Draco Dormiens

Chapter Two: Harry at the Manor

After lunch, Harry had Quidditch practice. Draco got to the practice field early and sat in a patch of sunlight, twirling Harry's Firebolt in his hand—it was pretty to look at, he had to admit that. His dad had refused to buy him one until he beat Harry at Quidditch—which, Draco had pointed out, he wasn't likely to do until he got a Firebolt to match Harry's.

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye alerted him to the presence of someone else on the field, someone who was walking towards him. It was a very pretty girl in blue robes; her long black hair was braided down her back. Draco recognized her vaguely as the Ravenclaw Seeker, someone he'd played against before.

"Hello, Harry!" she called in a singsong voice.

Draco waved. He was still examining the Firebolt. He was, in fact, rather nervous about this practice session. Harry had a very distinctive flying style, and, well...Draco didn't like to admit this, but Harry was, in fact, a better flier than he was. His teammates might—

The girl flopped down on the grass next to him, breaking his train of thought. Draco was annoyed. He'd been really looking forward to having a few more moments alone with the Firebolt, getting the feel of it. "Harry, Harry, Harry," the girl said, looking at him as if he were an adorable, but rather dim, toddler.

"Yes?" said Draco. "Did you want something?"

"You haven't asked me out for at least two days," said the girl. "Usually you would have chased me down in the corridors or sent me an owl by now."

"I've been busy," said Draco.

"Busy?" said the girl in a tone that suggested no boy had ever told her he was busy before.

"It's not a quiet life, being Harry Potter," Draco went on, warming to his subject. "I've got classes, plus Quidditch, plus interviews with the Daily Prophet, loads of good to do and evil to vanquish, plus I'm being hunted down by the remorseless killer who murdered my parents. I haven't got time to go barging around after girls."

The girl was staring at him with her mouth open. She looked much less pretty that way. "If you think you're going to get me to go out with you by talking to me like that," she said, her voice tight with rage, "you're wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Fine," said Draco. "Don't go out with me. I'm really famous, I could go out with anyone."

With a scream of rage, the girl bounded to her feet and stalked away across the field. Draco watched her go, mildly grateful that she had taken his mind off the impending horror of Quidditch practice.

***

If Harry had known that Draco Malfoy was at that moment ruining any chance he might ever have had with Cho Chang, he might have been upset. But as he was quite asleep in the back of Lucius Malfoy's invisible carriage (Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let Lucius Disapparate with his son while the boy was unconscious), being carried rapidly across the barren and windswept moors towards Malfoy Manor, he wasn't.

***

On the Quidditch field, Draco discovered that he'd had nothing to worry about: he had not only inherited Harry's lousy eyesight, he had acquired his spectacular Quidditch skills as well. Draco swooped and dove on his broom, amazed how easy it was. When they had a practice game, he caught the Snitch easily, and did loop-de-loops in the air with it while Harry's Gryffindor teammates clapped and whistled. Hermione, who had come to watch him practice, cheered as well.

"You're amazing, Harry!" she shouted up to him.

Draco waved at her, and then it happened: Not seeing Hermione on the field, George hit a Bludger hard at the ground. It streaked directly towards Hermione, who was too shocked to move.