Chapter Text
Monza (Italy), Qualifying
“Draco Malfoy,” Ron says.
“Who?” Harry asks, distracted. He’s staring at the board mounted over the pit wall, displaying ever-shifting lap times that Harry hopes don’t exceed his own. The sound of cars revving down the straight fill his ears, engineers in their garage rooted to their screens trying to dissect the data from his hot lap.
“Draco Malfoy,” Ron repeats. “He’s on provisional pole.”
“God,” Harry groans, “anyone but him.”
“You do realise that would put you at P3 on the grid,” Ron says, amused.
“Doesn’t matter,” Harry says, dismissively. “What’s one more overtake in the grand scheme of things?”
“A potential crash, for one,” Ron says, slapping him on the back lightly. “Reckon our engineers won’t be too happy with that.”
“You’ll take care of that for me,” Harry says, ducking when Ron attempts another hit. Truthfully, Ron is the best race engineer Harry’s ever had. He views a race like a game of chess, and though Harry brings the raw pace, it’s Ron’s strategy that often seals the win. An undercut here, a tyre change there, and a podium finish for the team. Gryffindor Racing treats Harry like their most prized possession, although privately, Harry knows it’s Ron.
“I will do nothing of the sort,” Ron says, and Harry pouts in mock affront. He opens his mouth to say more when the sound of the commentator cuts him off over the speakers.
And here comes Blaise Zabini on his last flying lap of this session. Will he be able to outscore Malfoy, his teammate? He has done so on three separate occasions, and seems well on his way to secure a fourth pole, setting the fastest time in the first sector and absolutely dashing through the second sector. Has Zabini got this in the bag? Yes he has! The second sector goes green. If he manages to record the fastest lap time in the third and final sector, he will be on pole here in Monza. Here he comes now, past turn 13 and - oh that is an enormous crash into the barriers there! Looks like Zabini’s qualifying has come to an unfortunate early end. What a shame. That would’ve been a stunning lap. Looks like it’s Malfoy and Potter on the front row once again for tomorrow’s race. Who will take the win? Let’s find out tomorrow at 6:30 pm local time, thank you very much for tuning in and goodnight.
Harry sighs. “P2 then, not bad.”
Katie Bell, his controls engineer, gives him a thumbs up as he leaves the car for his debrief and stat analysis. Ron follows him, hand on his shoulder, and Harry is grateful for the comforting gesture. This early on in the year, the championship is too soon to call, so Harry does the math in his head. Cedric, Malfoy, and Zabini are on roughly equal points with him, Diggory and Malfoy in the lead. Although, it’s come to an unspoken consensus that Gryffindor and Slytherin are the only real contenders for the Constructors’ title.
When he enters the debrief room, a space lined with engineers in front of computers feeding live data into the screens, Hermione beckons for him to sit.
“What can you tell us about the car’s performance today?” Hermione asks, using her Team Principal voice.
“I was feeling the car drift slightly at the sharper corners, I’m worried about suspension failure. If you could get it checked, that’d be great.”
“Done,” Hermione says, making a note in her notepad. “Anything else?”
“Nope. The car was feeling good today, let’s hope we can carry this pace into the race tomorrow,” Harry says, with a tired smile. His team had given him a veritable rocket last season, allowing him to charge to the podium and the inevitable Championship crown. This year, Harry feels like the results have been more mixed. The car no longer feels like an extension of his being, and he finds himself dragging the car to the finish line more often than not. He rubs his eyes tiredly, trying not to think about it.
“Alright, that will be all Harry, thank you.” Hermione dismisses him with a small smile and a cursory flick of her hand. Harry leaves the room, grateful for the quick debrief. He wonders if the fans know just how much work goes on behind the scenes of a race weekend. It’s almost unfair, he thinks, his engineers working much later than he does, building his car and analysing his data.
Then again, they’re not the ones risking their lives for entertainment.
No, that dubious honour is reserved exclusively for him. He and the nineteen other drivers currently populating the Formula One grid.
Speaking of which, “Cedric!” he calls, startling Cedric out of conversation with some journalist. The paddock is not as crowded as it usually is, people packing up to go home before the race tomorrow. Cedric signals to the woman, ending their conversation, and jogs over to him.
