Chapter Text
Harry Potter had never been particularly good at sports.
This was mostly because Dudley had made certain Harry was never particularly good at anything. At his old school, Harry had spent most of his time avoiding games that involved being chased by large boys. He was quite good at running, although he had never considered this an athletic accomplishment so much as a survival skill.
Consequently, when Madam Hooch announced that their first flying lesson would involve riding broomsticks, Harry wasn't entirely certain what to expect. He knew wizards flew on broomsticks. He'd seen pictures. He'd also seen pictures of dragons, and he sincerely hoped nobody expected him to ride one of those.
The class assembled on the lawn outside Hogwarts. A row of rather battered broomsticks lay on the grass. Harry examined the one nearest him. It looked like something Aunt Petunia might have used to sweep the garden shed.
"Those are dreadful."
Harry didn't need to turn around.
"Morning, Malfoy."
Dracena Malfoy stood beside him, examining the school brooms with obvious distaste.
Her platinum-blonde hair was tied back with a green ribbon. Her robes were immaculate, her shoes polished, and her expression suggested that the entire lesson had been arranged specifically to offend her.
"Honestly, Potter. Look at them."
Harry looked.
"Yeah?"
"They're ancient."
"So?"
"So they're practically antiques."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe they're valuable."
Dracena stared at him. "That's not how broomsticks work."
"How would I know?"
She sighed. "Obviously."
Harry smiled.
Dracena narrowed her eyes. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Look so pleased with yourself."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Harry grinned. "Can't help it. You're very entertaining."
Dracena's cheeks turned slightly pink. She looked away. "Idiot."
Ron appeared beside Harry. "Don't mind her. My dad says the Malfoys probably think anything that costs less than a hundred Galleons is firewood."
Dracena turned. "Weasley."
"Malfoy."
"How delightful. They've let you out of the charity ward."
Ron went red.
Harry sighed. "Dracena."
She looked at him. "What?"
"Must you?"
"Must I what?"
"Be horrible?"
Dracena looked genuinely surprised. "I'm not being horrible."
Ron made an incredulous noise.
"I'm being accurate."
Harry shook his head. "There's a difference."
Dracena considered that, then she smiled sweetly. "Not always, Potter."
Before Harry could answer, Madam Hooch blew her whistle. "Everyone beside a broomstick! Quickly!"
The students hurried into position. Dracena selected a broom near the end of the row. She examined it, made a face, then nudged it with her shoe. "Disgusting."
Harry looked at his own. It had several bent twigs and a handle that appeared to have been repaired with something resembling glue. He decided not to complain.
"Now." Madam Hooch announced, "hold your right hand over your broom and say ‘Up!'"
"UP!" shouted the class.
Nothing much happened.
Ron's broom rolled over.
Neville's twitched.
Hermione's rose several inches, then fell back into the grass.
Harry looked down at the broom. "Up." The broom leapt into his hand.
He blinked. "Oh."
Beside him, Ron stared. "Blimey."
Harry looked at the broom, then at Ron. "What?"
"You did it."
Harry shrugged. "Was I not supposed to?"
Across the lawn, Dracena was watching. Her own broom had risen obediently into her hand, although not quite as quickly.
She looked at Harry's, then at her own broom. Her expression darkened. Harry noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"At the broom."
"Which I'm holding."
"Unfortunately."
Harry smiled. Dracena turned away. Show-off.
The irritating thing was that Potter hadn't even looked as though he were trying. He'd simply said Up, and the broom had practically jumped into his arms.
Dracena had been flying since she was little. Father had bought her a beautiful little training broom when she was six. She'd spent summers racing around the gardens at the Manor, occasionally terrifying the house-elves.
Potter, apparently, had never flown before. And he'd just done that. It was absurd.
Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount the brooms and grip them properly. "Now, when I blow my whistle, kick off gently. Rise a few feet, hover, and come straight back down." She looked sternly around the class. "Nobody is to go flying off across the grounds. Is that understood?"
Everyone nodded. Neville looked terrified.
Harry glanced at him. "You all right?"
Neville swallowed. "Not really."
"Just do what she says." Neville nodded.
Dracena watched the exchange. Potter was always doing that, talking to people who were frightened as though it were perfectly natural. She didn't understand it.
Madam Hooch raised her whistle. "On my signal..."
Neville kicked off too early, much too hard. His broom shot upward.
