Draco's Mudblood - Draco Malfoy Fan Fiction - *Year One*

The Gryffindor-Slytherin Flying Lesson

For the first time during her two weeks at Hogwarts, Isobel couldn't eat.

The second Thursday morning sprung up on her heels so quickly she forgot what was so special about it. The Great Hall was more alive than usual with chatter and energy that bounced off the walls and through every student. Isobel likely wouldn't have remembered their first scheduled flying class at all, what with everything on her mind, had Draco Malfoy been capable of discussing anything else.

Draco Malfoy.

She didn't want to think about it. She felt ill whenever the memory of what happened in the hall after Potions crept its way back into her mind, and it did so often. She'd tried to tell herself she had misheard Draco or that it wasn't him. She'd tried to convince herself she was wrong. She knew better.

Isobel knew about the First War. She knew about the way people used to treat Muggles, how Dark Witches and Wizards used to murder entire villages in the name of purging and purity. Jesalynn had warned her that even though things had changed after the Dark Lord vanished, many were still faithful to his old beliefs. Isobel knew, but she'd chosen to ignore it.

It scared her.

Draco Malfoy scared her.

The Slytherin table shook. "Merlin, she's so annoying!"

Draco's face was red with annoyance as he shoved himself into a seat, pouting. "I swear, Transfiguration is going to need a new teacher once my father hears about this. I was just looking at that stupid thing Longbottom's just gotten, a Remeberall, and she comes running over to scold me like I've just hexed someone! Blasted cat woman..."

- - -

Three-thirty quickly caught up with the students and sent them down onto the grounds. It was an undeniably beautiful day out, the cold of the upcoming autumn setting off ripples in the grass, but Isobel had a hard time paying much attention to anything but the queasiness in her stomach. The Slytherins walked downhill to a flat slope of lawn and two rows of brooms, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Even Malfoy, who had complained repeatedly about the dismal condition of the brooms, seemed giddy at the sight of them.

Isobel, on the other hand, felt like she'd never stopped walking downhill.

The Gryffindor girl, Hermione, found a spot to stand just by Isobel. The sight of the frizzy-haired girl made her feel horrible. The feeling got worse when Madam Hooch showed up. "Well, what are you waiting for?  Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."The students quickly bustled around to find a broom. "Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

"UP!"

A small number of brooms zipped up to the open hands of their callers.

Isobel stuck her right hand out. "Up."

Nothing happened.

Further to her left was a snicker. Malfoy held his broom in his hand with a sneer pointed in her direction.

Theodore, always loyaly at her side, nudged her. "Mine's not moving either. Do you reckon they're broken?"

Malfoy snickered again.

Isobel thrust her left hand out over her broom. "Up."

The command sent her broom to her hand with so much force it nearly knocked her over.

Malfoy's laughter stopped.

Madam Hooch went on to give her light praise over realising the broom wouldn't respond to her non-dominant hand, instructed the class on how to mount their brooms, and informed Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

This time, it was Isobel's turn to snicker.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard."

Isobel stopped laughing too.

"Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly."

Something lurched in her chest. Her head felt like it was made of stone.

"On my whistle-- three-- two--"

And a boy started to rise, rise, rise, rise... And then he fell.

- - -

Isobel woke up in what she pieced together to be the Infirmary.

Neville Longbottom, the boy Malfoy was constantly making fun of, was sitting just a few neat cots away with an arm cast. Madam Pomfrey was consoling him as a Skelegrow Potion worked its way through his bones when Theodore walked in.

He tipped his head at Madam Pomfrey and rushed over to Isobel faster than she'd ever seen him move. "Isobel! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She figured that much was true. She felt much better now than she had that morning and nothing seemed to be broken... "But I think I blacked out? What happened? Why am I here?"

Theodore sat down next to her cot. "You got sick. Like, really sick. Neville had just fallen from his broom, and you just- you know... puked?"

Isobel rubbed her face in embarrassment and frustration. "Of course I did."

"I rushed you over to Madam Hooch so she could walk you and Neville here, and when I got back, oh Merlin you will never believe what happened, Malfoy threw his Remembrall, the one he got this morning, and Harry Potter got on his broom to go after it and then they were chasing each other on broom and then Malfoy challenged Potter to a duel and-"

"Woah woah woah, Theo, slow. Down. What about a duel?"

Theodore finally took a breath. Then another. "On my way up here from the Great Hall I passed Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were talking about having challenged Harry and the Weasley kid to a duel at midnight."

Isobel shook her head. She wished she'd just stayed sleeping. "Theodore, we have to tell a teacher or something. Someone's going to get hurt-"

"But get this: they aren't going to go."

Isobel's eyes snapped back up to Theodore. "What?"

Theodore nodded and leaned in closer. "Malfoy's tricking them."