#omghogwartsplease

“If we are going to be ready for training next week the team can’t suddenly be adding this many baked goods to our meal plans.”

No thank you. No this is delicious. He doesn’t even try Draco’s Siracha pie. If Draco wasn’t genetically opposed to upfront confrontation he might have sad something rude. Instead he had just felt his eye twitch.

“Does Harry want to murder me? Should I be expecting a challenge to a wizard’s duel or something?” Draco asks after the second week of practice when he is really starting to get the impression that the captain doesn’t want him.

“Nah man, Harry just gets extra bitch before the season starts. He will calm back down once we have our first game.” Seamus ‘Horsey’ Finnegan tells Draco in the locker room after a rather brutal practice.

“When you dad is Skinny Jimmy there is a lot of pressure to perform.” Shitty R. Weasley tells Draco while standing completely naked in the center of the room.

“Who’s Skinny Jimmy?” Draco asks undoing his laces. The locker room goes completely silent. The locker room has never been completely silent as far as Draco knows. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Momma have you ever heard of Skinny Jimmy Potter?” Draco really feels like if his mother doesn’t know than he might be in the clear.

“Oh yes. I used to have his poster in my room in college. A wizarding hockey poster mind you. He used to flex and wink all the time. All the girls had one.”

Draco laid down on his bed face first. Clearly he really is out of the loop in all things hockey and wizarding hockey.

James “Skinny Jimmy” Potter is the greatest hockey player to ever been born a wizard. He has won the stately cup four times with two different teams. He also happened to be devastatingly good looking. Draco can see why his mother used to have his poster, because the only different between father and son seems to be eye color. And the fact that Harry is in college when his father had been drafted straight out of the Q. Draco also did not understand why James Potter had ever been called Skinny Jimmy because that man did not look like he had ever been particularly skinny. But hockey nick names were something he had come to accept made no sense.

“Why do you ask love?” His mother’s voice cut in from Draco’s spiral of thoughts.

“His son is my captain.” Draco admits mournfully.

“OOOooooOOOOO, Lucious!”

“Momma no.”

“Braxie is going to school with the son of Skinny Jimmy! We have to get tickets. I want an autograph! Lucious don’t walk away from me when I am talking to you.” Draco hangs up rather than listen to the chaos that is about to ensue.

Harry isn’t trying to be a dick.

“Yeah you are man.” Shitty breaks into his thoughts. Harry glares. Shits is currently naked on Harry’s bed, something that Harry has just come to accept at this point in their friendship. “Draco is a good  little ferret. Not his fault his name doesn’t work with nick names well. We will find something eventually. Boy has a middle name he is hiding from us.”

“I believe in your and Seamus’s magic powers of nick names.” If it was left to Harry he would just call everyone by their first or last names but hockey does not allow for such normal names.

“You need to work with him Harry.” Shitty begins again.

“Yeah I know.”

The problem is Draco Malfoy, southern baking wizard, fastest guy on the ice besides Harry. The problem is he is blond. The problem is he smiles easy and Harry has never felt anything but magic come easy in his life. But you can’t run off and just be a wizard when your father is the greatest gift to hockey in the last hundred years.

The problem is his therapist thinks he needs to figure out how to connect with Draco. For reasons that Harry isn’t ready to speak aloud. Reasons that involve his smile and how his hair looks in the sunlight.

The problem is uncle Sirius on the phone telling Harry to knock some head and then putting uncle Remus on the phone to tell Harry to breathe.

The problem is that Harry wants something and doesn’t have the words or the actions to express himself.

Th dragon open’s its mouth and starts making what sounds like a knocking noise. The whisk, that Draco currently was, did a dance to oppose the knocking dragon. The dragon opened it’s bought and the knocking noise increased in volume. After a few more minutes of this Draco realizes that the knocking sound her is hearing is not in fact coming from his dream and is real.

He falls off the the bed trying to get to the door, still tangled in his sheets. He opens the door to find none other than Harry fucking Potter pounding on his door. Draco blinks for a moment. Harry seems equally baffled. Draco then remembered that he had kicked off his pajamas in the night, and that he normally didn’t wear underpants under his pajamas.

“Yes?” Draco asked finally when it had become clear that hockey captain Harry Potter was just going to stand there and stare at Draco in nothing but his birthday suit.

“Checking practice.” Harry offered finally. “Get dressed.” And then turned around.

Draco seeing that this was not a matter to be discussed closed the door and turned to get dressed. It was then that Draco realized it was a little bit before four in the fucking a.m. He groaned into the darkness and hunted for some clothes.

The worst part wasn’t to four am wake up. The worst part was Harry Potter in a tight black shirt pushing into Draco over and over again.

“How long are we going to be doing this?” Draco asked after the first contact.

“However long it takes you to get over this weird mental block.” Harry skated around, “But there is a youth tournament at seven so we have to be off the ice by then.”

“Coco Puff.”

“Well that’s not so bad of a nick name dear.” His mother offered.

“I had to put my foot down when Shitty said we should just call me Puff Daddy.” Draco groaned. He did not need this in his life. The great and wonderful Harry Potter had not designed to give Draco any time off from their new checking practice. It was up to three times a week and it was seriously cutting into his beauty sleep. He had found a dry spot between his brows this morning and Draco was not happy to see that all of this was affecting the condition of his skin.

“Isn’t that what one calls their kink master?” Narcissa wondered with that airy tone she got when she was teasing him terribly.

“Mother!”

“What? I have the internet.” She smiled slyly at him.