Author's Note: I'm glad everyone's still enjoying this story! I hope you continue to enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favourited. As usual, portions have been taken from the canon text, and all recognisable characters and content belongs to JK Rowling. I make no money off of this.
Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Ron Weasley. Still, first-year Slytherins only had Potions with the Gryffindors, so they didn't have to put up with Weasley much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday - and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Weasley." He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.
"You're not going to make a fool of yourself," said Draco dismissively. "Weasley might be a pureblood, but I doubt his family had enough money to teach him on a proper broom anyway."
If anyone knew, Harry supposed, it would be Draco. Draco did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told Harry and Hermione about how he secretly wanted to be a Chaser, but that his father felt that the position wasn't good enough, and insisted Draco train as a Seeker. He also told a long, harrowing story that ended with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. The story had horrified Hermione at first, until about the fifth time he told it, wherewith she rolled her eyes at him, partially to cover her own fear.
He wasn't the only one, though: Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly, even the girls got into the discussions, citing favourite teams and causing Millicent and Daphne to have an argument over who was better.
Hermione was more nervous about flying than Harry was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.
Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Draco had been quick to notice, of course. Draco's eagle owl, Bubo, was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened proudly at the table, using the homemade sweets to show favour. Harry and Hermione were always given small cakes and sweets, but Draco was capricious with other gifts, depending on how he felt about the others at the time, and whether he felt that they respected him. It always amazed Harry that these people would clamour, albeit silently, for some small favour from their friend.
Harry turned to Hermione, about to ask her opinion of why this happened, only to notice that Hermione had a package. This was odd, as aside from her daily subscription to the Prophet, she never got any mail.
"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, curious.
Hermione opened the parcel, tipping a bracelet into her hand, with a snake charm hanging off of it. "Wow." She breathed, studying the tiny snake.
"Who's it from, Hermione?" Daphne squealed, leaning across to look at it. "This is so exciting!"
"Why is it so exciting?" Harry asked, blinking. "It's just a bracelet."
"It's a charm bracelet." Daphne explained. "Every charm on the bracelet, has a charm worked into it, but you have no way of knowing what charm, unless whoever gives it to you, tells you."
"She shouldn't even have one." Pansy said, angrily. "She's not a pureblood!"
"It's not just a pureblood tradition, Pans." Tracey pointed out, waving her hand. "I have one, and I'm only half."
Daphne rolled her eyes at Pansy, and continued talking to Hermione instead. "Traditionally, your father gives you your bracelet and starts giving you protective charms as a baby, and then when you're older, your beaus will start giving you charms as courting gifts to show their wealth and ability to protect you." She clapped her hands and leaned forward. "Who's it from, Hermione?"
Hermione tipped the box that the bracelet had come in, taking out the lining, but then shook her head. "It doesn't say." She looked across at her friend. "I've never seen you wear one."
Daphne wrinkled her nose. "I haven't been wearing mine, because one of the charms makes it so Father can track who I speak to. I haven't figured out which charm it is to replace it, but I can show you later."
Gemma leaned over conspiratorially. "I have a spell that will show what charm it is, if you want me to show you."
Daphne grinned, a happy and yet wicked smile. "Please!"
"We'll do yours too, Hermione." Gemma assured her. "We'll meet in the Common Room after dinner, but it's probably just a standard protective charm, since it's your first charm."
"I'd like that." Hermione said, clipping the bracelet on her wrist, and watching the stones on the snake catch the light.
Harry looked at Draco, who looked not well pleased by the gift. He shrugged, shaking his head. There were some things in either world that he would probably never understand, and girls were one of them.
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Draco, and the other Slytherins hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson, with Daphne trying to reassure Hermione that she would be fine at the back of the line. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
The Gryffindors were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. Quite a few of the students on the Slytherin team didn't have enough money to own their own brooms, and had to use the school brooms for Quidditch. He had warned the Slytherin firsties what to look out for when in flying lessons.
"Here, Hermione." Draco said, pulling her over to the center of the line, where a broom that resembled a newer Shooting Star model than some of the others, but not as troublesome as the one he stood in front of, having more experience flying, he could control a disagreeable broom.
Harry joined him on the other side, and before Draco could warn him, Madam Hooch walked onto the field. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles, but it was better than some of the others.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'
"UP!" Everyone shouted. Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did, Draco had his as well.
