Ch 3

—

Draco hated leaving Hermione all by herself, but he had to. He didn't know what he would've done if he had stayed longer. 'We were so close,' Draco thought, over and over again as he stomped back to the Three Broomsticks.

He was suddenly enveloped with warmth when he entered. The Three Broomsticks seemed to have quietened down since he left, but Crabbe and Goyle were still huddled in their booth. Draco scanned the area and found no sign of Ginny or Neville. With his mind still filled with thoughts of Hermione, Draco strode towards the booth where Crabbe and Goyle sat, not even noticing Blaise was there now, too.

"Did ya win?" Crabbe asked stupidly.

"Win what?" Draco asked as he sat, his whole persona and mind distant. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, startled. Blaise made a coughing noise and leaned forward onto the table with his hands clasped together, making Draco jump.

"I believe he means the duel, Draco. With Granger?"

"Oh, that…" Draco's voice trailed off as he stared down at his hands.

"Well?" Crabbe and Goyle asked in sync. Still staring down at his hands, Draco muttered,

"Yeah, sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of?" questioned Blaise. Draco clenched his hands into a fist as he thought of something to say. 'Why can't they mind their own bloody business?'

"Well, we started duelling, and I was winning," Draco paused to think.

"And?" Blaise said, urging Draco to continue.

"And… and we heard footsteps nearby so we both split in opposite directions. I have no idea where she went." Draco lied. Crabbe and Goyle seemed convinced, but Blaise… not so much.

"Do you really think the Mudblood ran away? Merlin, I knew she was weak, but not that weak." Blaise commented, watching Draco carefully. Draco clenched his fists even tighter at Blaise's insult to Hermione, causing his hands to turn white.

Draco made a fake chuckle to hide his anger, which actually sounded like a grunt. 'Does he suspect something? No, theres no way he could. He's just being his normal self.'

"Did you see who walked by?" Blaise was asking too many questions.

"No, I think we imagined it or it was an animal or something like that. Why do you even care?" Draco blurted the last words out, not even thinking as the stress was getting to him. Blaise raised an eyebrow and leaned back into his seat, studying Draco's face.

"You seem stressed, Draco." Blaise spoke in a patronising tone. Draco gritted his teeth angrily, but remained silent. Realising that Draco wasn't going to reply, Blaise continued,

"I care because you are a friend, and a prefect, and if you were caught duelling you would lose that position, which I don't think you'll want."

Draco couldn't handle sitting there anymore. He could tell Blaise was trying to squeeze information out of him, but Draco wouldn't let that happen.

"No I don't think I would, but I also don't think I want to be late for the Quidditch training I have this afternoon, so I best be going." said Draco with a fake smirk plastered on his face. He quickly stood up before Blaise could respond and almost sprinted to the door.

His training was actually a few hours away, but it was a good excuse to leave Blaise's annoying questions. 'Absolutely no respect for my privacy.' thought Draco, frustrated as he yanked the door open and once again entered the harsh coldness of the day.

—

Ginny and Neville were no where to be found in Hogsmeade. Hermione suspected that they had gone looking for her, so she decided to just go straight back to Hogwarts.

It got colder as Hermione walked along the path, alone with only her thoughts to keep her company. 'Why did Draco heal me, if we were supposed to be duelling? Why was he unusually kind?' one side of her conscience wondered.

'Hermione! get him out of your head. He only healed you because he knew he would get in trouble if someone found out! and he wasn't being kind to you! he was still his rude, and narcissistic self.' argued the other side.

"He almost called my by my first name…" Hermione said aloud, smiling to herself. 'Merlin Hermione, you're being stupid.'

Thirty minutes later, Hermione was still thinking of Draco when she stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds. Gazing down at her watch, she saw she had fifteen minutes to kill before the try outs started. 'It wouldn't hurt to grab a book to keep me company,'

Hermione rushed inside the castle and leapt up the stairs to the seventh floor. She slowed down as she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?"

"Rosie daffodils," Hermione answered and the portrait swung inwards. Hermione stepped inside and looked around. Quite a few of her fellow Gryffindors were trying out for Quidditch this year.

