"Hang on." Harry frowns, jersey in hand. "What do you mean, Malfoy's not playing?"
"He's getting the sack, isn't he?" Nick shrugs as he does up his shin guards. "Management don't want a Death Eater on the team, the fans don't like it."
"He's not a Death Eater." Harry's jaw shifts; he's been asked about Malfoy in at least fifty post-match interviews in the four months since they both got signed to the Tornados, and he's said the same thing every fucking time. "He was a Death Eater."
"Same difference." Nick pulls on his gloves. "You ready, mate?"
But Harry's already walking out the door, skin prickling. He feels ready, alright—ready for a fight.
Raised voices are audible through the office door. Harry raps his knuckles on it, hard.
Draco Malfoy wrenches it open. "Oh good. Here to play witness to yet another fantastic failure in my life. Cheers, Potter."
He goes to storm past him. Harry puts a hand on his chest, and pushes him back into the room.
"What's going on?" He looks past Malfoy's shoulder at the gathered execs.
"Potter, why the hell aren't you out on the bloody pitch yet?" the club manager, Gavin Bagshot, roars, purple in the face. Harry is reminded strongly of Uncle Vernon. It's doing nothing to calm his heckles, but he keeps his voice steady—one benefit from years of practice.
"We were missing a chaser." He jerks his head at Malfoy, standing tense beside him and practically vibrating with rage. Harry almost wants to run a hand down his flank, like a horse. Malfoy would probably punch him.
"Our best," Harry adds, coolly, when there's no response. Malfoy sucks in a breath.
"Malfoy's contract has been terminated; we're swapping out Banks from the reserve team.” A tall woman with an elegant bob steps forward. She's one of the club owners, Harry realises—he's met her once before. "Now, please, Mr. Potter, we need you out on your broom."
Harry suddenly remembers she's related to the Rosier family. There's a buzzing in his ears. The fucking hypocrisy.
Bagshot looks like he's having a coronary event. Good, Harry thinks savagely, as he chucks his jersey on the desk.
Then he grabs Malfoy's bicep, and apparates.
Hang ⚡️ Day 5 of @peachydreamxx and @uncannycerulean’s unofficial microfic may challenge
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