"You have to point your wand at it," Seamus was telling Ron at breakfast, "like this." He pointed his own wand at the oak box.
"I know I've got to point my wand," Ron snapped, "I'm not a squib."
"No, but you've got to point your wand like this, and wave it as if you're about to hit the box with your wand. But don't."
Ron rolled his eyes. "I almost prefer your teaching, Hermione. At least you don't lecture me on how to hold a wand."
"Do you want to be able to do this charm in time for class or not?" Seamus demanded.
Ron sighed. "Oh, alright then." He raised his wand.
"As if you're going to hit the box."
Ron waved his wand, stopping just short of the little black box.
"No," Seamus shook his head, "give it here." He took Ron's wand out of his hands and pointed it forcefully at the box. The box, instead of spinning on the spot, exploded. Little shards of black wood went flying in all directions. Ron stared miserably at his bowl of cereal, now with little bits of wood swimming in the milk.
"Really," Hermione sighed, "the two of you are a walking disaster."
Ron snatched his wand out of Seamus' hand. His mouth fell open in horror. "What have you done?"
Seamus' eyes widened. "I'm sorry! Ron, I'm so sorry."
Ron's wand had a large crack about the length of quill nib two inches from the tip. Hermione glared at Seamus. "I'm really, really sorry…" Seamus tried again, but Ron ignored him.
"What's going on here?" Draco asked, taking a seat next to Hermione. He noticed the bits of wood covering the table.
"Seamus broke my wand," Ron said through gritted teeth.
Seamus quickly got up and left the table, with the promise of finding some Spellotape to fix the wand. "Bloody idiot," Ron muttered, "doesn't he know that nothing can fix a wand?"
"I'm sure it'll be fine for spells," Hermione said unconvincingly.
"How did he break your wand?" Draco asked, pouring himself a bowl of cereal, "I thought wands were hard to break, especially new ones." Ron flushed pink and lowered his wand.
A flash from across the hall made Draco roll his eyes. "Potter's got himself a fan," he grumbled.
"Don't be so jealous, Draco," Ron muttered.
"I don't need to be jealous," Draco said, a smirk on his face.
"Oh yeah, why's that?"
"You'll see." Draco watched another flash go off across the hall. "I bet he's giving out signed photographs," he continued, jabbing his spoon at the cereal, "Creevey's meant to be in Gryffindor. He's not supposed to be some kind of Slytherin worshipper."
"Since when did you hate Slytherins so much?" Ron snapped, "Leave him alone. If Colin Creevey wants to take a picture of the Boy Who Lived to show his family back home, who are you to stop him?" Ron glanced at Ginny sat not far from them down the table. She was scribbling away in a little black book. "What are you writing about?"
Ginny jumped, snapping the book shut. "Nothing."
Ron sighed. "Well, maybe you want to write to mum and tell her I need a new wand. She won't be angry if you tell her."
"A new wand?" Ginny asked, "But that'll be expen—"
Ron cleared his throat loudly, glancing nervously at Draco. "Well, I can't keep using this one."
"Just give it a try," Hermione suggested, "maybe it's not as bad as you think."
Ron screwed up his face, concentrating hard on the milk jug in front of him. The milk started to boil, little white bubbles bursting on its surface. His face fell.
"What is it?" Hermione asked anxiously at the sight of Ron's glum face.
"I was trying to make the milk freeze over."
Heads turned in the Gryffindor common room. Whispers rippled. Even the portraits nudged each other. Seven students did their best to ignore the whispers and marched on through, heads and brooms held high. More whispers, even some pointing.
"Is that a Nimbus 2001?"
"Harry Potter only has a Nimbus 2000!"
Draco smirked. He clutched the black broom in his hand, feeling the weight of his new Quidditch robes. They would never be green, but at least he had some.
Heads continued to turn as they headed on towards the Quidditch pitch. "Just keep walking," Oliver Wood muttered, and then to Katie Bell, "you'd have thought we'd be used to people staring and pointing at us by now."
