Flying was an utter disaster.

The school brooms were just about falling to pieces. One Gryffindor boy couldn't control his and ended up breaking a wrist, while another girl couldn't get off the ground without being bucked off and left in tears.

Most of the Slytherins were fine, but mainly because they had enough experience to wrangle the beasts in line. Harry, apparently, was just awesome. Hooch strongly recommended he pursue Quidditch at a later date.

It wasn't always immediately apparent, since the Malfoys demanded a certain level of cultured refinement, but Draco was a hard-core Quidditch enthusiast. He certainly believed he was good enough to make the Quidditch team in a couple years. In a display of the trademark Malfoy arrogance that had Harry grinning in bemusement, Draco wanted to be the most important person in the team, the Seeker, and seemed to have gotten it into his head that Harry would be trying out also.

Harry had never gotten the opportunity to play sports, but he had fantastic reflexes and Draco decided that with a bit of practice he'd make a very decent Chaser or even Keeper. Harry was prescribed several books and a training timetable, which he suffered gladly.

They'd get permission from Snape to use the school brooms three afternoons a week. Harry was a little leery of this plan, but as Draco pointed out; if he learned to catch a Quaffle on one of the school brooms, he'd be able to play Quidditch with his eyes closed in no time at all.

"Draco, why do you hate Granger so much?"

Harry had been pondering the question for a while, since the second day, in fact. At first Harry thought it was because Granger had muggle parents, but it was soon apparent that Draco saw most muggleborns as simply unworthy of his attention.

Draco scowled at the bushy brown hair visible in the crowded hallway. "I can't stand her type."

"Type?" Harry hadn't expected that.

"Know-it-all. They're insufferable. They come into our culture and think it's enough for them to be able to pick up a wand and produce some pretty sparks. There's more to magic than that. Girls like Granger will never understand because to them it's all vocabulary lists, definitions, and effect. My father says that people like her are little better than muggles waving sticks. I can't wait until Potions, Snape will eat her alive."

Harry considered for a moment. Draco's reasoning made sense, and for the first time his irritation seemed rational. From what Harry had observed, the muggleborns were attached to their loving families and technology rich life, while the 'other world' was almost like a fantasy. They were invaders, never really adapting or accepting the culture. It was in every little reaction, a constant presence and reminder. The quills, the handwritten books, the owls; they reacted with excitement to the strange new things, but it was underlined with condescension due to the belief that this apparently underdeveloped world wasn't as advanced as theirs.

On an unrelated note, if he heard the words "my" and "father" in conjunction once more this week, he was going to develop a nervous tic in response.

"Can you teach me to be more than a stick-waving muggle?"

Draco snorted, "Of course, I'd accept no less."