A/N: Thank you all so much for your comments, kudos and bookmarks after last chapter! Huge thank you to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this chapter, too! You can find me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.
Please let me know what you thought of chapter two and be on the lookout for chapter three soon!
Draco stared down the line of cars from his spot at arrivals at the Aberdeen International airport, determined to hate everything about this, which, truthfully, would not be that difficult to do. After all, what could there be to like about this insane loan that he'd been cajoled into agreeing to?
When he'd left sunny Italy, it had been a balmy 29 degrees and now he was in dreary Scotland and it was maybe 15 degrees if he was being really generous. In addition to that, he was no longer going to be playing for a top flight club in Serie A, but now he was going to be playing in the bloody Scottish League, which was such a step down he couldn't even be sure that he would be considered a big fish in a small pond. More like a pothole, maybe...
And, to top it all off, he was coming here alone. He didn't know why he was kidding himself, thinking that she would move with him when they'd only been together for a few months, especially considering that Montrose had none of the amenities that Italy had, namely beaches, gorgeous coastal villages, wine, trips to Milano or Roma and partying with beautiful people — brushing shoulders on a night out with British Formula 1 racers.
He supposed, if he was being honest with himself, he had thought that Astoria actually liked him, not just the lifestyle that he provided. It was embarrassing to have the truth shoved into his face.
Draco had barely spoken to his new manager — Harry bloody Potter, whom he was too familiar with — but he'd been assured that he would be well taken care of at Montrose. Starting with his ride from the airport, which was done by a chatting young man called Colin who wouldn't shut the fuck up, even when Draco told him he was tired from the plane ride.
But, it had only extended when he was dropped off outside a flat and forced to buzz up to the flat that was presumably his now. Grumbling about being forced to carry his own bags, Draco walked up the three flights of stairs and knocked on the door.
The woman who opened it was pretty enough, with a warm smile, freckles across the bridge of her nose, and brown eyes that drank him in readily enough. Most notable was her wild, brown hair. "You must be Malfoy," she said, her smile tightening, like she wasn't actually pleased to be meeting him.
"Yes," he said. "And you are...?"
"Oh, sorry, I'm Hermione Granger. Come in, come in," she said, stepping aside and giving him room to walk in, making no move to help him with his baggage. "I'm the player liaison for Montrose."
He snorted, unable to help himself. "I didn't know a club of Montrose's size warranted a player liaison," he said with a sneer.
"Yes, well, you'd be surprised," she said, back. "Sometimes rude strikers join the Club and have a demands list a mile long, so Harry thinks it's useful."
Draco was taken aback. He got the distinct impression that Granger didn't like him one bit. "If the Club can't meet my needs, then maybe this partnership won't work out," he countered, unwilling to balk. They needed him after all. They should be rolling out the red carpet to make him happy.
"I'm sure that I've gotten absolutely everything you need," she answered tightly. "Since you sent your belongings ahead, we took the liberty of unpacking. This flat is one of the best in Montrose. There is a lovely view of the bay."
"But it's not the best, then?" he asked with a sneer, barely stopping to look out of the massive window in the living room area that did have a pretty view of the water. Only, the water wasn't the sparkling blue-green of the Mediterranean and so he hated it.
He opened the fridge, pleased to see that there was some food inside, already waiting for him. That was good, because he didn't want to step a foot outside of this flat before he had to.
"It was the best available, Malfoy," she answered, tersely. "If you want the best, you'd have to purchase and I didn't think that you would be interested in remaining here for the long term. After all, this is only a loan move."
Draco grunted. She was right about that. He was going to put in his ten months and then get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. Maybe get picked up by one of the Prem teams on a permanent deal, if Serpeverde didn't work out — he didn't fancy playing in Serie B forever either. And, he wasn't sure they'd be able to pull themselves out of that hole without his goal scoring, either.
"I took the liberty of printing off your practice schedule and game schedule for you," Granger said, pointing to the piece of paper on the dining room table. "And, it's been added to your phone calendar as well, of course. Do you think you'll need any help getting to the training grounds?"
