Bad Blood | Draco Malfoy

s i x t e e n

Draco

I don't know why, and as much as I don't want to, I feel like I'm able to trust her. We're alike, as we've said, and a small part of me clicked with her the night we spent talking. If I'm honest, I enjoyed it. I could finally tell someone who I really am, even if that person is the girl that barely even likes me. Now Mira knows that much about me, she could do whatever she wants with the information, just like I can with what she's told me.

But I won't. Not to her. Because every time I look at her, it messes with my head.

I don't know why. She's pretty, alright.  I've seen other girls who are pretty, but they don't make me feel the way I do around Mira. What she does to me... it's annoying. And I hate her for it. I can't feel like this about anyone. I can't get close to anyone, because I know I can't maintain relationships like that. I like the feeling of having an imaginary wall around me to keep the things I want to myself.

But Mira... she's tearing down the wall.

May arrives sooner than expected, bringing the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. In the changing room, Flint makes us all sit down and listen to him while he drawls on and on about beating Wood this year and giving Slytherin the victory they deserve. The team nods and groans when Flint asks if we're ready.

"You, Malfoy," Flint points at me. "I'm counting on you to get that Snitch. You can't let us down again."

"Are you seriously blaming your failures on me?" I snort. "Remind me who caught the Snitch all the other matches and made up for all the shitty goals you scored?"

Flint rolls his eyes, yells at us to stand and leads us in a steady jog towards the entrance to the pitch. Even before we're on the pitch you can hear the roars and boos from all houses. I look up at the Slytherin stands to see banners and streamers being waved around in the warm May air. Across the pitch, the Gryffindor team emerges. I meet eyes with Potter and we glare at each other right up until we're told to mount our brooms.

When we set off, I stay closely behind Potter, so if he finds the Snitch I'll have a good chance of swiping it - even though he has a damn Firebolt. It won't hurt to try though, will it? I clutch my Nimbus 2001 tightly, watching my surroundings just incase the Snitch happens to be fluttering beside me. Within the first five minutes Gryffindor scores.  Flint then happens to go crashing into Johnson, a Gryffindor Chaser, and one of the Weasley twins decides to use their bat to smack Flint's nose.  Both teams earn a penalty, however only Gryffindor manage to score.

          Flint cursed Miles Bletchley, our Keeper and then continues to play.  I roll my eyes, still tailing Potter.  Lets be honest:  the Slytherin Quidditch aren't anything special.  We have the size, not the brains - and size isn't even useful.  Flint isn't too bright, meaning that when he allocated places for the team he picked based on looks.

           Gryffindor scored another point later on in the match, leaving us with nothing and them with thirty points.  I have to find the Snitch.  Slytherin can't come second again this year, or it's all on me.  How the hell do I make sure Potter doesn't get there first?  I look around the pitch, and then meet eyes with Bole, one of the Slytherin Beaters.  An idea springs to mind, and I signal to Bole to attack Harry.  He gives me an ugly smirk and then gets the attention of the other Slytherin Beater, Derrick.