POV: Monika.

"…now, I don't want to give you the wrong idea here. Naturally I didn't defeat the Wagga Wagga Werewolf just by smiling at it!"

The blonde man let out a hearty chuckle, shaking his head.

"But what am I doing telling you that?" He went on. "You look like a smart girl after all, so I'm sure you've already read all about the encounter in my book! You don't need me to go on about the highly complex Homorphus charm I used to undo the creature's curse!"

No, I really don't. I thought impatiently, staring back up at that plastered, persistent grin that'd held me up for nearly ten minutes now. I kept silent however, knowing any response I gave would only encourage him to go on yet another longwinded spiel.

"Mm, yes. Now that was some adventure…" He nodded dreamily, reminiscing. "Y'know, I think it just might be extraordinary enough for a dramatic re-enactment someday! Perhaps that could be a fun assignment for a future Defence class…"

He promptly snapped a finger.

"Ah, but that's neither here, or there. Back to the point I was making- while a smile won't be enough to save you from a life-threatening situation singlehandedly, it certainly cannot hurt you either! And rest assured, since you have me here to keep a watchful eye over you lot, the idea of any life-threatening altercations occurring would be absurd regardless! So you see, Miss Winter, there is absolutely no reason whatsoever for a pretty girl like yourself to be sulking around Hogwarts like that!"

I had to manually remind myself to ease the pressure on my clenched fist, not even realizing how close I'd been to drawing blood with my fingernails. It was somewhat difficult to resist the urge to plant it right in the lecturing face above me and finally wipe off that smarmy smile.

Instead, I continued burying my anger and stretched my mouth into that sweet, innocent grin he so obviously wanted to see.

"Yes, Professor Lockhart." I forced my voice light and airy. "I'm so sorry, Professor Lockhart!"

"Although…" He added thoughtfully, still showing off each and every single one of his pristine, white teeth. "An argument could definitely be made that my smile played a key role in throwing off the Werewolf, delaying its reactions just enough for me to gain the upper hand! Not to say I didn't always have the advantage, but I digress. The importance of a smile simply cannot be overstated! In my humble opinion, it's a tool rivaling your wand in terms of usefulness, and as such you should never leave your bed without it!"

It took every iota of self-control I had to refrain from groaning aloud. This was becoming ridiculous, how longcould someone drone on about smiling?!

Mercifully, he finally seemed to relent from his lecture as he reached down to give the top of my head a few overbearing pats. I did my best to pass off my involuntary shiver at his touch as genuine enjoyment.

"Okay, okay, I should think you understand now." He said with another chuckle. "I won't keep you any l- oh, almost forgot!"

He reached into a pale pink pocket of his extravagant salmon-coloured silk robes, pulling out a small, black and white photograph which he handed towards me. I was disgusted when I looked down and saw an exact, grayscale replica of his face winking back at me with a prewritten, cursive signature in the bottom corner.

"There you are!" The real Lockhart announced in a voice booming with generosity as if he was Father Christmas himself. "Now, you truly have no remaining reasons to pout!

I accepted the signed picture with vaguely shaking fingers before looking back up, incredulous to find his make up-smeared, oblivious face looking down at me expectantly.

Oh, fuck off! I thought.

"Thank you, Professor!" I said.

"Run along now, Miss Winter! We wouldn't want Mr. Filch to find you here this late, now would we?" He jovially clapped my back, once again causing an uncomfortable sense of revulsion to surge through my body. The moment he turned his back on me, I allowed my fake smile to fade.

…it's Win-THER, moron.

Moving with controlled footsteps down the corridor, I waited until I deemed us a far enough distance apart before glancing back down at his departing 'gift' in my hands.

I then proceeded to violently crumble the miniature Lockhart into a tight ball, and hurled it into a nearby bin. Having rid myself of that particular burden, I allowed myself a few seconds to relax my fuming mind, slumping up against the wall and let out a deep sigh.