"'Mione! over here!" called a voice from one of the corners of the room. It was Ron, grinning nervously and Harry, waving her over. Smiling, Hermione made her way towards them. As she got closer, she noticed both the boys narrowing their eyes at her neck.

"Um, what's wrong?" Hermione asked nervously and glanced down, to see her scarf have an extra stripe of red where a stripe of yellow should be. Realisation hit her faster than a bullet.

It was blood from the gash. Hermione tried to force the bloody bit of scarf down her top, but Ron and Harry already suspected what it was, and stopped her. Harry stepped closer to her and grabbed hold of her scarf. He dropped his head and inspected, than quickly shot his head back up.

"Is this blood? what happened Hermione?" queried Harry as he pulled the scarf off her neck. Ron was instantly by Harry's side, and they both examined it closer. Hermione was suddenly put in an awkward position. 'There is no way I'm telling them what happened. No way.'

"B-blood? Harry, your glasses must be foggy. Can't you tell it is actually uh, sauce?" Hermione knew that she didn't sound convincing, but it was all she could come up with.

"Sauce, Hermione? I've seen a lot of blood in the past, and this looks like blood." said Harry, with a curious expression on his face. Hermione giggled nervously.

"If it's sauce, how did you get so much on you?" asked Ron, suddenly speaking out.

"Oh, well you know Neville. He somehow managed to make the bottle of sauce explode and I guess it got on me…" Hermione said, making it all up on the spot. She didn't want to blame Neville, but she had to if she wanted to avoid telling Harry and Ron what really happened.

"Where is he by the way? and Ginny? maybe we can ask him how he got the sauce on you." Said Harry, with Ron agreeing. Hermione didn't know what to do if they found Neville. 'Is it worth it to just tell them the truth now? or should just leave it and hope they don't find out?'

To Hermione's relief, There was loud whistle from the centre of the common room, which stopped the golden trio's conversation.

"Everyone who is trying out for the remaining positions on the team, follow me!" called Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Ron gulped and Harry patted him on the back.

"If I fail, Fred and George won't let me forget it," groaned Ron. Both of the boys seemed to have forgotten what they were talking about, and followed Angelina towards the portrait hole. With a gasp, Hermione realised she had forgotten her book, and she sprinted up to the girls dorms. Hermione grabbed a Defence Against the Dark Arts book, then raced back down the stairs and caught up with Harry and Ron. They hadn't even left when she returned.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were using the try outs as an excuse to study." teased Ron when he noticed the book. Nervously, Hermione laughed and slowly pulled her scarf from Harry's grip, which luckily went unnoticed. All together, they left the common room.

—

"Break a leg!" Hermione hugged Ron, wishing him luck once they were at the Quidditch pitch. She also gave Harry a hug, even though he wasn't trying out. When they were called out into the field, Hermione left them for the stands.

Barely anyone else had turned up to watch except for a few younger years. There was however, three sixth year Hufflepuff girls gossiping and two fourth year Ravenclaw boys playing chess. Hermione sat in the front row, by herself. For a few minutes, she watched the Gryffindors warm up, then opened her book. She only came to watch Ron, the rest she didn't really care about.

Hermione flipped through the pages intently, until she was on the chapter of Dark Arts, jinxes and hexes. Draco had hit her with a painful spell, and Hermione had no idea what it was.

Page after page, Hermione read every word. So far, she found nothing. Sighing, Hermione put her book down and watched the try outs. She decided to stay out here afterwards so she could continue to study the spell in peace. The Quidditch field was one of her favourite places to study, after all.

Finally, the team properly started the try outs for Keeper. The younger years went first, all flying nervously around the goalposts. Not many of them knew how to fly properly. One second year had trouble turning left, and one third year fell off his broom when the Quaffle was thrown accidentally into his jaw. He had to be saved by a cackling Fred and George, and was immediately rushed to the hospital wing.

After that incident, many of the younger students left, thinking that broken bones weren't worth the trouble. Hermione could tell from where she was sitting that this made Ron even more nervous. What made it worse was that Fred and George were frequently whispering into Ron's ear, making Ron doubt himself even more. Hermione could see, although she couldn't hear it, that the Weasley twins were being everything but encouraging.

