The Secret's In The Telling ENG DRARRY

Chapter 7: Gryffindor Rulz

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Draco had no idea why he'd come to watch the match. Merlin, he despised both teams. As if Hufflepuff wasn't laughable enough, drifting around up there with their pleasantly dazed expressions, they were facing off against Gryffindor, for crying out loud! What a mockery of a game...

Well, maybe he might get the odd laugh out of it. It'd be vaguely amusing to see Potter fall off his broom.

He sat back in his seat sullenly and waited for it to begin in earnest. The annoying Irish accent of Finnegan rang out from the commentator's box – convenient, how yet another Gryffindor had been given that role – as he called off the names in each team.

"And secondly, playing for my very own House, we have captain Katie Bell playing as Chaser, alongside Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley. Beaters, with the unfortunate loss of our infamous Weasley twins, are now Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke. Ron Weasley playing Keeper, and of course, Harry Potter as Seeker!"

Draco miserably pressed his hands over his ears in an attempt to muffle the ensuing round of applause. Oh, there was no way he was going to enjoy this...

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The sharp burst of the whistle split the crisp, cold air, and Harry kicked off cleanly, shooting into the sky atop the Firebolt. He twisted in midair and sped off to the north side of the pitch, darting easily around other players. He maintained the high speed for a few minutes, just trying to get the rush of flying out of his blood before he set about methodically searching for the Snitch.

"And Hufflepuff's Cadwallader passes the Quaffle to Smith, who passes it back, and – oh! Stolen by Miss Ginerva Weasley! On to Thomas, on to Bell – and Gryffindor scores first goal of the match! Never in doubt, never in doubt..."

Harry smiled at the Irish boy's commentary. Seamus wasn't quite as blatant in his support for his House as Lee Jordan had been, but anyone listening could tell who he fully expected to win.

Harry turned his eyes downwards, searching for the glint of gold he was supposed to be hunting. Cedric's replacement, Summerby, hovered at the other end of the pitch opposite Harry. The two Seekers drifted slowly, gazes darting continuously.

"And Weasley blocks another Hufflepuff goal! Getting good at that, he is. Girl Weasley in possession of the Quaffle, heading for – Oh! She's hit by a Bludger! Both Kirke and Sloper failing to deflect, there!"

The Gryffindor Seeker spun in midair, his eyes searching for Ginny now. She was still on her broom, with a hand pressed to her side while she threw vicious glares at the two Beaters meant to protect her. Least she was okay, he thought with relief.

"Harry, mate! What are you doing?"

He turned at the sound of Ron's voice, only to see the redhead pointing urgently behind him. Following the indicated direction, Harry was met with the sight of Summerby heading into a full on dive, a determined look on his face.

"Hufflepuff's Seeker's seen something! He's after the Snitch! But where's Potter? If he doesn't catch this one, Hefflepuff'll be off to a head start early in the– Oh! Wait! Here we go, Potter's seen it too! He's after Summerby and gaining distance... Put that Firebolt to work, man!"

Harry flattened himself against the broom handle, his eyes trying to follow the other Seeker's line of flight. But he couldn't see whatever had attracted Summerby's attention, though. There was nothing–

A glint of gold, but not in the direction he was heading. Harry whipped his head around, searching for the sight again, finally finding it hovering to his right near the edge of the pitch. Realising his near mistake in allowing the other Seeker to fool him into following a feign, he jerked harshly on the broom handle and shot off after his target.