What an absolute idiot! As if I didn't have enough worries to deal with already without some pompous prick bothering me just because I 'didn't smile hard enough,' like some overzealous Hall Manager! I suppose I should count myself lucky he didn't take any points from Slytherin in the process!

I hadn't had the highest of opinions regarding Gilderoy Lockhart before, but this sealed the deal for me. He was every bit the arrogant fraud Natsuki had warned us about, right up there among the likes of Filch, Mrs. Norris and Peeves in the 'entities at Hogwarts to avoid running int-'

My eyes burst open as a sudden jolt of pain in my gut shook me right out of my ranting train of thought.

It had been nothing more than an off-handed mention of her name in my mind, but apparently that was all it took to spark an unwanted flashback to the pinkette's sour face, glaring daggers at me.

"You really don't know, do you?" It was all I could do to suppress a light gasp when her furious voice filled my head. "You're already so rotten to the core, you actually think what you just said was acceptable?!"

I grit my teeth and screwed up my face, forcing the memory from my mind. Not an easy task by any means, but eventually I did manage to push it far enough away to at least be able to breathe properly again.

My relief was short-lived however, quickly replaced by more frustration.

What's the matter with me? Why is it happening? I never wanted damn mental landmines in my head, especially not for something as stupid as this! Go away!

But however much I tried to get rid of it, the unfounded feelings of guilt and hurt persisted stubbornly. I clenched my fists anew and sighed again.

Suffice it to say, I was not having a good first day.

Making the observation that today's meeting at the Literature Club had been 'upsetting' would be a gross understatement of the highest caliber. The event had dug its way into my brain and refused to let go, making it nigh impossible to focus on anything else.

But that wasn't even the most annoying part, oh no. Normally, mistakes and accidents never really bothered me too much, because I could always look back after the fact, find the thing that'd caused it, and then make sure whatever it was never happened again. Learn from it and move on, right?

But those rules didn't apply in this case. Even with all the time I'd already spent obsessively thinking back and analyzing every little detail, it still made no sense whatsoever!

One moment we'd all been having a grand old time. Catching up, discussing terms, making innocent, non-serious fun of ridiculous people. It'd been the exact same comfy and casual vibe we'd enjoyed last year. Heck, even Natsuki had been having fun!

And then, everything had broken apart as easily as running a hand through a spider's web, all because of one word. One measly, insignificant, fucking word.

Sayori had been trying to convince the other girls to come back all evening, unsuccessfully if her head-shake at me during dinner had been any indication. I knew she wasn't about to give up that easily though, and would probably spend the next couple of weeks continuously badgering them.

But to tell the truth, I wasn't sure if I even wanted them to return! Not when they acted so absolutely childish!

Yeah, I was angry with them. I had every right to be, considering I had done nothing wrong!

Look, I'm not an unreasonable person. In fact, I'm very understanding, and also pretty damn accommodating! Natsuki had made it clear she didn't want to be called 'cute,' so I didn't call her cute. Yuri liked to have tea during our meetings, I gave her a damn kettle! You see? I was happy to provide the members of my Club anything that might add to their enjoyment.

But to flip their lid at this was not only an overblown reaction, it was just plain dumb! The person I'd 'insulted' wasn't even part of any of our friend groups, so why were they getting so uppity about it?!

All I'd done was make an off-handed mention in a closed environment among those I'd thought to be my friends, and they were acting as if I'd screamed The Dark Lord's name multiple times in public! If anything, I was the one who deserved an apology here!

Hermione Granger was a Mudblood. She just was, and that's not even an insult, it's an indisputable fact! Their fault for being so sensitive, not mine! It was a Literature Club, for crying out loud! Censoring normal, every-day words seemed pretty damn counter-intuitive if you ask me!

The image of Sayori's face flashed before my mind, displaying the tearful, hurt expression she'd worn when I'd explained what the word had meant. I quickly pushed it away like I'd done with Natsuki.