“Hey Harry,” he says, “Congratulations on P2.”
“Thanks, you didn’t do so bad yourself.”
Cedric snorts. “P4 is - decent.”
“It’s more fun - you’ll get to do a bunch of overtakes; the fans will love that.”
Cedric raises his eyebrow. “A bunch?”
“You can be behind me when I take P1 in the race tomorrow.”
“I see you’ll be performing some overtakes of your own.”
“Obviously.”
“And how does Draco feel about that?”
Draco. Harry marvels at the way his name slides off Cedric’s tongue so easily. He doesn’t understand how someone as nice as Cedric could ever get along with a brat like Malfoy.
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“I guess we will,” Cedric says. “Looking forward to sharing that podium with you.”
“As long as it’s me on the top step,” Harry says, with a grin. They clap each other on the shoulders and leave, Harry walking towards his motorhome. He’s almost at his doorstep, fumbling around for his keys in the dark, when he bumps into someone.
“Watch where you’re going,” they snap, sharp tone belying the firm hands steadying him underneath their grip.
“I’m sorry, I - oh. It’s you.” Harry steps away from where Malfoy is standing, jamming his hands into his pockets.
“What? I don’t get an apology because it’s me?” Malfoy asks with a sneer.
Harry drinks in his stance, fine-boned features arranged into an imperious expression, back tensed, fingers curled into fists. He’s clearly smarting for a fight and Harry’s not about to give it to him.
“I said I was sorry,” Harry says, and pushes past him to get to his motorhome.
He doesn’t look back.
Monza (Italy), Race Day
Harry sits across from Malfoy for the post-race press conference, Cedric acting as a buffer between the both of them. He watches the way Malfoy smirks, leaning back in his seat haughtily. Harry supposes he’s earned that right, race winner and all, but it stings more than it should because it’s him.
“Question for Draco Malfoy. Congratulations on P1,” a reporter says.
“Thank you,” Malfoy replies, all gracious smiles today.
“Your choice to stay out while Gryffindor pitted for fresh softs proved prescient considering the timing of the safety car. Do you think you could’ve won the race without that kind of luck?”
Draco’s smile turns razor sharp as he stares at the reporter briefly before answering. Harry has to suppress a smile at her nerve.
“There’s no such thing as luck in this sport,” Draco says. “We made a strategic call to stay out on hards and it worked. I made it work.” Draco leans forward in his seat. “Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. I’m walking away with P1 because I earned it. No one breaks into Formula One unless they deserve to.”
“No one can afford to,” Harry mutters under this breath. A ripple of murmurs and polite laughter ripples across the room, and Harry realises, horrified, that his mic was on. “I meant that -” Harry tries to say.
“Yes, of course Potter,” Draco drawls, “I’ll be sure to thank my father for buying me the win today.”
The murmurs grow even louder as the reporters whip out their equipment to record the heated exchange between himself and Malfoy. Harry closes his eyes, wincing at the headlines that will inevitably be plastered across the front pages tomorrow.
“That’s enough,” the moderator says, and Harry breathes a sigh of relief. “Any more questions?”
Harry slumps in his seat further, willing the earth to swallow him whole.
He catches Malfoy just as he’s entering his motorhome.
“Malfoy, wait!” Harry calls.
“What,” Malfoy snaps.
“I wanted - I wanted to apologise. For what I said. At the press conference, um, earlier,” Harry gets out.
“Eloquent as ever I see.”
A flare of annoyance surges through Harry. “Look, it was an accident. I didn’t mean for everyone to hear it.”
Malfoy rolls his eyes. “Of course you didn’t.”
“I really didn’t!” Harry says, indignantly. “I didn’t know the mic was turned on.”
Malfoy takes a step forward, a predatory glint in his eyes. “I’m here because I deserve to be.”
“What -” Harry begins, confused.
“Last year, I led the championship standings for the first three quarters of the season.” He moves closer to Harry. “I’m ahead of you this year, and I’ve been doing this for much longer than you have.” Malfoy leans in, so close that Harry has to move back, until his back hits the wall. Malfoy advances on him anyway. “We’re the same, you and I. I deserve to be here just as much as you. And no one, least of all you, can take that away from me.”