"So long as he's better than the last one," Katie murmured back, "not that Blenkinsop was awful, only…"
"No, I agree," Wood whispered, "Charlie Weasley's a tough act to follow, but by Merlin we could have done with someone better." He glanced over his shoulder at Draco, smiling smugly. "But I wouldn't have chosen a Malfoy to be on our team."
"Wood!" A lanky Slytherin boy jumped up off a bench and came running to block the path of the Gryffindors. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Flint," Wood said stiffly, "what does it look like? We're going to the Quidditch pitch to practice." He took a deep breath. "To train our new seeker."
Flint's eyebrows rose. "You've got a new seeker? What happened to the last one, I quite liked him, could never seem to catch the snitch."
"I assure you I can do better than him," Draco said, stepping out from behind Wood.
Flint's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Oh," he said, one hand rising to his mouth to cover his laughter, "oh!" He burst out into a fit of wheezing laughter. "Sorry, sorry," he cried, "but a… a Malfoy playing on the Gryffindor team?"
"A Potter playing on the Slytherin team?" Wood scowled, but Flint ignored him.
"Oh, how far the great Malfoys have fallen," Flint said, taking a step closer to Draco, "my parents will be disappointed. It's a shame your parents didn't have any other kids to make them proud. How does it feel knowing you're such a failure to your family?"
Draco stepped forward, his hand reaching for his wand.
"Enough!" Wood snarled, putting himself between the two of them. "Leave him alone, he's just a kid."
Flint's sharp eyes travelled from Wood's face down the broom handle. "Well, what do we have here?" he asked, grinning, his mouth too full of teeth. He reached out his fingers to stroke the top of the handle, but Wood jerked it away. "A Nimbus 2001?" His smooth voice betrayed just a hint of jealousy.
"A gift," Wood replied, "from Draco's father."
"Do you mean a bribe?" Flint asked.
Wood's jaw clenched. "No, a gift, for allowing his son a position on our team."
"Must have been hard letting Blenkinsop go," Flint said, "but then again… for a Nimbus 2001…" He tutted, but his eyes gazed longingly at the sleek, black brooms.
"Draco?" Draco span round. Hermione and Ron were hesitantly approaching.
Draco held out his broom. "Do you like my broom?" he asked, "I know you like brooms, Ron. It's a Nimbus 2001."
"I can see what it is!" Ron said breathlessly.
"Everyone on the team's got one," Draco continued, "a gift from my father, to say thank you for letting me on the team."
Ron's eyes widened, but Hermione's narrowed. She glanced at Wood, but he looked away. "Can I hold it?" Ron gasped.
Draco held it out to him. "Be my guest." Ron took it reverently, running his hand along the curve of the broom and caressing the silver writing with his thumb.
"What are you doing?" Hermione hissed to Draco.
"I don't know what you mean," he replied.
"You and your father hardly get along," she replied, "why has he done this?"
Draco scowled. "I don't know, but I'm his son. Why shouldn't he support me?"
"It's not just you, it's the Gryffindor team." She glanced behind them. "I can more easily see him supporting the Slytherin team over the Gryffindor team, even with you in it!"
"You don't know him," Draco snapped.
"I've met him."
"Once!" He glared at her. "Why is it that as soon as I take on something I love and try and reunite myself with my father you try and tear that apart?"
"No, Draco, I didn't mean—"
"Forget it." He stepped forward and snatched the broom out of Ron's hands. "Let's just go."
Wood nodded at the rest of the team. "Alright, to the pitch."
Ron gazed after them longingly. "Can we go and watch them practice?"
"No," Hermione mumbled.
"But on Nimbus 2001s, Hermione."
"No, Ron! I said no."
Ron scowled. "Draco's right after all, you and your books. You know nothing about what really matters."
"Quidditch is what really matters?" She raised her eyebrows disbelievingly.
Ron grinned and shrugged. "Quidditch is life."