Stop that! I thought adamantly, and set into a brisk, determined walk through a door, down a carved marble staircase. You've wasted enough time on this nonsense already, stop letting it distract you and get your head in the fucking game!

I nodded to myself as I reached the stone wall entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. The girls could get over themselves and 'forgive me,' or they could keep sulking in mock outrage. Either way, no skin off my back. This dumb guilt of mine was severely misplaced, and I owed them nothing.

"Meliority." I said quietly, prompting the hidden door inside the wall to slide open and reveal the large, vaguely green-lit room within.

Since it was still relatively early in the evening, most of the other Slytherins were still present, sitting around in chairs, discussing their day and complaining about all the homework they'd gotten already. I noted Crabbe and Goyle in particular, occupying the largest couch by the fireplace (which despite being large enough to accommodate four individuals, the two of them somehow made it look like a cramped space), both of them not saying a word, too busy stuffing their faces with salt pretzels from the infinitely refilling snack bowl on the table.

I quickly turned away from the pigs with a light shiver of nausea, and began searching for any other place to sit and tackle my homework. I really just wanted to collapse in my bed and sleep off my exhaustion, but I couldn't in good conscience snooze away without getting at least something productive done.

My attention was then caught by a loud, booming laughter from the far right of the room. I turned, feeling my heart beat just a little bit faster at seeing Marcus Flint in a large, green armchair right by one of the main windows to the dark Great Lake. Judging from the wide smile on his face, he'd just been told something funny by the people surrounding him, most of whom I recognized as his fellow Quidditch members.

I hesitated, caught in an inner conflict. On one hand, it was rare to see the usually stoic Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team in this good a mood, making it a prime opportunity for anyone wanting to make a good first impression. On the other, I wasn't completely sure if I was even capable of making a compelling sales pitch after everything else I'd been through today.

That's dumb! An impatient voice in my head told me. You've wanted this since you were 5 years old, get your ass over there and secure your position!

I took a deep breath, pushing any remaining doubt from my mind. The voice was right, I couldn't just allow my dream to be ruined because of some ridiculous Club drama. Natsuki and Yuri's silly, irrational behaviour shouldn't even be allowed to have an impact on my mental state!

And with that out of the way, I began taking firm, confident steps towards the team, forcing my face into a big, approachable smile.

This is my time to shine!

"E- excuse me?" I said upon reaching their hearing vicinity, ignoring the awkward silence that immediately settled over the group as everyone began staring in my direction. It was in that moment I suddenly realized how much older and bigger than me these guys were.

Keep it cool, Monika. Don't stutter, make eye contact. You're not a first year anymore.

"Uh- hullo!" I waved my hand in greeting, maintaining a level look at Marcus who'd slowly turned his head to fix me with a vaguely annoyed glare. His jovial smile from moments before had all but evaporated.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked gruffly, voice marred with impatience.

I swallowed a lump in my throat, trying my best not to be intimidated.

Marcus was easily the largest of the entire team, a burly sixth year at least double my size with short black hair laced thinly on top of his gaunt, almost rectangular head. His large eyebrows had furrowed in what I hoped to be a normal, appraising look of scepticism rather than a confrontational scowl, and even with our loosely worn Hogwarts robes, you could tell he was packing some serious muscles beneath as his thick, tree log-like arms literally strained against the fabric. A body brimming over with toughness and power, perfect for the Chaser position I knew he held.

"I'm Monika, Second Year!" I introduced myself, reciting all the times I'd practiced for this moment at home, in front of my mirror. I made a quiet thanks to whatever higher power there was that my voice didn't crack in the process, and reached out my arm to shake his hand. "Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance!"

He kept his intense stare on my eyes, refusing to even pass a glancing acknowledgement at my offered hand. After enduring two prolonged, painful seconds of this treatment, I finally relented and awkwardly lowered it again.

"What do you want?" He finally grunted indifferently.

