Slytherin Princess | ✓

forty-six

Quidditch was not something I wanted to worry about this year. Despite my love for the sport, I felt I had more important things to worry about, as did Draco. The evil, conniving boy got himself out of the first Quidditch match of the season by claiming to be ill with a cold and left me to fend for myself on my first ever Quidditch game and the match against Gryffindor.

"You are evil, Draco Malfoy," I seethed. "You force me to go to trials and then leave me for the first match? I loathe you right now."

"You do not. Stop being so dramatic, Lady, or I'll ask to resort you into Gryffindor and you can play with Potter and Weasley," Draco scoffed.

"Why did you tell Snape you were too ill to play?" I asked, pacing in the nearly empty common room.

Everyone was at breakfast, whereas I had stopped Draco from leaving to question him.

"I have better things to do, as you know," he raised his brow, referring to our current project.

"And did you think it wise to do it during a time where I was undisposable? During a Quidditch match?" I asked lowly.

"Nearly the entire school will be at the Quidditch match," Draco waved his hand, dismissing my worries. "It'll be the perfect time to see if the cabinet will work. If it does, then I'll send the signal through and we'll be in luck!"

"And you couldn't wait to do it with me?"

"Don't start acting like Pansy, clingy and all. You very well know that this is more important to do as soon as possible than doing it together," he scoffed.

I sighed knowing he was telling the truth, but I was more upset that he wouldn't be playing with me for my first game than mending the cabinet without me.

"Fine," I sighed. "You best advance further in our project. I expect progress."

"Okay, Father," he narrowed his eyes at me, giving me a mocking look.

"And are you not going to wish me luck on my first Quidditch game?" I smirked as I playfully glares at him.

"Oh, Lady, you truly are mad," he chuckled and wrapped his arms around me in a big hug. "I wish you the very best on your match this afternoon."

"Thanks, Draco," I laughed. "We ought to get to breakfast— I've got to eat up before the game," I added, mimicking Pansy's incessent nature to have me eat more than my usual toast and tea.

"We've lost Malfoy today, but we've got Harper— Ward, is Malfoy alright?" Urquhart said in the Changing Room.

"I reckon he'll be okay," I said nonchalantly. "Just the first of us to get ill during the winter. A few sips of Pepperup and he'll be good for next game."

"Alright, well, we'll be starting in about five minutes, you'd better get your boots on," he said and walked away to the wardrobe.

Grabbing the Beater's bat, we walked out onto the pitch to violent roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid green and silver; the other, a sea of red and gold. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping I could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.

Urquhart stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.

"Captains shake hands," she said, and he had his hand crushed by the new Gryffindor Captain, Harry. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle... three... two... one..."

The whistle sounded and we kicked off hard from the frozen ground. Giving Blaise signals and watching for Bludgers and Gryffindor Chasers, I heard the jarring comments of the commentator.