"I think I'll manage," he said, looking out the window again. Montrose was fucking tiny. He was sure that he'd be able to figure it out on his own, without some horrible, nosy player liaison holding his hand.
"If you change your mind, I've written my number on top of the calendar. Feel free to text," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, unconsciously bringing his attention to it. "Do you think you need anything else today or would you like to just... settle in?"
Settling in sounded like the worst thing in the world. Draco wasn't going to settle in to Montrose. He was going to bloody well hate every minute of it, crossing off the days until he was free of this loan once and for all. But, he didn't want Granger lingering any longer than necessary.
"You may go," he said, after a moment's consideration.
"Well, if you need anything else, you can text me. I'm here to just make sure you have what you need so you can put all your energy into playing well," she said after a beat. "Though, I fail to see how you could need anything else after I completed your extensive to-do list."
"Next time, make sure you actually read the list properly," he said, wanting to rub her face in the one small mistake that he'd noticed. He wasn't going to like Montrose and he certainly wasn't going to like this annoying glorified PA that Potter had stuck him with.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice going a bit shrill.
"I specifically said that I like green apples," he drawled, knowing that he had done no such thing. He'd just asked for apples and there they were, sitting in his fridge crisper. "Not red ones."
He watched something like fury come over her face, her nose twitching while she tried to keep her outburst in. Granger took a deep breath and replaced the anger with something more serene. Odd sort of anger management maneuver, Draco thought meanly.
"I think you should look again," she said sweetly. "Because the apples are definitely green. Granny smith. I picked them up myself." She tried, and failed, to hide a triumphant smirk. "Anyways, I'll be by on Saturday morning to take you to the home game. You won't be playing yet, but do try to look presentable."
Granger didn't wait for him to dismiss her before she was flouncing out of his new flat, leaving him behind with a slam of the door. He barely waited for her to get down the first flight of stairs before he was ripping open his fridge, finding perfect green apples waiting for him there — Granny smith, just as she'd said.
What the hell was going on, he thought, dismally, before deciding that he must really be tired from his flight.
Draco looked around at the screaming crowd wondering just what the fuck he'd gotten himself into as the kick off happened for his first game as a Magpie. Not that he was playing today. No, he was just on the bench, next to an enthusiastic looking Harry Potter, who talked to him about style of play while his green eyes were focused on the pitch. It lasted only a moment or two before he was up on his feet, shouting instructions at his hapless players.
He scowled, seeing the current striker, Higgs, get absolutely demolished by a midfield player for Banchory. There was no reason he shouldn't be out on that pitch right now. A feint to the right would have sent that midfielder off into another dimension, leaving Draco to score easily.
But, he was sat on the bench in plain clothes today, meant to take in his new team, his new club. What he saw only made him stew. He couldn't believe that he — Draco Malfoy — was meant to play on a team as abysmal as this. They could barely string two passes together, let alone score any goals. It was ridiculous.
Looking down the bench, he found Hermione Granger, hands tucked in her Magpies official jacket, while she joked around with Sirius Black, the owner of the Club. That seemed to be all the explanation he needed for her being involved with the Club, when she clearly cared so little about the game being played in front of her.
A rumble rippled through the crowd in the 72 minute when Pucey managed to score a goal off of a free kick, the supporters banging their hands on the metal flashing in time with the song that they had for the midfielder. Try as he might not to smile, their jubilance was infectious and when he looked down his hands were clapping, if only it meant that they had a chance to actually win the game.
He looked around the stadium and took a deep breath. It was a tiny stadium, compared to some of the ones that he'd played in before, but it was clear that the supporters were devoted and they loved their club. He would rather play in front of 3,000 serious fans than 50,000 who spent the whole game on their phones, only coming to a match because it was a tourist attraction.
Maybe... maybe playing for Montrose wouldn't be totally horrible.
