The Gloriana Set

Playing Defense

Hermione couldn't blame Draco for being a bit surly after their long carriage ride with Hagrid, Trelawney and three hydras. Hagrid had instructed the thestrals to walk slowly so as to "not jostle the babies." Hermione was seated between Draco and Trelawney, the latter bug-eyed with fright, and it was a toss-up which scared the Seer more: the fire-breathing monsters or the former Death Eater.

After the third or fourth moan of terror from Trelawney, Draco sighed and slipped an arm around Hermione, which she allowed, reasoning that it would only help his mood, and even if Trelawney noticed she wouldn't believe it, and if she did believe it, hardly anyone would believe her. Plus, it had been a long day, and it was nice to lean against his luxurious cloak, breathe in that rich cologne and close her eyes. She felt Draco relax as well, and she was nearly asleep when the carriage stopped at the castle entrance. Draco removed his arm and stepped out, turning to help her down. He even extended a gloved hand to Trelawney, who accepted it tremblingly and then dashed into the castle, scarves flapping. Hagrid thanked Hermione again and gave Draco a jovial slap before departing with his hydras.

"We need to talk," Hermione said to Draco as they entered the castle. "Privately."

"We certainly do." Draco glanced around the Entrance Hall, furtively rubbing his shoulder. "Why don't we ..."

"Dray-co," called a fluting voice—Astoria, dressed in Quidditch gear, stood by the House Hourglass cabinet with her team. The Slytherins crossed the Entrance Hall toward them, practically in formation, and Hermione could see the diamond choker ringing the round collar of Astoria's jersey. Astoria swayed up to Draco, broom in hand, the team stopping a few feet away. They were certainly well-trained. "We have practice, dear," she cooed.

The "dear" earned her a raised eyebrow. "I'll be along presently," Draco said, bored.

"We need this practice, Draco." A hint of sharpness crept into Astoria's voice and she didn't drawl his name at all. "We play Hufflepuff on Sunday."

Draco smirked. "If we're playing Hufflepuffs, I doubt we need to practice at all."

Blue eyes flickered over to Hermione. "Graaaaanger. Tired of Theodore already? You two looked cosy enough a few days ago, cuddling in his bedroom ..." her lips curved, "... half-undressed."

Hermione was hardly listening; she was stripping off her gloves and estimating Astoria's height—about 5'10", she'd guess, about 5 inches taller than she. Hermione nodded in satisfaction, then focused on Astoria's smug face and Draco's sudden frown. "What?"

"Care to repeat yourself, Astoria?" Draco asked. "I'm afraid you'll have to say something more interesting to capture Hermione's attention."

Astoria's eyes narrowed. "We have the pitch until six o'clock," she snapped, and swept out the castle's front door, her team trailing behind.

"This way," Draco said shortly, shrugging off his cloak and heading toward the Divination corridor. Hermione followed him to a very familiar alcove behind Everard the Evil. Remarkable tapestry, really, she could swear the wizard's tentacles were moving slightly ...

"If you would, please," Draco said, brushing the tapestry aside.

Hermione hesitated. "Actually, I'd prefer to—"

"I'm well aware you likely know this alcove," Draco said with a slight curl of the lip. "Nevertheless, I'd be grateful if you would see yourself clear to entering it."

Hermione blinked up at him. He didn't look angry, but if the formal grammar was any indication, something had set him off. She entered the alcove, trying to remember what Astoria had said. She needed to pay better attention to conversations, even when they sounded stupid.