"Well…" I began, refusing to be deterred. "…I just, uh, wanted to ask if it would be possible to apply for a spot on the Quidditch Team? You see, it's been… kinda a lifelong dream of mine to join, ahaha…"

He raised a thick, rough and damningly unimpressed eyebrow at me, continuing his harsh stare-down. His lower lip drooped slightly, revealing a row of incredibly crooked teeth that suggested his face had seen more than its fair share of Bludgers.

"And why the fuck would I want you on my team?" He then asked in a sneering tone that managed to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

But before I even had a moment to recover and gather my wits again, another male voice began speaking in a calm and appeasing tone.

"I've actually known this one for a bit, Flint." One of the guys closest to the Lake window leaned forward in his seat, his face previously obscured by the low lighting. I had to blink in surprise when his sharp facial features and familiar vampire grin came into view. "I can vouch for her."

What is HE doing here?! I thought, absolutely mystified by Draco Malfoy's presence this close to the big leagues. He knew as well as I that nobody just sat with Flint unless he already considered you a close member of the Team. And there was no way he'd already gotten thatfar.

"You can?" Marcus furrowed both brows in visible confusion as he glanced sideways at Draco. Gaining an affirming nod, he returned his gaze to me once more, only this time surprising me with a much more nuanced and appraising look in his eyes. Not daring to speak and ruin… whatever this was, I let him stare uninterrupted.

"We've never had a girl on the team before, though…" He finally said, turning back to address Draco. "Aren't they like, really weak? Can she even hold a Quaffle?"

"I've faced off against her myself." Draco shrugged casually. "Believe it or not, she's actually somewhat decent at the game."

My confusion ebbed away on the spot, replaced with intense annoyance.

'Somewhat decent?!' I've beaten you every time we played, and you know it!

I sent a hard glare his way. Fair's fair, he was helping me right now, and I supposed I was grateful for that. But he was doing it in such a backhanded way that undersold the heck out of me, and I didn't understand why.

He merely returned my look with a vaguely amused, smug smile.

"Hm." Flint responded with a low grunt, clearly unconvinced. "She clean?"

"She's-" Draco began, but I'd had enough.

"She is right here and can answer any question herself, thank you!" My irritation gave me the courage I needed to speak over Draco's drawling voice. "The Winther family is a very old and respected one, with plenty of ties to the most influential witches and wizards known. Rest assured, I'm as Pureblood as they come!"

I wasn't really bothered that Flint questioned my heritage. Obviously he just wanted to maintain the quality of his team, nothing wrong about that. It was sensible.

"I hardly think it's 'level headed' to utter outdated, bigoted slurs, Monika…"

Once more, I pushed the rogue, intruding memory from my mind. What did Yuri know about this stuff, anyway? She was only one of the most intelligent students attending Hogwarts, why should I even listen to her?!

To my eternal annoyance, I noticed Marcus turn towards Draco yet again, as if to confirm my story. Only when receiving the nod did he look back at me.

"You got Quidditch Robes?" He asked with a reluctant sigh.

"Yes, just up the stairs by my bed-"

"Good." He said shortly, looking away again. "First training session's Saturday, meet us down in the changing room after breakfast. Don't be late."

I blinked in mild surprise.

"Wait, so- I… I'm on the Team, then?"

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Obviously!" He groaned impatiently, waving me off. "Now quit bothering me!"

"R- right!" I hurriedly said, unsure about whether to thank him or not. I settled on a light bow of my head before rapidly darting away from the group.

I wasn't about to test Flint's patience further by lingering in his presence and ask for clarifications on the millions of questions I had for him. I wasn't stupid, I knew I'd only gotten the position from a frankly unbelievable stroke of luck- and far more importantly, I knew how easily I could lose it again at the snap of a finger. I'd accomplished my goal for now, yes, but I was far from secure.

It struck me that I should be overjoyed. I should be doing cartwheels in my mind, celebrating my victory, geeking out all over a letter and send it to Mum and Dad with Desdemona in the morning. I mean, I'd been dreaming of this day since the age of five!

