Chapter Two
The Youth Quidditch Association of England
Part I
Draco was not looking forward to this Quidditch league. Sure it would get him away from his Mother for a few hours a few times a week, but by taking a quick look around he thought he'd rather spend time with her than these amateurs. Most of the players looked to be in their second or third year of schooling, but Draco didn't recognize any of them from Hogwarts. They were clustered in groups of two or three and spread out widely across the Quidditch field. He walked lazily in between the groups trying to find someone he thought looked interesting, but so far he hadn't met anyone. Most of the brooms Draco saw had been out of date since before he was born, and their robes were so torn and tattered that they looked like they had been handed down through the generations since Quidditch had been invented.
How could his Mother have signed him up for this. It must have been his Mother's idea of a joke, he didn't belong among these misfits. He had more magic in his index finger that most of these squibs had in their whole body. He was surprised to see that the brooms even responded to their touch. These were the type of people that Potter and Weasley hung around with, not Malfoys.
And it was at that moment that he saw a flash of fiery red hair and the glimmer of a decent set of robes that Draco saw them. Potter and his Weasley friends. They were standing underneath the three hoops at the opposite end of where Draco had started. Potter had his back leaned casually against the pole and was flanked on either side by his side kick and his little sister, the one who'd opened the Chamber of Secrets his second year. Draco was surprise that they could afford brooms, but upon further inspection he saw their brooms were among the worst here.
A scowl had come over Draco's face as he stormed towards the group. He checked that his wand was still tucked in the back of his robes as he pushed past a terrified group of what he assumed were first years. He saw Potter catch his eye and nudge his side kick, who turned and looked in the direction he'd pointed. A glare came across his face as he saw Draco. Potter had straightened up and was reaching for his wand. Draco had covered half the distance, he didn't know what he was going to do when he got to where Potter stood, but he wanted revenge. Revenge for making him look like a fool on the train, and for everything else they had ever done to him.
Draco was less than ten yards from where Potter was standing when a loud explosion went off at the other end of the field. Draco spun around to see what had happened, expecting the worst, it seems many other had as well, but it was nothing more than a small wizard with his wand in the air. "If you could all gather around the stage here, we can begin." Draco threw a final stare over his shoulder at Potter and his friends before he was swept away with the crowd to the other end of the field.
The group of a hundred young students quickly formed a half circle around the makeshift stage where the tiny wizard stood. There was quiet now as everyone stood expectantly for the small man to speak again. Draco caught sight of Potter on the outskirts of the of the circle. He pushed his way out of the middle, he hated being touched, especially by people he deemed inferior.
Finally the wizard spoke, "First let me welcome you all to the first attempt at a summer Quidditch league. As you know we have adapted the rules a little to accommodate our allotted time. Each team will consist of only three chasers, which will handle the quaffle as is normal. They will score as many times as possible on the single goal hoop during the given time of two hours. At the end of the two hours the team with the most points will win the match. After one hour there will be a ten minute break before the start of the second hour. Are there any questions on this?" The wizard, who was fastly reminding Draco of a slightly taller version of Professor Flitwick, looked at the group gathered around him almost lovingly.
When there were obviously no questions he continued, "The teams will be divided by age groups, eleven and twelve, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen, and sixteen and seventeen. Each group will have practices three times a week, Monday Wednesday, and Friday from five until nine, with games on Saturdays. The games will be held anywhere from ten in the morning until ten at night, the older students playing later at night. Each age group will have two coaches who will go from group to group and help out during practices. The practices will he held here and we will be setting up as many fields as necessary. Now when I call your name, please meet your teammates up at the front of the stage." The small man, who Draco finally recognized as Ludo Bagman's younger brother, started calling off names. He began with the younger teams and worked his way up, each team it seemed was arranged somewhat alphabetically. He finished the first league and began on the second. Draco was becoming quite shifty as more and more names were called, leaving less and less people he considered further to be his teammates. Finally He heard his name called, "Malfoy, Draco." Followed in quick session by the names he had feared he would be stuck with, "Potter, Harry." Which was followed by the usual gasps, and a very loud groan from Draco. "And Weasley, Ginny."
Draco was pleased to see that there was a look of disgust on Potter's face ass well as his own, and that his side-kick was trying to encourage the possibility of switching teams. Draco waited at the stage for his teammates. Potter and his little girlfriend certainly took their sweet time, and the scowl he wore was one to rival his own. Bagman was holding out a piece of parchment that Potter snatched away from him and led the Weasley girl to the side of the Quidditch field.
Potter stopped at the edge and spun around, Draco nearly fell over as he tried to stop himself from running into him. They glared at each other, neither one speaking. Draco seemed to be breathing right down Potter's neck. "Well this will be an interesting experience, won't it Potter." He cracked a very sly smile, a wicked one. "Maybe you'll learn something."
Potter took a small step closer, a very stubborn look coming over him, "I don't ever want to learn something from you." He spat this at Draco, but it only increased his grin, "Why not Potter, there's so much I can teach you." Potter laughed at this, it was a cold, sarcastic laugh "What could I ever learn from you? How to hate mudbloods, how to torture other wizards, how to kill muggles. I think I'll pass thanks."
Potter's cheeks had turned an interesting shade of red, and the red head next to him was shaking. Draco shook his head, the playful hatred left his eyes and was replaced with animosity such as Draco had never known before. What did Potter know? He didn't know anything about Draco, although he thought he knew multitudes. He had petty discriminations and house grudges. The words Potter used were an adequate description of his Father, but they didn't apply to Draco, yet?
Would he become his Father when he left Hogwarts? Would he become all those things that Potter had just described? No, Draco would never, he could never do anything that horrible. Rude remarks and school competitions were one thing, but hurting people and using Dark Magic was completely different. No one understood him, they couldn't see through his façade. They simply saw the shell, the wall that Draco threw up to protect himself. To protect himself from his own family.
"He doesn't look so well Harry. Do you think he's sick?" His thoughts had ceased at the sound of the little girls voice. How long had he stood there with that blank look on his face. He saw looks of confusion on the two faces that stared at him now, but there was no hate. Distrust, puzzlement, caution yes, but not an ounce of what he had always worn.
He shook his head violently in a vain attempt to clear his menacing thoughts. "Of course I'm not sick." He snapped. The animosity had come flooding back into his face, like someone had pulled a string. "Just trying to figure out how to get out of this predicament I'm in. Stuck with Scar head and little Miss Carrot top." His drawl came very naturally as he spoke these words.
He smiled as Potter's scowl came back as well. He stepped in between Draco and Ginny, "It's not like we want to be here either, but if you'd have been listening, Bagman just said that the teams cannot be switched, for any reason." Draco flinched slightly, as if Potter had struck him with something sharp, but before he could find an adequate come back Bagman was speaking again.
"Now that you've all been acquainted with your team members, you can all go home. Our first practice is Wednesday at five. Make sure you bring your brooms and have proper attire." Draco saw the many small groups of three bid each other farewell and head in the direction of the hearths.
Potter pivoted on the balls of his feet and gave a final glare to Draco before he took Ginny's arm and steered her in the direction they had left her brother. "See you on Wednesday, Potter." Draco called out after the queer group, the most famous boy in the wizarding world and the poorest family Draco had ever heard of. He laughed, what did Potter see in that family? Drabby robes, red hair, a shambled house, absolutely no class. He sighed. A set of caring parents, sincere friends who would never tell his secrets, and a hospitable home. What didn't Potter see in the family Draco now wished he could go home with.
He watched the three disappear up a chimney. Of course he would never give up his manor or his status just for a loving family, he wasn't completely mad. He walked towards the nearest hearth, he took his time as he wasn't in the greatest rush to get home. The supposed practice had only lasted an hour, he had thought he'd be away a little longer than that. He was one of the last ones to leave the pitch. He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the roaring fire and watched it turn an emerald green. He stepped in, ignorant to the flames licking at his robes, "Malfoy Manor." He spoke clearly and soon felt the normal sensation. The pitch blurred and was replaced by the inside of chimneys. He caught glimses of different residents as his journey wore on. Finally the walls began to slow and he recognized his neighbor's fireplace and then with a loud thud he landed in the living room of his house.
He shivered as he stepped out from the warm fire that died as soon as he left it. The Manor always dropped a few degrees at night which forced Draco to wear a heavy cloak after sunset. His Mother was sitting on one of the far couches, her posture perfect even while she sat there reading in her own deserted living room. She wore a light green robe and looked quite comfortable in it.