"Neville!" Madam Hooch shouted.
Neville screamed.
The broom climbed.
Ten feet.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
Harry stared. "Blimey."
Neville was clinging desperately to the handle. "HELP!"
The broom bucked. Neville slipped. For one horrible second he hung from the handle by both hands. Then he fell.
Harry winced.
Neville struck the ground with a sickening thump.
Madam Hooch ran toward him. "Nobody move!"
Neville was crying. His wrist hung at an unpleasant angle. Madam Hooch examined it.
"Broken. Come along, dear. Hospital wing." She helped him to his feet, then turned toward the class. "Everyone is to remain on the ground until I return. Anyone who takes off will be out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch."
Harry wondered exactly what "Quidditch" was.
She led Neville away. The class stood in uncomfortable silence. Dracena noticed something glittering in the grass. "Oh." She bent down. A small glass ball lay near Neville's abandoned broom. Inside it, red smoke swirled. Dracena picked it up. "Well, look at this."
Ron turned. "That's Neville's Remembrall."
Dracena examined it. "Is it?"
"His gran sent it."
"How charming."
She held it up to the sunlight. "Rather cheap-looking, isn't it?"
Harry sighed. "Dracena."
She looked at him. "What?"
"Give it back."
"To whom?"
"Neville."
"Neville isn't here."
"Then give it to me."
Dracena smiled. "Oh, Potter."
Harry knew that smile. He'd learned to distrust it.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're thinking."
Dracena looked offended. "I'm not thinking anything."
"That's a first."
Ron laughed.
Dracena's eyes narrowed, then she looked at the broom in her hand. An idea occurred to her. A rather delightful idea. She smiled. Harry groaned.
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes."
"Dracena."
"Catch me, Potter."
She kicked off. The broom shot into the air.
Harry stared. "You're joking."
Dracena climbed rapidly, laughing. "Come and get it!"
Ron looked at Harry. "She's mental."
Harry looked at his broom, then up at Dracena as she rose into the air.
He sighed. "Apparently so am I."
He mounted, kicked off, and chased after her.
Harry had never felt anything like it.
The broom rose beneath him as though it understood exactly what he wanted.
He leaned forward? It accelerated.
He shifted his weight? It turned.
He climbed, and the ground dropped away.
For one glorious moment, Harry forgot everything.
The Dursleys.
School.
Lessons.
The fact that he was breaking Madam Hooch's instructions thirty seconds after she'd given them.
He laughed. Loudly. Flying was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
Above him, Dracena heard him. She glanced down, as Potter was coming toward her.
Fast. Very fast.
Her eyes widened. Oh. She leaned forward, and her broom accelerated.
Harry followed.
Dracena glanced back.
He was gaining.
That's impossible.
She'd been flying for years.
Potter had been flying for fifteen seconds.
"Give it back!" Harry shouted.
Dracena laughed. "Come and take it!"
Harry climbed.
Dracena banked sharply left.
Harry followed.
She dove.
He dove.
She rose.
He rose.
Dracena's heart began hammering with excitement.
Potter was keeping up. He was actually keeping up. She'd never had anyone her age do that before. Her cousins were either too young or too old, and the children Father invited to the Manor generally let her win.
Potter wasn't letting her win. He was trying to beat her. She liked it. She liked it enormously.
"You're going to get us both expelled!" Harry shouted.
Dracena looked back. "Then stop chasing me!"
"Give Neville's Remembrall back!"
"Come and get it!"
"I am!"
"Not very successfully!"
Harry grinned. He leaned forward, and the broom surged.
Dracena gasped. Suddenly he was beside her.
"Hello."
She nearly fell off. "Potter!"
"Malfoy."
"How did you..."
"Nice weather."
"You're impossible!"
"Been told."
Dracena swerved, and Harry followed.
She climbed. He climbed after her
She dove. He dove after her. For several moments neither spoke, they simply flew. Harry forgot he was supposed to be annoyed. They were laughing. Actually laughing. Racing one another across the Hogwarts grounds. For a little while, it was just fun, then Dracena remembered the Remembrall. She remembered that she was supposed to win.
She pulled sharply upward, and Harry followed. They hovered high above the lawn. Dracena held up the little glass ball. "Well, Potter?"
Harry smiled. "Well, Malfoy?"
"Still want it?"
"Obviously."
"Then come and get it."
