Fascination|𝐴 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 (𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛 3, 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔 1)

Chapter Eleven | Hall Of Fame

Hall Of Fame, by The Script

   Walking among the other Slytherins on the Slytherin team, Draco glanced through the crowd. Streaks of color flashed by. Red and green, silver and gold. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and there wasn't a storm cloud in sight. It was the perfect day for quidditch. But this was no ordinary game. It was Gryffindor against Slytherin and the final game of the season. This game would determine who would win the Quidditch Hogwarts Cup. The crowd roared. Wizards and witches gathered from near and far to watch the last game and see what house would win the Quidditch Hogwarts Cup. It was always a big deal when Gryffindor and Slytherin were in the finals together.

   Draco scanned the crowd, searching for her, but with disappointment, he realized that Hermione was not there yet. And had she been, she would be cheering for Gryffindor, no doubt. It was her own house after all. Draco sighed. He couldn't exactly expect her to cheer him on. Especially in front of all those people. There were times when Draco wished they didn't have to be so secretive. When he wished he could tell everyone about their friendship, about his feelings for her. But who was he kidding, he couldn't even tell her that. Besides, it was safer for both of them his way.

   Noticing Draco's distracted expression, Graham Montague, the teams best Chaser, elbowed him. "No distractions today, Malfoy. We can't affort to lose. Especially against Gryffindor. You best not let Potter get the best of you again." Draco sneered. He couldn't imagine Montague becoming their new team captain after Flint left the school. Marcus Flint was bad enough, always giving Malfoy crap about losing to his own enemy and how it should be humiliating enough for him to try harder. He was a horrible captain but Montague would be ten times worse.

   If he became the Slytherins teams captain they would be doomed. Montague would be able to improve their tactics and fill in the grey areas Flint had missed but his players would not be able to work as a team under him. He was cruel and would take advantage of that power. And it just so happened that he targeted Malfoy directly. Draco was very respected and high in authority among almost all the Slytherins. All except Montague. He hated Malfoy and would gladly be rid of him, off the quidditch team. Draco shook his head. Being under Montague's thumb would be a living nightmare, even if it was only for quidditch. 

   Draco sighed. It was true that it was humiliating to lose to Potter but he was sick of everyone reminding him of his failures. He got that enough from his father. Draco winced and looked to the crowd. Sure enough, in the same box as Snape and Rita Skeeter, sat Lucius Malfoy. Of course his father would come today to redicule and criticize his sons performance on the quidditch field. It was him who had brought Draco's way onto the team, after all. His father probably wanted to check on Draco's performance. Make sure he was living up to Slytherin Seeker standards.

   When the whistle blew, Draco took a deep breath and mounted his broom. Across the field, Potter did the same and with the last blow of Madam Hooch's whistle they rose into the air. The Seekers were always last to take flight, right after the Keepers and they flew higher than any other player. Keeping a steady eye on Potter, Draco postitioned himself to face the Gryffindor stadiums. The other players positioned themselves in a circle and Draco and Potter hovered above the circle, facing each other.

   Madam Hooch stood on the ground below the circle of players. "Now I want a nice clean game." She repeated, like every time she did when there was a match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. "Play fair, and play nice! Now, ready, go!" She opened the box containing the balls and the bludgers zoomed out violently. Then came the quaffle that Madam Hooch threw into the air, and last, the snitch. Draco saw it first, but Potter was quicker. He aimed the front of his broom downward then veered right, following the snitch towards the rafters of the stadiums.