She didn't look up from the book she was reading at the arrival of Draco, she didn't even acknowledge his presence. She spoke as he was preparing to leave the room, "How was your Quidditch?" She asked in her usual cold tone, one that hinted she knew something that he didn't.
He turned and faced the room again, she was still reading her book as she waited for his answer. "Well the absence of any Quidditch certainly didn't deprive the evening of a certain amount of excitement." There was spite in his tone, one that portrayed his indifference towards her, one that pushed the envelop of disrespect. She acted as though she didn't notice. Draco continued, taking a few steps back into the sparsely decorated him, "Somehow I ended up on the same team as Potter and that Weasley girl Father gave Riddle's diary to three years ago."
Narcissa's eyes widened and she could not control the emotion that spread over her face. She let out a high, shrill laugh. It annoyed Draco as she let out a few more of these unnatural laughs. He narrowed his eyes, "I thought our name was suppose to prevent this type of thing from happening!?" His face was flush with anger.
She let out a final laugh and set her book open on her lap, "You have to earn that privilege first. What have you ever done to prove you're a Malfoy?" She stared at him, contempt once again evident in her gaze. Draco's anger had not subsided and this comment, he thought, was uncalled for. He turned sharply and stormed out of the room.
He heard her last comment as he rounded onto the staircase, "Silly boy." She needed to have the last word as bad as Professor Snape wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He slapped the door to his room and locked it with the large brass lock. He lit a fire in his small fire place and shrugged off his Quidditch robes. He threw his Nimbus 2001 into the corner and pulled on a pair of his black silk sleeping pants. He stripped off his t-shirt and tossed into the clothes hamper that the house elves collected once a day.
He sat down onto his floor poster and reached underneath it for his sketch pad. His fingers closed on the large bulky pad of parchment and a group of lead pencils tied together. He pushed himself back against the walls and closed the curtains around him. He lit the candelabra behind him with a prod of his wand and flipped through the pages until he found an empty one.
He started drawing, fast rapid lines. He quickly finished the background, a thick, dark forest, a full moon hanging over head lighting the clearing. His lines became more controlled and he slowed his pace to allow for more control. The figure in his head began to take shape. He added details to his nearly finished sketch. When he was done he poked it once with his wand and the dragon came to life. A large flame shot from it's mouth and it stormed around the clearing once before it settled onto grass.
Draco stared at it, it lay there motionless occasionally blowing a small smoke ring. His name meant dragon in Latin, so he had been told. He had no idea what his Father had been thinking when he named him that. Did his Father think that Draco was a fierce dragon? Perhaps it was again his Father aspiration that he become a warrior of sorts in the Dark Arts, in the army of Voldemort.
He put the sketch pad back underneath his four poster. He had six or seven full ones underneath there now, and a few more under his four poster back at Hogwarts. He put out the candelabra and climbed comfortably underneath his sheets and entered into his dreams. Dreams of simple things: Quidditch, dragons, potions class.
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Draco walked across the Quidditch field, Potter and the Weasley girl were leaning against the side of the pitch. They looked to be having an interesting conversation, the girl kept laughing, it was an unnatural laugh, she seemed almost.giddy? And Potter, Draco could only remember seeing his cheeks that red when a teacher had given him praise.
"Why don't you and your little girlfriend get a room Potter. I'll just practice by myself then." He wore a wicked little smile, he could never torture Potter enough.
Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco, "I bet you like to play with yourself." He smirked at this, sniggering at his own little joke, the girl held back another round of laughter.
As Draco was about to respond to this when Bagman came over to their small group. He carried a half a dozen quaffles with him, "Ah, Harry Potter, ready for your first practice?" There was a certain twinkle in Bagman's eye, one of respect and pride. Draco saw in the eyes of everyone who looked at Potter. What had he ever done to deserve the such fame? He defeated the Dark Lord through nothing more than luck, everyone knew that now. It was because of his Mother's love, not because he was some kind of great wizard.
"Yeah, we're ready to practice." Potter looked over at Draco as he said these words. Bagman smiled and threw a quaffle to them, "This is your half of the field then. You should decided who is going to fly center and to the left and right wings. Practice moving the quaffle between the three of you. Practice tossing the quaffle through single hoop at the end of the field." He nodded once before he moved off to the next group, "Good luck then."
Draco and Potter watched Bagman walk away, each with the same look of distress and worry on their faces. Slowly they turned and stared at each other, a questioning look on both of their faces. Ginny stood in between them, she looked from one boy to the next.
Draco narrowed his gaze, "Well what are we waiting for, we are here to practice after all." His mouth twisted, and his eyes glinted. Ginny swallowed a large lump in her throat.
Potter nodded, "Alright Malfoy, let's get this over with." Harry mounted his broom and flew off. He bent over agilely and picked up the quaffle. He zig-zagged across the field towards the pitch. He dove once as if avoiding an invisible bludger. Pulled back on his broom hard and completed a 360 degree turn as if dodging an opponent that wasn't really there. He un- tucked the quaffle from his arm and threw it straight and strong for the goal. It sailed magnificently through without even touching the sides.
With a sneer Draco mounted his own broom hastily and took off after Potter. Potter had picked up the quaffle again and was streaming towards the goal. Draco pressed his body up against his broomstick, which was year older than Potter's, and quickly set a path that crossed his teammate's He could hear the Weasley girls broom trying to keep up behind his, she was still practically at the sidelines.
Draco was only a few broomstick lengths away from Potter, he pulled the broom as close as he could. It felt as if it were a part of himself, it melted into his chest and Draco had complete control. He flew up unseen next to Potter and stripped him of the quaffle. He sneered at the look of surprise on his face. But it quickly turned into anger as he too pulled his broom closer and tore after Draco.
Potter swung himself around and lunged his shoulder into the body of Draco. Draco's was set off course temporarily but soon was heading for the goal again. Potter lunged again, with more force and more speed. Was he trying to knock the quaffle out of his grip or knock him off of his broom, Draco asked inside his head. Potter had a hand wrapped around the quaffle now, he was tugging at it, trying to free it from Draco's strong arm. The goal was only a few seconds away. Draco lashed out with his foot and struck Potter's broom. At the same time he pulled it upward, freeing the quaffle from the other boy's grip. Draco steadied his broom and flung the quaffle towards the towering gold hoop. Potter's shot had been better but Draco's accomplished the same purpose. It brushed the inside of the ring and soared out the other side.
Potter flew down beneath quickly and retrieved the red ball. He made his way around to the center of the field and again began his run on the goal, and on Draco. This was quickly turning from a team practice to a one-on-one grudge match.
Draco flew towards Potter, head on. Potter veered to the right missing Draco by inches. Draco swung his broom around and was close on Potter's tail. He hit a burst of speed and tried to cut Potter off before he reached the goal but Potter had anticipated ahead of him and dove quickly before rising up high above Draco and putting the quaffle easily through the hoop.
Draco dropped down below the goal and picked up the quaffle. He was getting angry and was about to start his own little break away when he heard a shout from behind him. "This is suppose to be a practice, not some sort of manhood contest." It was Bagman and he had come up on his broom in between Potter and Draco, the Weasley girl was flying next to him.
Draco cast a quick look at Potter, "Sorry Mr. Bagman, we were just playing a little one on one before we got started." Draco's mouth had formed into a twisted sort of smile. Potter was staring at him, his eyes were still full of contempt and anger. Anger at having to agree with him. His look switched quickly to Bagman,
"Yes, we were playing for the position of center. The winner of the game would get to play the center chaser." Draco had to hand it to him, he thought, Potter was a fast thinker, and a brilliant liar as well.
Bagman seemed to accept these two lies and nodded his head rather sheepishly. "Well, since it seems that Mr. Potter was ahead twenty to ten I think he has the position then." Draco's lip curled and he was about to protest, Potter had after all had the first try, but Bagman held up his hand. "It is really not that important who plays center. You should start to practice now, it's already been an hour."
He took the qauffle from Draco. "Now let me see, you both play Seeker at Hogwarts, and you've never played at all?" He was looking at Ginny now and she shook her head rather embarrassed. "Well then, I think I'll stick around and show you three how to play, as a team."
For the next hour, Bagman showed the three everything there was to know about being a Chaser, or so it seemed. He showed them what formations were most widely used to attack, what formations were used to defend, how to pass the quaffle in between them, how to take it away from their opponents. He showed them the correct way to carry the ball and shoot the ball, how to block shots and retrieve the ball from goals.
