Malfoys Mate • Draco Malfoy Fic

Chapter Eight

"I'm bored," Roslin said some time later, after they had finished the food Dumbledore had ordered for them.

Draco looked up from the book he was reading. "You still have to finish two of Severus' essays," he reminded his mate, who lay sprawled on the floor, a book on her chest.

"I know, but I still have two and a half days to get it done. Besides, I'm not in the mood to study. I want to do something fun."

"Like what?"

"I don't know." Roslin pouted. "Hey, I know!" she suddenly yelped, smoothly getting on her feet, causing Draco to drool at the fluid motions of skin and muscles. "Let's go flying!"

"What?" Draco asked, pulling his mind out of the gutter with an effort.

"Let's go flying! I haven't been on a broom in ages! Stupid Umbridge!" Roslin added under her breath. "Wanna come along?" she asked, heading for her room to get her trusted Firebolt and put on a robe.

"Sure, why not?" Draco gave in. Staying here and reading about boring plants, or be with his mate flying? There was no contest.

Five minutes later, the two were standing in the Quidditch pitch. Classes were still in session, so they had the place to themselves.

"How about some friendly competition?" Roslin smirked. "You and me and a Quaffle?"

"Think you can win, Potter?" Draco smirked right back.

"Against you? Hell, yeah!"

"Too bad we don't have a Quaffle, or I'd make you eat those words," Draco challenged.

"Who says we don't?" Roslin asked, pulling something from her pocket. She twirled her wand over it, and moments later, she was holding a bright yellow ball in her hand. "Are you game? Or is hot air all you've got?" she teased, throwing the Quaffle into the air and catching it again.

"Bring it on!" Draco called, zooming into the air, stealing the Quaffle with ease. He laughed out loud at the indignant cry from below him and then Roslin was next to him, laughing as well.

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Draco was in the lead, 20 to 16, when a shout came from below. Looking down, he saw his father waving for them to join him. Looking over at Roslin and noting she'd seen the summons as well, the two of them flew down to land beside the blond aristocrat standing at the edge of the pit.

"Having fun?" Lucius asked, watching the two windblown, red-faced, and above all, happy looking children.

"You bet! You should have seen me, Father. I beat the pants off Potter," Draco crooned happily. This was the most fun he had had in ages and he was riding high on those happy feelings. That his happiness was amplified with the feelings coming from Roslin only heightened his happiness even more.

"In your dreams, Malfoy," Roslin replied smartly. "Just wait till next time!"

"Hah!"

"You two," Lucius said sternly, not wanting to put a damper on their good mood, but he had no desire to stand there and listen to the two of them banter back and forth either. "Severus and I need to talk to you."

"Sure," Roslin said easily, and headed towards the castle. "I still say I will win next time, Malfoy. You had an unfair advantage this time, that's all."

"Unfair advantage!" Draco spluttered.

"Yeah, everyone knows that Veelas have the biggest sweet tooth," Roslin drawled.

"What has that got to do with Quidditch!" the blond demanded to know.

"The Quaffle was made out of a Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean," Roslin laughed, taking off running, a mock angry Draco chasing her while shouting insults.