Harry scoffs. “Don’t pretend you know what it’s like. We’re not the same. Not all of us have a World Champion father who can buy out a team and install their son as the number one driver.”
“Alright, then,” Draco says, and Harry closes his mouth abruptly, confused. “And when you lose this year’s title to a driver who’s not good enough for the sport, I hope you think about where that leaves you.”
Texas (US), Qualifying
“What the hell was that?” Harry shouts, barging into the cooldown room and taking Malfoy by the collar of his fireproof suit. Malfoy’s breathing hard, water bottle knocked out of his hand by the force of Harry’s grip, eyes wide. Harry pushes him against the wall, crowding him in.
“Potter, let go of me, this is ridiculous,” Malfoy says, in that infuriatingly calm voice of his, although right now it’s tinged with something else Harry can’t quite place.
“Not until you admit what you did,” Harry says, through gritted teeth.
“I’ve no clue what you’re on about, so if you’ll please let me go so we can be civilised about this -” Draco breaks off as Harry tightens his hold on Malfoy’s collar, leaning in.
“Admit it, you slowed down on my flying lap so I couldn’t record a competitive lap time. You blocked me on track. You ruined my qualy.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” Draco says, voice coming out softer.
“Liar,” Harry hisses, leaning in. “Though of course I should’ve known you wouldn’t play fair.” His voice is pitched lower, changing in the space between them, until it’s something Harry can’t recognise.
Draco puts his hand over Harry’s, which is still bunched in his collar, but he doesn’t make a move to shake Harry off. They’re both breathing hard now, bodies almost flush against each other. Harry wants to ruin him.
“What’s going on here?” Cedric’s voice calls out.
Harry lets go of Draco and whirls around, stomping to where Cedric is. “Go on then; you saw what happened, ask Malfoy why he sabotaged my qualy.”
Malfoy makes his way to Cedric hurriedly. “Tell Potter he shouldn’t blame others for his own incompetence.”
“Tell Malfoy -”
“Oh my god, stop,” Cedric groans, bringing his palm to his forehead. “Why do you two always have to be like this?”
“It’s not my fault!” Harry and Malfoy say, at the same time. They glare at each other before stalking off in opposite directions.
“Right, well,” Cedric shakes his head, amused. “I’m P2 and Zabini’s P3. You’re not supposed to be here,” he tells Harry.
“Right, I was just leaving,” Harry says, directing one last glare at Malfoy before leaving.
The Daily Prophet: Sports Edition
Formula One’s Latest Sizzling Hot Rivalry: Excerpt
Tensions come to a head in this year’s title fight for the World Driver’s Championship, with only five races to go in the season. So far, the main contenders for the coveted title are Harry Potter, currently leading the standings by a mere two points, and Draco Malfoy, son of F1 World Champion, Lucius Malfoy. Last Sunday, The Daily Prophet sat down with Gilderoy Lockhart, former F1 Racing Driver, to get his thoughts on the matter, and in true fashion, he has not disappointed!
Hello Mr. Lockhart, thank you so much for coming in. It’s an honour .
Ah, please, call me Gilderoy. The pleasure is mine.
Sure, Gilderoy! First I’d like to talk a bit about what’s on everyone’s minds: the title fight. What are your thoughts on the new rivalry that’s blooming in Formula One?
Getting right to it, I see! I think that this title fight is truly one of the fiercest rivalries in F1 history, and that’s saying something. The fight is so close. Just when you think one driver has got the edge over the other, the other fights back with a win or two, cementing their place as a proper challenger. Particular instances that come to mind are the crashes in Spa and Melbourne, and also the whole qualifying debacle in Texas. There’s almost a feeling of - fear, when you watch these two on track. Every time they get close you pray they don’t crash, because you know those two will go for an overtake, no matter how small the gap is, or die trying. Well, not die, but you get what I mean, figure of speech. There’s not much those two wouldn’t do for a win.
Haha, I completely understand. We’re all holding our breath when they meet on track. What can you tell us about their driving styles? Are they similar? Different? Do they complement each other?