At the end of the practice session Bagman had worn them out. Draco and Potter were even too tired to argue. "Well now that was a productive little practice wasn't it?" How could he look so cheerful all the time, Draco thought, wasn't he tired at all? Potter moaned in response to Bagman's question. "Right then, your first game is Sunday at eight O'clock. You're going to be playing team three of your group. Which reminds me, you all have to come up with a name for your team by next practice, Friday. You have to turn in the names at the end of the session so that jerseys can be made up for you for the game the next day." Instead of asking for a team name, by the looks on Draco and Potter's faces, someone would think he had just ask the two to donate a limb each for a dragon's dinner. They stared at him with shocked expressions. Then they looked at each other, wearing a look of disgust and spite at having at agree on a team name.
"Why don't you each come up with something tomorrow and bring in it on Friday?" He nodded once courteously and then walked off to gather the rest of the quaffles from other groups. Ginny took Harry's hand and was pulling him towards a fireplace. It seemed she hadn't quite forgotten about the incident on the train and was trying to prevent another one. Harry glared at him, "Guess we'll meet back here on Friday then, Malfoy." There was a final look and the pair turned and walked away. Potter had his arm around the little red head and was carrying both their brooms, "See you later then, Potter. Hope you and your girlfriend have a nice warm bed to go to together." Draco's drawl ringing throughout the pitch. He turned on his own heels and marched in the opposite direction.
This little situation he found himself in seemed to be getting worse and worse every day. Now he had to play left winger to Potter and they all had to decide on a team name. How much more ridiculous good this get?
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Draco walked through the cold house, it's eerie noises unheard. He changed out of his sweaty Quidditch robes and into his fresh black silk pajamas. There was a silver "D" embroidered on the left breast. He lit a fire quickly before climbing into his big four poster and falling into an uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. The morning was gray and dismal. Rain clouds floated overhead and threatened to let loose with a downpour. Draco tried to sleep through until the afternoon. If he couldn't spend time with Crabbe and Goyle, couldn't even enjoy Quidditch, perhaps he would be allowed to enjoy sleeping. He was just starting on what promised to be a fantastic morning dream when he was pulled back to reality by his Mother's voice. "Draco. Draco! Get up. Company will be here in ten minutes."
Draco knew it would be no use to try and ignore her. If she had company that was important enough to show him off, there was no excuse he could use. If he had come down with a deadly virus and only had that day to live, his Mother would use him to get sympathy from whatever stupid dignitary or family friend was visiting.
He shivered as he swung his legs out from underneath his black comforter. The fire had went out during the night and his room had turned just as cold as the rest of the house. He practically ran from his bed to the shower, starting the fire again as he whipped past. He turned the water up nearly as high as it would go, it still didn't seem hot enough though. He toweled off and swung his heavy bathrobe on. He laid out a plain black robe with matching trousers.
The room had warmed up a little and a house elf had already come up and made his bed. Sometimes he got so mad at those little elves. Always doing something, never leaving him alone. Even if he couldn't see them he knew they were there, they were like germs. He ripped the sheets off his bed and threw them onto the floor. His anger flooded out, his anger at Potter, at his Mother, his Father, his whole situation. He stormed off out of his room, slamming the door, and went to greet whoever was intruding into his home today.
He sped through the hallways knocking inattentive house elves to the floor. The pictures glared at him from their frames, questioning looks on their faces. "Who are you to ramp through the halls that we lived in hundred of years before your time." Draco scowled at his great-great cousin Raven.
He flung open the door to the sitting room and stop dead in his tracks. There were two people sitting across from his mother. One had a long white beard, and wore deep purple robes, with half moon spectacles on his nose. The other wore straight back robes similar to Draco's but these were worn and seemed like work robes. He had jet black hair and a twisted scowl that Draco took as a smile.
"Good afternoon Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape." He inclined his head as he spoke each name, Draco was not one to bow. The Headmaster wore a large smile and acted pleased to see Draco. Why did people always pretend they enjoyed his company, didn't they know what his Father was?
"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy. It's so nice to see you. Did you have a nice lie in? Oh, to have free summers again, I miss them so, don't you agree Severus?" Dumbledore looked at Draco's head of house, and the Hogwarts Potion Master. Snape most certainly did not look as if he agreed but he smiled and nodded his head just the same.
"How are your studies coming along Draco?" He asked, changing the subject. In truth Draco hadn't even opened his books yet, he was much to busy entertaining.
"They're coming along quite well, thank you Professor." It seemed to Draco that his teacher knew him all too well and hence knew that he was lying through his teeth, but he didn't press him further and try and embarrass him in front of his Mother and the Headmaster, as his Father most likely would have.
It then struck Draco as odd that his Mother had invited these two particular people for tea. It was common knowledge in the Manor that Professor Snape had fled from Voldemort and joined forces with Dumbledore. He was no more welcome in their house as he was in Voldemort's circle of Death Eaters. As for Dumbledore, his Father considered him such a muggle lover that he was not fit to be Headmaster of Hogwarts. Why then should his Mother invite them for tea?
His questions were soon answered by his Mother, her cold voice intoned her dislike for their guests, "Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore just stopped by to see you actually, isn't that right?" She said Dumbledore's name as if it were a disease she didn't want to mention. She was obviously hurrying along the conversation to lessen their stay.
Dumbledore's eyes flashed as if he had forgotten why he had come and was enjoying the tea and conversation. "Ah, yes our purpose in this visit. Perhaps I should let Severus tell you, Mr. Malfoy, he is after all your head of house."
Severus looked as if he were becoming uncomfortable and just wanted to spit out whatever he was about to say and run. "Well it seems that there is an opening on the house Quidditch team for a captain, and we feel that you are the best choice for the position."
Him, Quidditch captain? But there were so many other people on the team. He didn't know the first thing about being a captain, he hardly knew much about being Seeker. "Will I be Captain then for the next three years?" He wasn't sure if he wanted the position if he was just going to lose it next year and be made a fool of.
"Yes, only in very rare and serious circumstances do we replace a captain." Replied Snape.
Draco let out a small sigh and smiled, "Well then, I'm honored and accept." Severus and Dumbledore both looked happy that he had accepted.
His Mother looked pleased, she let out a rare small at his rare accomplishment. "Your Father is going to be so proud when he hears about this."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "Oh and where is Lucious, I've been meaning to speak with him about the," He paused here and his eyes flashed around, looking for something to say, "To talk to him about the Hogwarts Board of Regents." He smiled and nodded once. God, Draco thought, his Headmaster could lie nearly as well as he could. Nearly!
Narcissa smiled back very hospitably, "Oh well you know Lucious, he's always away on business." Her eyes took the same ride that Dumbledore's had, only she hid it a little better, "Yes, he's down in Tanzania actually for a little bit. They found an old burial and Lucious thinks that it might be an ancestor of the Malfoy family, and so of course he had to go and investigate." Her mouth twisted uncomfortably and formed a cautious smile. Snape and Dumbledore seemed to accept this and made to get up and leave.
Narcissa stood up and ushered them out the door. "Well thank you for the tea, Mrs. Malfoy." Snape said as he took his cloak from the waiting house elf.
Dumbledore took his as well, "Yes, it was superb Narcissa please thank the house elf who made it. I'm heading off to the Burrow now." Draco cocked his head slightly, "Oh, what brings you to those part of England?" He tried to sound casual but his spite cut through like a knife.
Dumbledore lowered his head and looked at Draco over the top of his half moon glasses, "Actually, your teammate brings me out that way, Mr. Potter. He's to be the new Gryffindor Captain. Which brings up the summer Quidditch league, how is it going for you three? Have you thought up a good name yet?"
There was a certain twinkle in the old man's eyes. Something that Draco didn't quite recognize. It bordered on comical, but was more knowing, almost guilty.
Draco narrowed his eyes, "Well we've only had one real practice so far, and I'm sure that Potter and I will never agree on the same name. Bagman will most likely end up picking one for us." There was a tone of question in his voice, but his eyes stayed cold.
Dumbledore smiled, it was a warm and sincere smile. "Well, just so long as the three of you are getting along. And perhaps I could suggest a name, one that I know Harry would agree on. The Knights of Hogwarts, and I think purple robes would be fitting." He smiled again, "Yes, I think Harry would go along with that, if you're willing to of course."
He looked again coolly at Draco. He was waiting for an answer. Draco had to think for a moment, "The Knights of Hogwarts, that wasn't such a bad name, and he always looked good in purple, like royalty would. Potter certainly wasn't a Knight, but he could live with Knights."
He looked up at Dumbledore, Snape was standing slightly behind him waiting as well, "Knights of Hogwarts will do fine I think Headmaster, so long as Potter agrees on it." He tried to show an encouraging smile but he knew it only came out as a snide one that showed he thought Potter would never agree on something that he had already agreed on.