Harry leaned forward.
Dracena pulled back.
"Ah-ah."
Harry stopped.
She smiled. "You know, Potter, for someone who's supposed to be famous, you're remarkably easy to manipulate."
Harry frowned. "What?"
"All I had to do was pick up a silly little ball, and you came flying after me."
"Because it's Neville's."
"Yes, yes. Your poor little friend."
Harry's smile faded.
Dracena noticed, but she'd found her opening. Dracena Malfoy did not abandon an advantage once she'd found it.
"Honestly, Potter. Do you always come running whenever someone needs rescuing?"
"Only when someone is being horrible."
"Then you must be terribly busy."
"Mostly when you're around."
Dracena laughed. "See? There you go again."
Harry frowned. "What?"
"Following me."
Harry stared.
Dracena smiled triumphantly. "Every time I do something, there you are."
Harry opened his mouth. Closed it.
Dracena's smile widened. "Really, Potter. People will start talking."
Harry went red. "About what?"
"Oh, I don't know." She tilted her head. "Perhaps they'll think you like chasing me."
Harry stared. Dracena was enormously pleased with herself.
Harry smiled. "Well, you keep running away." Dracena blinked. For one terrible moment she couldn't think of anything to say. Her cheeks warmed.
"Only because you're so slow."
Harry laughed.
Dracena lifted the Remembrall. "Now, I think we've established who's the better flyer."
Harry looked incredulous. "We have?"
"Obviously."
"You haven't lost me yet."
"No."
She smiled sweetly. "But I've got what you want." Harry glanced at the glass ball.
Dracena saw it. Suddenly she knew exactly how to end the argument. She held the Remembrall over the empty air.
Harry's expression changed. "Dracena."
She smiled. "Goodbye, Potter."
She threw it.
Harry didn't think. He simply moved.
The Remembrall fell. Harry pushed his broom downward, hard.
The wind roared past his ears. The ground rushed toward him. Someone screamed. Harry barely heard it.
He could see the little glass ball.
Falling.
Falling.
He leaned farther forward. The broom accelerated. The lawn filled his vision.
Ten feet.
Five.
Three.
Harry reached. His fingers closed around the Remembrall.
He pulled up. The broom responded instantly. Harry skimmed across the grass, so low his shoes brushed the tops of the blades.
Then he rose, stopped, and landed.
Silence.
Harry stared at the little glass ball in his hand. He was breathing hard.
Ron shouted. "HARRY!"
The Gryffindors erupted. Harry grinned. He'd done it. He'd actually done it.
Above him, Dracena hovered motionless. Her mouth was open. She'd never seen anyone fly like that.
Not her cousins.
Not the older students.
Not even some of the professional Quidditch players Father had taken her to watch.
Potter had dived almost vertically, caught the ball, and pulled out of the dive inches from the ground.
On a school broom. On his first flight.
Dracena swallowed.
Oh.
She looked down at him. Harry was laughing. Ron was slapping him on the back. Hermione looked horrified and relieved simultaneously.
Dracena felt something unpleasant twist inside her.
Jealousy? Certainly. Potter had just done something extraordinary. Something she wasn't sure she could have done herself.
But there was something else too, a strange, warm feeling.
She'd watched him.
She'd seen what he'd done.
And some part of her was... Proud?
No. That was ridiculous. Why would she be proud of Potter?
He'd just made her look like an amateur.
Dracena scowled.
Then she heard a voice.
"POTTER!"
Professor McGonagall stood at the edge of the lawn.
Harry froze. Dracena smiled.
Oh, excellent.
"Professor!"
McGonagall looked furious. "Miss Malfoy."
Dracena adopted her most innocent expression. "Professor, I'm so glad you're here."
Harry closed his eyes.
Here we go.
"Potter has been flying without permission."
McGonagall stared at her.
Dracena continued. "Madam Hooch expressly forbade us from leaving the ground, and Potter completely disregarded her instructions."
Harry looked at her.
"Dracena!"
She ignored him. "He was flying recklessly, Professor. Very dangerously. I was quite concerned."
Ron made a strangled noise.
McGonagall said nothing.
Dracena pressed her advantage. "I think he ought to be disciplined."
Harry stared. "You started it!"
Dracena looked offended. "I beg your pardon?"
"You stole Neville's Remembrall!"
"I found it."
"And flew away with it!"
"I was merely..."