"Put your hand further towards the middle of the broom, Hermione." Draco instructed in a soft voice. "And when you give it an order, pretend that you're one of the professors. You're the one with the authority."
"Up!" Hermione tried again, and this time it had jumped up easily enough.
Harry looked around, and a few people were still struggling, but soon even Neville had his broom in hand.
Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Draco flushed red when Madam Hooch told him that he had been flying with the wrong grip for years, making it harder on himself.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -"
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" She shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and - WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
The class looked around, and there was some discussion about the accident, but things were surprisingly quiet between the two Houses. Before long, though, Madam Hooch returned and the lesson resumed.
Harry discovered - with a fierce joy, that he had discovered something in the wizarding world he could do without being taught. He had been struggling with how easily every part of magic had been coming for Hermione, and how Draco already knew so much of the basics of the world around him, but this...this was easy, this was freeing, this was his.
The lesson was going well enough, and about partway through, Hermione actually began to relax and enjoy it. The broom she was using was much calmer than many of the others, and she felt more in control. She even became brave enough to turn a few of the figure eights Madam Hooch suggested. This wasn't as bad as she had feared, even if it made her arms ache, the way she had to lean into it all.
Pansy was terribly irritated. Nothing had been going the way she had anticipated. She had planned to come to Slytherin and gather the Slytherin girls to follow her, then convince Draco that she was the best ally he could have. Everything would come easy, because she was a pedigreed member of the Sacred-Twenty-Eight, and her mother was a genius who would have gone on to become the greatest law-witch ever, if she hadn't gotten married. Instead, everyone's attention was either on Potter or Draco's pet mudblood. Pansy disliked both of them. She had been taught growing up that her stock would have been much higher, that they would have been an even richer, greater family had the Dark Lord won, and now Potter was swanning around Slytherin, despite having defeated the Dark Lord. That was enough to annoy anyone, but then, there was Hermione Granger.
Hermione Granger was everything Pansy hated, being shoved under her nose. She was a muggleborn, dirty and unworthy of her magic, and yet she had somehow managed to get Draco Malfoy to be her champion. She didn't seem to care about her appearance, with that awful nest of hair and big teeth, and yet Daphne Greengrass, the daughter of Harmonia de Montmorency-Greengrass, the famous developer of beauty aids that high-class witches swore by - preferred Hermione's company over Pansy's! Not only that, but teachers seemed to like her, because she was always getting things right on the first try! There were some things that could not be borne!
Pansy therefore, eased her wand out of her sleeve as she flew lazy circles, glad that there seemed to be one class in which the muggleborn didn't seem to excel, and just when Hermione was turning a corner and couldn't let go, Pansy threw an unclasping charm at the bracelet the girl didn't even deserve. She was slightly off, though, as it seemed to hit more of the muggleborn's wrist than the bracelet, but it worked nonetheless, and Pansy smirked as the bracelet began to fall.
Hermione let out a yelp, and accidentally took her hands off her broom when something stung her wrist. She quickly, but them back on, only to realise, in horror, that her brand new bracelet was falling, and she was in the air. "My bracelet!" She cried, feeling horribly. She always tried to take such good care of her gifts, and now her brand new bracelet was sure to break.
Harry looked over when he heard Hermione's cry, and saw the bracelet falling. He reacted, seeing it as if it was falling in slow motion. "I'll get it, Hermione!" He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down - next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the bracelet - wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the charm bracelet clutched safely in his fist.
"MR. POTTER!" Madam Hooch shouted, even though her yellow eyes were glinting with something. "Do you know how dangerous that was?"
"Er…" Harry said, looking at the bracelet in his hand. "No? Not really?"
The rest of the class had flown back down to the ground, and he held out the bracelet to Hermione again. "Here you go, Hermione."
Hermione threw herself at Harry, giving him a big hug, and taking the bracelet, before promptly slapping him on the shoulder. "What were you thinking, you could have been killed! You saw what happened to Neville!"
Harry flushed red. "I don't know. It just seemed like the thing to do."
"Well, thank you." Hermione said, putting her bracelet back on, and smiling at her friend. "But don't pull a stunt like that again!"
"I thought it was really well done, Harry." Daphne said, to console him. "I don't think most Seekers could have pulled that off."
Harry, if it was possible, went even redder. "Tha...thanks...Daphne."