The Headmaster nodded once, thanked Narcissa again for the tea and walked out the door following Snape and bidding them both good day.
Narcissa closed the door after waving once before they disapparated and breathed a very large sigh as if they had ruined her whole day. She straightened up, gave a crooked sort of half smile at Draco and left to go back to the living room. No doubt to resume whatever trivial task she'd been hard at work on before being interrupted.
Draco watched his Mother leave and then walked slowly back up to his room. It was now raining outside and even though Draco had just been told some very excellent news, his mood shadowed the weather. He stripped off the robes he had on, found the pajamas from the night before and climbed back into the now freshly made four poster. He pulled the comforter up to his chin and relaxed his head onto his feather pillow. The fire had kept his room warm and he listened to the soft thunder outside as he drifted again into his dreams.
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Draco flew out onto the field. He wore his purple Quidditch Robes with the knight on the back holding a sword. Draco flew around the pitch, the broom again part of his body. Potter and the Weasley girl looked awkward in their robes as they flew together slowly just feet above the ground. Draco pulled his broom around and whipped past them. He heard the girl cry out in surprise.
He was just pulling his broom around again when their referee came out, followed by their opponents. They wore blue robes and seemed to have some kind of strange design on them. The three landed next to the other four and the referee explained his rules, "I want a clean game from all of you. There's to be no kicking, no holding on the jersey or broom, and no foul language. On my signal mount your brooms, when I blow my whistle the game will begin."
The three waited tensely. The young wizard straddled his own broom, gripped the whistle between his teeth, and held the quaffle out as if it were about to explode. There was a shrill sound and Draco saw the quaffle fly. He kicked off the ground hard and rose quickly. The Quaffle had started it's spiraling descent when Draco picked it out of the air. He rolled once, evaded two opponents, one scrawny girl with pigtails and a very worn looking jersey, and a large fat little boy who's brown hair was plastered to his forehead. He sped towards the goal, he could hear the two behind him trying to take pursuit. Potter and the Weasley girl were on either flank but he ignored them. He encouraged his broom faster. The third opponent had beat him to the goal and was sling-shotting around the hoop. He was coming straight for him. He pulled hard to his right, the level headed fifth year followed. Draco pulled to his left, cutting across the entire field. The fifth year followed. He could hear Potter's calls for him to pass but tuned it out. He dove fast for the ground as he did when he was chasing a snitch. The boy tried to follow but his broom was no match for Draco's and he had to pull out.
He gave a quick burst of speed as he pulled up on his broom. His angle towards the hoop was steep one. He pulled up harder, he was nearly flying at a 90 degree angle now. He was just passing the hoop when he tossed the quaffle threw for an easy score. He smiled coldly at his teammates as he flew back towards their end. They did not return his smile, they looked quite grim in fact for having just scored.
The other team had retrieved the ball and was coming down the field in a "V" pattern. Bagman had shown them that one the other day. Draco flew straight for the lead player who had the ball. He was only feet away, the player hadn't changed course an inch. How stupid was this team, Draco thought? He swung his broom to a stop and tried to take the quaffle, but the level headed boy passed it quickly to the scrawny girl.
She flew her broom just as fast as she could. Draco pressed hard to catch up. He was a broom's length away. He reached out and just touched the girl's fingers as he tried again for the ball. At his touch she whipped the quaffle out of reach and passed it way over to the other side of the field where the third teammate had been flying along side of her.
The boy pushed his broom ahead, but it couldn't pick up anymore speed. Draco pulled his broom around and went to catch the third player. The boy was flying too close to the edge of the field, he would never be able to pull a shot off. Draco would trap him and force over the ball. He flew ahead and then cut back sharply. When the boy saw what he was doing he threw the ball hard towards the goal where the first boy sat waiting. He caught it and scored easily.
Potter and Weasley were out of breath. They had tried to break up the formation, but when Draco had shot off first, their plan was gone.
Potter picked up the ball as it hung in mid air and began his own run on the opponent's goal. The girl flew very close to him, within arms reach. They sped straight up the center and when the three opponents decided to close in together on the two of them they waited for them to come.
Draco was furious, they were going to lose the ball. He flew quickly up the field, well away from the other five players. The two groups were five meters apart, "Hey Scar Head, over here!" Potter shot Draco a mean look and continued flying towards the other three players. "Potter, give me the ball!" He didn't even respond this time. Draco pulled his broom around and sped towards him. If he wouldn't give him the ball, he would just take it from him.
Potter saw him coming and saw the others coming. He gave the ball to the redhead and with a burst of speed pummeled through the other group as she flew underneath them. The goal was left wide open and she put the ball through for another quick goal. Harry smiled over at him, the same cold smile Draco had worn five minutes before. This time it was Draco who did not smile back.
The game began to take a turn for the worse after that for the Knights. The other team seemed to realize that Draco was not cooperating with Harry and Ginny. He ran his own plays, tried his own defense, they never passed the ball, although Draco had taken it from Harry once. The team was divided, and they used this. When Draco had the ball all three would converge on him and take the Quaffle from him as easily as if he had given it to them. When Harry and Ginny ran plays, they knew that they didn't need to watch Draco, he wasn't part of it. It was a three on two and both two were inexperienced chasers. When the other team attacked, Draco would always go after whichever player had the ball, so they passed quickly and often. Harry and Ginny put up a good defense with only two people but it wasn't strong enough and a lot of goals went threw that could have been easily prevented.
By the time the game was nearly over, the Knights were trailing by a hundred points. The referee sound a loud note on his whistle and the Knights had played and lost their first game. Harry and Ginny drifted slowly to the ground. Draco chased after them angrily. He landed, a little harder than he would have liked, "What the hell was that Potter?" His drawl was very thick and his eyes had started to glare.
Potter laughed, "Me? You're going to blame this, on me?" His tone had started out quite normal, but the anger was flowing by the end and he was now shouting. "This is all your fault Malfoy, you and your one man show. That team was a pushover, they shouldn't have scored once. But you, you had to have things your way. You had to have the ball, you're the only one who can score of course. You always went after the player with the ball. That first attack, the "V", Bagman showed us how to break up that play as well, remember? Each player takes an opponent and everyone attacks at once, remember? And I'm supposed to be center, remember? Don't go blaming this on me, or Ginny for that matter. You tried to play this game by yourself, and you lost by yourself. I'll see you at practice on Monday." And with that he took the red head's hand and stormed off leaving Draco with his mouth open.
Draco couldn't move. His head was spinning. The pitch began to move. The ground began to shake. Draco stumbled backwards and caught himself on the wall.
He felt weird. He tried to shake the feeling, the dizziness, but he couldn't. He was hurt at what Potter had said. Draco had simply wanted to win, he thought that he was playing as a team. Why did Potter always have to be so hard on him? Didn't he know that Draco was doing the best that he could with limited resources? Draco felt like a fool. He had been selfish during the game, he hadn't been a team player. How was he suppose to be on a team with Potter though? Neither one liked each other, and that was never going to change.
The world seemed to do a flip, and Draco fell to the ground. Why did he care what Scar head thought about him? He didn't want to be friends with him, or the Weasleys. He simply wanted to play a little bit of Quidditch and escape his family. But still, why were his feelings affecting him this way?
His mind turned again to Potter. Potter had done this to him. He hated the way Potter acted, so noble, so arrogant. Potter was the one who couldn't accept someone else's leadership. He hated how Potter was the one who always had to be the hero. Potter and that red head Weasley were the pacifists. Why should he be upset because they didn't like him taking charge, leading, being active? Draco only wanted to win, why should he care if Potter just wanted to play for the love of the game. Winning was everything and Draco hated anyone who said other wise. They were weak people who had lost so many times that they had to lie to themselves.
He took a deep breath. The world had stopped spinning and Draco found that he could see straight again. He stood up, using his broom for support, and left the pitch to head home. He needed to rest, the headache hadn't quite subsided yet, and his walking was a little uneasy. The floo trip home made him feel a little sick.
He walked up the long stairs and headed towards his room. He lit his fire as he walked into the room. Why did he always have to light his fire? The elves in his house did everything else for him, even when he didn't want them to. Why did they never light his fire? He changed into his pajamas and climbed into his soft bed. He tried to sleep but only ended up tossing and turning. He still felt sick.
Finally he stopped trying to sleep and just lay still. His head on his feather pillow, the warmth of the fire on him, and the sound of the night outside was. He relaxed and let out a sigh. The memories of the evening's game left his mind and his thoughts were filled with images of the moon outside and the stars. Thinking about the sky, he fell asleep.