"Miss Malfoy." McGonagall's voice cut through the argument.
Dracena stopped. "Yes, Professor?"
McGonagall looked at her for a very long moment. "I saw everything."
Dracena's smile vanished. "Oh."
"Everything."
Dracena swallowed.
McGonagall turned toward Harry. "Potter. Come with me." Harry's stomach dropped.
"But Professor..."
"Now."
Harry looked at Ron. Ron looked miserable. Hermione shook her head.
Dracena stood very still.
Harry turned toward her. "Thanks a lot, Malfoy."
She opened her mouth. For some reason, she wanted to say she was sorry. "You should have followed the rules, Potter." was what came out, instead.
Harry glared, then followed McGonagall toward the castle.
Dracena watched him go. Her victory felt considerably less satisfying than she'd expected.
Harry was certain he was about to be expelled.
McGonagall marched him through the corridors without speaking.
Harry tried explaining twice. She ignored him.
Finally they reached a classroom. McGonagall opened the door.
"Wood!"
A tall, broad-shouldered boy looked up. "Professor?"
"Oliver, I need a word."
Oliver Wood followed them into the corridor. McGonagall looked at Harry. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."
Harry blinked. "Quidditch?"
Wood looked at him, then at McGonagall. "Professor?"
"I believe I've found you a Seeker."
Wood stared.
Harry stared.
McGonagall continued. "Mr. Potter has just performed a dive that I would hesitate to attempt myself, and recovered a falling object inches from the ground."
Wood's eyes widened. "On a broom?"
Harry looked confused. "Well, yes."
"What kind?"
Harry shrugged. "One of the school ones."
Wood stared. "You're joking."
"I assure you, Oliver, I am not."
Wood looked back at Harry. "How long have you been flying?"
Harry hesitated. "About five minutes?"
Wood made a peculiar noise.
McGonagall almost smiled. "Precisely."
Wood grabbed Harry by the shoulders. "Five minutes?"
Harry nodded.
Wood looked delighted. "Professor, this is brilliant!"
McGonagall raised a finger. "Provided Mr. Potter understands that flying without permission is not acceptable."
Harry nodded rapidly. "Yes, Professor."
"And that attempting such maneuvers without supervision is extraordinarily dangerous."
"Yes, Professor."
"And that he will not be repeating today's performance merely to impress his classmates."
Harry went red. "I wasn't trying to impress anyone!"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
Harry thought of Dracena, then looked at the floor.
Wood was grinning. "Well, Harry, welcome to Quidditch."
Harry blinked. "Really?"
"Really."
Wood looked toward McGonagall.
"That's two second-years, then."
Harry frowned. "Two?"
Wood nodded.
"Slytherin's got a new Seeker too."
Harry felt a horrible suspicion forming.
Wood continued.
"Apparently she's extraordinary. Been flying since she was little. Their captain's been bragging about her for weeks."
Harry closed his eyes. "No."
Wood looked puzzled. "What?"
Harry sighed. "Dracena Malfoy?"
Wood snapped his fingers. "That's her!"
Harry groaned, and Wood laughed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Know her?"
Harry considered. "Unfortunately."
McGonagall looked amused.
Wood grinned.
"Well, this should be interesting. Two of the youngest Seekers Hogwarts has seen in ages."
Harry thought about Dracena.
Her smug smile.
Her ridiculous hair.
Her infuriating habit of treating everyone as though they were beneath her.
Then he thought about the way she'd flown.
Fast.
Confident.
Clever.
He smiled. "Yeah."
Wood noticed.
Harry looked up. "Yeah, I think it will."
Dracena found him two days later. Harry was practicing on the lawn with one of the school's battered brooms. Wood had given him some exercises.
Climb.
Turn.
Dive.
Recover.
Harry was discovering that flying was considerably easier than almost anything else he'd ever tried. He was also discovering that he liked it more than almost anything else he'd ever tried.
"Potter!" Harry looked down. Dracena stood beside the pitch. He descended.
"Malfoy."
She examined the broom. Her expression became one of profound disgust.
"You're still using that?"
Harry looked at it. "Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because it flies."
Dracena stared. "Potter."
"What?"
"That's a school broom."
"Very observant."
"It's practically firewood."
Harry shrugged. "Seems all right to me."
Dracena looked at him, then at the broom.
Harry waited.
"I hear Wood made you Seeker."
