Draco Malfoy and the Gryffindor Chaser

Chapter Four: The Firebolt

Harry's curiosity got you out of your contemplation and you started to untie the cords and open the paper, what quickly drew the Gryffindors around you's attention. Everyone held their breath at the same time; Harry's eyes widened and Neville gasped loudly next to you. He pointed at the package and said: "Is it a..."

"Firebolt supreme."

Harry and you had said it together at once, looking at each other. You didn't know how to react; too many questions were going on inside your head. "This is a broom, y/n! No way we'll lose against Ravenclaw next week with you on that." You smiled widely as you took your new broom in your hands, eyeing it. You're not sure you had ever seen a that powerful one; the best you had ever laid your eyes on was Harry's Firebolt he'd been offered by his godfather, or Slytherin's team's Nimbus 2001 – but never a Firebolt supreme.

"Who do you think it's from?"

He huffed, as you asked a rather stupid question: "McGonagall of course!" The memory of when the head of the house sent him his Nimbus 2000 made him smile. Gryffindors around you cheered as they started talking about how Ravenclaw had no chance to win, giving the atmosphere a hint of excitement. Dean even shouted a: "Thank you McGonagall, the best Gryffindor ever!" and everyone laughed.

Unnoticed at the table behind, Draco was still observing you. Crabbe loudly puffed as he turned back to his breakfast: "McGonagall is so stupid. Since when students are offered new brooms because they can't keep on theirs during a match?" Pansy huffed at Draco's side, but stopped as she noticed he wasn't laughing. The blond followed you with his gaze as you headed out of the Great Hall, your new broom on your shoulder, the tails of your Quidditch cape flying behind you. From the outside, it looked more like a killing stare than anything else and Pansy scooted closer to him: "Don't mind her. You know Gryffindor's team is so untalented compared to you."

He wasn't listening, but his attitude didn't go unnoticed by Harry, who just got up after grabbing his book back below the wrapping paper. The Gryffindor cocked an eyebrow and cleared his throat: "Scared, Malfoy?"

He darted his green eyes on him and got up, nearly hitting Pansy in the process. "You wish, Potter." He stepped over the bench to leave the Hall under Harry's proud expression as he thought he put him in a particularly bad mood, Pansy's hurt feelings and Crabbe's concerned face.

-

You advanced till the middle of the pit and put the shiny new broomstick on the ground. "Well. Let's start by the beginning."

You placed your hand above it at the level of your waist.

"Up!"

The broom rose and your hand mechanically closed around the neck. You smiled; a small victory, but still one. Once on it, you stomped the ground with your left foot and quickly ascended at the level of the three big hoops of the goals.

Basics movements seemed alright.

You spent the whole morning flying across the pit, passing between the goals and empty seats as the sun rose in the sky. The white clouds that accompanied you in the first place vanished in the pale blue sky of April.

At a moment, you even enchanted an old Quaffle you found in the changing room to try to catch it to score. You soon started to get bored after the twentieth goal and considered returning to the castle. You slowly landed on the grass and put the Quaffle on the ground, pointing at it to end the spell.

"Hey! What are ya doin'!"

You turned as you heard a deep voice; a huge hairy person was coming towards you. The small of his face you could see between his hair and beard relaxed as he saw you, and you were the first to open your mouth: "Hagrid?"