Draco's optimism was short-lived. Not even five minutes later, Banchory was roaring back to life, scoring an equalizer from open play when the left back got burned by his man. After that, the good mood of the team completely crumbled and they couldn't claw their way out of it. The match ended in a draw.
"You've got to be kidding me," Malfoy whispered to himself, looking disdainfully at the men who he was now unfortunate enough to have as his teammates. He was furious. He never should have agreed to this loan spell, no matter how good the weekly wages were.
10 — Montrose Magpies FC - 4 - 0 - 1 - 3 - 5 - 11 - -6 - 1 pts
He resisted calling Hermione, but eventually he asked for her help with dry cleaning. He was capable of doing his own laundry, seeing as he'd been more or less on his own since he joined his youth academy, living far away from his parents, but his wardrobe held numerous items that he would only trust with a skilled dry cleaner.
She had been too happy to provide the name of a place, not a far walk from his flat.
Draco, determined to make this as difficult as possible on Montrose, informed her that she would have to come by, pick up his clothes, seeing as he had training to go into. He could practically imagine the furious look on her face over the phone, just from hearing her tone!
When the clothes were ready two days later, he bumped into her at the training grounds and asked her to pick them up and put them away in his flat, seeing as she still had a key. "I'm not a personal assistant, Malfoy," she snapped. "I'm here to help you if you have trouble sorting anything while you get settled, not pick up your laundry."
"This will help me get settled," he countered, knowing he was acting spoiled.
"Fine," she agreed, tartly. "But only this once."
Later, when he returned home, he found that Hermione was still at his flat, sorting through his mail for him, while a television show played in the background. "Oh, I was just about to leave. I put away your laundry for you, too, just to be nice," she said. "But, don't get used to it."
"Hmm," he said, walking into his room to take a look. There, she had neatly put away his undershirts, socks, jumpers, jeans. The socks were all folded over, neat little pairs clustered together perfectly in rows.
He threw down his gym bag and returned to the living room where she was about to leave. "Just for future reference, Granger, I prefer my socks rolled together," he said, a smirk on his face, knowing he was about to ruin her afternoon. "Just makes sure that I have a pair every time."
Draco didn't know what to make of the smirk that came over her face, but he was suspicious. "Harry must have really put you through your paces today, Malfoy," she said, humor in her voice, her nose twitching a bit while she laughed. "Because that is exactly how I've done your socks. Don't believe me? Go check."
He did just that, stomping back to his room, ripping open his sock drawer and looking inside, only to find the once neat rows replaced with socks rolled together, wondering how he'd gotten it so wrong.
The next Saturday, Malfoy was finally going to be playing in his first game, after more than a week of getting integrated with the team during trainings. And, it couldn't come soon enough, Hermione thought to herself. The sooner he was playing regularly, the sooner she could be done helping him get "settled" in.
She hadn't known him long, and she knew that Harry was pinning all his hopes for the season on him, but Hermione thought that Malfoy was more than a bit of an arsehole. He'd been pretty rude about Montrose since the first day that she met him (despite them being the reason he had a job...) and she could tell that he was interested in messing with her, finding little things to nitpick about the tasks she did for him.
At least she enjoyed messing with him just as much. He didn't know about her secret... well, power. How could he? No one actually thought that witches were real. But they were. And Hermione was one of them.
It was trivial to transfigure perfectly acceptable red delicious apples into green Granny smiths and all it took was a wiggle of her nose and Malfoy was none the wiser. Her special set of skills were why she was so effective in this odd player liaison role that Harry had carved out for her and she was more than happy to use it to make Malfoy feel like he was losing his mind around her, until he moved on to other targets once he realized he simply couldn't make her miserable.
"How do you think he'll do?" Harry asked, coming to sit next to her while they watched Malfoy walk through some warm ups.
"He better smash them to bits, for how big of a game he talks," Hermione said, her eyes on the good looking striker. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he was very attractive, but it was hard not to when she was so close to him, his grey eyes focused on the pitch and not a hair out of place.