Harry grinned. "Yeah."
Dracena lifted her chin. "Congratulations."
Harry blinked. That was unexpected. "Thanks."
She looked away. "I suppose you weren't entirely dreadful."
Harry smiled. "Careful, Malfoy. That almost sounded like a compliment."
Dracena flushed. "Don't be ridiculous."
Harry laughed. She glared in response
"Honestly, Potter, you can't possibly intend to compete on that thing."
Harry shrugged. "Why not?"
"Because you'll lose."
Harry smiled. "To you?"
"Obviously."
"Looking forward to it."
Dracena hesitated. Something about the way he said it made her stomach flutter. She suppressed the feeling immediately.
"Well." She straightened. "Perhaps there's another possibility."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Dracena smiled. The one she used when she believed she was about to offer someone something irresistible. "You could play for Slytherin."
Harry stared. "What?"
"Slytherin."
"I heard you."
"Well?"
Harry laughed. "You're joking."
Dracena looked offended. "Certainly not."
"I'm in Gryffindor."
"Yes, Potter, I'm aware."
"Then how would I play for Slytherin?"
Dracena waved a hand. "It's not entirely unheard of for students to play for other Houses."
Harry looked doubtful. "Really?"
"Well. It's unusual."
"How unusual?"
"That isn't the point."
Harry grinned. "Right."
Dracena sighed. "Potter, I'm trying to offer you something."
Harry remembered the train, and smiled. "Again?"
Dracena's cheeks warmed. "Don't start."
Harry folded his arms. "All right. What?"
Dracena brightened. "A proper broom."
Harry looked down at the battered school broom. "What's wrong with this one?"
Dracena stared. "Everything."
"It flies."
"Barely."
"I seem to have done all right with it."
Dracena's expression tightened. She remembered the dive. The speed. The impossible recovery.
"Imagine what you could do with something better."
Harry considered. "Like what?"
Dracena smiled. "A Nimbus 2000."
Harry blinked. "A what?"
Dracena stared. "A Nimbus 2000."
"Is that good?"
She looked as though he'd asked whether water was wet. "Potter."
"What?"
"It's one of the finest racing brooms available."
"Oh."
Harry looked at his own broom.
"Right."
She frowned. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Wouldn't you like one?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose."
Dracena smiled triumphantly. "Exactly."
Harry looked suspicious. "What's the catch?"
"No catch."
"Really?"
"Well, you'd have to join Slytherin's team."
Harry laughed.
Dracena scowled. "Stop laughing. I'm serious."
Harry looked at her. He realized she was.
"Dracena, why would you want me on your team?"
She opened her mouth, then stopped. That was an excellent question. She knew perfectly well why. Potter was talented. Extraordinarily talented. Having him on Slytherin would practically guarantee victory.
It would also mean she'd get to practice with him.
Fly with him.
Talk to him.
Spend time with him.
Dracena's face warmed. Absolutely not. She lifted her chin. "Because you'd be useful."
Harry's smile faded. "Useful?"
"Yes."
He looked at her.
Dracena continued. "Father could arrange it. He knows people. He could make certain you had the best equipment."
Harry considered, then shook his head. "No, thanks."
Dracena blinked. "What?"
"No."
"But..."
"I'm happy in Gryffindor."
"Potter, you're being ridiculous."
"Probably."
"You'd have a much better broom."
"Maybe."
"And better opportunities."
Harry sighed. "Dracena, you know, you'd be a lot more fun if you weren't such a snob."
Dracena stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"You're a snob."
"I am not a snob!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You just offered to buy me an expensive broom because you think Gryffindor isn't good enough for me."
"That is not what I said!"
"You said I should associate with better people."
"Well, you should!"
Harry spread his hands. "See?"
Dracena scowled. "Potter, there is nothing wrong with having standards."
"No. But there's something wrong with thinking everyone who isn't like you is beneath them."
Dracena opened her mouth, then lifted her chin. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't understand. You weren't raised among people of any particular standing."
Harry winced. "See, there you go again."
"What?"
"Being a snob."
Dracena went red. "I am merely pointing out that we come from very different backgrounds."
"Yeah. I noticed."
"And there's nothing wrong with being proud of one's family."
"Didn't say there was."
"Or one's heritage."
"Didn't say that either."
"Then what exactly are you saying, Potter?"
Harry looked at her. He thought about the robe shop.
