"Weasley takes up the rear, but it's no use now. Malfoy has caught the snitch! Tornadoes have won against the Harpies in a bloody upset!" Lee Jordan exclaims into his amplified wand.

Draco raised his arms in victory, inciting a barrage of boos from the stand he was currently flying past. The stadium was mostly Harpies fans to be fair, Tornadoes supporters were at the lowest they'd seen in decades. Draco knew he was the reason, but it never stopped him from showing up match after match. The more the crowd hated Draco, the more it spurred him on to win, and despite their lack of fans, this was shaping up to be the Torpedoes' most successful season yet.

After taking his victory lap around the rapidly emptying stadium, he dismounted his broom and headed towards the change rooms. Someone shoulder checked him from behind, and Draco knew exactly who it was by the two long, red braids on the back of the Seeker's head.

Draco was clapped on the back as soon as he entered the change rooms by Theo Nott, one of his oldest friends and the Tornadoes Keeper. Theo had been on the team since Quidditch resumed after the war, but despite his family history was much more highly favoured than Draco. His family wasn't quite as involved as Draco's in the aiding of Lord Voldemort.

"Nice work, Malfoy," Theo smirked at him, as Draco returned the expression, "Didn't think you had it in you to beat a girl."

The Holyhead Harpies were an all-female Quidditch team, so Draco felt it was an easy victory.

"Weasley nearly gave you a run for your money though, didn't she?" Blaise Zabini teased him from the other side of the room. Draco scowled at him; although they were friends, Blaise knew how to get under Draco's skin and it irritated Draco to no end.

"Shut up, Zabini," Draco spat at him, patting the sweat off his face with a towel and tossing it into his bag. He didn't bother changing out of his game gear, the press were already starting to gather outside the locker room doors. The longer he spent in here, the more would swarm around him as he exited the stadium.

Draco hiked his bag over his left shoulder and brushed his sweaty hair back with his right hand as he walked back outside, camera bulbs flashing in his face as reporters from all the different publications surrounded him.

"Mr Malfoy, how does it feel to be part of part of the Tornadoes' most successful season?"

"Can you tell me more about your altercation off-field with Blaise Zabini outside the Leaky Cauldron last weekend?" Draco frowned at this question, the bulbs flashing bright again. Draco and Blaise had drank too much firewhiskey and a snide comment from Blaise about Draco's performance off-field got him more riled up than it should have.

Draco recognised this next reporter as Parvarti Pati from Witch Weekly. "Draco, what do you say about the reports that Astoria Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were both seen exiting Malfoy Manor at the witching hour after your victory against the Chudley Cannons?"

Draco smirked and leaned into the recorder that Parvarti was holding. "No comment."

The lights flashed again, more questions shouted at him. Suddenly, attention was pulled from him.

"Ginny Weasley! Harry Potter! Over here!"

Draco scowled as the reporters and photographers rushed towards the door of the Harpies' change room, the red braids that barged past Draco before appearing at the door on the arm of Draco's long-time nemesis.

Of course they were all crowding around The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Boy-Who-Died, Saviour Potter. Even seven years after the war he was still the world's hero, and it bored Draco to tears to see Potter making the headlines weekly for whatever mundane task he decided to do.

"Ms Granger, can you tell us about the treatment trials you've begun for curing blood maledictions?"

Draco's neck snapped towards the reporters so fast he nearly fell over. His hands clenched at his sides as the muggle-born classmate his aunt had tortured on his drawing room floor spoke swiftly to the reporter.

"I can't speak further on the matter until trials have been completed, but we are hoping for success in reversing the effects in Maledictuses before moving on to other blood curses," Hermione spoke smoothly, both answering the question while not giving any clear information at the same time.

Draco scoffed as he stalked past the reporters who were still clinging to Potter's every word, using the Floo Network Corridor outside the stadium to immediately Floo back to Malfoy Manor.

Appearing in the family room, his mother stood from her seat immediately.

"Hello sweetheart, how was your game?"

Narcissa had been almost clingy since Lucius had died, and more affectionate than she had been in years. While she didn't attend his games in fear of being attacked, she still supported him from afar.

"Caught the snitch and won the game," Draco mumbled, not wanting to engage in conversation.

Narcissa beamed at him. "Congratulations dear, I'm so proud of you."

Draco's heart tugged each time she said that. She had never spoken the words out loud to him until after the war, but she seemed to be making up for lost time now. It made Draco wonder how many times she had wanted to say it before, but couldn't in fear of her husband.

"I need a bath," Draco mumbled, ignoring his mother's pride and heading straight for his bathroom. A flick of his wand had the wide bath tub filling with hot, soapy water and he peeled his sweaty Quidditch gear from his body, wincing at the pain in his left shoulder. He had taken a bludger to it a month ago and was seeing a healer weekly for the pain, but it still flared up after each match.