And yet, I felt my mouth drooping into a dissatisfied frown. Despite my overwhelming triumph, I didn't feel like celebrating. In fact, I… didn't feel much of anything at all. Maybe it was the earlier scuffle with the Club that was tainting my mood, or… maybe it had something to do with the overwhelming sense that this had all gone a bit too easy.

Yes, Flint had been hard on me at first, but I hadn't been the one to win him over. I… I hadn't really done anything to prove I actually belonged on the Team yet. It had all been Draco.

Deeming myself far enough out of earshot, I looked behind one last time. The group at large was laughing again, as though they'd never even been interrupted in the first place. None of them were even glancing my way- except for one.

Draco's silver eyes glinted ominously, a wide smirk still painted across his face. The moment we made eye contact, he began to move his lips in an exaggerated fashion, mouthing a silent message meant for me.

"You're welcome!"

My frown deepened.

How the HELL did he gain this much status already?!

The question persisted with me throughout the entire week, until Saturday morning, where I found myself in the Quidditch changing room, preparing for the first training session of term.

Since I was the only girl on the team, Flint had deemed it unnecessary for us to use two separate rooms, deciding instead that it'd be far more practical to share as long as I just remained as far away from them as possible, left alone in a corner out of their sight.

I wasn't sure if that even made any sense, but I wasn't going to make myself any more difficult by putting question marks on the Captain's decisions. If this was what it took to be on the Quidditch teams, then sure, I could endure the musky stench of boy sweat while I stewed in my own, isolated thoughts.

In the days leading to this moment, Sayori had continued to provide running updates of her efforts to convince the two missing members to rejoin our shattered Club. She'd been… less than successful, to put it lightly. Even with her sugarcoating the statements to me as much as possible, Yuri and Natsuki apparently both "hated me with a fiery passion" now.

She hadn't given up on the endeavor though, and was still adamant she would get us all back to being friends again. However, each time she would repeat these assurances at me, she seemed to believe them a little bit less herself.

Neither of us were strangers to Club drama. We'd had our fair share of trouble keeping it all together last year too, but somehow that'd seemed so much more manageable than this time around.

And all throughout this, there'd been a huge, lingering Erumpent in the room which both of us had adamantly decided to ignore: why was she, a Mud- Muggleborn, continuing to associate with me?

It was like as long as we kept not acknowledging the issue, the longer we could go pretending it didn't exist. Even though we both knew it was the only question on the other's mind.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I wanted her to stop talking to me. She was… she was still my best friend, but- but now…

But now… what? What changed?

I sighed as I finished strapping the rough material of my gloves over my wrists, telling myself for what felt like the millionth time to stop dwelling on this issue. My feelings on that particular matter were way too complicated to delve into right now. I had Quidditch training to focus on and a Captain to impress. The Club as I knew it was done, I just had to accept that and move on already.

There was a soft knock on the wall behind me.

"Are you decent yet, Monika?"

I whipped around wide-eyed, seeing Draco gliding around the corner, fully dressed in his emerald Quidditch robes with one hand raised to shield his eyes. The perpetual smirk that'd seemed to be an ever-present fixture across the lower half of his face throughout the week remained unchanged though.

"Yes." I muttered shortly, prompting him to remove the hand. His smirk widened to a downright punchable length.

And then there's THIS A-hole… I rolled my eyes, irritated at his pretend modesty.

"Flint sent me to get you." Draco elaborated. "He says we have to huddle together while he explains the strategy."

I nodded stiffly and got moving, eager to get this over with. Behind me, I heard him following along, leaning closer.

"And lighten up a bit, won't you?" He whispered in a low sneer of dissatisfaction. "You're on the Team now, just like you wanted. Honestly, would it kill you to smile?"

Would it kill YOU to shut the fuck up?!

I shrugged and stretched my lips into a grimace that only in the loosest definition of the word could be recognized as a 'smile,' hoping this would be enough to stop him berating me every five seconds.

