WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

14.

I let my eyes feast on the tall towers with were bare as yet but were soon to be bathed in the four house colors. The breeze blows my hair and the crispy air tickles my nose. I sneeze. And again. I get bombarded with half a dozen 'bless you's.

"Gee, thanks guys."

"Do you feel blessed now?" Carina pats my back, grinning.

"Standing next to you," I look at her, "ew, no."

I laugh and then run towards the Quidditch pitch. Hearing Carina in tow, I quicken my pace. The wind hits me in the face and my eyes respond with tears. My muscles feel alive. At least some part of me is alive. They burn and ache and beg me stop. I'm amid the towering iron structures, the world revolving in circles around me. I slow to a stop, looking up. The pastel blue sky stretches on and on, birds merely specks from such a great distance.

I suck in few deep breaths, the ache subsiding. The memories of training as a Cadet hit me. My friends – do they think of me now? Are they still hoping for the day I turn up clad in my uniform? Or do they believe that I'm dead?

I topple onto the ground, their weight crushing me. I'm buried six feet under, no one sees a thing. I'm screaming, all they hear are whispers.

I blink a few times and rid myself of the thoughts. Everyone's here now; Carina's panting and wheezing.

"How did you run that fast?" Tracy asks, amused. I shrug my shoulders and instead focus on the brooms laid out. The brown matched that of the trees and newly polished furniture and fur coat that mum owned and the half-burnt cookies we used to love and the liquor in which people drown their sorrows and the rifle that mum used that night –

Okay, enough Celestia. Get back to task.

I hold my hand over the broom, energy buzzing up and down my arm. When I command the broom to my hand, it complies without hesitation.

"Good going!" Harry cheers. He is mounted on his shiny Firebolt, hovering slightly off the ground. The wind had messed up his hair, well it was always messy. If the wind wanted to make a difference, it should clam that jungle down.

Hermione has nested herself on the stands, a book lying open in her lap. Everyone else was on brooms, circling me. I suddenly realize that flying would be the easiest thing for me if I could control the air properly. Choosing to do so only if I feel like I might fall to my death, I mount the broom. I take a deep breath.

"Just kick off," Harry says gently. I nod at him and kick off.

I could have fallen, or the broom could have acted funny, or something else to prove that luck hates me, but nothing happened. Even without using my powers, I was gliding smoothly through air, going in hoops, upside down, zig zag, you name it. All within the first ten minutes.

If you can imagine a group of people with their jaws touching the round and their eyes as big as size 4 footballs, who know just how my five friends look.

I grin at them. The most natural feeling laps me, like waves. The wind rushes through my hair as I fly higher and higher, steering the broom in directions at my will. The Hogwarts castle looked just like how I had imagined in Cinderella.

I had never felt so at ease doing anything as I did now, a hundred feet above the ground where one fall could mean death; it was the most naturally wonderful feeling ever.

Who's the airwoman now?

"Is that all you wanted to teach me?" I tease them. They laugh. Harry comes and joins me as Ron, Caelum, Tracy and Carina bring various varied sized balls. And two abnormally small cricket bats.

Harry tells me the oddly shaped three cratered ball is a Quaffle. The big brown and angry one the Bludger. And the small golden one the Snitch. There are seven players on the team: three chasers, two beaters, one keeper and one seeker. The roles of the chasers is to get as many goals as possible. Beaters hit the Bludger at the opponent team players, trying to either injure them or get the Quaffle. The keeper protects the goals. And the seeker catches the Snitch.

"When the seeker catches the snitch, the game is over." Harry finishes.

"The Snitch is worth 150 points," Ron adds.

I nod, taking it all in.

"What position would you like to play?" Caelum asks, an eyebrow raised.

"Chaser," I say, without missing a beat.

They nod.

"Well, then," Carina chucks me the Quaffle. I catch it with one hand. "let's see if you're made for it."

"For sure," I smirk.

We split into teams of three. Harry, me and Tracy and the rest three form the other team. Tracy chose to be the keeper, the two of us, Chasers.

The 'match' started off friendly enough. And easy enough for me to grasp. And considering the fact that I've been raised from the womb to aim right, this would be the easiest thing for me? Given the three large hoops? Easy peasy.

We are all sweating and panting by the time we touch back down.

"Wow," Ron says, "you are good. I hardly blocked any of the goals."

"Thanks."

"You really are," Harry says, smiling. I smile back at him.

"Yeah," Carina pats my back, "definitely made for it."

"You think so?" I ask.

"Yup," Tracy pipes up, "you should try for the team."

"Do they take females onto the Slytherin Quidditch team?" asks Ron.

"They rarely do," Carina shrugs. "But she can make it."

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon and we hastened to keep all the brooms back and keep ourselves hydrated.

"Water," groans Ron. "I need water."

I take out my wand and point it at his face.

Agumenti.

The fountain of water from the tip of my wand hits him in the face and he topples back, completely drenched. I laugh as he coughs and sits up, water dripping from his hair.

"I said water," he grunts, "not pneumonia."

I shrug, "Don't groan. You asked for it."

Hermione rushes over to us, grinning and eyes wide. She quickly casts a drying charm on Ron. He thanks her, getting up.

"That was some fair bit of play up there," she grins at me. "But I've been meaning to ask you, where did you learn that charm? It's NEWT's level."

"And," says Carina, "you cast it non-verbally."

"Uhm..." I run a hand through my hair, "thanks?"

"We need to go back guys," urges Caelum, "almost time for dinner."

Hermione's still looking at me expectantly. I point at her book and then my head. Don't know why I did that. I don't think it even meant anything, but Hermione's face brightens, and she nods. Her hair was like Merida's; but brown. I'm sorry, if you don't know Princess Merida of DunBroch, we can't be friends.

We wash up before dinner and make a pact to play Quidditch on every weekend.

"I have a feeling you're going to get on the team," Caelum says, gobbling some salad down. I don't blame him; it is very tasty.

"Since when do I trust your gut instinct?" I smirk.

He snorts, "you can thank me when you get in."

"okay."

--a/n--

Which Quidditch position would you like to play?
Let me know in the comments below.
I'd want to be a Chaser :P
Pramiti xx