malfoy

Draco Malfoy
And the Bloodstone
_ _ _ _ _By Ti'ana

Chapter Six

The week dragged on until Saturday finally came. The Slytherin Quidditch team spent most of the day bragging over new brooms they received over the summer, boasted about how they were going to cream the Gryffindor team and discussed new strategies they learned from the Quidditch World Cup held that summer just before school started. Still, there was no sign of the new Chaser.

Malfoy spent most of the day admiring his own Nimbus Two-Thousand and Two. It was an impressive piece of work: it shimmered in the light, had a nice, smooth surface. This version of the Nimbus was rumored to move with such ease the rider needn't do anything but will the broom this way and that. The only problem was he had never tried it out.

The Ravenclaw team was practicing on the Quidditch field, so an advisor would be present. As long as he stayed out of their way, Draco could fly his broom without worrying.

On his way out of the entrance hall, he saw Goyle walking in with Lisha. He was carrying several brooms in one arm, and upon seeing Draco, the other went around Lisha's shoulder. He smiled, almost pleasantly Lisha didn't seem thrilled, though not too upset. Malfoy's face was taken over by a look of complete disgust, and he quickly made his way out to the Quidditch field, carrying his Nimbus.

Out on the field filled with the Ravenclaws, Malfoy mounted his broom after finding a suitable spot for flying and kicked off the ground. The sensation of flying again made Malfoy happier than he had been in a long time.

The rumors about the Nimbus 2002 were all right. Just by willing the broom to go this way and that, he flew there faster than any other broom he had owned. Up in the air above the practicing Quidditch team, he looked down to the ground below. The Nimbus stayed completely still in the air, not even shifting in the high winds.

Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, started yelling at Malfoy when their Seeker, a fifth year named Cho Chang, haughtily zipped past him (on her Comet Two Sixty, in no comparison to the Nimbus Two-Thousand and Two). She laughed when Malfoy was sent to the other end of the Quidditch field.

After a few more trips back and forth above the field (when he had almost been hit by a stray Bludger, obviously a deliberate attack on him), Draco decided to call it quits. He finished off with a grand finale of spiraling down at high speed and stopping short just before reaching the ground. Several Ravenclaws booed and hissed at his impressive display, but he simply bowed with a smirk.

"Try that without breaking your neck, Pigeonclaws!"

"Come over here and say that, Malfoy!" Davies zipped down twenty feet from where Draco was standing.

"Boys!" Madam Hooch, who stood in the middle of the field, came rushing over. "Mister Malfoy, go back to the school. Mister Davies, please pay attention to your Quidditch practice! I don't want to send students to Madam Pomfrey. She has other things to do than tend to problems other than broken noses gained by a pair of boys' fight. Oh, and by the way, how is your foot?"

"Yes, how is your foot?" One of the Ravenclaw Chasers who landed on the ground behind Madam Hooch laughed out loud, and began hopping like an idiot on one foot. Malfoy was not impressed, nor was Madam Hooch.

"Well enough to kick a smart-aleck pigeon and break their–"

"That will be enough, Draco. Return to the Slytherin house, your practice is tomorrow."

Davies wasn't finished, though. He jumped off the broom and stalked after Malfoy.

"I don't like being pushed like that, Malfoy. You'll do well to stay away from our practice field. Ravenclaw's gonna kick some major Slytherin-- hey, is that a Nimbus? Ha! That wood splinter's nothing compared to my new Lightning Eight-Seventy. Wouldn't it be unfortunate if it combusted in the air? I wouldn't be surprised."

They were halfway to the door to Hogwarts by now. Draco pretended not to hear Davies.

"What's the matter? Don't like to be instigated, do you Malfoy? Don't like it when someone beats you at your own game, do you? At least my team has a captain that hasn't been left behind three times! Flint's so dumb he can't even transfigure an ice cube into water! It must show; look at his Seeker."

That did it. Draco grabbed his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Davies. "You'll pay for that, you filthy pigeon foot!" A stream of green light shot out from the end of his wand and hit Davies square in the stomach.

Before he could see what happened, Malfoy sprinted into the building. Rumors finally came to him that Davies was spewing up slugs until dinner.

Draco ran into Davies on his way to the entrance of the Slytherin house.

"You better watch your back, Malfoy. You're family's got a string of dirty blood in 'em, and you've got the same traits as your washout father."

"Oh, come now Davies. What did your father do? Groundskeeper? Does he sweep up the Hogwarts building with your Lightning whatever-it's-called with Hagrid?"