I think this particular fight is quite interesting because they’re both such different drivers. You’ve got Potter who’s all raw pace, there’s absolutely no one who can match his speed across a single lap. He dominates qualifying, consistently posting the highest lap times, and that allows him to start out on the front row almost always on race days. And then you have Malfoy, who plays the long game. He manages his tyres and fuel with almost clinical efficiency, seamlessly gliding to the podium over the course of a full race. Potter’s all about speed; Malfoy’s all about consistency. Neither strategy is truly better than the other, but it’s fascinating to see two connoisseurs of the sport playing to their - vastly different - strengths and yet achieving twin results. It’s a pleasure to watch.
Thank you! I absolutely agree in that it’s fascinating to watch them on the track, their driving styles standing out in stark contrast to one another. Truly a visual treat. Now coming to our next question, you’ve been the subject of many fierce rivalries during your time, your title fight with Lucius Malfoy being particularly legendary. What can you tell us about the dynamics of the current rivalry? Is it healthy, is it good for the sport, is it similar to other rivalries of old, or is it something else completely?
Interesting question. I do think that each rivalry is different in a lot of ways, but this one stands out in direct contrast to the others. You’ve got two drivers, one loved, and one, well, not so loved. Potter’s had to struggle for years to get into the sport and Malfoy’s sort of waltzed his way in on his dad’s buck, which not a lot of people are happy about. Potter’s a laid-back sort of lad and Malfoy’s not very camera-friendly. Fans pick up on these things, so do sponsors. So, you’ve got two drivers who are absolutely different in every way, but completely, irrevocably loathe each other. They’re perfectly charming and polite on camera but put them in a room together and it’s like watching two children fight. Very entertaining, I’ll give you that, but also raises questions about the professionalism of both drivers. They’re such polar opposites that it almost sounds fictional. So no, I don’t think there’s been a rivalry like this in Formula One, and I doubt there ever will be again.
Osterreichring (Austria), Race Day
Oliver Wood : Hello and welcome to the very first Austrian Grand Prix here at Osterreichring!
Marcus Flint: Weather isn’t too warm, forecast is rainy, and you know what that means.
Oliver Wood: That’s right, this will be our first wet race of the year. We’ve been looking forward to this all season and I, for one, cannot wait to see how track conditions will affect the pecking order today.
Marcus Flint: Right you are Oliver! And what an interesting qualy we had yesterday, with Susan Bones on pole pulling that fastest lap absolutely out of nowhere, stunning stuff.
Oliver Wood: Finally a team that’s not a Gryffindor or a Slytherin on pole, is what everyone’s thinking, and the rain could even the playing field a lot more, so it’s going to be an interesting race.
Marcus Flint: Completely agree, we all can’t wait for the race to begin. There, the cars are coming out now lining up on the grid, we’ve got Bones on pole followed by Potter, Malfoy, Diggory, and Zabini. I wonder which one of them will be taking the win today.
Oliver Wood: It could be Bones, you never know.
Marcus Flint: That’s true Olly, you never know in Formula One. Anyway there’s the safety car now lined up behind the grid and the cars are ready so it’s Lights Out and Away We Go! The crowd roars as Potter immediately performs a superb overtake on Bones to take the lead into turn 1 with Bones following close behind. But oh, she’s got her work cut out for her with Malfoy looking to overtake anytime soon. Will Bones be able to hold him off?
Oliver Wood: I don’t think so, Marcus, but the longer she holds him at bay, the better it is for Potter who’s pulled up a good few seconds ahead of the rest of the pack. Excellent defence from Bones who is absolutely giving it her all to hang on to that P2 - but wait, we’ve completed lap 2 and they are about to enter the DRS zone.
Marcus Flint: The DRS zone down the straight is the perfect opportunity for Malfoy to try and overtake Bones, and there they go now, down the straight after Turn 8 and oh! It’s looking tight as both cars weave around the track, Malfoy attacking with everything he’s got and Bones blocking splendidly but oh! - There he comes, Malfoy, will he be able to make it through the gap and yes he has! A stunning overtake by Malfoy that the fans clearly love, you can hear their roaring approval.
