Prisoner of War
Ratings: K
Warnings: Mild language, mentions of substance use
Pairings: Draco/Astoria
Summary: Run for your life. Avoid the enemy. Capture the flag. Seems simple, right? Then how did I become a prisoner of war?
Thanks to Cedriclover for beta'ing!
The moment McGonagall rose from her seat with a piece of parchment and a forced pleasant expression, I knew I should've thought twice before getting out of bed.
"Good morning students. I trust your first night in the castle was a pleasant one." McGonagall gazed around, observing the students wearily. "Before his death, Professor Dumbledore planned a number of activities to promote house unity after the war. These activities will be held through the year and are mandatory. The first activity will take place today. This means, of course, that classes will be starting tomorrow."
Cheers rang out all through the Great Hall. McGonagall just winced.
"Please return all unnecessary items to your dormitories immediately. While there, change into clothing and shoes appropriate for running. No skirts please. It is not required to wear your uniforms today. When you have finished, please report to the Quidditch pitch."
The moment she sank back into her seat, the Hall was filled with the scraping of benches, the thundering of many feet, and the chattering of excited students.
"I hope this 'activity' is nothing too horrid," Jade declared, turning up her nose as we both rose from our seats at the Slytherin table.
"I'm sure it is," I assured her. "It's Dumbledore's idea, and everyone knows he's off his rocker."
We escaped the mob of students in the Entrance Hall and headed down toward the dungeons.
Pushing open the door to the fifth year girls' dorm, Jade and I gladly rid ourselves of our book bags. I changed out of my uniform and into my newly discovered Muggle jeans. They were surprisingly comfortable and made my arse look rather cute, if I did say so myself. It seemed Muggles had got at least one thing right.
"Ready, Astoria?" Jade inquired, heading toward the door.
"I rather doubt it," I sighed, but joined her at the door nonetheless.
Together, we sauntered down to the pitch. There was already a mob of excited people gathered near the entrance. Jade and I joined them, lingering near the back.
McGonagall was standing on a podium beside the entrance to the pitch. The other professors were standing alongside her, frowning and sighing. Only Hooch looked remotely happy.
When all the students had arrived, McGonagall stepped forward and began to speak again.
"Today's activity will be a Muggle game, 'Capture the Flag.'"
In front of us, there was a gasp from a nest of bushy hair. Grinning, Granger turned to the boy next to her, Potter. "Oh! Harry, do you remember playing that in primary school?"
Potter cringed.
For one hope filled second, I took that as a good sign. Anything Potter didn't like, I was sure to.
Then again, Potter would probably cringe if he was forced to do a three foot Potions essay.
And Granger would be practically jumping up and down with excitement at the thought of it, much like she was now.
This was going to be miserable, I concluded finally.
Madam Hooch stepped forward. "Capture the Flag is a Muggle game in which each team has a flag somewhere on their side of the pitch. Each team will attempt to capture the other team's flag. The object of the game is to protect your own flag and steal the other team's, so you end up with both flags."
I eyed the colored triangles of cloth in her hands skeptically. Did they actually do anything?
"However, if you pass the center line into the other team's side of the pitch, you can be 'tagged.' If you are tagged, you will be escorted to jail. Each team has a jail, which is a small rectangle below the goal posts. Those inside the jail cannot leave unless one of their teammates comes to collect them. You can be tagged while escaping jail."
"This sounds barbaric," Jade muttered beside me.
"If you are tagged while the other team's flag is in your possession, the flag will remain where you were tagged. Any questions?"
When only quiet muttering and whispering answered her, Madam Hooch stepped back and McGonagall resumed her place.
"When you aren't playing, you will be expected to watch from the stands. Each game will last until a flag is captured, or half an hour," she stated.
"For the first game, the teams are," McGonagall glanced down at the parchment and winced visibly, "Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Fourth year through seventh year."
Many of the Gryffindors cheered at this and they converged together, already plotting.
"If you are not playing, please find a seat in the stands. I'll ask the teams to stay here," McGonagall announced.
Ten minutes later, the Gryffindors were outfitted in bright red shirts, and the Slytherins in green. Our wands had been placed in the hands of our "capable" professors and several people looked lost without them. Each team was presented with a flag to place on their side of the field, and we entered the pitch.
"I don't understand how Albus thought this would promote house unity. It's simply creating more rivalry," I heard McGonagall mutter as I passed her.
Pomfrey patted her arm sympathetically. "It's alright, Minerva. It will all be over soon. We'll go in and have a cup of nice, strong tea. How does that sound?"
"I think I'll need something stronger than tea."
Inside of the pitch, our flags were placed and both teams gathered on the center line.
"Let's have a nice clean game, alright? No tackling or unnecessary roughness. I expect to see everyone playing," Hooch lectured loudly. She hustled off the field and pointed her wand upwards with a loud bang that signaled the start of the game.
