Part Three: Second Half of Seventh Year, and the Battle of Hogwarts

DRACO

December passed into January, and January to February. Then came the Quidditch match Draco had been dreading: Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. The morning of the match, Draco was hunched over his breakfast, watching Perch nibble at his toast. With two large thuds that bowed the bench, Crabbe and Goyle sat down on either side of him. Draco swept Perch into the pocket of his robes and kept staring at the toast.

"Cheer up, mate," Goyle said. He reached for the pancakes. Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to see the two of them eat. He stood. "I'll be in the locker rooms." He hurried out of the Great Hall.

Urquhart was already in the locker rooms, drawing up tactics on a chalkboard. "Yo," he said, saluting his Seeker. "'Sup?"

"Are you using that American speech?" Draco asked after a moment of utter mystification. "What does 'yo' even mean?"

"Yes, and hi," Urquhart answered. "Yes I'm talking like an American, bro, and 'yo' means 'hi'. ''Sup' means 'what's up' as in 'how are you'."

Draco nodded, acting like he understood. "Well—yo, then."

The team filed into the locker rooms, Crabbe and Goyle the last (No surprise there, Draco thought). Urquhart talked for what seemed like ages about tactics, all of which Draco pointedly ignored—he wasn't going to let this fourth year tell him what to do—and finally they walked onto the field.

Draco kicked off, looking pointedly at the black-varnished handle of his broomstick, and soared around the pitch with his other teammates in formation. As they whipped past the Ravenclaw team, who were also circling the pitch, he couldn't stop himself from glancing up. Tess was behind and to the right of Quinn, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance.

As the Captains descended to shake hands, Draco took up his position hovering above. The Quaffle was thrown up, the whistle blown.

Tess tore past him, the Quaffle tucked under her arm already. Draco actually had to duck to avoid being hit. He nearly whirled around and raced after her, but the remembered that it was not his place to do so. Forcing back an ugly curse, he rose up to survey the field. He did it with reluctance; all of a sudden he was unhappy with his position on the team.

A cheer rose from the Ravenclaw end of the pitch. Draco allowed himself a small smile. There was a tiny buzzing sound near his ear. His hand shot up of its own accord; the Snitch danced out of the way teasingly and sped away. Draco shot after it.

If he caught the Snitch, he would end the match and Slytherin would win. Ravenclaw would probably not play any more games. Tess would have no chance to win as a Chaser. On the other hand, if he caught the Snitch after Ravenclaw had scored a lot, he would end the game but Slytherin wouldn't win.

The Snitch led him up into the clouds. When he swooped out of them, unable to breathe in the dense, airless cloud, he did not have the Snitch. Not feeling defeated in the slightest, he dove down to rejoin the game.

Tess and Raven Belinski were neck and neck, passing the Quaffle back and forth so fast that the Slytherin Chasers had no chance of intercepting it.

What happened next was difficult to describe.

Tess shot around the back of the hoops, was passed the Quaffle, and kicked off her broom, doing a sort of flip. She grabbed hold of the hoop and swung herself over it, twisting midair. She tossed the Quaffle through the hoop, landed on her broom, and flew away, both hands in the air.

Draco stared after her, openmouthed. What . . . how . . . ? He was too dumbfounded to speak.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Blaise Zabini (a Chaser) flew up to him. "Close your mouth."

Draco shut it abruptly.

"Look, I'll take care of her," Zabini promised. He leaned low over his broom and darted away. It took Draco a few seconds to realize what Zabini had said. "No—WAIT!"

He lunged forwards on his broom, kick-starting it. He rushed after Zabini, but the Chaser had already summoned Urquhart, Pilbaum, Crabbe, and Goyle. They separated Tess from the other members of her team—

Draco drew his wand and pointed it at Urquhart, who was in front of Tess but facing her. "Everte Statum," he shouted. Thank god for wind, or everyone within five miles of the pitch would have heard him. Urquhart went tumbling backwards, having the sense to hold onto his broom but not to do much else. Tess took the opportunity to force the Quaffle from Pilbaum's hands and soar up, around, and towards the goalposts.

Draco could hear Zabini's curse from his vantage point, fifty or sixty feet above and behind him. He slipped his wand into one of his gloves, sure he would need it again soon.

"OI!"

Uh-oh, now Zabini was heading straight for him. Draco quickly moved his wand to the inside pocket of his robes and assumed a confused, half-angry look.

"What did you do?!" Zabini demanded. He looked livid. "You did something!"

"Poor Zabini," Draco said to nobody in particular. "He's going to try to take out a Chaser on the other team because she's better than him . . . if he actually came to practices instead of snogging Pansy Parkinson, he might be half as good as Wilford. . . ."

Zabini lurched forwards. Draco slipped his wand from his robes and put it in his broom hand. "Protego Duo."

