Beauty From Pain

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The first match was surprisingly quick. Ginny had stacked her team with superior chasers; she, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell easily dominated the pitch. Their years of experience playing together on Gryffindor's team made it nearly impossible for Draco's team to get their hands on the quaffle. Unfortunately, she had been a bit desperate for a seeker. Poor Anthony Rickett hadn't stood a chance against Draco. His only experience was as a beater for Hufflepuff, and he hadn't really played much since he'd graduated. Draco had no trouble flying him in circles around the pitch.

Despite Ginny's chasers having almost complete ownership of the quaffle, Draco caught the snitch before they could score enough points to really make a difference. Ginny had politely shaken his hand, but her annoyance over losing was written clearly across her face. Hermione grinned as she watched her cross the pitch and say something quite bitter to Harry, no doubt telling him to wreck Draco and avenge her team.

Draco made his way up into the stands, his hands shoved into his pockets and a cocky smirk on his face. Hermione could already tell this win would make him insufferable during the next match.

"Congratulations," Hermione said. She kissed his cheek and smiled when she felt his arms wrap tightly around her.

"She could be a pro at quidditch, but you can't underestimate a good seeker." He grinned at her, his eyes nearly glowing with victory. "They make all the difference."

"They certainly do," Pansy agreed. She wasn't looking at Draco, however. Her eyes were glued to the pitch where Harry and Blaise were beginning their match.

Luna nodded in agreement. "Being good with your hands is a desirable trait after all." When Pansy looked at her in shock, she added, "In a seeker. Unless you're Harry and can catch it with your mouth."

Pansy's shock turned to a sly grin. "So you're saying he's good with his mouth and his hands."

Already disliking where this conversation was going, Hermione turned to Draco and tried to ignore the other witches. The last thing she needed to think about was Harry using his mouth or hands for anything other than quidditch. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself and tried not to let her discomfort show.

Draco, however, took this to mean she was cold and produced a scarf from Merlin knows where. He wrapped it around her neck, mindful that it wasn't too tight, and then pulled her back into his arms.

She was about to thank him when she noticed the color of the scarf. It was faded from years of being worn, but the emerald and silver stripes stood out clearly against her black cloak. "Did you just put a Slytherin scarf on a Gryffindor?"

"I did," Draco said. He tugged one end of the scarf and smiled. "And she wears it quite well."

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't remove the scarf.

Luna noticed the faded school colors and asked, "I thought you said you weren't going to wear any green, Hermione?"

Hermione tucked her face further into the warm fabric to hide her blush and glared at Luna. She could feel Draco shaking against her, no doubt in silent laughter, but she said nothing. She was too distracted by the scent that had filled her nose. The scarf must have been sprayed with his cologne. Cinnamon and sandalwood and...

Feeling eyes on her, Hermione looked up and found Draco staring down at her. He was looking at her in that way that made her toes curl and her stomach flip. Like she was the only person in the entire world.

"If you are quite finished reading one another's souls and trying to mentally shag each other," Pansy groused from behind her. "It's a bit hard to watch strapping young men play quidditch when I've got the pair of you making me nauseous."