The Gloriana Set

Slytherin Tryouts

"Hermione, please!" Ginny was begging at breakfast.

Hermione stared at the redhead, baffled. "Why in Godric's name would I go to the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts?"

"You're my only hope," Ginny said. "I have to scout the talent after dinner, but there's no way I'm going to the pitch alone. I mean, look at them."

She tilted her head toward the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. It was the typical scene: The older students looking like a pack of criminal masterminds, the younger students quaking in their seats, and Malfoy eating alone like nothing in this world could ever bother him.

"Take Ron," Hermione said shortly. "I need to study."

"Ron has to redo his Draught of Peace for Slughorn with Lavender and the rest of my team is too chicken," Ginny said. "I need somebody who's not scared of a couple of Slytherins."

"Luna," Hermione suggested.

"Fishing for gulping plimpies in the Black Lake."

"Neville."

"Helping Sprout with some special Herbology project for advanced students. Apparently, the seeds hate to be planted."

Hermione sighed. "Fine, but you owe me. You owe me big." She glared at Ginny. "I'm serious. I'm giving up serious study time to watch some Wacky Faint—"

"Wronsky Feint!" Ginny and Ron cried out.

"Whatever," she said, trying not to smile.

Hermione spent the rest of breakfast moodily drawing runes in her Transfiguration textbook as an intense Quidditch discussion raged around her. Then she joined a small pack of Ravenclaws on the way to Ancient Runes. She was just going to have to avoid him. Four days into the school year, and she simply needed to avoid a man who sat across the aisle in Ancient Runes, across the table in potions, and two inches away in Defense Against the Dark Arts. No problems there.

Entering the Ancient Runes classroom, Hermione saw that Malfoy seemed to have adopted the same strategy. He looked as artlessly indifferent as ever, tucked into in his tiny desk, and spared her only the occasional dark glance.

Later that day, at Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione couldn't help but be hyperactively aware of the man to her left, that soft cologne scent drifting nearer. She leaned closer to Ron on her other side to avoid it, and by the end of the period, Ron was stroking a light pattern on her arm. Huffing, she gave Ron a sharp dig with her elbow and reluctantly shifted closer to Malfoy's beanbag, ignoring Ron's hurt look. When would this class be over?

After dinner, she and Ginny left the castle to walk to the pitch, with Hermione wrapped snugly in a red and gold scarf and hat. She knew from experience, no matter how beautiful it was when one headed off to a long, dull Quidditch event, an icy wind would invariably swoop off a mountaintop before the first Quacky hit a hoop.

A fair number of Slytherins cheered from the stands as the aspiring players gathered on the pitch. The Captain of the Quidditch team was a blonde Keeper. Willowy and beautiful, she flitted between the big hoops, effortlessly blocking every hit. If Malfoy hadn't revealed himself that fatal morning outside her window, she would have thought it was this player practicing before breakfast. She was very tall.

"That's Astoria Greengrass," Ginny said, following her gaze. "Daphne's younger sister. She looks delicate, but she nearly took my head off with a bludger last year."

"I've heard something about her," Hermione mused.

"Well, she was betrothed to Draco Malfoy—"

"What?"