Once the tub was full, Draco slowly sank himself down into the hot water and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt his tense muscles melting away. When his mind healer had suggested he take up Quidditch again two years ago as a way of releasing his pent-up anger, Draco had almost laughed in his face. His failures on the Quidditch pitch while at Hogwarts stung his memories, his father's disappointment all over his face, but his healer was quick to remind him that Lucius was no longer here to judge him, and that if he truly loved the game he should jump back on the broom.

He started out just tossing the Quaffle around on weekends with Theo and Blaise, relishing in the adrenaline of being back in the air, which turned into social games on Friday nights where Draco fell back into the position of Seeker. He liked being the Seeker, he always worked better by himself than as part of a group, and it allowed him to concentrate on finding the Snitch by himself instead of trying to follow the directions of others.

Last year the Tornadoes Seeker took a Bludger to the head and was told he would never play again, so with the encouragement of his friends, Draco tried out and was added to the team. Of course, his already-famous name had been more of a hinderance to the team than a help, but he was great at the game and was inching them towards their first post-war championship victory.

Since then, Draco had appeared in the media consistently, however it was rarely for his achievements on the Quidditch pitch. Majority of the reporters at the game today had little care about his Quidditch skills, instead choosing to focus on his drinking habits, anger management issues and who he was sleeping with. Of course he was going to take advantage of the perks that came with the game, it was half the fun of it, but he was beginning to feel as though no one was truly watching him play.

Draco sunk down further into the bath until his head was completely covered by water, holding his breath until his lungs burned, then pushing himself back up into the air with a gasp.

No one knew just how lonely he was.


Draco huffed in the waiting room of the healing centre he attended each week, a scowl etched across his face. Had he known his usual healer was going to be out of the country for the next month, he wouldn't have bothered showing up for his scheduled appointment. Instead he was being seen by some blow in from St Mungo's, which meant it was going to be clinical and cold and they would probably scold him for not doing his physical therapy exercises.

He had done the exercises the first two weeks, but as the pain lingered he decided it was a moot point anyway. At least when he saw Healer Brown, he would gloss over the fact that he hadn't done his exercises and would perform the physical therapy himself.

"Draco Malfoy? Your healer is ready in room 3."

Draco pushed himself off the seat and made his way to the healing room, catching the eye of Daphne Greengrass behind the reception desk on his way.

"Hey Daphne? Tell Astoria I said hi," he said with a smirk as he opened the door to the healing room, stopping cold in front of his replacement healer.

Of course, the universe just had to tease him.

"Malfoy."

"Granger."

"That's Healer Granger to you," Hermione responded as Draco closed the door behind him. She pulled up the parchments with Healer Brown's notes from their earlier sessions, skimming over them with a frown on her face.

"Before you ask, no I haven't done my physical therapy exercises, so don't bother."

Hermione waved his remark away with her hand, still reading the notes.

"I doubt they will do you much good anyway, judging by these notes. Can you tell me how you sustained the injury? Healer Brown hasn't noted it down."

"Took a Bludger to the shoulder during a match against the Chudley Cannons last month." He left out the part about how he took Astoria and Pansy back to the manor after the game for some fun in the bedroom.

"And Healer Brown didn't give you any potions? Just the physical therapy outlined?"

Draco shook his head. Healer Brown wouldn't let him near any potions, not after he had abused Dreamless Sleep potion after his father's death.

Hermione pulled a small, green bottle from the bag on her desk, talking as she mixed three drops with another clear liquid in a small vial.

"I'm afraid Healer Brown has been taking advantage of you. This could have been healed almost instantly with potions, but instead he's had you doing pointless exercises and stretches that have only inflamed the injury further. It's a non-magical injury, so it's a quick fix."

She held the pale green vial out to him and he eyed it suspiciously.

"I don't take potions."

"It's a very mild essence of Dittany, most commonly used in splinching injuries but it's very effective in any physical injury too. It's not addictive if that's what you're worried about."

Draco scowled at her. "Has Healer Brown got that written on there too?"

Hermione flushed slightly. "No, it was wrong of me to assume, I apologise. I've just seen a lot of it in people I know since the end of the war."

Draco took the vial from her hand, still sceptical.

"Thank you." He didn't really want to thank her, but he had been raised to be polite.

"Come back the same time next week and if you're no longer in pain, I think we can safely close off this file. I'll be filling in for Healer Brown until he's back."

Sure enough, when he returned the following week he no longer had the lingering ache in his muscles and when Hermione rotated his shoulder, he no longer winced in pain. He didn't want to admit it but he was thankful for her quick solution as he was playing against the Wimbourne Wasps this weekend and he knew that their Beaters, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, weren't particularly fond of him and would turn a blind eye to any Bludgers that came his way.

Draco was rolling his sleeve back down as Hermione signed off his parchment when he remembered what the reporters were asking her on the Quidditch pitch a few weeks earlier.

"Granger-"

"Healer Granger."

Draco ignored her. "If you're doing such important research, why have they got you doing the work of the bottom feeders?"

Hermione chuckled. "My research is just something I do in my spare time while I do the 'bottom feeders' work," she said in air quotes. "This is the first research task I've taken on since becoming a healer."