The train.
The way she'd laughed while he chased her across the grounds.
For a moment he forgot to be annoyed. "I'm saying you're actually rather fun when you stop being such a petulant snob.
Dracena blinked. "What?"
Harry shrugged. "Flying with you was brilliant."
Her cheeks warmed. "It was?"
"Yeah." Harry smiled. "Until you tried to smash Neville's Remembrall, anyway."
Dracena looked away. "Oh."
"I just wish you didn't have to be horrible to everyone else."
Dracena's expression tightened. "I'm not horrible."
"You're pretty horrible to Ron."
"Well, Weasley..."
"And Hermione."
"Granger is..."
"Dracena."
She stopped.
Harry smiled. "See? You were doing it again."
Dracena glared. "You are the most infuriating boy I've ever met."
"Thanks."
"That wasn't a compliment!"
"I know."
She folded her arms. "Well, for your information, Potter, I find you quite irritating myself."
Harry smiled faintly. "Dracena. Thanks, but no."
She stopped.
He looked at her. "I don't really need people to buy my friendship."
Dracena froze.
"Why do you?"
"What?" Dracena said, angrily
Harry hesitated.
"I just mean..."
"Are you suggesting I buy my friends?"
Harry shifted. "Well, you keep offering me things."
Dracena's cheeks went red. "I'm trying to help you!"
"I know."
"Clearly you don't!"
Harry frowned. "Dracena..."
"My friends are my friends because they want to be!"
Harry looked at her. "All right."
"They respect me!"
"All right."
"They..."
She stopped.
Because suddenly she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say.
Pansy liked her. Of course Pansy liked her. They'd known each other for years. Their families knew one another. They attended the same parties. They went on holidays together. Pansy liked spending time at the Manor.
Everyone liked spending time at the Manor. It was a wonderful house. And Father knew everyone.
And...
Dracena felt something unpleasant move inside her.
Harry watched her. He hadn't intended to upset her quite this much.
"Look." he said, "I just don't want to leave my team."
Dracena looked up. "Then don't." Her voice was icy.
Harry sighed. "Dracena..."
"Enjoy your dreadful broom, Potter."
Harry looked down at it. "Thanks. I will."
"You really don't know anything about the wizarding world."
Harry smiled. "Learning every day."
She glared. "You're insufferable."
"Been told."
"You'll regret turning down that broom."
"Maybe."
"You'll lose."
"To you?"
Dracena lifted her chin. "Of course."
Harry grinned. "Then I'll see you on the pitch."
Harry shrugged.
He mounted his broom, kicked off, and resumed Wood's exercises.
Dracena returned to the Slytherin common room in a foul mood.
Pansy found her sitting beside the fire. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Pansy sat beside her. "Potter?"
Dracena glared. "Why would you think that?"
Pansy smiled. "Because you're making that face."
"What face?"
"The Potter face."
Dracena stared.
"I do not have a 'Potter face.'"
"Of course not."
Dracena folded her arms.
Pansy waited.
"He refused."
"Refused what?"
"My offer."
"What offer?"
Dracena sighed. "I offered to arrange for him to join our Quidditch team."
Pansy blinked. "Why?"
"Because he's talented."
Pansy stared.
Dracena frowned. "What?"
"You want Potter on our team?"
"He's an excellent flyer."
"He's a Gryffindor."
"I'm aware."
"He's Harry Potter."
"Yes, Pansy, I know his name."
"He's irritating!"
"Of course."
"Arrogant!"
"Naturally."
"And completely impossible!"
Pansy nodded.
Dracena glared. "Stop agreeing with me like that."
Pansy smiled.
Dracena turned toward the fire.
After a while, she said quietly: "He thinks I buy my friends."
Pansy's smile disappeared. "What?"
Dracena looked down. "He said he doesn't need people to buy his friendship."
Pansy frowned. "That's horrible."
Dracena nodded. "Yes."
"Potter's horrible."
"Yes."
"An absolute prat."
Dracena hesitated. "Well, not always."
Pansy stared.
Dracena realized what she'd said. She immediately scowled. "I mean, he's still a prat."
"Of course."
Dracena stared into the fire and leaned back in her chair. "He's going to lose." she announced.
Pansy looked up. "Who?"
"Potter."
"Right."
Dracena smiled. A small, private smile. "He has absolutely no idea what he's getting himself into."