A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! I know you guys are excited for older and younger Hermione to meet and I can say...it will happen, eventually! You can follow me over on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions. Huge thank you to Ava Safari for beta reading this chapter.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter eight and be on the lookout for chapter nine soon!

1993

It seemed like an improbable dream that Urquhart should have been bumped off of the Slytherin Quidditch squad in favor of third year Draco Malfoy, but it had happened all the same. Marcus Flint had told him himself after the tryouts, hypothesizing that they needed something new to make them unbeatable this year.

Draco was not one to look a gift broom in its bristles and happily shared his news with his friends.

Alphard, while he had not yet made the switch from reserve squad to first team, had happily clapped him on the back, genuinely pleased for his friend, even if his fortunes hadn't changed similarly. Harry was thrilled to have someone to actually spend practice with.

When he'd told Hermione, she'd barely been able to contain her excitement for him. She spent a good ten minutes gushing about how all of his hardwork and perseverance had paid off, knowing how much time he'd spent training over the summer. That was until the game schedule came out and she noticed that the first game would be against Ravenclaw. No matter how much he badgered her, he was getting nowhere on getting her to support his team.

"Come on, Hermione, just say that you'll wear the scarf," he said, handing out the knitted grey and green article that belonged to him. "It's just for one game. My first game."

Hermione nibbled her lip. "But it's against Ravenclaw...it's my house team," she argued back, arms folded across her chest. "I promise that I'll wear it when you go against Gryffindor or Hufflepuff."

"Since when do you care about Ravenclaw Quidditch, anyways?" he asked, beginning to get quite annoyed with how stubborn she was being about this.

"Well, Duncan and I have gotten a bit closer since he's always asking me questions for his muggle studies class," Hermione answered, her cheeks going a bit pink at the fifth year's name. "And since he's on the team, Quidditch naturally comes up a bit."

"Inglebee? You care what fucking Inglebee thinks?" he asked, feeling uncharacteristically hurt that she would prioritize what that jerk thought over him. He and Hermione had been friends for years at this point, and Inglebee only seemed to notice her this past year. "Hermione, I am your best friend," he said, not caring that he was having to be manipulative, hurt shining in his grey eyes. "It's my very first Quidditch match ever. Just wear the scarf."

He shoved the Slytherin knit into her hands, before turning and stomping off, irritated that Hermione would think about supporting anyone but him. Really, Inglebee? He didn't like the idea of the older boy sniffing around Hermione, especially when his intentions weren't even known. It was...odd to think that another boy might like Hermione, aside from Harry and Alphard of course.

When Saturday rolled around, he purposefully chose a seat facing away from the Ravenclaw table, not wanting to see where Hermione's loyalties lay. He wasn't sure that his ego could take it if he noticed that she wasn't wearing his scarf before the game. No, it was better to imagine that she was, and save the massive row for afterwards if she hadn't worn it.

He felt so utterly nervous stepping out onto the pitch, but once he got onto his broom it was as if the whole crowd melted away. Draco felt ready to prove himself, to his teammates, to his fellow Slytherins, to the whole school. All he had to focus on up here was the quaffle and the rings. Oh, and the odd bludger or two as well.

For once, he didn't even try to focus on where Harry was, determined to score as many goals as possible before his friend caught the snitch. With the wind in his hair, the crowd melded into a blur as he zoomed by on his new, fast broom - a present from Grandpa Cygnus.

All too soon, Harry really did catch the snitch, and Draco found himself disappointed that the game hadn't gone on longer, even though he was excited that they won. He touched down on his broom and celebrated with the rest of the team, before they headed off in the direction of the locker rooms.

He was waylaid on his way there by a mass of bushy brown hair and rosy pink cheeks. Hermione pulled him in for a tight hug. "Draco, you did amazing," she praised him, before pulling back. She gave him a shy smile, suddenly finding her shoes to be very interesting.

His eyes settled on the scarf that she had wrapped tightly around her neck. Green and grey. "You really wore it?" he asked, surprised at how incredulous his voice sounded.

Hermione looked ashamed for a moment. "Of course I wore it. You are my best friend," she told him. "But, I did catch hell from the rest of my housemates for it."

Draco smirked at her, knowing that he never should have doubted that Hermione would do the right thing. "Well, you'll just have to come down to the Slytherin Common Room. I suspect we will be having a party to celebrate," he said, knowing that Adrian Pucey normally organized one whenever they won. "Alphard and Harry have found a way to smuggle in some butterbeer, too," he added, in a conspiratorial whisper.

Normally such a stickler for the rules, Hermione for once didn't scold him for bringing contraband onto school grounds. Instead, she was surging forward, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. "Sounds like fun. I'll stop by in a little bit," she agreed. "Congratulations again." She flounced off, not giving him a chance to respond.

Draco was left standing there, pulling his hand up to his cheek. He couldn't for the life of him think of why Hermione would have done something like that, nor could he puzzle out the warm, fuzzy feeling it caused in the pit of his stomach. Shaking his head, he turned back towards the locker rooms where his teammates were waiting, wearing a broad smile.