Summary:

Malfoy gripped his hand tightly, using it to pull Harry towards him a step. “I never had you pegged for a sore loser, Potter.”

Once again, Harry felt that familiar anger twist in his chest, and a small part of his brain registered that it felt good.

“Obviously I know you better then,” he hissed. “I’ve always known you were an arrogant prick.”

A story of love and Quidditch, not necessarily in that order.