Bloodlines || A Draco Malfoy Romance Fanfiction

Quidditch vs. Ravenclaw - 41

Aphry

The common room was full of excited energy. The Slytherin quidditch team had just beat Ravenclaw. And since they had beaten Hufflepuff, who had beaten Gryffindor, our odds of winning the cup seemed incredibly promising.

A group of Slytherins, including me, were casting charms to decorate the common room in tinsel and garlands of emerald and green. Another group of older students snuck into the kitchens for food.

When the Slytherin quidditch players entered the common room, every student erupted in cheers and applause. Several cheered Draco's name, seeing as he secured the victory by catching the snitch.

Despite the attention from all directions, Draco's eyes stopped as soon as they landed on me. He made a direct line toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me. I laughed as he spun me several times before putting me down. He smelled fresh from his post-game shower, and his hair was still wet.

We beamed at each other. "You did fantastic, Draco!" I said.

We finally parted, considering everyone wanted a chance to congratulate Draco. Pansy crossed her arms and cut her eyes at me. "What?" I asked her.

"You know very well what," she said snarkily, approaching me.

Daphne cut in, putting her arm between the both of us to keep us apart. "Pansy, we all know how it looked, but they are best friends and she couldn't control how Draco reacted. You'll have to take it up with him later. Do you really want to be known as the third year who ruined the celebration by causing a scene?"

Three weeks later, Gryffindor played Ravenclaw. During breakfast, Draco sat with his quidditch mates. Pansy, who had become rather possessive since our last tiff, insisted on sitting beside him. I sat on the other side alongside Flint.

A small commotion started as a crowd of third-year Gryffindors entered the great hall. As they passed by our seats, we realized why: Harry was carrying a brand new broom.

"Is that..."Draco started.

"That's a Firebolt!" I said, surprised to see a top-tier broom in any student's hands. A sense of dread filled me. If Harry Potter had a Firebolt, our chances of winning the cup just got more challenging.

Oliver Wood cleared a spot at the Gryffindor table. "Put it here, Harry."

Flint turned to me. "Aphry, you're friendly with Potter. Care to go check it out for us?" Other teammates also insisted. Draco seemed opposed, but considering he was outnumbered didn't verbally protest.

I nodded at Flint, putting down the piece of toast I was eating, and got up from my seat.

Approaching, I saw the broom in the middle of the table. The handle was positioned so the name 'Firebolt' was displayed for everyone to see. It practically glowed. I looked at Harry. "That's your new broom?" He nodded with a sideways smile. "Impressive!" I responded. 

My necklace tingled. "Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?"  Draco said from behind me with a drawl. I turned and gave him a warning look.

The two exchanged unpleasantries before we finally headed back to the team.

"That's definitely a Firebolt," I said to them, causing the team to immediately start discussing ways to squeeze in more training days and improve their strategy.

Gryffindor was leading Ravenclaw eighty to thirty. I kept my eyes on the two seekers since they seemed to be keeping close leading me to believe that they were trailing the snitch.

My necklace started tingling, distracting me.

I turned around in the stands, looking for Draco. He was right behind me, along with most of the Slytherin team. Now he wasn't. And I couldn't find Crabbe, Goyle, or Flint either.

"There are dementors on the field!" Daphne said. I turned around to see her pointing toward the Ravenclaw end of the field.

Looking down the field, I saw two tall figures. They were not floating like dementors usually do.

In fact, they both looked like two boys on top of each other's shoulders. I groaned, silently begging for none of those boys to be Draco.

Just then, a bright flash of light, came from the sky, taking the shape of a stag. It was directed straight at the faux dementors, knocking them off their feet. My head ached, confirming my fears.

I rushed from the stands to try to make my way to the field. As I wove my way through the colorfully tarped scaffolds of the pitch, Madame Hooch's whistle rang out signifying the end of the game. Cheers rang from the opposite Gryffindor side, giving me a fair hint of who the winner of the match was.

Finally entering the pitch, I realized that McGonagall had access to a shorter path than I. She stood over the four boys, who struggled to remove themselves from the robes. McGonagall wasn't wasting a single breath scolding them. "...Detention for all of you! And fifty points for Slytherin..."

Draco finally removed the robe, making eye contact with me the moment he was freed. I crossed my arms and set my jaw. His look of guilt was nowhere near enough to quell my anger, even though my mild headache alerted me that he was hurt.