Oliver Wood: Now Malfoy’s got to work on closing the gap to Potter, will he be able to? We’ve got just a few more laps to go so Malfoy’s really got to step up the speed here. Potter’s pulled away with a comfortable lead over the rest of the field courtesy of Bones, though the rain may spoil that. I’m sure he’s had to slow down, preserve the tires a bit more. Still, he should probably send Bones a box of chocolates when he wins this race.
Marcus Flint: Haha, for sure Olly. But oh - as we can see Malfoy’s just posted a new fastest lap time. He’s making it, I don’t believe it, he’s actually closing the gap! Incredible stuff, racing at its finest. I tell you Olly, I’ve got no clue how Malfoy is pulling the pace out of those ageing hard tyres but he’s doing it.
Oliver Wood: Looks like this race could go down to the wire, which I, for one, am glad about. It’s always interesting to watch an on-track battle.
Marcus Flint: I tell you though, the number of times we’ve watched these two battle it out on track…
Oliver Wood: It never gets boring. We’ve only got one lap to go and Malfoy’s closing in on Potter; will he try to overtake? Oh my god, I am on the edge of my seat, it’s so close Marcus.
Marcus Flint: I completely agree, Olly. It’s too close to call. There he goes now, Malfoy attempting an overtake on the inside, will he make it, will he make it - and oh! There’s contact! There’s contact! Both cars careen into the gravel trap just one lap from the finish line and what an absolute shame that is. Let’s watch the replay. There he comes, Malfoy, with Potter right in front. He moves down the inside, and oh, I think that was misjudged on Potter’s part, just a second too late with that defensive move. The slick track from the rain probably didn’t help either.
Oliver Wood: Looks like it’s a DNF for both title contenders this week in Austria, and Susan Bones zips to the chequered flag to claim her first ever Formula One victory, and is the first ever race winner, here in Osterreichring! Followed by Diggory P2 and Zabini, P3. A surprise Hufflepuff 1-2 today, with both teammates embracing on the podium. Slytherin will have to be satisfied with Zabini’s P3. What a wild race.
Marcus Flint: That’s Formula One for you. Nothing’s certain, and everything can change in the fraction of a second.
“Let me at him,” Harry says, struggling to get past Ron’s vice-like grip.
“No,” Ron says, calmly.
“It was a perfectly legal defensive manoeuvre, he just -”
“Harry, shut up.” Ron’s voice comes out exasperated.
Harry leaves his mouth open, gaping like a fish. “Ron!”
“We are not talking about this right now. The stewards will want to see you both. In the meantime, your front wing’s been damaged and we’ve got to get that replaced in two weeks time for the next race. So no, I’m not going to indulge in your little pity party,” Ron says, but softens a little at Harry’s expression. “I’m sorry, mate, I feel for you, I really do. But that was a stupid thing to do, closing the door like that.”
Harry sighs, looking down. “Maybe I wasn’t fast enough,” he admits, reluctantly.
“Don’t let the stewards hear you say that,” Ron says, clapping him on the back. “In the meantime, just try to keep your head down and - oh no, never mind.” Ron stops mid-sentence, looking over Harry’s shoulder. “No chance of that now, is there?”
“What?” Harry’s brow furrows in confusion as he turns to where Ron is pointing.
“Potter,” Malfoy calls, stalking menacingly over to him. The paddock ripples with whispers and a few reporters try to make their way over discreetly.
“Will you take care of that?” Harry asks Ron, gesturing to the reporters strategically rooting themselves to the Gryffindor garage, trying to catch a glimpse of the action.
Ron acquiesces reluctantly. “Just - try not to get into any trouble, yeah?”
“When have I ever?” Harry asks, laughing weakly, and then Ron is gone, chasing after the reporters.
“What was that?” Malfoy asks, loudly, raising his hands as if to grab Harry, but thinking better of it.
“Malfoy, not here, you’re causing a scene.”
“Oh, I’m causing a scene? That’s just wonderful, considering you were the one who came up with that utterly reckless defensive move today. What about that scene?” Malfoy asks, gesticulating wildly.
“There are reporters -”
“You took us both out of the race because you couldn’t stand to see me win. Is that what this is? You can’t beat me fairly so you’ll crash into me?”