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The Youth Quidditch Association of England
Part I
Draco was not looking forward to this Quidditch league. Sure it would get him away from his Mother for a few hours a few times a week, but by taking a quick look around he thought he'd rather spend time with her than these amateurs. Most of the players looked to be in their second or third year of schooling, but Draco didn't recognize any of them from Hogwarts. They were clustered in groups of two or three and spread out widely across the Quidditch field. He walked lazily in between the groups trying to find someone he thought looked interesting, but so far he hadn't met anyone. Most of the brooms Draco saw had been out of date since before he was born, and their robes were so torn and tattered that they looked like they had been handed down through the generations since Quidditch had been invented.
How could his Mother have signed him up for this. It must have been his Mother's idea of a joke, he didn't belong among these misfits. He had more magic in his index finger that most of these squibs had in their whole body. He was surprised to see that the brooms even responded to their touch. These were the type of people that Potter and Weasley hung around with, not Malfoys.
And it was at that moment that he saw a flash of fiery red hair and the glimmer of a decent set of robes that Draco saw them. Potter and his Weasley friends. They were standing underneath the three hoops at the opposite end of where Draco had started. Potter had his back leaned casually against the pole and was flanked on either side by his side kick and his little sister, the one who'd opened the Chamber of Secrets his second year. Draco was surprise that they could afford brooms, but upon further inspection he saw their brooms were among the worst here.
A scowl had come over Draco's face as he stormed towards the group. He checked that his wand was still tucked in the back of his robes as he pushed past a terrified group of what he assumed were first years. He saw Potter catch his eye and nudge his side kick, who turned and looked in the direction he'd pointed. A glare came across his face as he saw Draco. Potter had straightened up and was reaching for his wand. Draco had covered half the distance, he didn't know what he was going to do when he got to where Potter stood, but he wanted revenge. Revenge for making him look like a fool on the train, and for everything else they had ever done to him.
Draco was less than ten yards from where Potter was standing when a loud explosion went off at the other end of the field. Draco spun around to see what had happened, expecting the worst, it seems many other had as well, but it was nothing more than a small wizard with his wand in the air. "If you could all gather around the stage here, we can begin." Draco threw a final stare over his shoulder at Potter and his friends before he was swept away with the crowd to the other end of the field.
The group of a hundred young students quickly formed a half circle around the makeshift stage where the tiny wizard stood. There was quiet now as everyone stood expectantly for the small man to speak again. Draco caught sight of Potter on the outskirts of the of the circle. He pushed his way out of the middle, he hated being touched, especially by people he deemed inferior.
Finally the wizard spoke, "First let me welcome you all to the first attempt at a summer Quidditch league. As you know we have adapted the rules a little to accommodate our allotted time. Each team will consist of only three chasers, which will handle the quaffle as is normal. They will score as many times as possible on the single goal hoop during the given time of two hours. At the end of the two hours the team with the most points will win the match. After one hour there will be a ten minute break before the start of the second hour. Are there any questions on this?" The wizard, who was fastly reminding Draco of a slightly taller version of Professor Flitwick, looked at the group gathered around him almost lovingly.
When there were obviously no questions he continued, "The teams will be divided by age groups, eleven and twelve, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen, and sixteen and seventeen. Each group will have practices three times a week, Monday Wednesday, and Friday from five until nine, with games on Saturdays. The games will be held anywhere from ten in the morning until ten at night, the older students playing later at night. Each age group will have two coaches who will go from group to group and help out during practices. The practices will he held here and we will be setting up as many fields as necessary. Now when I call your name, please meet your teammates up at the front of the stage." The small man, who Draco finally recognized as Ludo Bagman's younger brother, started calling off names. He began with the younger teams and worked his way up, each team it seemed was arranged somewhat alphabetically. He finished the first league and began on the second. Draco was becoming quite shifty as more and more names were called, leaving less and less people he considered further to be his teammates. Finally He heard his name called, "Malfoy, Draco." Followed in quick session by the names he had feared he would be stuck with, "Potter, Harry." Which was followed by the usual gasps, and a very loud groan from Draco. "And Weasley, Ginny."
Draco was pleased to see that there was a look of disgust on Potter's face ass well as his own, and that his side-kick was trying to encourage the possibility of switching teams. Draco waited at the stage for his teammates. Potter and his little girlfriend certainly took their sweet time, and the scowl he wore was one to rival his own. Bagman was holding out a piece of parchment that Potter snatched away from him and led the Weasley girl to the side of the Quidditch field.
Potter stopped at the edge and spun around, Draco nearly fell over as he tried to stop himself from running into him. They glared at each other, neither one speaking. Draco seemed to be breathing right down Potter's neck. "Well this will be an interesting experience, won't it Potter." He cracked a very sly smile, a wicked one. "Maybe you'll learn something."
Potter took a small step closer, a very stubborn look coming over him, "I don't ever want to learn something from you." He spat this at Draco, but it only increased his grin, "Why not Potter, there's so much I can teach you." Potter laughed at this, it was a cold, sarcastic laugh "What could I ever learn from you? How to hate mudbloods, how to torture other wizards, how to kill muggles. I think I'll pass thanks."
Potter's cheeks had turned an interesting shade of red, and the red head next to him was shaking. Draco shook his head, the playful hatred left his eyes and was replaced with animosity such as Draco had never known before. What did Potter know? He didn't know anything about Draco, although he thought he knew multitudes. He had petty discriminations and house grudges. The words Potter used were an adequate description of his Father, but they didn't apply to Draco, yet?
Would he become his Father when he left Hogwarts? Would he become all those things that Potter had just described? No, Draco would never, he could never do anything that horrible. Rude remarks and school competitions were one thing, but hurting people and using Dark Magic was completely different. No one understood him, they couldn't see through his façade. They simply saw the shell, the wall that Draco threw up to protect himself. To protect himself from his own family.
"He doesn't look so well Harry. Do you think he's sick?" His thoughts had ceased at the sound of the little girls voice. How long had he stood there with that blank look on his face. He saw looks of confusion on the two faces that stared at him now, but there was no hate. Distrust, puzzlement, caution yes, but not an ounce of what he had always worn.
He shook his head violently in a vain attempt to clear his menacing thoughts. "Of course I'm not sick." He snapped. The animosity had come flooding back into his face, like someone had pulled a string. "Just trying to figure out how to get out of this predicament I'm in. Stuck with Scar head and little Miss Carrot top." His drawl came very naturally as he spoke these words.
He smiled as Potter's scowl came back as well. He stepped in between Draco and Ginny, "It's not like we want to be here either, but if you'd have been listening, Bagman just said that the teams cannot be switched, for any reason." Draco flinched slightly, as if Potter had struck him with something sharp, but before he could find an adequate come back Bagman was speaking again.
"Now that you've all been acquainted with your team members, you can all go home. Our first practice is Wednesday at five. Make sure you bring your brooms and have proper attire." Draco saw the many small groups of three bid each other farewell and head in the direction of the hearths.
Potter pivoted on the balls of his feet and gave a final glare to Draco before he took Ginny's arm and steered her in the direction they had left her brother. "See you on Wednesday, Potter." Draco called out after the queer group, the most famous boy in the wizarding world and the poorest family Draco had ever heard of. He laughed, what did Potter see in that family? Drabby robes, red hair, a shambled house, absolutely no class. He sighed. A set of caring parents, sincere friends who would never tell his secrets, and a hospitable home. What didn't Potter see in the family Draco now wished he could go home with.
He watched the three disappear up a chimney. Of course he would never give up his manor or his status just for a loving family, he wasn't completely mad. He walked towards the nearest hearth, he took his time as he wasn't in the greatest rush to get home. The supposed practice had only lasted an hour, he had thought he'd be away a little longer than that. He was one of the last ones to leave the pitch. He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the roaring fire and watched it turn an emerald green. He stepped in, ignorant to the flames licking at his robes, "Malfoy Manor." He spoke clearly and soon felt the normal sensation. The pitch blurred and was replaced by the inside of chimneys. He caught glimses of different residents as his journey wore on. Finally the walls began to slow and he recognized his neighbor's fireplace and then with a loud thud he landed in the living room of his house.
He shivered as he stepped out from the warm fire that died as soon as he left it. The Manor always dropped a few degrees at night which forced Draco to wear a heavy cloak after sunset. His Mother was sitting on one of the far couches, her posture perfect even while she sat there reading in her own deserted living room. She wore a light green robe and looked quite comfortable in it.
She didn't look up from the book she was reading at the arrival of Draco, she didn't even acknowledge his presence. She spoke as he was preparing to leave the room, "How was your Quidditch?" She asked in her usual cold tone, one that hinted she knew something that he didn't.