Just after the advanced Shield Charm went up, Zabini slammed into it with surprising force, bouncing off like a rubber duck. Draco laughed, then ducked as Raven shot over his head. When he looked up, Zabini was gone.

"A score for Ravenclaw by Raven Belinski." Loony Lovegood's dreamy voice cut into Draco's worrying thoughts. "Bringing it up to one hundred ninety. Good job, Ravenclaw. Oh—and Blaise Zabini of Slytherin scores, bringing it up to ten. Slytherin really isn't doing too good this round."

That's the truth, Draco thought. He saw the Ravenclaw Seeker, someone named Ivan Hartford. He was streaking along near the bottom.

I can't suffer that amount of humiliation—Draco thought. Being beaten by a second year—

And so he dove.

It was quite spectacular. He timed it perfectly. As he neared the Ravenclaw seeker, he shot to one side and dropped off his broom, stretched out in a headfirst dive. He caught the Snitch and landed rolling. At least his catch would be remembered for a long time, although it might be outshone by Tess's awe-inspiring goal.

"DECEMBER," he heard her roar. He jumped, vaulting onto her broomstick in the move she'd devised in December. They'd practiced a lot since then.

"Nice catch," Tess said over her shoulder. She steered the broom up.

Draco held the Snitch aloft, grinning. "You won the game."

"Yeah, but that catch'll go down in history," Tess pointed out. Draco stood precariously on her broom. "So? Your score was better."

He leaned sideways and fell, catching onto his broom handle with one hand and swinging himself up.

"Yeah, but no one's ever caught the Snitch in such an unorthodox way," Tess called.

"Same with your goal," Draco called back. Still smiling widely, he joined his teammates for their ride around the pitch. He noticed with some satisfaction that Zabini's eyes were crossed. He made a mental note to ask Madam Pomfrey to take a look at him.

"That," Urquhart said bluntly as they were changing out of their Quidditch robes, "was by far the worst Quidditch match ever."

"It's okay, Matt," Draco said soothingly. "We'll cream Hufflepuff, and that'll put us in the lead."

"Agreed," Urquhart said slowly. He clapped his hands. "ZABINI!"

Blaise had been trying to sneak out, but at the sound of the Captain's voice he froze.

"You," Urquhart said softly, dangerously, "will come to practice even if it KILLS YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! YOU ARE THE ENTIRE REASON WE LOST! I OUGHT TO KICK YOU OFF THE TEAM, YOU'RE SO FREAKING BAD AT QUIDDITCH!"

Draco hid a smirk as he slung his broom over one shoulder. "I'll be leaving," he said.

"Go ahead," Urquhart told him sweetly. "NOT YOU, ZABINI!"

"Ouch," Draco muttered as he was passing Blaise. "That's got to hurt, doesn't it, Zabini?" he tapped the Chaser on his head, making him wince.

"Where's Blaise?"

Pansy nearly attacked him as he entered the common room. She was still wearing her scarf. "Draco! Where is Blaise?"

"Why don't you go look for him," Draco suggested. He pushed past her and her posse of girls, evoking a few squeals of anger, and dumped his things in the boys' dormitory. When he came back into the common room, Zabini was there. "Incarcerous!" he shouted. Draco dove out of the way, behind a couch.

"Hey," Crabbe said. He lumbered towards Zabini and was brought down by a random hex. The same thing happened to Goyle.

"Blaise, don't," Pansy begged, hanging on Zabini's arm.

"Stay out of this, Pansy," Zabini said forcefully. He wrenched her off his arm and cast a hex in Draco's direction. After it shattered a few vases on the fireplace, Draco rose. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Zabini knocked the spell aside. Draco ducked; coincidentally, it hit Pansy.

Draco rose again.

"INCARCEROUS," Zabini bellowed.

Ropes lashed around Draco, wrapping him up like a mummy. "Diffindo," he growled. The cords sliced open. He looked around for a means of escape. Going past Zabini was not an option.

"YOU HEXED URQUHART," Zabini yelled. "YOU MADE ME FAIL!"

"You failed of your own volition," Draco retorted, backing slowly towards one of the windows. Outside, he could see the depths of the lake. This was a definite gamble.

"YOU WANTED TO PROTECT WILFORD," Zabini roared.

"Did it ever occur to you that it was someone else?" Draco narrowly avoided tripping over a table, holding his wand out in front of him defensively. "Like, I dunno, that Jeffries guy? It's kind of obvious he likes her—"

"I HEARD YOUR VOICE, YOU SCUM," Zabini shrieked. Draco felt the window behind him. He swallowed.

"Good," Draco said, "for you. Protego!" He cast the Shield Charm, turned, and crashed through the window. Ascendio! He surged through the lake water, hoping desperately that he had enough air to go up to the surface. As it turned out, he did. When he broke through the surface, he felt cuts on his face open up. They were from the glass of the window.

A/N: sorry, shortish chapter, will make up for it in the future :)