Harry stares at him. “What, you’re insinuating that I did this on purpose?” he asks, pointing to himself.
“Either that or you have the racecraft of a fucking five year old driving a dumptruck with no wheels.”
“It was an accident! Harry says, incensed. “I don’t have to resort to dirty tricks to beat you on track, unlike you -”
“So you admit it was an accident,” Malfoy interrupts, eyes glittering.
Harry stops, momentarily wrongfooted. “I - that’s not - I didn’t -”
“Admit it, you made a stupid mistake, and now we’re both paying for it.”
“I did not,” Harry declares, hotly. “And we are not doing this here.” He grabs Malfoy by the arm and drags him into the Gryffindor garage, ignoring the stares of his engineers and the other team members. He finds an empty conference room, pushing Malfoy through the door and banging it shut behind him.
“I hope you brought me here to apologise,” Malfoy says, a single eyebrow raised arrogantly.
“Look,” Harry begins. “Can we just call what happened a racing accident and move on.”
“No,” Malfoy says. “You crashed into me, admit it.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Harry defends.
“As opposed to crashes that are voluntary,” Malfoy says, sarcastically.
“You were accusing me of that not minutes ago,” Harry points out.
“Yes, well. Regardless, it was a stupid thing to do that costs me more than it costs you and you know it.”
“There are two more races to go, you still have a shot.”
“Not if you keep trying to take me out to preserve your lead.”
“Would you stop insinuating that I - that I - I would never,” Harry says, too angry to speak.
“What’s the matter? Saint Potter can’t stand an attack on his precious virtue? You act so high and mighty but I know that you’re just as dirty as the rest of us. You don’t play fair, you never have. You’ve got the media wrapped around your little finger but I know -”
“Would you stop that,” Harry says, voice raised as he pushes Malfoy against the conference table, fingers fisted in his fireproofs.
“Stop manhandling me, you absolute neanderthal” Malfoy grits out, trying unsuccessfully to get Harry off him. Giving up, he bunches his fingers into the soft fabric of Harry’s shirt, race suit zipped down to his waist. “I had the inside line,” he says, angrily. “You know I did.”
Harry feels something stir in his chest. “God, Malfoy, you -”. Whatever Harry’s about to say is cut off by the sound of a camera shutter in the background causing them both to look up. Malfoy immediately pushes Harry off him and, this time, Harry lets go willingly.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Harry shouts angrily at the reporter, running up to him, Malfoy at his heel. The reporter turns, rushing out of the garage and disappearing into the throng of people swarming the paddock.
Malfoy lets out a groan of frustration, banging Harry on his chest with a fist. “Stupid Gryffindor and your stupid fucking pathetic excuse for security.”
“Hey!” Harry catches Malfoy’s hands mid-swing. “It’s not my fault.”
“Everything is your fault,” Malfoy says, by way of explanation.
“There you are,” Hermione’s voice calls out in the background. “Harry, Malfoy, quit holding hands and get to the steward’s room right now. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Malfoy drops Harry’s hand like he’s burned himself, flushing deeply.
Harry rolls his eyes. “Come on then,” he says, but Malfoy is already storming away.
[Tumblr Post]
Formula One Championship Rivals Come To Blows In Tense Private Standoff With Only Two Races To Go
[Image ID: Headline from The Daily Prophet, Sports Section - Formula One Championship Rivals Come To Blows In Tense Private Standoff With Only Two Races To Go.
Harry Potter braces Draco Malfoy against a table in an empty room. Harry Potter’s hands clutch Draco Malfoy’s collar, and Draco Malfoy attempts to push Harry Potter away.]
potterismywdc [follow]
Is it just me or do they look kinda fruity?
malfoysupremacist [follow]
It’s not just you bestie, I mean I know they’re title rivals and all but come on, how is this heterosexual in any way.
can-i-slytherin [follow]
the way they’re holding onto each other for dear life? the way their faces are so close to each other they’re practically breathing the same air? the way they’re almost on top of each other? the way they’re staring at each other so intensely? you can’t script this shit.
gryffin-4thewin [follow]
title fight just got spicier amirite