693Chapter 9: Chaser Malfoy
Arriving on the quidditch pitch brought a flood of unexpected memories. Every game, the wins and the losses, the shouting spectators, the obnoxious announcers, and the sheer thrill of flying. Leaving behind quidditch had been the only reason Draco never wanted to graduate, though he knew others had hated the protection from the war the school had offered. For him, the war had been a welcome challenge.
After he had been bitten, there was nothing left to Draco but to join the Light side; his parents were dead and Voldemort treated werewolves like dirt. However, his allies didn't trust him. Fighting by their side, he had had to prove he wasn't as evil as everyone thought he was every step of the way. Some days the challenge had been nearly overwhelming, but on others it had been worth it. Draco never backed down from a challenge and always excelled when pushed.
"Don't worry," Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder, startling the blonde from his thoughts. "I'm sure you'll make the team next year."
"As a reserve, sure," he shrugged as if it didn't matter.
"No way, once they see you fly, you'll be a starter for certain."
Draco scowled and looked around for Wood, but apparently the Gryffindor Captian was late for the secret practice. "How did you even know it was me?" he asked. No one had said a word until now and he had be certain his broom was a secret, as was his time flying alone. If Potter and Dumbledore knew, who else? Was he about to be served a week of detentions?
"Well," Harry's hand ran through his unruly hair, shifting through black strands as if he could pull them over his eyes and make the world disappear. It was a sure sign that he was uncomfortable, "I followed you one day, worried you know 'cause you were always running off on your own. Like you didn't want to be around us or something and I saw someone flying and...it was your scarf."
"What? My...scarf?"
"Yeah, I'm sure most people wouldn't notice-"
"Merlin's beard, Harry, how much bloody attention do you pay to what I'm wearing?"
Once upon a time, it would have thrilled him to see the Boy Who Lived turned such a brilliant shade of red. "I don't, just…they're so colorful and no one else has them. Plus, they're Slytherin colors, Draco! You don't wear them around too often, but it's hard to miss once you know, don't you think?"
Grey eyes blinked once, then the blonde reached to his throat where he was wearing one of the silver and emerald green scarves at that very moment. Exceptionally warm, they were perfect for flying in cold weather. It never occurred to him that his Housemates would take so much notice of a scarf, but the colors would make it stand out.
Pulling it off, Draco flicked his wand from its place up his sleeve and paused a moment in thought. In his mind, he reviewed the spell, then muttered the incantation. The garment rippled, colors shifting as an unfelt breeze made the cloth billow. Silver shifted to gold, green to red, and the wind died. Then Draco wrapped it about his throat again, tucking the ends neatly away.
"Not Slytherin colors," he said stiffly, ignoring his friend's wide-eyed look, "It's the colors of the Malfoy family crest."
"How did you do that?" Harry gushed and Draco felt a fool for using his advanced Transfiguration knowledge so impulsively. Too late to change that now.
"It's something Dumbledore taught me," he lied quickly, wishing he didn't have to, "I take lessons with him on Fridays." It wasn't exactly a lie; he just hadn't had one yet.
"So that's also where you get off to? Why didn't you say so?"
"Don't want people to know," Draco tried to sound casual, but he was anxious and could hear it in his voice, "I like how you all see me. I don't want it to change."
He could see Harry didn't understand, but he didn't question it either. "Well, you've gotta help me with my Transfiguration homework when we get back. It's brutal."
"Sorry I'm late," Wood's voice interrupted, "Snape kept me after cleaning up cauldrons. Malfoy, what're you doing here?"
"I asked him," Harry supplied quickly, "He's wicked quick on a broom and I wanted the help."
"First years can't have brooms," the Gryffindor Captain eyed Draco expectantly. "Well let's see it then."
The blonde repressed a sigh. Putting his fingers to his lips, he whistled sharp and piercing, the sound carrying all the way down to the Forbidden Forest. From out of the trees, his broom came whizzing in their direction, forcing Wood to dodge or be bowled over. Draco caught it from the air, then raised a a single, blonde eyebrow at the quidditch Captain.
"What charm is that?" Wood asked admiringly, not phased in the least by dodging a broom or that a First Year had one at all.
"Variation on Accio."