He turned and faced the room again, she was still reading her book as she waited for his answer. "Well the absence of any Quidditch certainly didn't deprive the evening of a certain amount of excitement." There was spite in his tone, one that portrayed his indifference towards her, one that pushed the envelop of disrespect. She acted as though she didn't notice. Draco continued, taking a few steps back into the sparsely decorated him, "Somehow I ended up on the same team as Potter and that Weasley girl Father gave Riddle's diary to three years ago."
Narcissa's eyes widened and she could not control the emotion that spread over her face. She let out a high, shrill laugh. It annoyed Draco as she let out a few more of these unnatural laughs. He narrowed his eyes, "I thought our name was suppose to prevent this type of thing from happening!?" His face was flush with anger.
She let out a final laugh and set her book open on her lap, "You have to earn that privilege first. What have you ever done to prove you're a Malfoy?" She stared at him, contempt once again evident in her gaze. Draco's anger had not subsided and this comment, he thought, was uncalled for. He turned sharply and stormed out of the room.
He heard her last comment as he rounded onto the staircase, "Silly boy." She needed to have the last word as bad as Professor Snape wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He slapped the door to his room and locked it with the large brass lock. He lit a fire in his small fire place and shrugged off his Quidditch robes. He threw his Nimbus 2001 into the corner and pulled on a pair of his black silk sleeping pants. He stripped off his t-shirt and tossed into the clothes hamper that the house elves collected once a day.
He sat down onto his floor poster and reached underneath it for his sketch pad. His fingers closed on the large bulky pad of parchment and a group of lead pencils tied together. He pushed himself back against the walls and closed the curtains around him. He lit the candelabra behind him with a prod of his wand and flipped through the pages until he found an empty one.
He started drawing, fast rapid lines. He quickly finished the background, a thick, dark forest, a full moon hanging over head lighting the clearing. His lines became more controlled and he slowed his pace to allow for more control. The figure in his head began to take shape. He added details to his nearly finished sketch. When he was done he poked it once with his wand and the dragon came to life. A large flame shot from it's mouth and it stormed around the clearing once before it settled onto grass.
Draco stared at it, it lay there motionless occasionally blowing a small smoke ring. His name meant dragon in Latin, so he had been told. He had no idea what his Father had been thinking when he named him that. Did his Father think that Draco was a fierce dragon? Perhaps it was again his Father aspiration that he become a warrior of sorts in the Dark Arts, in the army of Voldemort.
He put the sketch pad back underneath his four poster. He had six or seven full ones underneath there now, and a few more under his four poster back at Hogwarts. He put out the candelabra and climbed comfortably underneath his sheets and entered into his dreams. Dreams of simple things: Quidditch, dragons, potions class.
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Draco walked across the Quidditch field, Potter and the Weasley girl were leaning against the side of the pitch. They looked to be having an interesting conversation, the girl kept laughing, it was an unnatural laugh, she seemed almost.giddy? And Potter, Draco could only remember seeing his cheeks that red when a teacher had given him praise.
"Why don't you and your little girlfriend get a room Potter. I'll just practice by myself then." He wore a wicked little smile, he could never torture Potter enough.
Potter narrowed his eyes at Draco, "I bet you like to play with yourself." He smirked at this, sniggering at his own little joke, the girl held back another round of laughter.
As Draco was about to respond to this when Bagman came over to their small group. He carried a half a dozen quaffles with him, "Ah, Harry Potter, ready for your first practice?" There was a certain twinkle in Bagman's eye, one of respect and pride. Draco saw in the eyes of everyone who looked at Potter. What had he ever done to deserve the such fame? He defeated the Dark Lord through nothing more than luck, everyone knew that now. It was because of his Mother's love, not because he was some kind of great wizard.
"Yeah, we're ready to practice." Potter looked over at Draco as he said these words. Bagman smiled and threw a quaffle to them, "This is your half of the field then. You should decided who is going to fly center and to the left and right wings. Practice moving the quaffle between the three of you. Practice tossing the quaffle through single hoop at the end of the field." He nodded once before he moved off to the next group, "Good luck then."
Draco and Potter watched Bagman walk away, each with the same look of distress and worry on their faces. Slowly they turned and stared at each other, a questioning look on both of their faces. Ginny stood in between them, she looked from one boy to the next.
Draco narrowed his gaze, "Well what are we waiting for, we are here to practice after all." His mouth twisted, and his eyes glinted. Ginny swallowed a large lump in her throat.
Potter nodded, "Alright Malfoy, let's get this over with." Harry mounted his broom and flew off. He bent over agilely and picked up the quaffle. He zig-zagged across the field towards the pitch. He dove once as if avoiding an invisible bludger. Pulled back on his broom hard and completed a 360 degree turn as if dodging an opponent that wasn't really there. He un- tucked the quaffle from his arm and threw it straight and strong for the goal. It sailed magnificently through without even touching the sides.
With a sneer Draco mounted his own broom hastily and took off after Potter. Potter had picked up the quaffle again and was streaming towards the goal. Draco pressed his body up against his broomstick, which was year older than Potter's, and quickly set a path that crossed his teammate's He could hear the Weasley girls broom trying to keep up behind his, she was still practically at the sidelines.
Draco was only a few broomstick lengths away from Potter, he pulled the broom as close as he could. It felt as if it were a part of himself, it melted into his chest and Draco had complete control. He flew up unseen next to Potter and stripped him of the quaffle. He sneered at the look of surprise on his face. But it quickly turned into anger as he too pulled his broom closer and tore after Draco.
Potter swung himself around and lunged his shoulder into the body of Draco. Draco's was set off course temporarily but soon was heading for the goal again. Potter lunged again, with more force and more speed. Was he trying to knock the quaffle out of his grip or knock him off of his broom, Draco asked inside his head. Potter had a hand wrapped around the quaffle now, he was tugging at it, trying to free it from Draco's strong arm. The goal was only a few seconds away. Draco lashed out with his foot and struck Potter's broom. At the same time he pulled it upward, freeing the quaffle from the other boy's grip. Draco steadied his broom and flung the quaffle towards the towering gold hoop. Potter's shot had been better but Draco's accomplished the same purpose. It brushed the inside of the ring and soared out the other side.
Potter flew down beneath quickly and retrieved the red ball. He made his way around to the center of the field and again began his run on the goal, and on Draco. This was quickly turning from a team practice to a one-on-one grudge match.
Draco flew towards Potter, head on. Potter veered to the right missing Draco by inches. Draco swung his broom around and was close on Potter's tail. He hit a burst of speed and tried to cut Potter off before he reached the goal but Potter had anticipated ahead of him and dove quickly before rising up high above Draco and putting the quaffle easily through the hoop.
Draco dropped down below the goal and picked up the quaffle. He was getting angry and was about to start his own little break away when he heard a shout from behind him. "This is suppose to be a practice, not some sort of manhood contest." It was Bagman and he had come up on his broom in between Potter and Draco, the Weasley girl was flying next to him.
Draco cast a quick look at Potter, "Sorry Mr. Bagman, we were just playing a little one on one before we got started." Draco's mouth had formed into a twisted sort of smile. Potter was staring at him, his eyes were still full of contempt and anger. Anger at having to agree with him. His look switched quickly to Bagman,
"Yes, we were playing for the position of center. The winner of the game would get to play the center chaser." Draco had to hand it to him, he thought, Potter was a fast thinker, and a brilliant liar as well.
Bagman seemed to accept these two lies and nodded his head rather sheepishly. "Well, since it seems that Mr. Potter was ahead twenty to ten I think he has the position then." Draco's lip curled and he was about to protest, Potter had after all had the first try, but Bagman held up his hand. "It is really not that important who plays center. You should start to practice now, it's already been an hour."
He took the qauffle from Draco. "Now let me see, you both play Seeker at Hogwarts, and you've never played at all?" He was looking at Ginny now and she shook her head rather embarrassed. "Well then, I think I'll stick around and show you three how to play, as a team."
For the next hour, Bagman showed the three everything there was to know about being a Chaser, or so it seemed. He showed them what formations were most widely used to attack, what formations were used to defend, how to pass the quaffle in between them, how to take it away from their opponents. He showed them the correct way to carry the ball and shoot the ball, how to block shots and retrieve the ball from goals.
