Inter-house relationships were never easy, but on the mornings of Quidditch tournaments, they were absolutely hell. Potter and the Weasel might have accepted Draco's relationship with Hermione, but that understanding was suspended on game days.
Clad in green, Draco joined his table to murmurs of approval, with some rumbles of discontent underscoring the situation. Dating the best friend of three of the Gryffindor Quidditch team hadn't earned him any friends in his house, though he was still regarded as the best Seeker. From his vantage point, over a carafe of pumpkin juice and pot of coffee, he could see Hermione at her house table, red rosettes twined through her plaited hair.
As if she could feel the weight of his stare across the room, her eyes flicked over toward him, and he received the briefest half-smile, before she glanced around, realizing that they were being intently watched.
He played this game with her for a while, in between bites of toast and last-minute strategy points from Zabini. Draco would catch her staring, before she'd blush scarlet as her robes and look away. He did the same in turn – though really, he should be concentrating on getting his mind in the game.
When Potter, who had had his back turned pointedly to the Slytherin table, craned his neck over to glare at Draco, he decided that he'd had it. Getting up, he strode casually over to the Gryffindor table, feeling the heat of their glares like an open oven door on his face. Hermione's face registered surprise and some trepidation for what he was about to do.
"Malfoy. Get lost," Ron barked from over his eggs and sausage.
"In a minute, Weasley," Draco drawled, with total unconcern. "Have to ask my girlfriend if she's going to wish me luck today."
Hermione stood up from the table, facing him square, as aware as he was of the eyes upon them. Suddenly, she smiled sweetly, reaching up to touch his face, cupping his cheek and jaw in a tender caress.
"Well…I hope you don't die," she said, in a saccharine tone, patting his cheek a little harder than she otherwise might have.
As the Gryffindor team erupted in laughter, she leaned closer, whispering. "Because that would be a waste of emerald green underthings. Now lower those eyebrows and look annoyed."
Draco recovered quickly, mobilizing his shocked expression into a sneer. "Hope I don't either," he said loudly, in carrying tones meant for his own table. "That's the job for your team's Seeker, right?"
Potter's expression lowered into an angry scowl, Ron's looked enraged, and Ginny looked as if she were contemplating something unpleasant with her wand. From the hisses around them, Draco judged it was time for a strategic retreat back to his own table.
Welcomed back with some light applause, Draco resumed his toast, but felt Hermione's eyes upon him once more. This time, though, when their eyes met, she didn't look away, and gave him a swift, naughty grin. He returned it in full force, as Zabini called for them to head out to the field.
