Although Draco had no real interest in Quidditch, that didn’t an he rejected flying altogether.
In fact, the first ti he rode a broomstick, he fell in love with the sensation.
But unlike others who flew for the thrill or to imitate so Quidditch idol, what Draco enjoyed was the calm, relaxing feeling of soaring through the sky.
Whenever he needed a break, he would hop on his broom and take a spin around Malfoy Manor.
Draco seed to have a natural talent for flying. His skill had once left Pansy completely stunned—and it was thanks to Draco that she developed a love for Quidditch in the first place.
So when it ca to whether Draco could defeat the Slytherin captain, Pansy had no doubt whatsoever.
In her eyes, Draco was the strongest Quidditch player.
No one else even ca close...
...
The outco of the match wasn't apparent from Draco and Pansy’s faces when they showed up in the Great Hall the next morning.
Their usual poise and calm made it impossible to tell that Draco had clashed with his house’s team the day before.
In fact, aside from the few wizards who had been there, no one knew what had happened during that showdown...
The hall was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of toasted bread and roast beef. Every student wore a bright smile, their eyes gleaming with excitent.
After all, today was the Quidditch season opener!
Maybe it was because of that, but the atmosphere between the two houses facing off that afternoon was already so tense, you’d think soone might draw a wand at any mont.
So of the Gryffindors were even so worried about Harry Potter’s safety that they refused to let him out of their sight.
Wherever he went, there was always a cluster of little lions trailing behind him...
"Harry, you really need to eat sothing for breakfast."
"No... I don’t want anything."
"Maybe just so toast?"
"I’m not hungry."
Hermione’s coaxing didn’t help. Harry was so nervous, he had no appetite at all.
No wonder Hermione looked so concerned—Harry’s pale, miserable face made it obvious that sothing was wrong. His whole expression scread tension, and it was hard not to worry whether he’d be able to perform at his best.
It was clear that Harry was feeling uneasy about the upcoming match.
After all, his opponent was none other than the Prince of Slytherin...
"Hermione... do you think I can beat him?"
"Uh... even if you ask , I’m not sure what to say. I an..."
Hermione froze for a mont at Harry’s question, then cast a quick glance toward the Slytherin table. Her expression grew complicated before she quickly looked away.
Her conflicted look—sowhere between sulking and torn—only confused Harry even more.
And just as he failed to get any reassurance from Hermione, another Gryffindor’s voice chid in...
"Harry, you really need to keep your strength up. You're the Seeker, and that position gets targeted the most—especially when you’re up against those dirty Slytherins."
Seamus Finnigan had co over, clearly concerned, offering Harry so food he thought would help before the match.
Seamus was not only Harry’s roommate, but also a die-hard Quidditch fan—and now one of his biggest supporters.
“Thanks, Hermione, Seamus... but I really can’t eat anything.”
Harry glanced over at Ron, who was stuffing his face with food, grease on his lips, and felt his stomach churn. He shook his head and pushed his plate even farther away.
As ti passed, he only felt worse...
Just as he was thinking about heading down to the pitch early to wait for the match, Ron—who had been bragging to other students about Harry’s natural talent as a Seeker while still shoveling food into his mouth—finally rembered his best friend.
“You’ve been waiting for this mont a long ti, Harry. I’m sure you’ll beat that Death Eater!”
“Ron Weasley! I’ve told you over and over—Draco isn’t the evil Death Eater you think he is!”
“Hmph, how can you be so sure? You’re not even friends anymore! And he’s a Slytherin!”
“I don’t want to argue with you. What matters right now is Harry’s condition!”
Ever since the troll incident, Hermione had changed. She wasn’t as haughty as before, and no longer obsessed over minor rule-breaking. She was easier to talk to now and had started getting along with the other young witches and wizards.
But for so reason, the mont she heard Ron badmouthing Draco, a wave of anger rose in her. She couldn’t stand how thoughtlessly Ron spoke.
And when he said they weren’t friends... she bit her lower lip without even realizing it.
Just as Hermione was about to speak, Goyle and Crabbe—who had made a habit of showing up to provoke them lately—appeared right on cue in front of Harry and the others.
“Looking forward to this afternoon. Can’t wait to see Potter isn’t all he thinks he is.”
“Yeah, Draco’s definitely going to teach him a lesson.”
They acted like they were just passing by, but their voices were loud and deliberately antagonistic, clearly ant to rile the Gryffindors.
So loud, in fact, that not only did all the nearby Gryffindors hear them—Draco, who wasn’t even part of the conversation, could hear them too.
“What did you just say?! Harry’s going to wipe the floor with you!”
“Why are you even here? Planning sothing shady again?!”
“Yeah, stay away from our Seeker!”
As the scene edged toward a full-blown fight, Hermione’s mood soured.
Was it really impossible for these two Houses to get along?
But just as things were about to spiral out of control, a calm voice cut through the tension.
“Goyle. Crabbe. Sit down. Now.”
“But... Got it.”
“Yes!”
With just a single look, Draco got Goyle and Crabbe—who normally didn’t flinch even when facing a whole group of Gryffindors—to quietly back off.
And the Gryffindors who’d been ready to fire back were also silenced by Draco’s cold, detached gaze.
It was the first ti Draco had openly given orders to Goyle and the others in front of everyone.
Hermione, sensing sothing subtle had changed, glanced toward the Slytherin table.
That’s when she noticed Draco felt... different.
There was sothing unfamiliar about him that made her lower her head without thinking.
Then again, it had been a long ti since she’d last spoken to Draco...
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