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" Severus Snape asked, walking into the Headmaster's office. This was not the first time since the year had started that he was called before the venerated wizard.
"Ah, yes, Severus." Albus Dumbledore said, turning from the window to look at his Potions Master. "How are you finding our Mr. Potter?"
Severus considered the question. "He doesn't remind me of Lily." He said after a long pause. "He may have her eyes, but I haven't seen anything else of her in him yet." He gestured slightly. "Though, of course, I have heard of his exceedingly foolhardy save of Ms. Granger's bracelet this afternoon, so it seems he has more than just Potter's hair."
"Indeed." Albus said, looking at the man a one scared boy had become. "I do wonder if he and Ms. Granger might not emulate his parents' someday."
"I try not to think of my students' future romances, headmaster." Severus drawled. "If that's all, sir?" That was true, but he also knew Aurora had predicted a quite different match. Albus, of course, would never think of it, knowing Lucius as he did and dismissing Draco as the Death Eater in miniature.
"It isn't, Severus." Albus replied. "I want you to put him on the Slytherin Quidditch team as seeker."
Severus was rarely startled by Dumbledore, but this did surprise him. "He's a first year! It's against the rules, Albus. There hasn't been a first year on a team in a century."
"I think we can make an exception in his case, Severus." Dumbledore replied. "It's important he feels he belongs here in the wizarding world, and nothing builds belonging quite like Quidditch."
"Without ever having to try out?" Severus said doubtfully. "It could look like favouritism, Albus. It could make his teammates resentful."
"He caught a bracelet after a fifty-foot dive, Severus." Albus said, shaking his head. "If anything they should be glad."
"Oh, I'm sure." Severus said, but he nodded. "As you wish, Headmaster." This, Severus thought, could cause problems. Quidditch was extremely competitive, especially in the dungeons, where they had won for several years in a row, and gleefully flattened Gryffindor in the last match of the season last year. He did not want his House to think that he was favouring Potter, he didn't even want Potter to think he was favouring him. It could set him on the outs with the House, even the tentative friendship he had with Draco. It would have to be handled delicately.
After dinner, Severus called the members of the Slytherin quidditch team and Harry to his office. He had been considering asking Draco as well, but decided that this would look suspicious and that it would be best if he heard it from his friend.
"Team, I have some...news." He drawled. "I'm afraid it will impact quidditch."
Harry looked at the team in confusion. "Sir? Why I am here?"
"Because, Mr. Potter," Severus drawled. "The headmaster has decided that you are going to be made seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team."
"That's my position!" Terrence said, quickly, raising his voice. "I've played it for two years, two winning years!"
"He's only a firstie, Professor." Marcus agreed. "Today was his first day on a broom."
"I am aware, Mr. Flint." Severus agreed. "I told Professor Dumbledore the same thing, but he has insisted."
"This is shite!" Terrence declared. "I'm supposed to just give up my position for some firstie?"
"Professor," Harry said, wanting to crawl into a hole. "I really...I've never played Quidditch, I don't know any of the rules. I shouldn't be given someone else's spot. I don't want to take Higgs's place."
Severus shrugged at this. "I tried, Potter, but the Headmaster was quite impressed with your actions in your flying class today. A fifty foot dive to catch a falling bracelet is quite impressive."
Marcus turned and looked at the scarlet first year. "So...that wasn't an exaggeration?"
"No." Harry admitted. "I just didn't want Hermione's new bracelet to break. She was so pleased with it."
"As for you, Mr. Higgs." Severus said with a nod. "We are still lacking a keeper, if you wish to take it, I will have Mr. Flint cancel tryouts."
Terrence sighed. "I guess it's better than nothing, sir. Thank you for allowing me the first choice."
"Very well." Severus said with a nod. "I suggest that this be kept under wraps, to surprise the other teams during our first game."
"Of course." Marcus agreed, with a broad smile, surprisingly hopeful. "I'll draft some new strategies."
The team filed out in a mix of emotions, but Harry stayed behind, looking nervously at the floor.
"Yes?" Severus asked.
"Sir, this doesn't feel right." Harry admitted. "First years aren't allowed to play Quidditch. Draco complains about it whenever anyone mentions the game."
