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"Since when are you interested in Quidditch, Malfoy?"
Nicolas Nott's question snapped Lucius out of his daydream. He glanced sideways at his companion, attempting to put up an indifferent demeanor so as not to reveal what was truly going on his mind.
"I have always been interested in Quidditch," he answered nonchalantly, knowing fully well what a blatant lie that was.
"Uh-huh," Nicolas nodded. Lucius could tell that he was being facetious, but he decided not to respond. Instead, he continued marching across the Hogwarts grounds to reach the Quidditch pitch, ignoring Nicolas as much as possible. "You have attended a Quidditch match only thrice in all the six years you have been at Hogwarts. I had to nag you to go with me, but you never did. You have always preferred staying inside and completing your homework, so don't tell me that you have always been interested in Quidditch. What's the truth? Spit it out."
Everything Nicolas said was true. Lucius has never cared about Quidditch. He just did not find the idea of flying around in a broomstick with a Quaffle and throwing Bludgers at each other very appealing. Quidditch injuries were also quite a common occurrence, and he had no intention of breaking his arm, which was surely bound to hinder in his academics. Besides, being a star Quidditch player wasn't going to give him a reputable job.
Thankfully, however, they reached the pitch soon and were instantly drowned out by the almighty roars of the hysterical crowd. Nicolas forgot about questioning him and sprinted through the crowd to find a seat for himself. Lucius sighed and followed him. It took him a while to spot him amidst the spectators, as he constantly got swayed by the people jumping around him.
He groaned as someone stepped on his feet. This is why I don't like Quidditch, he thought to himself, although he ensured that he did not let his emotions show, for Nicolas would be quick to grasp it and would start interrogating him again.
The crowd calmed after a few seconds, and Nicolas looked at him, grinning from year to year. "Slytherin has scored," he announced excitedly. "We are going to cream Hufflepuff today – just watch."
He nodded, trying to look enthusiastic. He figured that he has probably overdone it, but thankfully, Nicolas was too preoccupied by the match to pay attention.
He turned towards the pitch.
The weather was quite lovely today, he observed. And he was quite glad for it. Quidditch players never let any sort of weather – snow or rain – dampen their spirits. Unless there was a sure chance of death, they would be present at the Quidditch pitch. He had no desire to destroy his attire and his hair, which he has put up with so much effort today.
