Finding Draco - A Dramione Novel

Chapter 13 - Draco

Draco palmed a quaffle passed to him by Crimson, ducking beneath an oncoming bludger. Racing forward, he cocked his arm back and hurled the ball at the leftmost Keeper post. Diving in a spectacular display of athleticism, Georgi Zdravko caught the ball and batted it deftly to Clara. Draco cursed and made haste after her, calling to Crimson to position himself midfield.

Playing Chaser was demanding. It involved strategy and teamwork, but Draco found himself enjoying it. Luckily, the players on the Potions house team were some of the best he'd ever seen. Zdravko had already been scouted by the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team and was likely to be signed.

After a week of mourning Jarvey, the team had met up on the mountain practice field he had used for Hermione's remedial lessons. The wind was frigid, but sweat had broken out on his brow from the intensity of the game.

Breathing in heavy breaths of icy air, Draco urged his broom forward and came alongside Clara, who had the quaffle tucked deftly in her right arm. She was a formidable witch and a damn strong one, too. He knew it would be a chore to rip the quaffle away from her while on his broom. Standing, he bent his knees and reeled his broom around in front of her, throwing her off balance enough for Crimson to wretch the quaffle from her grip.

Off in the distance, Draco heard Amira blow her whistle, urging the team to assemble at her location. He accepted an eager high five from Crimson and Clara, then took off to huddle up. The three of them made a good team, each one fiercely competitive and candid.

"Alright, listen up. The first match is in three days against Duels." Loud boos issued from the group and Amira smiled at their enthusiasm. "It's going to be a tough match, and I'd like to run through a few of their usual plays tomorrow after dinner. Dimitar here has big shoes to fill in Jarvey's absence, so we will be taking him through as many plays as possible before Wednesday."

Everyone gave the younger boy rounds of encouragement. Halvard put his hand on Dimitar's shoulder supportively.

"This week has been shit, I know. But Jarvey would have wanted us to beat the piss outta Anders and those pompous fucks, so let's do it for him!"

Everyone on the pitch erupted in cheers and praise for their friend, agreeing to pummel the bastards for him.

Draco hung back as his fellow teammates took off towards the Potions dorms. He told Amira he'd be right behind the pack, that he wanted to make sure they had everything.

"Ok. But hurry back Draco. No stragglers." She patted his cheek with her soft hand, dragging her nails down his chin and over his neck. Her olive skin was pure silk, and her nails were like razors.

The effect left Draco a little slack-jawed. She really was a master manipulator. He could see why she so entranced Halvard. Halvard was a little too lack-witted to see past the charm.

Draco really wanted to get a better look at the carving Hermione had called the Deathly Hallows. After borrowing her original copy—in ancient runes no less—which took him twice as long to read, he devoured the Tale of the Three Brothers. Death's own Hallows made real.

Searching the sheer cliff, he found where it was etched into the face. Why was it carved here? Earlier, he had offered it up as a warning, but now he wasn't so sure. What if it marked a chamber? His mother's parting words to him were to trust his instincts, and he was pretty sure this mark was an entry point.

He cast a few spells to reveal concealed objects and entrances and found nothing. Flourishing his wand, he tried to find wards or anti-intruder jinxes. Feeling desperate, Draco attempted pushing on it, cutting his finger and smudging his blood on it. He even stood back and said 'open sesame' like a muggle sorcerer with his arms flung wide.