𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Severus hurried after Madam Pomfrey, the necessary potions already Accio’d from the cupboards in the dungeons.

Blasted boy, can never get through a game of Quidditch without injuries.

He remembered the time when Quirrell had hexed the boy’s broom, and that game in his third year, and—the list went on and on. Potter was a bloody magnet for trouble – although this time, Severus knew all too well what the trouble was.

Goddamn Malfoy, he thought.

The day of Quidditch had worn Severus out, and he happily stood back as Madam Pomfrey worked on Potter. Potter looked bad – the wards on the pitch had softened his fall, but the Bludger had smashed into the side of his face, breaking his nose and several teeth, bloodying his chin and making it swell. Blood dribbled down on the ground, below Potter’s lifeless body. His face had already started turning purple when Pomfrey started with her spells and healing charms.

Potter’s friends came running onto the pitch, the Granger girl close to tears. His team mates had landed, as had the parent team. Severus looked up at Lucius, only to see him with a pleased smirk.

“Will he be all right?”

Draco drawled the words, but Severus had known him long enough to hear the subtle, honest worry in the boy’s voice.

“Madam Pomfrey hasn’t lost a student to Quidditch yet,” Severus said, careful to keep any emotion out of his voice. “I’m sure she won’t allow the great Boy Who Lived to be the first.”

Draco nodded mutely, watching Pomfrey conjure a stretcher and place Harry upon it. Severus saw Draco glance at his father every now and then, and he knew that Draco too was aware of the person behind Potter’s injury. As usual, nothing would stick, of course, if taken to the Wizengamot. Lucius Malfoy had gotten out of messes far worse than this one. He would claim that he had only sent the Bludger in Potter’s general direction – it was his job as Beater after all.

Many followed Pomfrey as she took Potter to the hospital wing, and the rest of the crowd scattered, the good mood of the afternoon lost with Potter’s injury. Severus mostly felt like lying down, tired after the day’s escapades.

“Are you all right, sir?”

Draco spoke quietly now – Lucius stood speaking to the Parkinsons, but Severus did not doubt that he listened to every word Draco and Severus exchanged.

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” Severus asked.

Draco shook his head, staring out at the Quidditch pitch. “No, sir.”

When Harry showed up for the feast that night, doused with Pepper-Up Potion and other strengthening potions, the crowd cheered. Many made their way down to speak to him and Harry wondered if some of them only did it because they finally had a reason to address the famous Harry Potter.

Once everyone was seated, Harry flanked by Hermione and Ron on either side, Dumbledore stood and spoke.

“Now that we have all gathered,” he said, “let me first thank you all for a fine afternoon of sportsmanship. I hope you’ve all had a great time – there seem to be no sore losers.”

Harry wondered what kind of drugs the Headmaster was on. A ‘fine afternoon of sportsmanship’? Was that what Lucius Malfoy’s continuous misuse of Bludgers could be called? Harry was the only seriously injured player, but that did not mean Lucius had not done what he could to hurt the other students, particularly those who had been against Voldemort in the war. Harry held back a snort at the part about no sore losers as well – the Hufflepuffs did not look too happy about the Lucius Malfoy team winning over them.