Lately, the relationship between my childhood friend and I had been a bit… strained, to put it mildly.

My annoyance with him slowly got sidelined the closer we got to the other end of the room where Marcus Flint and the four other members of the Team waited, each one staring at me in what appeared to be severe judgment. My nerves were starting to steadily rise once more.

I hadn't dared speaking so much as a word to Flint since the first day, fearing I'd mess something up and make him kick me off the team again before we even played. Deep down, I knew I would have to take a more proactive role at some point since a non-communicative Quidditch team was doomed to fail 95% of the time, but I still had immense trouble shaking off our first encounter.

He just… didn't seem to like me at all, for some reason.

An issue Draco clearly didn't share, going by his self-assured and even somewhat lazy stride. I still had no idea where he was getting all this confidence from.

"Finally…" Flint growled tersely the moment we arrived. "Sheesh, they really do take forever to get ready, don't they?"

There was a roar of laughter from the other members. I felt my cheeks heating up, partly due to embarrassment, partly to keep myself from pointing out the half-naked state of Adrian Pucey, another Chaser who still had yet to put on his trousers.

Right. Because I'm a girl. That's hilarious. I pursed my lips, staying silent as the last of the chuckling finally died down and Flint moved on to explain our strategy for today. I made sure to hang onto his every word. Just endure it. You got this. Do your best, and MAKE them appreciate your worth.

"…that's about it." Flint finished his remarkably short speech, dismissing us with a hand wave. "Get your brooms, and we'll see how the newbies play!"

The members casually scattered towards their lockers (Pucey hopping on one foot whilst struggling to get the other one down his remaining pant-leg) but I remained where I was, gathering courage to speak. There was still some vital information I lacked which the Captain hadn't made clear in the slightest.

"Uhm, sorry?" I said, making myself meet his eyes. Already I could make out his impatience with me. "N- not to be a bother or anything, but uh… you haven't really told me what role I'll have on the Team? Are we doing try-outs to determine which of us gets to play what, or-"

"You're Keeper." Flint simply said, turning his back to get his own broom.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the blunt answer.

"Uhh…" I managed to recover fast enough. "Well, okay then. I- I mean, not to question your judgment or anything, but I really have the most experience playing Seeker, and I think you'll find my skills very satisfact-"

"Malfoy's Seeker." Flint cut me off with an equally blunt response.

"Draco?!" I blurted out before I could stop myself, utterly perplexed. "B- but… why?!"

Flashing images flipped rapidly through my mind in what I guessed to be a similar fashion to those 'tee-vee' devices Sayori kept mentioning, as I thought back to the countless Quidditch sessions I'd had in Draco's garden, competing with him to see who could catch the Snitch first. So far, he'd managed to beat me a grand total of zero times.

Marcus turned around to face me again, his eyebrow raised and scowl fierce.

"Are you questioning my decisions?" He asked in a dangerously quiet voice. I could feel the colour drain from my face.

"N- no, of course not!" I denied hurriedly. "I- I was just hoping to maybe make you r- reconsider? Y'see, me and Draco have p- played before, and-"

"Malfoy's Seeker, you're Keeper and that's final." Flint repeated intensely. "You can either accept that, or leave the Team. Now what'll it be?!"

"…Keeper." I nodded quickly, recognizing the ultimatum. "I can totally be Keeper, yup, mm-hm, no problem at all!"

"Good." Flint said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Then get your fucking broom, we've waited long enough already!"

I obeyed his command without further argument, keeping my mouth shut all the way to my locker. To add further salt into my wound, Draco was already there.

I walked past him and kept my head low, doing my best to ignore him. Something that would prove incredibly difficult to do once he leaned over my shoulder to talk.

"Well?" He said, expectantly. "Aren't you going to thank me at all for getting you on the Team?"

I paused and suppressed a tired sigh, refusing to look directly at him.

