My little Malfoy Girl

Mudblood's a Foul Name

We had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry, me, and the rest of the team walked onto the field, I saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George. I laughed and watched. Harry made flying look so easy. 

After a while watching the, I mounted my broom, and Harry came over to help. 

"Okay, so you just --"

I laughed again. "I know how to mount a broom, Harry."

He went a little red. "Er - right, of course you do."

I kicked up off the ground, and jetted toward a goalpost. I waited until the last second, then served right, flying around the edge of the pitch now, near the stands. I waved at Ron and Hermione as I passed. They laughed. 

Harry, who was now back up in the air, called out playfully. 

"Wanna race? I bet I'll win, even with the slower broom!"

"Oh, it's on, Chosen One!"

We set up the course while Wood got the practice ready. It would take a while, so we had plenty of time to race. We would go from goalpost to goalpost twice, then circle around the pitch once, then go back to the starting point. 

Fred and George offered to be the judges.

This was going to be fun.

We went over to the starting point, the goalpost on the right side, and Fred and George took it away. 

"Okay, the rules are - "

"No cheating - "

"No foul play - "

"The race doesn't stop - "

"For injuries, - "

"Or for death - "

"Okay, ready - "

"GO!"

(This doesn't really sound like Fred and George I'm so sad. I can't get them just right!!)

We zoomed away from the goalpost. I was ahead, only by a little bit, but Harry was gaining. The cool morning air whipped my face, waking me far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. 

We were about halfway through, laughing so hard we were almost falling off our brooms, when Wood blew a whistle. We both stopped in midair, ignoring Fred and George's cries of protest, and went down to meet Wood on the ground. 

As soon as we touched down, I knew what the problem was. Colin was taking pictures, madly clicking away, and Wood didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said Fred, (I think), pointing.