Ron's turn came sooner than planned. He didn't even hear his name when Angelina called it. Even Hermione heard it from where she was sitting, but Ron didn't even notice. Hermione saw Harry nudge Ron in the shoulder and shove him forward. Ron slowly mounted his broom and flew up to the goalposts, with Angelina slowly following, holding the Quaffle.

Ron positioned himself in front of the centre ring as Angelina flew in random directions, preparing to throw the Quaffle when Ron least expected it. Hermione held her breath and crossed her fingers just as Angelina threw the Quaffle from far above Ron, towards the right post. He zoomed to his left hastily and stretched out his arms.

Hermione groaned. He had missed by the tiniest bit, but it was still a miss. Fred and George below her were both giggling like little girls. How Hermione wished she could make them shut up.

The Quaffle was thrown back to Angelina, and once again she started flying in random directions as Ron steadied himself. This time, Angelina threw from below. Ron dived down swiftly like a bullet and held his left arm out to catch the Quaffle.

Everyone thought he had it, but it turned out he didn't. He had dived too fast and passed the Quaffle as it flew up. He would've crashed into the ground if he hadn't pulled up in the last second. Ron's face was bright pink by the time he returned to the goalposts. It didn't help that Fred and George were now roaring with laughter.

The Quaffle was back in Angelina's hands. Ron hovered dead centre of the ring, now highly alert. Angelina was almost brushing up against one of the high stands when she threw the Quaffle towards the left post. Ron, already seeing it coming, bolted to his right and sharply swerved his broom, smashing the bristled end into the incoming Quaffle, causing it to go flying across the field. Everyone fell silent and gaped at Ron.

Hermione suddenly bounded up from her seat and cheered. Soon she wasn't the only one cheering. Harry was too, and surprisingly, Fred and George.

"That's our brother!" they yelled in sync and threw their fists into the air.

Ron, now much happier, had a few more chances at defending the posts. He didn't let a single one in.

The try outs soon finished, and everyone returned to the change rooms except for Ron and Harry. who both glided over towards Hermione.

"That was amazing, Ron! If you don't get in, I don't know who will!" Hermione said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Thanks," said Ron with a goofy smile.

"Are you coming back inside the castle?" asked Harry, staring at Hermione's book.

"No, it's gotten nice outside and i'm going to stay out here and do some light reading." Hermione answered.

"Light? well you have fun. I'm going to ask Angelina if she has any idea who she's going to choose. Come on Ron, you stink of sweat." said Harry bluntly.

"Do you really think I could get in?" Ron blurted out to Hermione.

"Of coarse! You were great Ron," said Hermione, stopping herself from giggling.

Harry and Ron both turned on their brooms and headed into the exit below the stands. Relaxing into the chair, Hermione picked up her book and started over again.

—

Ten minutes past and still nothing. 'What could it possibly be?' Hermione thought, racking her brain for answers.

Suddenly, a huge gush of wind sped past Hermione, causing her hair to be blown into her face. Hermione brushed the hair away with her hand sharply and glared up from her book. There was laughter down and above the field, all coming from boys in green clad robes on broomsticks.

Slytherin had their Quidditch training. Slightly annoyed, Hermione averted her eyes back to her book. She wasn't going to let them make her leave. She had sat in the stands before, studying when a team was practicing, so why should now be any different?

At that last thought, a blonde figure swaggered on to the field, holding his sleek black broomstick close to his chest. Hermione could see him in the corner of her eye. Her heart leapt. This was why now was so different.

Hermione's eyes slowly trailed away from her book onto Draco. She couldn't help but notice how nicely his Quidditch sweater hugged at his arms and chest. Swiftly, Draco mounted his broom, oblivious of Hermione watching him.

He bounced into the air and started flying laps with the rest of his team. Hermione never noticed how much of a graceful flyer he was until now.

Every time a Slytherin turned their head in Hermione's direction, she would quickly avert her eyes down to her book. She didn't feel like finding out what they would do if they saw her staring at Draco.

