Chapter Five: Dealing with Draco
"Remind me again why I let you get me up at this God awful hour?" Daphne asked bitterly as she and Tracey trudged towards the Quidditch pitch. It was definitely November, Daphne refectled as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Even the heat charm she was casting did little to stop the wind biting at her skin or the spitting rain soaking her hair to her scalp.
"Because you're a good friend," Tracey grinned, somehow refusing to let the abysmal weather dampen her mood. "And because if I'm going to have any chance at those tryouts I need to practice."
"Can't you just kill Draco and get his spot?" Daphne asked bitterly. "It'd be warmer."
"Can you really see them letting me into the team?"
"Alright, fair point." Daphne conceded.
Life had been tough for Tracey since she had stood up to Draco. He and his little gang had decided to take it upon themselves to pepper her with snide taunts, jibes and generally ruin her life. Pansy had threatened to jinx her while she slept, but Tracey had just laughed it off. As long as Daphne was in the dormitory with her, it was unlikely that Pansy would actually do anything. Bulstrode would be on her side, but as for the rest, they would support rather than instigate and Pansy wasn't stupid enough to take on a fight she couldn't win.
When they reached the pitch, Daphne was surprised to find that they were not the first ones there, nor the only ones who apparently hated themselves enough to be out of bed before eight in the morning. Potter and Weasley were soaring high in the sky, Potter throwing the quaffle at Weasley who was defending the goal hoops.
"Your doing?" Daphne asked, but she didn't need an answer. Though she and Granger had been discussing their renewed relationship in a calm and almost professional manner; Tracey and Weasley had been happily bonding over Quidditch whilst practising and though Daphne had not caught the entirety of their conversation, it was safe to assume that she had invited them to their morning practise.
"I didn't think they'd come," admitted Tracey, her cheeks flushing pink as they always did when she was embarrassed.
"Tell you what, you go say hi and I'll go get your broom," Daphne said, not giving Tracey a chance to say no before striding off to the broom sheds. They had discussed at length whether or not Weasley, Potter and the others actually liked her. Tracey, rather understandably, was allowing her previous experience with the Slytherins to make her doubt herself and so Daphne didn't see the harm in getting a little bit of alone time with the boys.
As she left she heard Weasley shout, "Hey, Tracey!" from his broom and she could not help but smirk a little imagining the flustered but pleased expression on Tracey's face.
The broom sheds were not far from the pitch and it did not take Daphne long to open up the door and head inside. What she saw made her blood run cold. There on the floor before her, shattered into almost unrecognisable splinters, was Tracey's broom. It did not not take her logn to know who had done it. Draco, or one of his goons. The arrogant, stuck-up, self-serving, biogted prick. Daphne could feel her heart hammering in her chest as her fists clenched. The one thing Tracey loved, the one thing she was desperate to succeed in, shattered and broken.
The worst part was, she had known it was coming. This was exactly what she had expected him to do. Attacking Tracey directly was too obviously him, this would destroy and leave him guilt-free for they could not pin the destruction of the broom on him. Little git had probably gotten Crabbe or Goyle to do it.
Hurriedly, Daphne shut the door as quietly as she could before locking it magically shut. Her brain desperately trying to come up with an appropriate lie, she headed back out onto the pitch. How had Potter and Weasley not seen it? Unless they kept their brooms in their rooms, that made sense and was the kind of thing that someone who owned a Firebolt would do. Weasley was probably so protective of his broom, given how poor the Weasleys were, that he never let it out of his sight.
"That was quick," Tracey remarked, before frowning, "and you've forgotten the broom?"
"Locked," Daphne shrugged, hoping against hope that her guess about Weasley and Potter was right.
"Weird, it's never usually locked." Weasley frowned. Daphne, deciding that any hopes of aid would come from Potter, fixed her gaze solely on him, desperately hoping he would understand the signal.
"Yeah, Hooch must've thought it'd be safer." Daphne said simply. Look at me. Agree, Potter. Agree. For what felt like an eternity Potter looked in the direction of the sheds, then back at Weasley, Tracey and then his gaze finally fell on Daphne. He frowned. Daphne, who prayed that he understood what she meant, gave the smallest of nods. "Didn't you say they'd some break-ins, Potter?"
"Er," Potter faltered, Daphne felt her jaw clench. Say yes. Why were boys so utterly slow on the uptake? "Yeah. George said something about it, I think."
