Yes, Lily was smart. If she hadn’t been a Muggle-born, she might have gone further,
Narcissa sighed, thinking of her schooldays crush.
Yet even so, she was an incredible mother.
And you are as well.
Narcissa smiled, understanding what he meant.
That was the only choice I could recall making back then.
Even now, remembering lying to the Dark Lord makes me break out in a sweat.
Thankfully, I chose wisely in the end.
Perhaps during that war, I was the biggest fool, Lucius admitted with a self-deprecating smile.
Even at the end, Narcissa had taken Draco’s hand first, and he had hesitated before following.
I still can’t figure out why I was so stubborn then.
Because he wasn’t always like that, was he, Narcissa asked, gazing at him.
Remember the first time we saw him? At our wedding, he officiated.
That elegance, I will never forget.
Truly magnificent and extraordinary.
The contrast between then and now was so stark that she
had always separated the young man she first saw from the later Dark Lord.
They were not the same person.
All that is past, isn’t it, Lucius said, holding her hand.
There is no Dark Lord, Voldemort, or Tom Riddle in this world anymore.