Wood waited for Draco to continue, but the blonde wasn't about to give up his secrets so easily. "Right. Up you go, then. I'll not have you helping my Seeker if you're shite on a broom."
The look Draco fixed on the fifth year was withering, but he mounted anyways and shot into the air without a word. The exhilarating rush of flying took over him then, banishing all thoughts of detention or rules. He wove through the air, twisting and diving, looping merely because he could. Wind rushed through his ears, the ground fell away and rushed back over and over until he heard his name being shouted from the ground. Turning, he darted back to where Harry and Wood were standing, breathing hard and grinning broadly. There was nothing else quite so good as flying.
"Well, I think Katie's gonna have my head," Wood said very quietly and Draco frowned at how the boy was staring at him.
"It wasn't that bad," the blonde defended himself, ruffled, but refusing to glance at Harry for support.
"That bad?" Wood was suddenly grinning. The change made Draco take a step back, nervous now. "It was brilliant! You're as good as Harry is!"
"What's this have to do with Katie, then?" The words came out too belligerent, but he couldn't help himself. Wood had him off his footing and Draco couldn't stand being so off guard.
"She was going to be Chaser this year, but I think you'd be brilliant."
"Draco's going to be on the team?!" Harry sounded far more excited than Draco would have expected and he glanced from his friend, then back to the quidditch Captain.
"Definitely. With him, my Chaser's will be unstoppable! Alicia is amazing at fouls and passing, Angelina has got speed and great hands. Neither of them has broom skills like that, though. It'll be perfect. No one can touch them! Then with you, there's no way we can fail to take the Quidditch Cup this year!"
The world began to spin around Draco. He was vaguely aware of the two students talking about getting permission from the Headmaster, about training regimens and the first game against Slytherin. The voices faded to a buzz as the implications washed over him. Katie Bell was supposed to be Chaser, not him. He was changing things. When she wasn't on the pitch, what would Katie do? What would she change? Would this change anything at all?
That first match…What had happened that first match? Or during the one against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw? All he could remember was who won; Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw. Nothing important had happened, but what if he'd missed something? Like thinking Granger had always been a part of the Golden Trio, his knowledge wasn't complete. Harry had to come into his own, had to face off against Voldemort and his cronies just as it was supposed to happen for the next six years. Harry had always said how those years shaped him, how crucial they were to the man he became. Draco couldn't interfere with that.
Afterward, he had to find the spy and then he could -
Vaguely he became aware of someone calling his name and focused again to see Harry's worried face inches from his own. The boy had been shaking him and he had been completely oblivious. "Draco say something!"
"He's in shock," Wood said confidently, "must not have expected to be put on the team like that."
"Another bad feeling?" Harry asked quietly.
Nodding slightly, Draco murmured, "Katie Bell is supposed to be Chaser."
"You're going to say no?" Something in his heart lurched as Harry's face fell. "But, you're so good…"
"No? He can't say no!" Wood knelt at Draco's side – When had he sat down? - and started blabbering on about duty and House honor, but all Draco could see was Harry's crestfallen look at the hopeful gleam in emerald eyes. It was just a quidditch game. What could possibly go wrong by changing a few school quidditch games?
"Yes," he blurted, interrupting Wood's speech. "I'll be Chaser."
The Gryffindor Captain whooped and started talking again, but Draco had eyes only for Harry and his excited smile.
"Eat."
"I'm not hungry."
A growl escaped Draco as Harry refused food again. It was the first quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and their Seeker was refusing to eat.
"If you don't eat, you might faint and fall right off your broom. How'll that look, then? The Boy Who Lived can't stay conscious during a game of quidditch?"
The sour look he was given was all the crack in Harry's armor that Draco needed. That he could work with. Nauseated looks and nervous fidgeting, not so much.
"Please, Harry," Draco let his voice soften and put toast, eggs and bacon on the boy's plate, "If you don't eat I'll spend the whole game worrying about you. Then we'll lose for sure."
"You'll do fine, mate," Ron piped up, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he shoved bacon into his mouth, "Don't worry so much."
"Draco had a bad feeling."
The words silenced any further protests from Ron and Hermione, the two exchanging glances before looking at the blonde sitting across from Harry. It took him a moment to figure out what they were talking about. "I wasn't talking about you. It was about me being Chaser."
"So? You had one."