"Weird," said Weasley again, "well, you can borrow my broom if you want? That way you can fly with Harry and he can give you some pointers."
"Okay, thanks." Tracey grinned before looking a little nervous and saying, "I hope my broom's okay. Dad'll kill me if I break it, it cost him a fortune."
Daphne's heart sank. Of course it did, why wouldn't it have done? She was going to kill Draco. Silently seething and trying desperately not to show it, Daphne and Weasley made their way to the side of the pitch, so that Weasley could release the Snitch from the crate of balls he and Potter had collected earlier. As soon as he did, Potter and Tracey kicked off into the air. Potter did a good job of staying level with her, as Daphne had seen just how fast that Firebolt could go.
"She's good, isn't she?" Weasley remarked after a few minutes of silence.
"Yes." Was all Daphne could manage. Her brain was working quickly on how she was going to explain this all to Tracey, without Tracey losing her mind. The answer, she was increasingly becoming aware, was it was impossible.
Weasley looked mildly offended but said nothing. She needed time to think, time to make sure that Tracey stayed away from the broom sheds. But what for? She couldn't fix it, from what little she knew of brooms they were almost impossible to fix once they'd been damaged. As much as she wanted to, she would be unable to buy one without her mother finding out, and she doubted very much that she would approve of such a lavish purchase.
"I lied," Daphne said, realising more and more that the game would be up sooner or later "YEat?" Weasley asked, confused. "But she is good?"
"No, not about that," Daphne snapped, more out of her anger at the broom than at Weasley. "About the broom sheds. They were open. You can't say anything to Tracey, not until I know what we're going to do."
"What do you mean?"
Daphne didn't answer right away. She watched Tracey and Potter go into a dive around the goal post Weasley had been guarding before. Tracey's exit was a little untidy, but Potter was quick to correct her, demonstrating the best way to lean flat on the broom as they hovered a few feet above the ground. It struck her just how happy Tracey was when she was flying. It was not far that all too soon that would be taken away from her.
"I found her broom on the floor," she explained, "it was… broken. Someone snapped it, or they were told to snap it. It's in bits anyway."
"Malfoy." Weasley said coldly, his usually jovile voice icy and unforgiving. The cold stare he was giving her was the one she had grown used to from Gryffindors for so many years.
"Yes, probably. He doesn't like the fact that she's hanging out with me, or that I'm hanging around with Potter. Gave me a nice little lecture on how it was a bad idea, that nothing good would come of it, and that I should stay away. Probably thinks Tracey's doing the same, or maybe he doesn't and he just wants to get her back for ditching him and becoming friends with me. I don't know."
"Should snap his, see how he likes it." Weasley snarled, and Daphne could not help but commend his loyalty to Tracey. It was surprising, given that they had only met for a few hours, clearly Weasley was quite taken with her. Unlike Potter, Weasley clearly had less of a wall around him, which did not surprise her in the slightest. He seemed a much more emotional being, like most Gryffindors he reacted on instinct rather than thought.
"Lucius Malfoy would just buy him another one." Daphne said, sadly. "Though top marks for enthusiasm."
"We should tell her."
"It'll destroy her, she loves that thing."
"If it were me I'd want Harry to tell me, rather than Malfoy." Weasley said grimly and he had an unfortunate point. Dear Draco was going to gloat the first chance he got, in fact, Daphne was surprised that he wasn't already at the pitch under the pretence of getting in some practice himself.
"I'll tell her after —"
It was then that her fears became reality. Heading onto the pitch, his broom slung over his shoulder and slick blonde hair glinting in the early sunlight, was no other than Draco Malfoy. Even from the great distance between them, Daphne could see the sneer already etched on his smug, pointed face. It turned to a look of surprise as his gaze locked on Tracey and Potter, who were blissfully unaware of the third Slytherin to set foot on the pitch.
In the stands, Daphne could see his little fan club filing in. Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode and Parkinson, along with a few others from the lower years. No doubt they'd been tipped off that Tracey's broom was broken and had come to see the fireworks.
Daphne wasn't aware of moving until after her legs had started carrying her over to him. Anger was bubbling up inside her, smashing against a dam that was built up tightly around her heart. She could not let him see how enraged she was, but all she wanted to do was rip him limb from limb. A combination of years of loathing, mild guilt at putting Tracey in this position in the first place, and indignation at his blatant ability to do anything and get away with it was fuelling her anger. But she would not let it out, not while he was looking anyway.