Both of them stepped back when Pansy Parkinson paraded down the hall. She flipped her hair, which hit Davies, and smiled at Draco. She proceeded to the stone wall, muttered a password, and the wall opened to reveal a hidden doorway.
Davies turned back to Draco. "All of you Slytherins had better watch out." He hiccuped, dropping a slug on the floor, and stormed out of the hallway. Malfoy laughed, and continued on his way to the Slytherin tower. He needed all the rest he could conserve for tomorrow's practice.

***

Marcus Flint was already on the field when Malfoy arrived with his Nimbus 2002. He gaped in amazement at Flint's new Firebolt.

"Can I try it?"

Flint laughed. "Yeah right! Do you know how much this thing cost? Half of my life's savings plus who knows how many Galleons from my parents! Besides, your dad's rich, why didn't you get a Firebolt?"

"He wouldn't get me one," Draco pouted. "He said I can't get one until my birthday because I accidentally blew up a report he was writing over the summer when he told me I wouldn't be able to go to the Quidditch World Cup unless I told my mom I was sorry I set her dress on fire."

"Man, that was one interesting summer! You went to the World Cup though."

"Well, I told my mother I was sorry!" Both boys laughed.

Flint stopped. "I heard the Potter kid's got a Firebolt, too."

"Please," Malfoy sneered. "You against Harry Potter. 'Sides, where could he have gotten a Firebolt? Obviously not from his parents."

"I'm not the one I'm worried about. Potter's beaten us by catching the Snitch many more times than I care for, without a Firebolt! I mean, he beat you with his Nimbus Two-Thousand!"

"As flashy as the Firebolt may be," Malfoy suggested, "Nimbus Two-Thousand and Two was made afterwards. Whatever faults the Firebolt's got, this Nimbus doesn't. It's got better agility, I heard, than the ol' Firefly."

"They came out with a Firefly?" Goyle was dragging his broom over to Flint.

"No, dimwit. It was an insult to the... oh never mind." He scanned the crowd of Slytherins making their way to the captain. "Oh, no." Draco whirled around and ducked behind Flint.

"What's up, little guy?" Flint snickered, as did Goyle and Warrington, another Chaser. Malfoy's complexion flushed ever-so-slightly on his pale cheeks.

He pointed behind his head with a thumb. "Why is she here?"

"Pansy? Reckon she came to see you practice, Malfoy!"

"You mean she's here too?! How am I supposed to concentrate when I've got two of my least favorite people in the world?"

"Well," Goyle piped in, "Two out of how many? Let's see, there's the Muggles, the Mudbloods, the Muggle-lovers, Harry Potter, Hagrid, Trelawney, Flitwick..."

"Stuff it lame brain. Why is Luralby here?"

Flint's face became serious. "She's here? Oh, good." He waved a hand in the air and shouted, "Hey, Luralby!"

Lisha peered over at Marcus Flint from behind her thick hood. A smile flickered, for a brief second, on her lips, and she walked over in her slow manner.

"Hello, Flint," she said, in a quiet but audible voice. "Goyle, Warrington. Ah, and there's the star of the team cowering behind the captain. What a situation!" She stepped around Flint.

Draco stood defiantly. "What are you doing here?"

Goyle grinned. "Didn't Vinny tell you?"

"Vinny?"

"Crabbe's first name is Vincent... dimwit." Malfoy clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, but held his tongue. "Anyway, I told him we had a new Chaser." He pulled Lisha over, an arm around her neck. She looked as if she was about to choke.

"Well," Flint interrupted, "let's get practicing! First match is in less than three months, and we don't have the field every day you know! We need a win to celebrate a Merry Christmas. And trust me," his voice lowered dramatically, "it will not be a happy one if we don't kick some Gryffindor butt!"

"Uh, Flint? Hufflepuff is our first victory to worry about."

"Hufflepuff, Shmufflepuff, all I'm worried about is showing Potter we can beat his team!"

Malfoy blinked. "Why Potter? I mean, I would like to Gryffindor more'n anyone, just to show Harry Potter he's not the only celebrity in this school."

"Didn't you hear?" Derrick was wrapping a piece of tape around a crack in his broom, which was fixed instantly, and the tape disappeared. "Potter's the new Gryffindor captain."

"No way!" Draco tightened his grip on his Nimbus. "We gotta beat 'em! All right, everyone, mount your brooms! We're gonna train harder than we have these past four years Potter's been playing! Let's move, move, MOVE!"
Flint gave Malfoy a small reminder that he was still captain, but repeated the orders anyway. He kicked off the ground and rose in the air several feet. "All right, Bole and Derrick, take a Bludger and practice on the east end of the field. And try not to hit it over by the other players!"