"You decided to work on curing blood maledictions in your spare time? Surely you can find something better to do in your spare time, like, I don't know, a hobby? Take up fucking knitting if you need to fill in some time."

Hermione actually laughed at this. "You realise you're talking to the girl who started an organisation for house elf welfare while she was taking her OWLs, right? Besides, I wouldn't be an efficient healer if I wasn't constantly researching new methods of healing."

Draco considered this as he left her office, wondering why people like Granger existed.


"Malfoy, Hog's Head?" Theo called out to him as he entered the change rooms after being obliterated by the Wasps. It was one of the very few losses the Tornadoes had suffered so far this season, and Draco was taking it hard. On top of this, Katie Bell had sent a Bludger directly into his newly healed shoulder and knocked him off his broom. He'd spent the rest of the game in pain physically with his shoulder and mentally, recalling his father's disappointment when he fell off his broom in his very first Quidditch match at Hogwarts.

Draco sighed. "Fine." He didn't particularly feel like being social, but a few rounds of firewhiskey should take his mind off his shoulder. He realised with a sinking feeling that he would have to book another appointment with Granger this week for another potion.

Draco changed into a black button up and a pair of black trousers, not bothering to go home for a bath after the game. He would face his mother's disappointment when he was drunk enough to withstand it.

The Hog's Head pub was packed by the time he made it inside, Theo and Blaise waving him over to the table the Tornadoes were occupying with a glass of firewhiskey ready for him.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Theo drawled, nursing his second glass for the evening.

"Shut it, Nott," Draco bit back, taking a sip of his drink. He was still in a mood and his shoulder was hurting the most it had in over a month.

"Come on, Nott, leave the kid alone," Blaise teased, "He pissed off enough Gryffindors in school and now they're all getting their revenge."

Draco growled at Blaise, a warning not to push him too far. Blaise was oblivious to this warning as he laughed with Theo.

"Draco just needs to get laid, and properly this time. None of that bullshit fawning Pansy and Astoria do, he needs a good hard fu-"

"Would you shut up?" Draco growled at Theo this time.

"Maybe you should go after one of those Gryffindor girls that seem to want to beat you up all the time. Weasley's taken for, but I bet her friend Granger could give you some sexual healing-"

Draco's fist connected with Blaise's nose for the second time in the past month, and he was vaguely aware of the bulbs flashing behind his eyes. Not enough for Blaise, who was clearly under heavy alcohol influence, to take his own swing at Draco. More flashing.

"What the fuck was that for?" Draco shouted at him. Theo took a step back as the pair grabbed at each other, trying to land a punch over their shouting.

A big, burly seat of hands grabbed Draco and Blaise by the collars of their shirts, throwing them out the door and onto the cobbled path outside. Draco looked back up at the blurred figure in the doorway.

"I don't want to see either of you here ever again, got it?"

Draco scrambled to his feet and begun stalking away from the pub, hearing Theo shouting his name in the distance. Fuck them all, he thought. Loyalty got you nowhere these days.

Rather than Flooing home so his mother could see him bloody nose and all, he made his way to the Apparition point and Disapparated straight into his bathroom to assess the damages made by his friend.

Draco groaned as he saw the split lip, bloody nose and bruise blossoming across his eyebrow. His mother would have a fit if she saw him like this, he would need to lie low for a couple days until he could get back to the healer.

Unfortunately for Draco, the news of his altercation with Blaise was splashed across the front of the Daily Prophet that was waiting for him at breakfast the next morning, poorly charmed Glamours doing their best to hide the markings on his face.

"How many more headlines do I have to read, Draco?" Narcissa said softly, trying not to show her emotion in her voice.

Draco sighed. He hated disappointing his mother, especially now. His father's death had been very hard on her, despite Lucius's cold nature, and Draco was reminded on several occasions that he was the only family his mother had left. Her husband and one of her sisters were dead, and the other sister she hadn't been on speaking terms with for the duration of Draco's life.

He couldn't answer that loaded question, only stare down at the moving image of him putting his fist through Blaise's nose. TORNADOES IN TROUBLE: MALFOY REELS AFTER WASPS LOSS.

"I want you out of the Manor by Tuesday."

Draco's head snapped up to meet his mother's eyes. "What?"

Narcissa held her head high, eyes locking with Draco's. "Your behaviour has become reckless, Draco. I won't stand for it anymore. This is for your own good, maybe becoming more independent will help you settle down."

"Mother, you can't possibly think this is a good idea."

"Draco, I am tired." It was with this sentence that Draco took a good look at his mother, her hair starting to grey and the fine lines in the corners of her eyes were deepening. "I've turned a blind eye to the partying and fighting and the… the girls coming and going from the Manor for long enough now. You're an adult, you need to start behaving like one."

Draco pushed away from the table and stalked back to his room, suddenly losing his appetite. He couldn't believe his own mother was kicking him out.

Draco hastily shoved some clothes into a bag and Disapparated to the first place he could think of.

He knocked on the door and it opened slowly.

"Can I stay here for a while?"

Theo Nott leaned against the doorway, smiling lazily.

"Of course, mate."