"Ah, Greengrass," Draco drawled, smugly. "Thought you and your little pet would be here. Weasley and Potter too. My, my, you really are letting your standards slip. Hanging out with this rabble."
Daphne was painfully aware of the many eyes watching her from the stands. Any chance she had had of keeping her friendship with Potter and the others a secret was dashed.
"You watch your mouth!" Weasley snapped.
"Careful, Weasley, or have you forgotten that I am a prefect? I may not be able to put you in detention, but I could quite easily make Potty do lines with Professor Umbridge."
For some reason, Weasley's ears turned scarlet and his fists balled. Daphne did not consider this to be one of Draco's more unsettling threats, but the mention of Umbridge seemed to peak Weasley's anger far more than she had expected.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Daphne asked, as calmly as she could while keeping one eye on Weasley.
"I came to practise, but it appears you already had the same idea." He looked up at Potter and Tracey, who had stopped flying around and had noticed that they were no longer alone. "Is she using your broom, Weasley? No wonder she's flying so dreadfully, why would anyone want to fly that relic?"
"Broom sheds were locked," said Daphne, cutting across Weasley before he could give the game away. A plan, or the idea of one anyway, was forming in her mind. She just needed the words to catch up. "Madam Hooch said she thought she saw people breaking into them. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you Draco?"
Draco's mouth almost imperceptibly twitched. "Because if you did," Daphne continued, coolly, "I'm sure she would love to know. Apparently, she takes a dim view on anyone sabotaging or damaging brooms and I'm sure you and I would hate for her to think that anyone had been doing so. Especially if that person happened to have certain evidence lying around their room. Say a shattered broom handle, for example."
"Yes, I'm sure she would. Unfortunately, I don't know."
"Pity," Daphne said, with a firmly false smile contorting her lips. She made a show of patting the inside pocket of her robes, and though there was nothing there to blackmail him with, Draco didn't need to know that. "Well, if you or I remember anything, I'm sure she would love to know."
It was well known that Madam Hooch had the power to ban Quidditch players if she saw fit. Though she was a lenient referee, tampering with brooms was not tolerated and if she were to discover what Draco had done then Slytherin would be without their Seeker for some time.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Draco snapped, then he scoffed his eyes on Tracey and Potter who had just landed and were heading towards them. "Honestly, you're a disgrace. Hanging round with blood-traitors, surprised you can stand the smell."
"At least I have friends, Draco, or are you really going to try and tell me you find conversation with Crabbe and Goyle intellectually stimulating?"
Draco's skin, usually so pale, had flushed with anger. He stood there for a moment, glaring at Daphne as his brain desperately tried to come up with a retort. When it came short he simply glowered at her, turned and walked away. Weasley was shaking with suppressed laughter, which died almost instantly when Tracey joined them and asked.
"What did he want?"
"Nothing," Weasley said, a little too quickly. "How was, er, you know?"
"Good, really good, Harry's already shown me a bunch of cool stuff!" Tracey grinned. "And thanks for lending me your broom, Ron."
"About that," Daphne said, knowing that if she didn't say something soon she would just find out herself. Weasley was right, better to hear it off her than Draco, who would be desperate to get his revenge on them as soon as he physically could. "There's something I need to show you."
It went about as badly as she had expected, only with more tears and less screaming. When Tracey saw the shards of broom scattered across the broom shed floor, she let out a loud whimper and rushed forwards, picking up some of the pieces and trying to get them to mesh together. When it did not work she simply sat there, tears running down her face, sobbing as she cradled what remained of her broom.
Daphne did not know what to do. Melissa Greengrass had never been what you could describe as maternal and her father had always professed he was useless with crying people and had tried to crack jokes. Somehow, she suspected that Tracey did not need jokes or thinly veiled contempt.
She wanted desperately more than anything to go to Tracey. But her legs wouldn't move. What would she say? What could she say? She didn't know the first thing about brooms. It didn't matter, she should just go, give her some company. So why wasn't she moving? She was surprised to see Potter walk forwards, hunker down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.
"Please tell me you're going to report him," Weasley said quietly as he watched the scene unfold.
"Can't actually prove he did it," Daphne replied sadly, "and I can't actually get into his room to plant anything or I would. Whoever built the Common Room banned any cross gender fraternisation. I suppose it stops unwanted pregnancies."