The two boys nodded. Bole took one of the Bludgers from a box, and he and Derrick Flint continued. "Warrington, Luralby, grab a Quaffle and let's go to the west end. Goyle, you too. You'll act as Keeper against us. Malfoy, you'll stay here with the Snitch. And don't lose it," he warned. "We've only got this one to practice with."

Malfoy clicked his tongue and found the black case containing the Snitch. He left the box opened. He kicked off the ground seven feet or so, and pointed to Flint. "Gotcha."

The wings of the Snitch wriggled and writhed in Malfoy's grasp. It eventually got away, and he glanced around the rest of the field to give the Snitch a head start. He watched Bole and Derrick hitting a Bludger around with their clubs. At one point, it zipped past Derrick's head within inches of hitting his nose, but surprised, he fell off the broom, hanging onto the handle. Bole assisted him in getting back on, but the Bludger was gone.

"Oy, Flint!" Derrick waved his arms in the air, calling loudly. "Stray Bludger!"

Flint looked annoyed when he missed the Quaffle, but when he realized what happened, he widened his eyes and zipped over to the Beaters. "Where'd it go?"

"We dunno, it disappeared."

"There!" Lisha pointed to the center of the Quidditch field, where Draco was. It took him a second to realize she was referring to the Bludger zipping up next to him.

"Whoa!" Draco dove down on his boom as fast as he could to the ground. On the way down, a glittering light caught his eye. The Snitch.

Swerving away from the Bludger, Draco flew as fast as he could to the small, winged Snitch and stuck out his hand. He estimated where it would hit, and adjusted the position of the broom to suit it. Thankfully, his prediction was correct, and the Golden Snitch slapped into his hand. While he closed his fingers around its struggling wings, he noticed he was only several feet from the ground, and pulled back hard on the broom. The sudden movement caused him to be flung backwards, and land on the ground.

Flint rode up next to him. "Nice fall, Seek!"

Malfoy groaned and held up his hand. "I caught it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, just don't do a Potter and wind up swallowing it, all right? Snitches are really expensive, and I don't think any Seeker's gonna wanna use it after it's been digested. You know, all-"

"ALL RIGHT!" half the team yelled. Bole and Derrick were still after the stray Bludger, now that one of them had been captured and safely returned to its box.

"We really don't wanna hear it." Malfoy sat up and handed the Snitch over to Flint.

"Okay, okay. Hey guys, got the Bludger all right?" Once Flint had seen Bole and Derrick give him the thumbs-up from the other end of the field, where the box was, he looked at the other Chasers. "And the Quaffle?"

"Got it." Lisha held up the red ball and passed it to Warrington, who went to put it away.

"Goyle, put the Snitch in its box," Flint ordered. The younger, but much larger boy grabbed the struggling Snitch by the wings. If it could, it would have shrieked by now with all the handling it had been receiving.

"I'm glad I got you two alone," Flint said once Goyle had left. He looked back and forth between Lisha and Malfoy, who was still on the ground. "Snape asked me to speak to you both because we see how much animosity you have towards each other."

Draco glared hatefully at Lisha. He himself didn't understand why there was so much hostility between the two of them, but it didn't matter. He couldn't stand being on the same Quidditch field as her, much less the same school. She seemed to feel the same way, although she was more mature, more discrete about it.

"We're worried," Flint continued, "that it may affect out game. And you know how much Snape's been flaming since you lost all those points on the first day. You know, we're already fifty points down. Thankfully, Hufflepuff has a lot of dimwits, so they're always losing points for being dumb. Gryffindor has Potter and Weasley, and they're always breaking some school rule. It's Ravenclaw we have to watch for. They hardly ever lose points for doing something wrong. Now," he paused to inhale deeply. "I want you two to kiss and make up." The thought turned both of them green. "Just shake hands, all right?"

Draco thought briefly about spitting in his hand, but then changed his mind. Lisha muttered something unintelligible, smiled, and extended her hand. Draco took it gingerly, and shook.

"There, now that wasn't too difficult, was it?" Flint almost smiled. "Let's go, they're already bringing the stuff in." He motioned for Lisha to go, and she did so. Flint remained close behind her.

Draco sat on the ground for a moment. Lisha had smiled at him. No one had ever really smiled at him, like that anyway. It seemed so friendly, so caring... No, that was too mushy. But maybe there was a chance the two could become friends.

Half-grinning himself, he looked down at the hand Lisha had shook of his. The skin had turned completely green, and small sprouts were starting to grow from his fingers.

Perhaps he was wrong...