What the Room Requires

Chapter Fifteen

I love you all. :) You all encourage me so much! Keep it up! This particular chapter is dedicated to Earelwen, who will know why. :)

 

 

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DAY TWENTY-TWO

HERMIONE

           

            “I’ve never been interested in Quidditch,” I said as I held a piece of the poor kite and tail over my head, letting the wind catch it as we walked. “First year, I couldn’t even get the broom to come to me when I said ‘up.’”

            Draco laughed.

            “Yeah, I remember that…”

“It made no sense,” I declared. “The magic word was ‘up.’ So why didn’t it come?”

“Because the broom knew you didn’t really mean it,” Draco said. I glanced at him, striding beside me in the morning light, strands of hair being blown into his crystal eyes. He smirked at me. I narrowed my eyes and lowered the kite.

“Of course I meant it,” I retorted. “That was the assignment—to get the broom to come to your hand.”

“No, the broom knew you didn’t actually want to fly,” Draco said, leaning his head back and letting the sun beam down on his face. “So it wouldn’t come. Didn’t want to get its hopes up.”    

“The broom…The broom knew…” I spat. “Get its hopes up…rubbish. It’s a broom!”

Draco laughed out loud. I kicked a few stalks, irritated.

“So if you’re not interested in Quidditch, why do I always see you in the stands?” he asked.

“Everybody goes to the matches,” I answered. He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.

“And the tryouts?”