"Guessing Malfoy didn't know that."
"He barely knows anything important," Daphne shrugged. She felt awful just watching Tracey cry and, after a moment's hesitation, joined Potter on her knees beside the girl who had fast become her closest friend.
"It's okay," Harry was saying as Tracey sobbed into his shoulder. "I know how you feel. When the Dementors knocked me off my broom my Nimbus was snapped by the Willow. It was awful. But don't worry, we'll sort it out."
"How am I going to p-p-practise now?" Tracey sobbed.
"We'll help, Ron can lend you his broom or you can borrow mine. We'll take turns. Be good to get you used to a bunch of different ones, you know what teams are like constantly changing sponsors. Just think of it as good practice for when you've been scouted."
"And I'll still be here too," Daphne offered, gently resting a hand on Tracey's shoulder. "We all will. Right, Pot — Harry?"
It didn't feel right to carry on using his last name when he was being so kind, so generous to a girl he barely knew. From behind Tracey's head, Daphne saw the smallest of smiles pull at Harry's lips as his emerald green eyes locked with hers for a fraction of a second.
"Yeah, course. And you did really well out there, better than Malfoy. If Slytherin had you as Seeker we'd have a much tougher game."
"They wouldn't know talent if it danced around in Umbridge's cardigan." Daphne said darkly, which elicited a small watery laugh from Tracey. "So it's not all bad. It's not great, but it's not the end of the world. C'mon, let's get this lot wrapped up and we'll go have some breakfast? Unless you want to carry on here?"
"Actually I would," Tracey managed to say, her floods of tears had subsided and a furious calm was washing over her. Her face was blotchy but her eyes were narrowed, and her jaw set. "He's going to have to do more than that to get me to give up."
"That's the spirit, you're better than him." Daphne grinned and before she knew it Tracey was hugging her. She awkwardly patted her friend's back, trying not to overbalance as the two shared an odd crouched hug on the floor of a broom shed.
"I don't know what you said to him, but thank you." Tracey whispered into Daphne's ear, before pulling away and dragging herself to her feet. She did not wait for a reply, but instead looked at Weasley who was standing rather awkwardly in the doorway. "Bet you I can catch that Snitch in two minutes."
"You're on," he seemed relieved at not having to provide emotional counsel, but instead held out his broom which she had let slide from her grasp when she entered the broom shed. The two headed back to the pitch, while Daphne and Harry surveyed the carnage that remained inside. Daphne removed her cloak, laid it out on the floor and with a wave of her wand managed to get most of the shards to fly in a neat pile within it.
"Do me a favour?" Daphne asked as she began picking up the few shards that had escaped her spell. "When you play him, make sure you win."
"Course," Harry nodded solemnly, before adding, with a much cheerier tone. "Is that allowed, rooting for the opposition?"
"Haven't you realised that I rarely do what's allowed?"
"I was getting that, yeah." He paused for a moment as Daphne began wrapping up the bundle of what was now very expensive firewood. "You know it's going to start off again? People talking."
"They'll always talk, Harry." Daphne said with a small smile, "and it was going to happen sooner or later. Far too inconceivable to think we would be friends. It must be a plot, on my part naturally, to seduce you and steal your fortune. That or take you to You-Know-Who and claim my prize of bigotry and servitude. Bet you anything by lunch time I've used a love potion on you, or a confundus charm. Maybe I'm possessing you somehow, that'd be quite fun."
Of course, Harry only seemed to listen to the first part of that.
"Is that what we are, friends?"
"Trust you to pick up on that." Daphne smirked. It had been weighing heavy on her mind for some time. Ever since she had joined the DA, she and Harry had become more than just acquaintances. He made an effort, unlike most, and seemed genuinely interested in her and Tracey's lives. Whether she had intended to become entangled in his life or not, for better or worse she had been. "But yes, I would say so. You didn't have to stick around, or say you'd help when few would. So, yes, friends. If you'll have me?"
There was the briefest moment of worry, just a small second. Harry probably didn't even notice it flash across her face, but Daphne knew it was there and she hated herself for it. The trouble with being isolated, she reflected, was that it was a terrifying prospect to be rejected when you finally did reach out.
"Never thought you'd ask," Harry grinned and Daphne could not help but do the same as together they headed out of the sheds and back towards the pitch.