At the end of the practice session Bagman had worn them out. Draco and Potter were even too tired to argue. "Well now that was a productive little practice wasn't it?" How could he look so cheerful all the time, Draco thought, wasn't he tired at all? Potter moaned in response to Bagman's question. "Right then, your first game is Sunday at eight O'clock. You're going to be playing team three of your group. Which reminds me, you all have to come up with a name for your team by next practice, Friday. You have to turn in the names at the end of the session so that jerseys can be made up for you for the game the next day." Instead of asking for a team name, by the looks on Draco and Potter's faces, someone would think he had just ask the two to donate a limb each for a dragon's dinner. They stared at him with shocked expressions. Then they looked at each other, wearing a look of disgust and spite at having at agree on a team name.
"Why don't you each come up with something tomorrow and bring in it on Friday?" He nodded once courteously and then walked off to gather the rest of the quaffles from other groups. Ginny took Harry's hand and was pulling him towards a fireplace. It seemed she hadn't quite forgotten about the incident on the train and was trying to prevent another one. Harry glared at him, "Guess we'll meet back here on Friday then, Malfoy." There was a final look and the pair turned and walked away. Potter had his arm around the little red head and was carrying both their brooms, "See you later then, Potter. Hope you and your girlfriend have a nice warm bed to go to together." Draco's drawl ringing throughout the pitch. He turned on his own heels and marched in the opposite direction.
This little situation he found himself in seemed to be getting worse and worse every day. Now he had to play left winger to Potter and they all had to decide on a team name. How much more ridiculous good this get?
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Draco walked through the cold house, it's eerie noises unheard. He changed out of his sweaty Quidditch robes and into his fresh black silk pajamas. There was a silver "D" embroidered on the left breast. He lit a fire quickly before climbing into his big four poster and falling into an uninterrupted, dreamless sleep. The morning was gray and dismal. Rain clouds floated overhead and threatened to let loose with a downpour. Draco tried to sleep through until the afternoon. If he couldn't spend time with Crabbe and Goyle, couldn't even enjoy Quidditch, perhaps he would be allowed to enjoy sleeping. He was just starting on what promised to be a fantastic morning dream when he was pulled back to reality by his Mother's voice. "Draco. Draco! Get up. Company will be here in ten minutes."
Draco knew it would be no use to try and ignore her. If she had company that was important enough to show him off, there was no excuse he could use. If he had come down with a deadly virus and only had that day to live, his Mother would use him to get sympathy from whatever stupid dignitary or family friend was visiting.
He shivered as he swung his legs out from underneath his black comforter. The fire had went out during the night and his room had turned just as cold as the rest of the house. He practically ran from his bed to the shower, starting the fire again as he whipped past. He turned the water up nearly as high as it would go, it still didn't seem hot enough though. He toweled off and swung his heavy bathrobe on. He laid out a plain black robe with matching trousers.
The room had warmed up a little and a house elf had already come up and made his bed. Sometimes he got so mad at those little elves. Always doing something, never leaving him alone. Even if he couldn't see them he knew they were there, they were like germs. He ripped the sheets off his bed and threw them onto the floor. His anger flooded out, his anger at Potter, at his Mother, his Father, his whole situation. He stormed off out of his room, slamming the door, and went to greet whoever was intruding into his home today.
He sped through the hallways knocking inattentive house elves to the floor. The pictures glared at him from their frames, questioning looks on their faces. "Who are you to ramp through the halls that we lived in hundred of years before your time." Draco scowled at his great-great cousin Raven.
He flung open the door to the sitting room and stop dead in his tracks. There were two people sitting across from his mother. One had a long white beard, and wore deep purple robes, with half moon spectacles on his nose. The other wore straight back robes similar to Draco's but these were worn and seemed like work robes. He had jet black hair and a twisted scowl that Draco took as a smile.
"Good afternoon Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape." He inclined his head as he spoke each name, Draco was not one to bow. The Headmaster wore a large smile and acted pleased to see Draco. Why did people always pretend they enjoyed his company, didn't they know what his Father was?
"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy. It's so nice to see you. Did you have a nice lie in? Oh, to have free summers again, I miss them so, don't you agree Severus?" Dumbledore looked at Draco's head of house, and the Hogwarts Potion Master. Snape most certainly did not look as if he agreed but he smiled and nodded his head just the same.
"How are your studies coming along Draco?" He asked, changing the subject. In truth Draco hadn't even opened his books yet, he was much to busy entertaining.
"They're coming along quite well, thank you Professor." It seemed to Draco that his teacher knew him all too well and hence knew that he was lying through his teeth, but he didn't press him further and try and embarrass him in front of his Mother and the Headmaster, as his Father most likely would have.
It then struck Draco as odd that his Mother had invited these two particular people for tea. It was common knowledge in the Manor that Professor Snape had fled from Voldemort and joined forces with Dumbledore. He was no more welcome in their house as he was in Voldemort's circle of Death Eaters. As for Dumbledore, his Father considered him such a muggle lover that he was not fit to be Headmaster of Hogwarts. Why then should his Mother invite them for tea?
His questions were soon answered by his Mother, her cold voice intoned her dislike for their guests, "Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore just stopped by to see you actually, isn't that right?" She said Dumbledore's name as if it were a disease she didn't want to mention. She was obviously hurrying along the conversation to lessen their stay.
Dumbledore's eyes flashed as if he had forgotten why he had come and was enjoying the tea and conversation. "Ah, yes our purpose in this visit. Perhaps I should let Severus tell you, Mr. Malfoy, he is after all your head of house."
Severus looked as if he were becoming uncomfortable and just wanted to spit out whatever he was about to say and run. "Well it seems that there is an opening on the house Quidditch team for a captain, and we feel that you are the best choice for the position."
Him, Quidditch captain? But there were so many other people on the team. He didn't know the first thing about being a captain, he hardly knew much about being Seeker. "Will I be Captain then for the next three years?" He wasn't sure if he wanted the position if he was just going to lose it next year and be made a fool of.
"Yes, only in very rare and serious circumstances do we replace a captain." Replied Snape.
Draco let out a small sigh and smiled, "Well then, I'm honored and accept." Severus and Dumbledore both looked happy that he had accepted.
His Mother looked pleased, she let out a rare small at his rare accomplishment. "Your Father is going to be so proud when he hears about this."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "Oh and where is Lucious, I've been meaning to speak with him about the," He paused here and his eyes flashed around, looking for something to say, "To talk to him about the Hogwarts Board of Regents." He smiled and nodded once. God, Draco thought, his Headmaster could lie nearly as well as he could. Nearly!
Narcissa smiled back very hospitably, "Oh well you know Lucious, he's always away on business." Her eyes took the same ride that Dumbledore's had, only she hid it a little better, "Yes, he's down in Tanzania actually for a little bit. They found an old burial and Lucious thinks that it might be an ancestor of the Malfoy family, and so of course he had to go and investigate." Her mouth twisted uncomfortably and formed a cautious smile. Snape and Dumbledore seemed to accept this and made to get up and leave.
Narcissa stood up and ushered them out the door. "Well thank you for the tea, Mrs. Malfoy." Snape said as he took his cloak from the waiting house elf.
Dumbledore took his as well, "Yes, it was superb Narcissa please thank the house elf who made it. I'm heading off to the Burrow now." Draco cocked his head slightly, "Oh, what brings you to those part of England?" He tried to sound casual but his spite cut through like a knife.
Dumbledore lowered his head and looked at Draco over the top of his half moon glasses, "Actually, your teammate brings me out that way, Mr. Potter. He's to be the new Gryffindor Captain. Which brings up the summer Quidditch league, how is it going for you three? Have you thought up a good name yet?"
There was a certain twinkle in the old man's eyes. Something that Draco didn't quite recognize. It bordered on comical, but was more knowing, almost guilty.
Draco narrowed his eyes, "Well we've only had one real practice so far, and I'm sure that Potter and I will never agree on the same name. Bagman will most likely end up picking one for us." There was a tone of question in his voice, but his eyes stayed cold.
Dumbledore smiled, it was a warm and sincere smile. "Well, just so long as the three of you are getting along. And perhaps I could suggest a name, one that I know Harry would agree on. The Knights of Hogwarts, and I think purple robes would be fitting." He smiled again, "Yes, I think Harry would go along with that, if you're willing to of course."
He looked again coolly at Draco. He was waiting for an answer. Draco had to think for a moment, "The Knights of Hogwarts, that wasn't such a bad name, and he always looked good in purple, like royalty would. Potter certainly wasn't a Knight, but he could live with Knights."
He looked up at Dumbledore, Snape was standing slightly behind him waiting as well, "Knights of Hogwarts will do fine I think Headmaster, so long as Potter agrees on it." He tried to show an encouraging smile but he knew it only came out as a snide one that showed he thought Potter would never agree on something that he had already agreed on.
