Chapter Text
Harry's eleventh birthday was unlike any other. Growing up he'd only heard bits of what had happened to his parents and even less of what they had been like while they were alive. He had certainly wondered about what they had been like, about the home he didn't remember and about his parent's friends. The vague answers from his aunt Petunia Dursley and her husband Vernon Dursley had been barely enough to keep his curiosity at bay.
He knew not to expect too much from them on his birthday either. Even if they remembered they didn't go out of their way to celebrate him and, in Harry's opinion, it was better for them to forget. At least then he didn't have to hear about what a burden he was and how they couldn't wait until the day he moved out. His classmates barely paid mind to him, they were all too afraid to fall victims to his cousin Dudley and his gang, they chose to ignore him as much as they could.
So when Harry woke up that day, he did his chores and he was content not hearing any comments about what day it was. He day-dreamed about what his parents would have done, if his mother would have baked a cake and if they would have sung for him. In the evening, when he was finally allowed to retreat back to his room, he lit a candle that he had borrowed from the dinner room and wished himself a happy birthday. But it was because of all his past birthdays that he didn't suspect anything when the bell rang that evening. It was definitely strange for someone to visit at such a late hour, that at least did made him wonder, and so he went downstairs to find out what the late visit was about.
It was on that day that Harry met Rubeus Hagrid and his life took an unexpected turn. It had taken quite some time for his uncle Vernon to give in and let Hagrid have a word with him, something Hagrid told him he had been trying to do for months. Hagrid had threatened with contacting Children's Services if they didn't let him meet Harry to see for himself that he was doing well and in the end he got his wish.
Hagrid brought Harry cake and he told him he was sorry for being late, that he was caught up with work at the rink and that he had wanted to bring Harry a picture of his dad that he had seen the other day. He spoke of all those things as if Harry had an idea of who he was and what he did. After a moment, Hagrid realized that Harry didn't have a clue and got quite upset when Harry revealed that he barely knew anything about his parents at all.
“Your dad was a hockey player, Harry. He and your mom were very popular, you see, and your mom introduced him to politics and they both got very involved. They didn't die in a car crash. They died fighting for what they thought was right, and the man responsible for their death is doing his time.”
That alone had answered many of the questions Harry had about the Dursley's. They weren't really into sports that much, but he couldn't remember one time that hockey had been a topic in the house. Things like tabloids were rarely seen in their home either, if ever. But at the same time, a lot of new questions formed in his mind and when he voiced said questions, Hagrid told him that a boy of his age shouldn't ponder too much on those things quite yet.
Harry spent a long time with Hagrid, hearing his stories about Lily and James Potter and finally seeing picturess, finding out he had the same green eyes as his mom and that he had gotten his olive skin from his dad. It was strange, to feel so happy and so sad at the same time.
Before leaving, Hagrid had told Harry that there was a free spot for him in the Lion's hockey team and that all costs would be taken care of if he decided he was interested. Harry had said yes right away, and the Dursley's had had little and less to say when Hagrid had told them about his decision and reminded them that a skinny boy was a good enough reason to contact Children's Services.
It was decided then that Harry would join a hockey team. As far as birthdays went, his eleventh had been the best one so far.
*
Draco had told his mother that he wanted to arrive early for practice. It had been a month and he had been almost bored to death on his visit to France. Their language had been weird, his parents had eaten snails, of all things,and he had missed skating. His mother had listened to him and driven him to practice half an hour earlier than usual.
But when he had pushed the heavy door to the rink keeping the cold indoors, he had instantly felt irritated. The team from the minor hockey division of the Lions were still at it. He had no idea why, since it didn't seem to make them any better at skating and it wasn't like they needed it either. All hockey players ever did was push each other and follow a stupid puck around. They would gain as much from practice if they did it outdoors. Draco sat down and glowered at them for a bit before he started tying his skates. They felt really tight, maybe it was time for a new pair. Too bad, he had grown quite attached to them.
It took a while for the hockey team to start wrapping up and after watching them for a while he had noticed there was a new player in the team. He noticed it when coach McGonagall called all the players to assemble. Although he managed to get from point A to point B, he did so with a great similarity to Bambi on the frozen lake.