"Something you will have to accustom yourself to, Mr. Potter, is that people will treat you differently for various reasons. You've already seen how different an experience Ms. Granger is having as a muggleborn, and I daresay Weasley and his ilk gave you a fairly good example of how some will treat you for being a Slytherin." He tented his fingers and sighed. "This is just one more example. You will not only be the Boy-Who-Lived, you'll be the youngest Seeker in a century. You will need to learn to deal with these gifts, preferably without getting a swelled head." Severus bit his tongue to prevent saying 'like your father,' but prevent it he did. He could not afford to alienate the boy now. "I do suggest that you tell Mr. Malfoy about your...good fortune, before anyone beyond the team finds out."
"Yes, sir." Harry murmured, not even wanting to think of how Draco would react. "Sir...I don't even have a broom."
Severus shook his head. "Technically, you could use one of the school brooms, but I would suggest seeing Aurora. She might know of a better option."
"Thank you, Professor Snape." Harry said finally, leaving the room, and heading back to the Common Room, torn between being elated over being first pick for something when he had been overlooked in muggle school, and being upset over how it was being forced on the team. Professor Dumbledore hadn't even spoke to him. He had yet to officially meet the man, let alone be asked if he wanted to play.
When he reached the Common Room, he found Hermione and Draco leaning over their books and discussing an essay due next week. "Hey." He said quietly. "Can I talk to you two privately for a minute?"
The pair shared a look that had Harry wondering when they started doing that, and Draco nodded, leading the three of them over to an unused corner by the fire. "What's going on? Did you get in trouble?" Hermione asked, worriedly.
"No." Harry admitted quietly. "Apparently the Headmaster heard or saw our flying lesson today and insisted Professor Snape put me on the Quidditch team."
"WHAT?!" Draco burst out, grey eyes wide. "But that's...we're first years!"
"Shhh." Hermione shushed him quietly. "You don't sound happy, Harry."
"I don't know how I feel." Harry replied, just as softly. "They moved the current seeker for me. I mean, I guess I'm happy he thinks I'm that good, but…"
Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "I should have gone after the sodding bracelet." He muttered, more jealous than he wanted to admit. "But go for it, Harry. You'll be the youngest seeker in ages."
"A century, according to Professor Snape." Harry admitted. "I don't know anything about quidditch or brooms or any of it."
"I'll teach you." Draco admitted. "And hey, maybe if you're the seeker, next year when I try out, I can actually play chaser. Even if Father thinks it isn't as prestigious a position, it's got to be better than not being on the team at all."
"You're not angry?" Harry asked, somewhat cautiously.
"Nah, it's not your fault." Draco admitted, even though it physically pained him. He kept reminding himself that he wouldn't always be overshadowed by the Boy-Who-Lived, and that he'd get his own perks someday.
Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. "Here, Harry, you should read this." She suggested. "It's a good primer."
"Thanks Hermione." Harry said, taking the book. "And thanks for understanding, Draco. I need to go tell Agathos!" And then he ran off to the dorm, slightly more excited than he had been about playing.
Hermione waited until Harry had walked up the stairs, to lean over and kiss Draco chastely on the cheek. "That was very sweet of you." She said quietly. "Not to get angry at Harry, even though he got what you wanted."
Draco flushed pink at the kiss. It may have been normal for Hermione, but he was used to a more rigid social code of interaction. Which is not to say that he didn't like the praise. "It wasn't easy." He admitted. "I wanted on that team, I love Quidditch, and Harry's never even seen a game." He sighed. "I should have taken that dive. I could have done it!"
"I believe you." Hermione replied, folding her legs beneath her as she shifted position.
"You know what they're going to say about Slytherin, when the rules were bent to get him on the team, right?" Draco asked. "That we're cheating."
Hermione sighed. "Just one more thing for them to say about us." She shook her head. "We'll know the truth, and that will make us stronger."
"Optimist." Draco teased.
"I have to be." Hermione countered. "Otherwise I'd be forced to run home the next time Pansy calls me a mudblood, or a Gryffindor calls me a dirty Slytherin." She shook her head. "I have to believe I can make Slytherin better, that I can make our world better."
Draco nodded. "We will, Hermione, you'll see." He looked up at the ceiling, watching the seaweed sway. "We'll make them see. We'll make them all see. Everyone who's booed us, or sneered, or maligned Slytherin, who's called us bigots or acted holier than thou. They'll thank us someday."