"What?" He asked, amusedly. "What is it?"

"…why did you apply for Seeker?" I then asked quietly. "I told you I wanted that position."

I knew I was being petty and childish. I knew I had no right to complain, and that I should just be grateful I'd even gotten to this point. But none of this was going how I'd imagined it at all.

"-TT-" Draco scoffed. "You can't just think you'll have everything handed to you on a silver platter, Monika. Surely you must've expected some competition for the most desirable role in the game."

My fist clenched up, hard.

I WANTED competition for the Seeker role! Then, I'd have an ACTUAL chance at winning it!

"Did you improve dramatically since the last time we played?" I bit back. "Or do you still flinch away when a Snitch gets too close to your face?"

"You're in a mood today, aren't you?" He responded loftily. "Have to say, jealousy really doesn't suit you, Monika…"

How did you already become Seeker? And why is Flint so adamant you stay one? We haven't even had our first training session yet!

I kept my mouth shut, knowing any further attempts at arguing would only be met by more (not entirely unfounded) accusations of jealousy. Without another word I unclenched my hand, grabbed my locker's handle and pulled it open to reveal my broom.

The wood was a light birch colour, almost shining from the recent polish I'd given it the day before the train ride. Each one of its hairs had been individually brushed and collected with a bright, contrasting green ribbon, looking just as pristine and perfect as the day I'd bought it almost two years ago.

Despite the less-than-stellar conditions plaguing my current life, I couldn't help but smile a bit as my eyes drifted down to see the small model name engraved in white at the bottom of the shaft.

Zipper 8.

The broom was my pride and joy, my baby. Imported directly from an underrated shop in Germany, it was subjectively the best in the whole market, despite its obscurity. I doubted anyone around these parts had even heard about the brand.

See, while most people around my age would drool at the windows over the insane, overpriced racing brooms Britain had to offer like your Nimbuses or even the still in-production Firebolt, I'd browsed a bit on the wider, international market before finally coming across this absolute beauty.

I'd be the first to admit the Zippers weren't the fastest brooms, far from it. In a straight race, even the middle-ranged Cleansweep models would absolutely mop the floor with it, every single time. But what it lacked in speed, it made up for in sheer maneuverability.

Most people wrongfully assumed Quidditch was only about flying as fast as possible, when nothing could be further from the truth. As anyone who actually knew anything about the game would tell you, the ability to dodge, weave and stop in the air was just as, if not even more important than simply going fast, and no broom I'd seen had that aspect down more than the Zipper.

It was almost scary how precise it handled. It was like a literal, wooden hummingbird. With it, I could dive straight down in the air at a 90 degree angle only to freeze half an inch before colliding with the ground. Even the Snitches themselves seemed rather sluggish when you rode this thing and knew what you were doing.

Not that I was gonna be catching any Snitches with it on this Team, but still. At this point, I had to take any silver linings I could find.

But then, just as I raised my arm and reached out to grab hold of its marvelous shaft, Draco's voice interrupted the shining moment again like a solar eclipse.

"You won't be needing that."

My hand stopped inches away from the broom. Feeling uneasy, I turned to look at him.

"…what?" I asked, not liking the expression on his pale face one bit. I don't think I'd ever seen him this gleeful since last year when Harry Potter had lost Gryffindor over a hundred points in one night. "What do you mea…?

Then, I noticed the brooms he was carrying.

Brooms. Plural.

"Catch." He instructed, casually flinging one of the black brooms in my direction. Automatically my hand rose to catch it, and I found myself shocked at how incredibly light it was, like an actual feather. Not even the best brooms in the Quality Quidditch Supplies could boast this lack of weight.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I flipped it over to read the engraved name. I had to do a double take.

Nimbus 2001.

I must have looked completely goofy when I glanced up again, given Draco's muffled snickering. Clutched in his left hand was another black broom, completely identical to the one in mine.