“Hey, Potter, catch this!” One of the boys had said in a thick Irish accent before shooting the puck towards the unsteady boy.
Draco had been surprised when the boy had shown quick reflexes and had swiftly moved his arms to swing his hockey stick and catch the puck, but he'd apparently forgotten the rest of his body, because he ended up falling on his butt and making the whole team laugh. One of the other boys offered Bambi his hand and helped him up.
“What are you smiling about?” A familiar voice had said then and Draco had turned to see his friend Pansy standing next to him.
Pansy had her black hair neatly combed into a bun and her bangs trimmed to perfection. She wore the same gym jacket he did, with the same silver snake sewn on the arm, but she wore a glittery black skirt instead of the black thighs he himself wore. They had hugged and then turned to glower at the hockey team together. She had quickly told him more about the new boy; his name was Potter and he'd begun training only days ago.
“Seems like he's never skated before... And do you think the name sounds familiar? I overheard Weasley, you know, the ginger from the girls hockey team, and she seemed pretty hyped about him for some reason.”
“You really don't know?” Said Draco, rolling his eyes and then giving her a superior smile. He liked knowing things that she didn't. “You are so uneducated.”
“What? Tell me!” She said, her eyes growing big.
“Well, I can't say for sure, but he is probably related to James Potter, if Weasley was talking about it.” He said and looked again towards Bambi with a newfound interest.
“Who is James Potter?”
“Have you been living under a rock? He was a hockey-player. Played centre for the Lions for a few years, he was very popular but died very young and there is an enormous portrait of him right by the entrance of this very ice-rink.” Answered Draco without taking away his eyes from Potter. “It's almost an insult to this place not knowing who he was, really.”
“Yeah, Pansy. Really.” Said a new voice that Draco recognized as belonging to Blaise.
“Oh, hockey, what fun to have recognition for being a glorified caveman! Your mother got to the Olympics, yet I don't see a portrait of her covering half a wall.” Pansy said indignantly.
“That's because they are saving place for mine.” He simply said.
*
When practice was finally over, Harry carefully skated towards the rink gate and Ron Weasley, whom Harry had decided he liked a lot, skated slowly beside him. As they reached the gate, Ron sighed loudly.
“Good bye, sweet ice, it was nice knowing you while you were whole.” Said Ron dramatically.
Looking up, Harry saw two boys and a girl, all scowling at Ron. He had seen two of them earlier during the week, it was the one in the middle he didn't recognize. Stepping through the gate, he finally straightened. He and the blond unknown boy were the same height.
“Some natural talent you got there, Potter. Well, don't worry, the only skill required for hockey is ramming into people and not having anything in that little brain of yours. It will get damaged anyway in one of the many concussions to come.” Said the black-haired girl and smiled cruelly.
The blond boy smiled at her words, but shook his head and looked at Harry.
“Don't mind Pansy, she is being... Well, Pansy.” He smiled to her again, then looked back at Harry. “This is Blaise and my name is Draco Malfoy. I hear you are the son of James Potter... My father played a bit of hockey too, you know, in another team. Although it was my mother they remembered. Maybe you've heard of her, she went by Narcissa Black back then.”
“Yeah...” Harry answered, a little taken aback by the boy's confident behavior. “I don't know that name, sorry.”
“And your dad left as soon as another team offered a bigger pay-check. Some loyalty there, Malfoy.” Ron said to him.
The blond boy looked affronted at that and looked at Ron with disgust.
“Too bad they didn't offer it to your dad, you certainly need it more. How many times has that jersey been handed down? Fewer times than your jockstrap, I hope.” Draco spat back at Ron.
Pansy and the other boy, Blaise, both nodded at this while feigning empathy and started waving their hands in front of their faces as if fending of a stench. Ron turned redder by the second.
“I'd surround myself with better people if I were you, Potter.” Draco said to Potter and offered a gracious smile and his hand, ignoring Ron completely.
“I'm good.” responded Harry ignoring his hand, then he began walking towards the door tightly followed by Ron.
When the turned to glance at Draco one last time, he saw the blond boy skating gracefully away with his friends on his sides. Right before closing the door, Draco turned and their eyes met. Both their mouths tightened before they turned away from each other.