The Gryffindors immediately jumped into action, spreading out across their half of the field. A few of the Slytherins did the same, trying to organize our team.
Jade and I, and a few others, lingered near the line of the pitch, throwing each other skeptical looks.
"I am not going to play some pointless Muggle game," Jade growled.
I nodded, rolling my eyes. Deciding to hover near the back of the pitch where I wouldn't be required to partake in the game, I started to turn. Tripping on some unseen object, I flailed over the line, just managing to catch myself before I ended up sprawled unattractively on the ground.
A Gryffindor in my sister's year, Finnigan, darted forward and touched me lightly on the shoulder as I righted myself. He took a step back, grinning expectantly at me.
"What?" I demanded.
"I tagged you. You have to go to jail," he explained, still grinning.
"This is outrageous!" I protested. "Completely unfair."
Instead of responding, he grabbed hold of my elbow – the nerve – and steered me toward the goal posts. I was more than aware of the Gryffindors snickering at me.
"Unhand me this instant, Finnigan!" I ordered. "Unhand me or I will hex you."
"Yes, you do that," he replied absently.
I gave a huff and turned my attention to attempting to look as dignified as I could.
Finnigan deposited me in a large rectangle drawn on the grass in an illuminating pink light below the goal posts, just in front of the stands.
I stared at the lines around me in horror. I was being placed in a box like a toddler in time out!
My mood, as sour as it already was, was spoiled further by this realization. I knew there was nothing I could do to avoid this fate, but still… how embarrassing!
Finnigan, smirking in a rather un-Gryffindorish way, stepped back and called out to several different people. They gathered in front of the jail and turned to face the Slytherin side, hovering around me.
Suddenly, a cry rang out from the Gryffindor front line.
My head snapped up.
My eyes widened.
My heart fluttered.
Draco Malfoy was sprinting toward me, blonde hair whipping around his face. Several Gryffindors were scrambling after him, but Draco was much too fast for them. He neared the jail, dodged another Gryffindor, and leapt gracefully past the boundary.
He stumbled as he landed, but quickly steadied himself. Then he turned to me, a smirk playing upon his lips, and held his hand out to me.
"Will you allow me the pleasure of escorting you back to safety?" He asked in an overly polite, pretentious sort of voice.
With a smile and a roll of my eyes, I took his hand, lacing my fingers with his. My heart was suddenly pounding wildly and I feared my palms would sweat. Internally, I scolded myself for letting Draco Malfoy have such an effect on me, though I knew I couldn't help myself.
Standing hand in hand, we turned to face the rest of the pitch and considered our chances.
The Gryffindors that had gone for Draco were backing off only slightly. Many of them hovered near the jail, anticipating our escape.
Draco studied those surrounding us for a short moment before turning his gaze to something in the distance, on the other side of the pitch. He gave a slight nod.
Yells sprung up near the center of the pitch and I soon saw the reason why. At least five Slytherins had hopped the line between the two teams in various places. They were dancing back and forth across the line and dodging in between the Gryffindors with more grace than I'd ever thought possible. It was causing mass chaos and, after only a moment's hesitation, even those guarding Draco and I fled to help their teammates.
Draco squeezed my hand. The two of us took off at a dead sprint past the oblivious team and reached our side of the pitch without having to dodge a single person. The moment we crossed the line, the chaos-creating Slytherins stepped back over to our side, looking particularly smug.
Smirking, Draco let go of my hand. I ran it through my hair, not liking how cold and useless it felt without his fingers laced with mine.
I didn't want him to turn away, to leave. I had to say something. My mind raced.
"Astoria Greengrass," I practically blurted out, sticking my hand out for him to shake.
Mentally, I winced. I sounded like an impulsive Gryffindor. True, Draco and I had never been properly introduced, but of course he knew my name – at least I hoped.
Draco raised an eyebrow at me, but shook my hand anyway. "Draco Malfoy."
"Did you plan all that just to rescue me?" I asked.
"Of course," he replied, as if asking a handful of Slytherins to risk sacrificing themselves just so he could retrieve me was the simplest decision he had ever made. As if it wasn't a big deal at all.
I could've swooned right there on the spot. I almost did.
Instead, I gave a laugh. "Draco Malfoy? Sweet? Unheard of!"
He scowled half-heartedly.
"Draco!"
The Slytherins who had caused the diversion were now in a huddle, waiting expectantly for Draco to join them.
With one last glance at me, Draco stepped to their side and was immediately pulled into the huddle.
Then, suddenly, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see Finnigan sprinting across the line. Swift and unnoticed, I stuck my foot out. Finnigan smashed face first into the ground with a perceptible crunch.
I reached down and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"Finnigan," I acknowledged coolly. He just groaned.
"Very nice, Astoria," a familiar voice called.
Draco was watching me, a smirk pulling at his lips. He looked pleased.
This morning, I had known the day would go horribly.
How beautifully wrong I was…
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