Narcissa Apparated home to the Manor, walking the halls to locate her son.
She found him in the swimming pool, floating across the surface. He spent a lot of time in here. She's surprised he hasn't wrinkled away.
After the war, she'd hoped he'd do something. Anything. That he'd make some effort to be seen doing something good.
In fact, all that had happened, was her son turning into a recluse.
She couldn't blame him really. Five times he went to Diagon Alley; he had never had a peaceful trip. After the last trip, where he'd received his third anonymous Crucio, he gave up going out.
Even after the ministry had taken their share, there was enough money left for several more generations of idleness. The problem was getting those generations.
She had set him up with every eligible witch she had connections too.
Those who had agreed to try had been chased off by his terrible temper and atrocious attitude.
One of the witches, as they were leaving had told her that her son, "was handsome until he opened his mouth."
That was not the boy she raised. When she'd pointed that out to her son, she'd been reminded by him that she had also raised a bigot. She wondered why she bothered sometimes. She knew they had a chance, they had connections they could build on, if only her son was prepared to swallow his pride, just a little.
However, no matter what scheme she came up with he shot her down. Nothing intrigued him anymore.
As she stood at the edge of the pool, watching him float, she considered the counter arguments he'd have for her today. She dipped her toes into the water, flicking her foot up, splashing the water across his face. She giggled as she watched her son flail to right himself before he turned to glare at her.
"That was childish, Mother," Draco said drifting away from her. Preventing her from splashing him again. She doesn't need to now he's acknowledged her presence.
"Yes, but it got your attention didn't it."
"What mad scheme are you trying to rope me into this time?" He asked feigning disinterest.
"Quidditch," she stated simply as she slowly paced the circumference of the pool. Dancing on her toes along the edge, arms out to keep herself balanced. She felt the water lap at her feet.
"I'm listening." More success than she's had before. She hid her triumph concentrating on not slipping into the water. She has to handle him carefully. Giving him her full attention will give him nothing to work for. Her son always wanted attention.
"The team needs a coach for their new seeker. She's excellent but never played a match before. She trained on her own and taught herself," Narcissa told him, careful to avoid revealing the girl's identity just yet.
"I'm not bothering with some B-team player mother," he groaned.
"No. She's on the main team. She's the official seeker."
"Just from tryouts? No one is that good," Draco scoffed.
"Hermione Granger is." Narcissa shrugged as if this isn't a massive revelation. She hoped she hadn't played her ace too soon.
Draco laughed so hard his head dipped below the surface. He came up spluttering once more.
"That is quite possibly the funniest thing you've ever said, mother. You almost had me there. Granger doesn't fly."
"I left my memory in the Pensieve. Take a look before you make a decision," Narcissa demanded before leaving. She knew she'd made him vaguely interested at least. She can't push it. She knew he'd look.
Curiosity got the better of him. He watched his mother leave before he moved. He can't have her know how interested he is. She'll never let it go. He just wanted a peek.
Draco pulled himself out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry off as he walked. He didn't bother dressing. The house is warm enough. He'd probably go back to the pool once he's finished.
When he reached their Pensieve, he could see the memory simmering in the bowl. The faint glow rising off it. The Pensieve always looked alluring. He looked down as he prodded it with his wand, trying to catch a glimpse of the stadium.
He sighed before plunging into his mother's memory.
He arrived in the familiar box. Only his mother and the manager are present. He approached the glass and looked down. There are nearly a hundred witches and wizards on the pitch. Despite her hair being braided away from her face, he spotted her easily.
His eyes remained fixed on her as she excelled in both the basic and advanced drills.
He admitted to himself he's impressed. He didn't think she had it in her.
His mother left only the memories of the girl, so he doesn't see the other catches, only hers. That's all he's interested in seeing anyway.
She's sneaky, he appreciated that. As she flies close to where his mother was watching from, he can't help but notice how pretty she is. Was she always pretty? She might have been.
He tried to remember any gossip he's heard about the trio but can't. Is she with someone?
Draco watched as she made it to the final two. He saw her opponent attempt to flirt with her. He watched as she ignores him.
He grasped when she accelerated into a dive and when she rolled, flying sideways.
She's reckless and quite possibly one of the best players in the league.
She's going to get herself killed with moves like that.
If he had any doubts that the girl really was Hermione Granger, they vanish when he saw her sit on the grass to read her contract thoroughly.
After coming out of his mother's memories, he stared at the bowl, thinking.
Draco isn't even aware of what he's doing as he walks away from the Pensieve, up to his room.
He pulled on his Quidditch gear, grabbed his broom and threw open his window. This is the sort of decision best made on a broom. Flying has always been a great chance to think, almost as good as the pool.
He spent the remaining hours until dinner flying around the grounds.
He considered leaving the sanctuary of the Manor. A shudder ran through him at the prospect. It wouldn't be pleasant. Going beyond their boundaries never was.
But... he thought gripping his broom tighter.
His mother would usually complain when he turned up to dinner in Quidditch gear. Today she seems pleased.
"I take it you've been thinking," Narcissa smiled at him.
"What exactly would I be doing?" Draco slumped into his chair.
"Coaching the girl. Getting her match ready. That her fitness levels are sufficient. Making sure she knows everything she needs to know to succeed," his mother told him.
"Does she know about our families involvement in the club?"
"No. Of course not. Most players don't."
"She hates me," Draco pouted.
"Hate is a strong word, Draco. Give it a day, if it's truly awful don't go back. It's not like you have anything to lose," his mother reminded him.
He stared at his dinner rather than eat it, too distracted by his thoughts to notice.
Draco went to bed that night with a head full of Quidditch.
He ate breakfast before eight the next morning, an achievement in itself. Getting up with an alarm for the first time in years was painful. Narcissa bit her lip to avoid making a comment.
He's grateful when his mother doesn't ask him any questions about his plans, or the Quidditch gear he's wearing.
Draco was shaking slightly when he Flooed to the stadium, broom in hand. He's greeted by the manager of the team. The man smiled at him.
"Glad you could join us, Mr Malfoy," the man said holding out his hand for Draco to shake.
Draco accepted it. The man doesn't flinch. He does spend time with Narcissa wearing her public face, clearly he doesn't scare easily.
"Where do you think it's best to meet?" Draco's asked.
He's not sure which will be worse inside or outside.
"Are you aware I was at school with Granger? We have an unpleasant history," Draco cringed.
"Yes, yes your mother told me that. You're both adults now though, so it shouldn't be a problem, should it?"
"Not on my end, sir."
"By now it will probably be easier to catch the players on the pitch. Don't look so worried, what's the worst that can happen?" The man laughed.
Draco felt dread settle in his stomach. Every step feels heavy as he walked closer to the rejection he knew he's sure to face. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stepped out onto the pitch. He's following the manager. Her back is to them. She hadn't seen him yet. He could still run for it.
"Miss Granger, your coach has arrived," the man announced. He's out of time to run. He's not ready to face her.
Draco watched as if in slow motion as she turned around.
Recognition flashed in her eyes. She gasped.
"You?"
