Coping Mechanisms

21. Hermione

Sunday's weather proved to be just as drab as the day prior. A fine mist had settled across the grounds, blanketing Hogwarts in its somber perspiration. Everything was tinted in dull, grey hues, and even the Quidditch pitch was a dreary skeleton of itself, bare of the array of flags that normally decorated the rafters. The season had yet to start, so Hermione wasn't surprised, but the lack of color was still unsettling. The only color came from the field, in the form of tryout uniforms, grouped in shades of red and green. Hermione sat alone, a few rows up in the bleachers, studying the teams before her, Gryffindor to her left, and Slytherin to her right. Neither party seemed thrilled with the company sharing the field, but this wasn't game day, and each side only required use of one set of the ring-shaped goal posts. She could easily pick out Ginny and Ron, their ginger hair a break amongst the sea of heads. Harry stood away from the group, speaking as captain, though Hermione couldn't make out what he was saying. She hadn't been surprised when he'd received the title back; Harry was an exceptional Quidditch player and coach. What did surprise her though was the lack of a certain platinum blonde on the Slytherin side. She found him instead in the front row to her right, seated next to Theo, injured hand in his lap. From the angle she sat, Hermione could make out the sharp contours of his profile, and the miserable set of his chin. Malfoy looked pained, like being here took excruciating effort.

The image burned itself into her memory.

Hermione figured they were here for Blaise, just as she was there for Ginny. She'd seen flashes of his dark skin down in the Slytherin crowd, probably wanting to resume his place as Chaser, opposite the youngest Weasley. They'd given each other numerous bruises in their careers, the fiery redhead a surprisingly good match against Zabini. Hermione only assumed Ron was there to reclaim his spot as Keeper, and Harry was, unsurprisingly, resuming his role as Seeker.

But why wasn't Malfoy doing the same? He'd been the Slytherin Seeker since their second year, and although his father had contributed to his early ticket onto the team, Malfoy had proved to be a fierce competitor over the years. Not as good as Harry, but most people weren't. Harry was oblivious in most definitions, but not when it came to the golden snitch. Following that was as easy as breathing for him.

Hermione sighed, envying their ability to merely stay aloft on a broom. She'd never been adept at flying, though she'd managed the few times she'd had to. She was sure there was nothing more freeing than soaring through the empty space above them.

What she wouldn't give to simply have wings.

As if on cue, students started to rise from the field, steady on their brooms. Hermione watched as Ron swiftly took his place in the center of the goals, both hands braced in front of him. She could hear Ginny barking orders as she flew higher, Harry keeping pace beside her. His smile was visible even from Hermione's spot on the sidelines; she knew this was his homecoming.

She envied that too.

The Slytherin team had similarly taken to the air, their emerald silhouettes a contrast to the crimson opposite them. Blaise zipped back and forth, quaffle in hand, seemingly in his element. Hermione watched as he purposefully shot past Ginny, nearly knocking her off her broom. She immediately steadied herself, and flew after him, her red hair streaking behind her like fire. Hermione was unsurprised when neither team did anything to stop them. Surely everyone was quietly rooting for their designated representative. Hermione was almost tempted to use the Confundus charm as she had on Cormac years before, but she knew better than anyone that Ginny could handle this herself. The youngest Weasley was already catching up to Blaise as he wove through his classmates. It wouldn't be long until their skirmish ended.

A movement to Hermione's right caught her attention, silver hair bobbing in her peripheral. Draco had stood from his seat, fists clenched at his sides. Theo's face looked solemn, but he didn't stop Malfoy as he sauntered off. He merely watched him go, same as she did. Draco disappeared from the pitch, and the confusion must have been evident on her face when she turned back towards Theo because he weakly waved her over.