"I don't-" I tried, glancing between our two brooms in my struggle to comprehend what I was seeing. The new Nimbus series had just been unveiled back in August, not even a full month ago. The idea that Draco already had two of them when they were still at their most expensive was ludicrous! "How did-"

He just shrugged in mild amusement at my reaction.

"Let's just say my father has been very helpful aiding my Team membership onto the team this year…"

My eyes widened in realization. Turning around, I craned my neck around the corner to see the rest of the team all carrying the same, oily black brooms.

Enraged indignation flooded my chest. I couldn't remember being this angry since the end of term last year when Professor Dumbledore had awarded the House Cup to Gryffindor. I looked down, disgusted with the object in my hand.

So this was how he'd secured the Seeker role. It all made sense now. It had nothing to do with his skills, he'd just… bribed the team!

I'd never thought anyone could stoop this low!

"No need to thank me…" He went on, speaking over my silence as he stepped forth to clap me condescendingly on the shoulder. "Honestly, I'm doing myself a favor here. I think I might fall off in embarrassment if I had to look at you buzzing around the pitch on that ridiculous 'zimmer-toy…'"

"No thanks." I finally spoke in a voice of forced calm, carefully placing the Nimbus on a bench.

It took a lot of effort to repress my anger enough to not slap Draco right across his stupid face with my newly freed hand.

"No?" Draco repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Thanks for the offer." I gave him a smile of fake politeness and turned back towards my locker. "But I'll just use my own broom. After all, it hasn't failed me yet!"

"Hm." He mused. "Are you quite sure that's wise?"

"I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, but-"

"Oh no, it's not that. I just wonder how Flint's going to react." His aloof voice made me freeze on the spot again as I considered his words. "I mean, intentionally choosing an inferior broom when you've got an objectively better alternative on hand. One might start to wonder if you truly have the team's best interests at heart…"

I whipped around, glaring at that cold, slimy, despicable grin, tempted to draw my wand-

"OI!" Flint's brutal holler echoed loudly throughout the room. "WHAT'S THE HOLDUP OVER THERE?!"

The impatience in his voice broke me out of the trance. It was as if it was searching for even the smallest excuse to kick me off the team.

"Well?"

Draco met my eyes pointedly, gesturing at the benched broom. It was only then I made the crushing realization that this really wasn't an option I could afford taking.

I loved my Zipper. It fit my playstyle perfectly, and I knew I could accomplish amazing things with it. But even I had to admit, compared to a full team of Nimbus two-oh-ones… I'd absolutely be left behind.

This git had me wrapped entirely around his finger, and there was nothing I could do except follow along.

With a heavy heart, I stepped back from my locker and picked up the Nimbus again, feeling every principle in my body scream in protest as I lifted the wood. I kept my head firmly down, refusing to look at the smug expression Draco undoubtedly wore and made my way toward the others.

"Uh, Flint? Slight problem." I heard one of the Beaters mention worriedly upon my arrival. "Gryffindor's already out on the pitch. It looks like they've been training here all morning."

"They won't be for much longer." Flint chuckled darkly. "Our new Seeker got Snape to override their claim for the pitch. He's turning out to be quite the asset for our team."

As the others laughed mirthfully, I stared back at Draco in utter shock, as if only now seeing my friend for the first time. How unbelievably shitty was it to cut into another team's training like that?!

He calmly met my eyes, showing not even an ounce of regret.

"So…" He said with a smirk. "Are you ready to finally make your House proud?"

I suddenly thought back to Natsuki, and all the claims, insults and criticisms she'd made last year about Slytherin and its reputation. All the times she'd exclaimed how we were all corrupt, powerhungry and downright evil that I'd chalked up to her 'just being Natsuki,' without a second thought, refusing to entertain for even a second the idea that it might all be true.

"Yeah…" I replied with a soft, defeated sigh. "I suppose I am…"

Might be a bit before the next chapter, as I'm having a hard time concentrating lately. Sorry in advance for the delay, and as always, thank you all so much for reading.