"Doesn't mean anything."
"I don't know, Draco," Hermione spoke slowly, like she was afraid he'd explode if she wasn't cautious, "You had one the day Snape let the Troll in the dungeon," she hurried on as he scowled, knowing how he felt about them accusing Severus of that. The argument had devolved into a shouting match last night after Harry told them all he had seen the Potions Master with a nasty bite on his leg. Clearly, she didn't relish the thought of starting over. "Then again when Crabbe challenged Harry to a duel and we found the three-headed dog."
"Don't forget when Crabbe stole Neville's Rememberall," Ron added and Draco shot him a glare for being so helpful.
"We talked," Granger went on, looking more nervous as his scowl deepened, "Not anything bad! We just…We think you might be a seer."
"What?!" The entire table went silent, eyes sliding down to stare at Draco and his friends. Leaning forward, he hissed so the others wouldn't hear, "I am not a seer!"
"But you know when bad things are going to happen."
The confidence in Harry's voice made Draco feel ill. "No. No, I don't," he protested, earnestly, then was suddenly furious with them all. "I knew this was a terrible idea. I'm telling Wood to put Katie in. I quit."
"No!" Draco froze half way up from is seat at the panic in Harry's voice. "I need you on the team. I can't do this alone."
"Yes you can," the next words caught in Draco's throat, You've done it before.
Before he could recover, Harry was rushing on, "Please, Draco. I'm nervous enough as it is. Don't make me go out there by myself."
"Okay, okay," the blonde sighed, resuming his seat. The anger melted away and and he reached over to push Harry's plate closer to him, "but you have to eat something. And no more talk of this seer stuff. It's complete nonsense."
"Deal."
Harry dug reluctantly into his food, but Draco kept a close eye on him. That's how he missed the look Ron and Hermione exchanged. This wouldn't be the last time they brought it up.
A few hours later, Draco stood in the Gryffindor locker room and stared down at himself. The quidditch robes were...strange. They fit well enough, they were just…Red. Really, really red. Draco had never looked good in red.
He felt uncomfortably out of place. It didn't help that the other two Chasers were apparently best friends with Katie Bell and pissed he had taken her spot. Even though they agreed he had been the better player during practice, so long as Katie was upset, they wouldn't be welcomingl. Wood had managed to get the girls to keep their animosity off the pitch, but it had been an uncomfortable month in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Up at the front of the room, Wood was trying to give a speech, but Fred and George were giving him a hard time. All the better, Draco thought, since they were doing it to cheer Harry up. The boy was far too nervous, but he couldn't just say, 'Hey! You'll win us the game for sure. I know it since I was there the first time.' That would give the idea he was a seer too much credibility. If Harry relied on his 'bad feelings' too much, or thought Draco had all the answers, he would never learn to rely on himself.
"Malfoy, are you listening?"
"No," Draco replied in an even drawl and the Weasley twins burst out laughing. Harry even cracked a smile. It had become a running joke, of sorts. Wood would give direction and Draco wouldn't follow it. The Gryffindor Captain was brilliant for strategy, but Draco was too used to working alone, than with a team. During practice against the reserve teams, he had taken to playing off what Angelina or Alicia were doing. He anticipated them well, being where they needed him to be or blocking an opposing Chaser when they needed it. In a huff, Wood had finally given up and let the blonde do what he wanted, concentrating instead of making sure Angelina and Alicia were doing what they needed to do.
It had worked so far, but this would be the real test. Draco knew if he didn't do well, Wood would put Katie back on the team. Not only did he drive the man mad, she was badgering him constantly to switch him onto the reserves.
"Right. Its time. Good luck, all of you."
Wood walked onto the pitch first, followed by Fred and George, then Harry, last being the three Chasers. Madame Hooch waited in the middle of the pitch, the Slytherin team approaching from the other side of the grass. Marcus Flint was a lot bigger than he remembered. He hadn't been this nervous since he confessed to Harry that the wolf in him had chosen the Boy Who Lived as shis mate. Climbing onto his broom, he was shaking, but then the whistle blew and fifteen brooms soared into the air.
Immediately he lost track of Harry as the quaffle was put into play, his attention completely monopolized by everything occurring at once. The nervousness vanished as Angelina raced up the field, Alicia and Draco flanking her on either side. One of the Slytherin Chasers – Adrian Pucey, he thought - made to block her, so she passed off to Alicia.