The Headmaster nodded once, thanked Narcissa again for the tea and walked out the door following Snape and bidding them both good day.
Narcissa closed the door after waving once before they disapparated and breathed a very large sigh as if they had ruined her whole day. She straightened up, gave a crooked sort of half smile at Draco and left to go back to the living room. No doubt to resume whatever trivial task she'd been hard at work on before being interrupted.
Draco watched his Mother leave and then walked slowly back up to his room. It was now raining outside and even though Draco had just been told some very excellent news, his mood shadowed the weather. He stripped off the robes he had on, found the pajamas from the night before and climbed back into the now freshly made four poster. He pulled the comforter up to his chin and relaxed his head onto his feather pillow. The fire had kept his room warm and he listened to the soft thunder outside as he drifted again into his dreams.
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Draco flew out onto the field. He wore his purple Quidditch Robes with the knight on the back holding a sword. Draco flew around the pitch, the broom again part of his body. Potter and the Weasley girl looked awkward in their robes as they flew together slowly just feet above the ground. Draco pulled his broom around and whipped past them. He heard the girl cry out in surprise.
He was just pulling his broom around again when their referee came out, followed by their opponents. They wore blue robes and seemed to have some kind of strange design on them. The three landed next to the other four and the referee explained his rules, "I want a clean game from all of you. There's to be no kicking, no holding on the jersey or broom, and no foul language. On my signal mount your brooms, when I blow my whistle the game will begin."
The three waited tensely. The young wizard straddled his own broom, gripped the whistle between his teeth, and held the quaffle out as if it were about to explode. There was a shrill sound and Draco saw the quaffle fly. He kicked off the ground hard and rose quickly. The Quaffle had started it's spiraling descent when Draco picked it out of the air. He rolled once, evaded two opponents, one scrawny girl with pigtails and a very worn looking jersey, and a large fat little boy who's brown hair was plastered to his forehead. He sped towards the goal, he could hear the two behind him trying to take pursuit. Potter and the Weasley girl were on either flank but he ignored them. He encouraged his broom faster. The third opponent had beat him to the goal and was sling-shotting around the hoop. He was coming straight for him. He pulled hard to his right, the level headed fifth year followed. Draco pulled to his left, cutting across the entire field. The fifth year followed. He could hear Potter's calls for him to pass but tuned it out. He dove fast for the ground as he did when he was chasing a snitch. The boy tried to follow but his broom was no match for Draco's and he had to pull out.
He gave a quick burst of speed as he pulled up on his broom. His angle towards the hoop was steep one. He pulled up harder, he was nearly flying at a 90 degree angle now. He was just passing the hoop when he tossed the quaffle threw for an easy score. He smiled coldly at his teammates as he flew back towards their end. They did not return his smile, they looked quite grim in fact for having just scored.
The other team had retrieved the ball and was coming down the field in a "V" pattern. Bagman had shown them that one the other day. Draco flew straight for the lead player who had the ball. He was only feet away, the player hadn't changed course an inch. How stupid was this team, Draco thought? He swung his broom to a stop and tried to take the quaffle, but the level headed boy passed it quickly to the scrawny girl.
She flew her broom just as fast as she could. Draco pressed hard to catch up. He was a broom's length away. He reached out and just touched the girl's fingers as he tried again for the ball. At his touch she whipped the quaffle out of reach and passed it way over to the other side of the field where the third teammate had been flying along side of her.
The boy pushed his broom ahead, but it couldn't pick up anymore speed. Draco pulled his broom around and went to catch the third player. The boy was flying too close to the edge of the field, he would never be able to pull a shot off. Draco would trap him and force over the ball. He flew ahead and then cut back sharply. When the boy saw what he was doing he threw the ball hard towards the goal where the first boy sat waiting. He caught it and scored easily.
Potter and Weasley were out of breath. They had tried to break up the formation, but when Draco had shot off first, their plan was gone.
Potter picked up the ball as it hung in mid air and began his own run on the opponent's goal. The girl flew very close to him, within arms reach. They sped straight up the center and when the three opponents decided to close in together on the two of them they waited for them to come.
Draco was furious, they were going to lose the ball. He flew quickly up the field, well away from the other five players. The two groups were five meters apart, "Hey Scar Head, over here!" Potter shot Draco a mean look and continued flying towards the other three players. "Potter, give me the ball!" He didn't even respond this time. Draco pulled his broom around and sped towards him. If he wouldn't give him the ball, he would just take it from him.
Potter saw him coming and saw the others coming. He gave the ball to the redhead and with a burst of speed pummeled through the other group as she flew underneath them. The goal was left wide open and she put the ball through for another quick goal. Harry smiled over at him, the same cold smile Draco had worn five minutes before. This time it was Draco who did not smile back.
The game began to take a turn for the worse after that for the Knights. The other team seemed to realize that Draco was not cooperating with Harry and Ginny. He ran his own plays, tried his own defense, they never passed the ball, although Draco had taken it from Harry once. The team was divided, and they used this. When Draco had the ball all three would converge on him and take the Quaffle from him as easily as if he had given it to them. When Harry and Ginny ran plays, they knew that they didn't need to watch Draco, he wasn't part of it. It was a three on two and both two were inexperienced chasers. When the other team attacked, Draco would always go after whichever player had the ball, so they passed quickly and often. Harry and Ginny put up a good defense with only two people but it wasn't strong enough and a lot of goals went threw that could have been easily prevented.
By the time the game was nearly over, the Knights were trailing by a hundred points. The referee sound a loud note on his whistle and the Knights had played and lost their first game. Harry and Ginny drifted slowly to the ground. Draco chased after them angrily. He landed, a little harder than he would have liked, "What the hell was that Potter?" His drawl was very thick and his eyes had started to glare.
Potter laughed, "Me? You're going to blame this, on me?" His tone had started out quite normal, but the anger was flowing by the end and he was now shouting. "This is all your fault Malfoy, you and your one man show. That team was a pushover, they shouldn't have scored once. But you, you had to have things your way. You had to have the ball, you're the only one who can score of course. You always went after the player with the ball. That first attack, the "V", Bagman showed us how to break up that play as well, remember? Each player takes an opponent and everyone attacks at once, remember? And I'm supposed to be center, remember? Don't go blaming this on me, or Ginny for that matter. You tried to play this game by yourself, and you lost by yourself. I'll see you at practice on Monday." And with that he took the red head's hand and stormed off leaving Draco with his mouth open.
Draco couldn't move. His head was spinning. The pitch began to move. The ground began to shake. Draco stumbled backwards and caught himself on the wall.
He felt weird. He tried to shake the feeling, the dizziness, but he couldn't. He was hurt at what Potter had said. Draco had simply wanted to win, he thought that he was playing as a team. Why did Potter always have to be so hard on him? Didn't he know that Draco was doing the best that he could with limited resources? Draco felt like a fool. He had been selfish during the game, he hadn't been a team player. How was he suppose to be on a team with Potter though? Neither one liked each other, and that was never going to change.
The world seemed to do a flip, and Draco fell to the ground. Why did he care what Scar head thought about him? He didn't want to be friends with him, or the Weasleys. He simply wanted to play a little bit of Quidditch and escape his family. But still, why were his feelings affecting him this way?
His mind turned again to Potter. Potter had done this to him. He hated the way Potter acted, so noble, so arrogant. Potter was the one who couldn't accept someone else's leadership. He hated how Potter was the one who always had to be the hero. Potter and that red head Weasley were the pacifists. Why should he be upset because they didn't like him taking charge, leading, being active? Draco only wanted to win, why should he care if Potter just wanted to play for the love of the game. Winning was everything and Draco hated anyone who said other wise. They were weak people who had lost so many times that they had to lie to themselves.
He took a deep breath. The world had stopped spinning and Draco found that he could see straight again. He stood up, using his broom for support, and left the pitch to head home. He needed to rest, the headache hadn't quite subsided yet, and his walking was a little uneasy. The floo trip home made him feel a little sick.
He walked up the long stairs and headed towards his room. He lit his fire as he walked into the room. Why did he always have to light his fire? The elves in his house did everything else for him, even when he didn't want them to. Why did they never light his fire? He changed into his pajamas and climbed into his soft bed. He tried to sleep but only ended up tossing and turning. He still felt sick.
Finally he stopped trying to sleep and just lay still. His head on his feather pillow, the warmth of the fire on him, and the sound of the night outside was. He relaxed and let out a sigh. The memories of the evening's game left his mind and his thoughts were filled with images of the moon outside and the stars. Thinking about the sky, he fell asleep.
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