The team started doing a practice match with their subs. The snitch was let out of it's case and immediately Draco was searching as his half of the team threw the Quaffle around the pitch. Hermione's eyes only followed Draco. She dropped her eyes instantly when Draco finally saw her staring at him.

Hermione swore she saw one Chaser following her gaze as she had watched Draco. Deciding it was too risky, she turned back to her book and flipped randomly, not even processing a single word.

Unfortunately, Hermione was right about the Chaser. She noticed that the Chaser was trying extremely hard to catch the Quaffle. Hermione ignored it, not knowing what he was planning. Draco however, had a hunch.

Eventually, the Chaser finally had his hands on the Quaffle. Hermione with her nose stuck in her book, paid no attention to what he was doing, while Draco had all of his attention on the Chaser, completely ignoring the Snitch hovering beside his ear.

Draco's hunch was right. The Chaser was waiting patiently for a fellow team mate to fly past Hermione and when one did, he threw the Quaffle. Only problem was, he purposely threw too far behind his team mate. The Quaffle hurtled towards the oblivious Gryffindor.

Hermione had just dropped her book below her eyes when she caught sight of the Quaffle heading towards her. She was just about to duck out of the way when a green blur sped past her, taking the Quaffle with it. The blur slowed and became clear. It was Draco, holding the Quaffle under his arm.

"What on Earth was that throw, Pucey? No one was there!" Draco yelled, throwing the Quaffle to the nearest player.

"Blame the stupid sub, not me! He didn't catch it when I threw it at him! Why don't you do your job and look out for the Snitch, not the Quaffle!" Pusey, the Chaser, retorted. Draco didn't think that Pucey was aiming for the sub, so he decided to watch him carefully as he circled the field.

The Chaser repeated his efforts at getting the Quaffle, but was failing since Draco kept interfering. Hermione could hear the two constantly arguing and yelling, only to be shut up by their captain. Hermione could hardly believe it. It seemed that Draco was trying to prevent her from being injured, even though that was something he had already done that a bit safer from Pucey, Hermione turned back to her book once again.

"Malfoy, you're supposed to be looking for the Snitch, not pestering Pucey about who he wants to throw to!" shouted the Slytherin captain Montague angrily. From then on, Draco stayed quite, but still watched Pucey like a hawk.

Draco was on the opposite side of the pitch when Pucey had the Quaffle in his possession again. Draco's stomach somersaulted when he saw the Chaser lift up his arm, aiming straight at Hermione, who not surprisingly was stuck in her book.

"Oy! Mudblood!" screamed Pucey. Everyone on the pitch stopped dead in their tracks, watching the Chaser and Hermione with cruel grins on their faces. Draco could tell Hermione was fighting with herself to not react at the horrible comment.

"Mudblood!" Pucey screamed again. Hermione acted like she heard nothing and continued to stare at her page blankly. When Hermione stayed quiet, he got frustrated.

Pucey suddenly threw the Quaffle straight towards the Gryffindor. Draco gasped and was about to dart towards it when his thoughts stopped him, 'No! that would look too suspicious, and you're too far away to stop it!'

As he finished that thought, a loud shriek broke out from the stands. Hermione had been hit dead centre in the face. Every Slytherin on the pitch burst into laughter. All except for Draco.

Hermione held in her tears and picked herself back up, forgetting the book lying next her as she wobbled on the spot. Her nose and forehead was gushing with blood, and she could feel her lips quickly swelling. The three Hufflepuff girls who had been chatting all this time, rushed to Hermione's aid.

"Oh, those slimy jerks!" said one blonde Hufflepuff.

"We'll take you to Madam Pomfrey, she'll fix you right up!" said another as they started dragging her away from her seat. Hermione raised her bloody face above the girl's and could see that the Slytherin's were making sure she could see them laughing at her. Many of them were pointing, while some were being so loud that it sounded fake.

Draco did none of that. He had returned to the ground and was standing in front of the exits underneath the stands. As he wrapped his hand around the handle, he turned and stared in Hermione's direction. He looked extremely angry and extremely sad at the same time.

When Draco and Hermione locked eyes, none of them turned away, until Draco pulled the door open and slowly mouthed: Sorry.