All Life Is Yours To Miss

Chapter 44

"Aren't you going to put your hat on?"
Draco shoots Hermione a sidelong glance. "If I don't, is Ron going to put it on for me?"
Hermione looks at him, loose curls blowing out from under her own lion hat. "Probably."
"That's what I thought," Draco sighs, pulling on the hat just as Ron clatters up the wooden steps and throws himself down on the bench next to Hermione, and realising he doesn't really mind at all.
"I brought provisions," Ron announces.
"Where did you get these?" Hermione asks, taking a mug and warming her hands on it gratefully.
"House-elves," Ron says, gulping at his own drink and passing one to Draco.
"Thank you."
"I can't believe you got them to make hot chocolate for us," Hermione says disapprovingly, but Draco can't help noticing she is drinking it anyway. "It's not really—"
"Oh, look, the team's walking out," Ron interrupts.
"So they are," Hermione says drily, but her eyes quickly turn to the pitch along with everyone else's.
Draco watches as both teams rise into the air, grateful that the job of referee has fallen to someone else. The whistle sounds and he holds his breath. The game quickly becomes fierce, both teams fighting hard for the Quaffle, and Draco has to admit that they are quite evenly matched. Five minutes in, the players are blurs of yellow and red as they dart through the air and Bludgers are flying everywhere, cracking against the bats of both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor Beaters and forcing Chasers and Seekers alike to veer wildly off course to avoid them.
"Come on!" Ron yells as Roxanne Ainsley slams the Quaffle through the central Hufflepuff goal hoop and the whole Gryffindor contingent explodes into cheering and applause. Draco claps and hopes that all the roaring from the lion hats isn't going to permanently deafen him.
A split-second later, a jagged crash rends the air and everything but panic flies from Draco's mind.
"Fuck," he mutters, leaping to his feet and casting a rapid spell to slow the fall of his Seeker before he even has time to think about it. He barely hears the gasps and mutters behind him as he lowers the boy to the grass. As soon as he is safely down, Draco turns to leave the stand but hesitates when Poppy dashes out onto the pitch and kneels down beside him.
"I didn't even know she was here," Ron says, and Draco just nods tensely. He wouldn't put it past Harry to have talked Poppy into watching the match so that he would have a backup if Draco forgot any important details.
An anxious hush falls over the stands as Poppy carries out her examination. The other players land at a careful distance and Roxanne pelts over to stand at the side of her injured teammate. The Hufflepuff Seeker picks up the pieces of her opponent's broom and stands uncertainly with them in her arms.
"He's alright!" Poppy calls, and the answer is a collective sigh of relief. The expectant silence that follows means that her next words can easily be heard. "I'm afraid that wrist is broken, Mr Jenkins, and probably the elbow, too. Hagrid, can you help me get him up to the hospital wing?"
Roxanne crouches down to conduct a brief discussion with her teammate, and then, as Hagrid bears the shivering boy from the pitch, she looks up at Draco. He looks back, hands resting on the barrier, and gives her an encouraging nod. After a moment, she returns it and makes a familiar hand signal to someone below the stands. Seconds later, the reserve Seeker walks nervously out onto the pitch and, led by Ron, Hermione, and everyone else in Draco's stand, the crowd begins to clap and shout.
As the game resumes, Draco drops back down onto the bench in a daze. For a moment, he wonders if he should leave and make sure Jenkins is alright, but then he remembers his promise to Harry. Besides, Jenkins is in the safest hands in the business, and Harry's morning is about to get a little bit more exciting.
"Pay attention, mate, Ramsay just scored twice while you weren't looking!" Ron bellows, elbowing Draco in the side with quite some force.
Draco rubs his side and turns his eyes back to the game. Within minutes, all three Gryffindor Chasers have scored goals and are pulling together for a fourth using one of Harry's new attacking strategies. The Beaters are striking Bludgers at the opposition with unprecedented accuracy and the reserve Seeker, though rather timid, is being aggressively marked by his Hufflepuff counterpart as if she thinks he knows something she doesn't.
Behind him, a group of students are chanting 'Go, go, Gryffindor!' over and over again, Ron appears to be commentating each play under his breath, and both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor sections of the crowd are breaking into whistles and cheers every time anyone flies near the goal hoops or sights the Snitch. The goals are pouring in on both sides and Draco can barely keep track of them, so when the Hufflepuff Seeker shoots into the air and the stands explode, he is momentarily caught in confusion until he finds himself in the midst of a maelstrom of wild applause.
"We won!" Ron yells, hugging Hermione and Draco in turn.
"What? Really?" Draco mumbles against a mouthful of roaring lion hat.
"Really!" Ron insists, grabbing his head and turning it to face the scoreboard, which reads 320-290.
Light with disbelief, Draco looks down at the pitch, where all seven Gryffindor players are celebrating.
"Good job!" he shouts, laughing at Ron's attempted wolf-whistle and clapping until it hurts.