Distantly, he could hear the roar of the stands and Lee Jordan issuing commentary on the match. There was nothing for Draco, though, than that quaffle. He could see Alicia moving into position to shoot – and Flint rushing to intercept.
Pushing himself into a short dive, he cut in front of the big Slytherin, catching the ball inches before it would have been a successful intercept and executed a neat pass to Angelina. The roar from the crowd told me that she had scored as he was forced to dodge a bludger before turning back around to meet the Slytherins in possession of the quaffle.
Flint had the ball now and he was much more of a bull than any other Chaser on the field. All three Gryffindor Chasers knew better than to try to block him, but Fred and George were picking up the slack. Before he was half way across the pitch, not one, but two bludgers tried to take the man's head off and he was forced to pass as a third came racing his way. Pucey, now in possession, easily outpaced Alicia and attempted a shot at the Gryffindor goal posts. Draco held his breath, but the shot was easily knocked away by Wood. He had appeared from nowhere, then dropped into Alicia's hands like it was nothing.
Once again the Gryffindors were off down the field. Draco heard himself laugh as a bludger whipped past his shoulder and realized he was having more fun than he ever had as a Seeker. Maybe he would have to listen to Wood after all. Anything to keep doing this.
In hot pursuit of Pucey after he stole the quaffle from Alicia, Draco nearly collided with the Slytherin Chaser as he froze and dropped the actually dropped the red ball. A flash of gold zipped past on his left and he spun in midair to watch the inevitable chase. Harry and Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, were already moving, diving towards the snitch. Harry was just a little bit faster and Draco held his breath as he thought the match would be over then. Then Flint was there, blocking Harry and sending his broom whizzing off course as Draco's heart lept into his throat.
Had this happened the first time? He couldn't remember, but he wanted to murder Flint. Below him the rest of the Gryffindors sounded like they'd like to see the Slytherin Captain take a hard dive to the ground too, but at least Madame Hooch had seen the blatant foul.
Alicia took the quaffle and easily scored them ten points.
The game continued on, passes and scores, the Weasley twins taking specific aim at Flint at every chance they got. Draco was a blur in the air, his Seeker reflexes just as useful – if not more so – now that he was a Chaser. They scored twice more before they noticed something was wrong with Harry.
How could he have forgotten? Watching him now, the boy's broom was clearly out of control and doing everything to buck him off. Draco felt like an idiot. Fred and George moved up to try to help, so Draco let his gaze fall to the stands. Quirrell. Where the hell was Quirrell?
Draco found him near Snape, both Professor's eyes locked on Harry, mouths moving in incantation. Severus, he knew, would be attempting the counter jinx and Hermione…Grey eyes hunted the stands, until he found her just in time to watch as she tripped over Katie Bell.
A pit formed in Draco's stomach and he knew he had to do something fast. This was his fault; Katie should have been up here, not in Hermione's way. She was up and rushing toward the two teachers, but what if she didn't make it in time?
Flying up to circle like Fred and George, he disguised his casting as best he could, but when flying there was little he could do and aim properly. Casting silently, he flicked his wand and watched the little puff of orange light zip toward the stands. Draco prayed no one noticed him, especially once the fire started. It spread quickly, screams and cries filling the air. He knew someone had gotten hurt, but it worked; both Professors were forced to abandon their incantations to help put the blaze out or be burnt to a crisp.
Looking up as he slipped his wand away as discreetly as possible, Draco was just in time to watch Harry dive out of the sky, broom clearly under his control once more. He followed back to the pitch and burst out laughing as the boy spat up the snitch and held it high into the air for everyone to see.
It was only then, as the rest of the team celebrated and Hagrid, Ron, and Hermione bustle Harry away, that he let himself look at the destruction he had caused. Guilt and dread clamped down on his stomach as he watched Hooch and Snape carrying two students off toward the school. They were alive, and no one else seemed to be hurt, but he knew it was his fault. Yet...he would do it again.
Had anyone seen him? Draco glanced around, but didn't see a single suspicious eye turned his way. If he was very, very lucky, everyone's gaze had been focused on Harry. He could only pray and try not to remember the screams.