Harry laughed. "I hope he isn't causing you too much trouble," Harry said, knocking his shoulder into hers.
"He's nothing I can't handle," Hermione said, primly. She wasn't going to let Draco Malfoy get one over on her, no matter what. "He can't be worse than Marcus last year."
"Good," Harry said, nodding. "Let me know if he gives you a hard time."
There wasn't any additional time to talk because the teams were lining up to kick off, with Malfoy walking to the center of the pitch. Hermione found that she was actually holding her breath, wondering what sort of player that they had decided to go all in on. Even if she didn't like Malfoy, she really, really hoped that this was going to work out for Harry.
In the end, she shouldn't have bothered. The whistle had barely gone before Malfoy was taking off on a tear, dribbling the ball as easily as if it wasn't there. He didn't even need to outsmart the center backs, who were almost too stunned to do anything. When he got to the edge of the box, he took his shot.
It hit the back of the net in the upper left corner.
The crowd went wild for Malfoy scoring his first goal in under a minute at Montrose.
10 — Montrose Magpies FC - 5 - 1 - 1 - 3 - 9 - 12 - -3 - 4 pts
After his second game with Montrose, Draco had more than cemented his place on the starting line up. He'd scored a hat trick in his first game easily enough. His second game was harder fought, against one of the better teams in their league, but he'd ground out a goal himself and he'd had an assist for Marcus Flint as well.
When the game was over, the team retreated to the dressing room, everyone feeling buoyant after their second win in as many games. Draco knew that it was all down to him — that he had brought joy to this sad little club.
For the first time since he'd joined the Club, Draco let himself just get lost in the football and enjoy it. Here there was no dressing room politics, no arguments with the new manager that they'd brought in, the one who'd taken one look at him and decided that he didn't fit the system. He could just do what he did best — win games.
The rest of the team was laughing and excited, still chattering away about how great it was to hand it to Pride of Portree for the first time in several seasons, that they almost didn't notice him pulling his jumper over his head and trying to slip out of the dressing room.
"Oi, Malfoy!" shouted one of the Weasley twins. He could hardly tell the team's two center backs apart and to be perfectly honest, he didn't really care if it was Fred or George on the left or the right. Though... he supposed whoever it was on the right did not have the best chemistry with their right back, Montague, so maybe he should care.
"Yes?" he asked, turning around.
"We usually go to the pub to celebrate a win," the other twin said.
"Or to commiserate in a loss," the first quipped, a dangerous smile on his face.
"You should join us," the second suggested, looking at him pointedly.
Draco looked up at the big, gangly ginger and thought that he would rather fold his own socks under the close watch of Hermione Granger than grab a pint with these louts. "Another time, perhaps," he said, giving them a tight smile. Just because he wanted nothing to do with them didn't mean that he should vex his teammates unnecessarily.
"Are you sure? Pretty much everyone else will be there," grumbled the massive Marcus Flint, who had barely stopped arguing with Keeper Oliver Wood long enough to hear the offer being made.
"Yeah, I'm sure," he repeated, not waiting for anyone else to join the pile on. He turned and walked out of the dressing room, ready to return to the solitude of his flat.
9 — Montrose Magpies FC - 6 - 2 - 1 - 3 - 11 - 12 - -1 - 7 pts
"Welcome back to Two for Joy. It's Gazza and today we have with us Evan from Farnell and James. Boys, how fucking brilliant was that game last night?"
"We are so fucking back!"
"I cannot remember the last time that I actually enjoyed myself at a Mags game. Usually its just anxiety and misery."
"And, it's all come down to our new signing, isn't it, Malfoy?"
"I was skeptical of him at first — I mean, his old manager didn't want him, right? So why would we want him?"
"Well, that's just because you're uncultured."
"I'm not uncultured! But for real, Malfoys workrate was a bit...uninspired the last few years. It's been a downward trend for sure."
"But not here, baby!"
"Seriously, five goals in two games? He is just an absolute animal, isn't he?"