Chapter 10
It was incredible what magic could do, what it could create, what it could hide. In just under a day, there had been a whole village created from acres of land that laid empty in the countryside. Rolling hills had been temporarily flattened for tents to be pitched and although most looked like it could hold about four people and no more, it was incredibly luxurious. All athletes were together in a separate area, with tents allocated for them and their immediate families. His mother had her own bedroom and en-suite, but she of course did not want to join in on the festivities camping brought. She opted to travel from the nearest five-star hotel whenever Draco was playing. It turned out to be a muggle one and she couldn’t stop talking about the bell hop, Joshua.
‘” He truly is a wonderful young man, Draco! He informed me of his university studies coming in the Autumn, his mother being a CEO of a very successful beauty business and his cat sadly dying last week.”
“How long did you speak to him for Mother?” Draco asked. The pure boy would have surely lost his job by now.
“A few minutes when I arrived. However, when I was in the bar he was picking up an extra shift as a bartender. He kept me company. I considered breaking the Statute of Secrecy to tell him about you, but I could do with being kept out of Azkaban.”
Draco was astounded. “Yes, yes I think it would be best if that happened.” This woman would kill her one day.
“I told him you were a – oh now, what was it? Oh yes! A rugby player!”
Yep, he was already dead.’
That left him mostly spending time with Ginny and Harry surprisingly, along with Theo and Blaise. Pansy had still not been in touch with anyone and if he was honest, he was starting to worry. It was shoved to the back of his mind, he couldn’t be thinking of anything but the game. Not even Hermione.
Word had got out that he had been on good terms towards the end of his physical therapy – although he had no idea how the information was being leaked. Obviously someone in the hospital had seen him exiting, potentially smiling or something. Gods, that would ruin his grumpy façade. He had checked the gossips column lately and there had been nothing. It was mainly just annoying him who had seen them.
“Are you ready for this? Reporters are outside,” Ginny said excitedly, rubbing her hands together.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Draco answered. He was donned in the usual press attire, ready for the reporters to speak to him and to attend the late lunch at three in the afternoon with all the countries attending. He didn’t know who made it a formal event, it seemed a bit silly really. It would make more sense if they were in their playing capes at least. He could hear shuffling outside and see shadows of people looking like they were gathering outside his tent. “Are they right outside? Merlin, couldn’t they wait until the conference hall?”
Ginny laughed. “That isn’t reporters outside. Come in guys!”
With Ginny’s instruction, every member of the team piled through the flapping doors of his tent. Draco couldn’t stop the genuine cheesy smile that spread from ear to ear. “What on earth is this?”
“We erm, thought you deserved something for being our Captain, despite what happened at the last game. You got us here, you’ve always made us play better than we thought possible,” Andrew Firth said. He was a new player who just joined at the beginning of the season, fresh eighteen and playing for a national team. He was a great player.
“Now, we know your thoughts on this. But you deserve to be recognised as our main man,” Ginny proudly said.
Andrew stepped forward with a white cape with a red border, displaying the number ‘7’ on the back and his surname. The captain cape.
“Oh no, no I’m not wearing this,” Draco said quickly. Captains of national teams often wore a different colour cape to easily identify them. Draco had declined since the moment he had become the captain; he didn’t think it was right. Fourteen-year-old him would have died. A chance to have even more spotlight on him and he passed it up? A mad man he was.
“You should wear it.” Draco’s heart stuttered. Hermione walked through the doors behind the quidditch team, appearing in front of him as she walked through the middle of the parted players. “You should wear the cape and be proud of it,” she persuaded.
How could he have refused? “Thank you, all of you. Thank you for letting me be here.” He had so much more to say but couldn’t quite articulate it. They nodded, as if they understood how he felt. “Now, let’s go get some breakfast.”
The players cheered and filtered out, but not before he could give Ginny a sort of side hug and Andrew a firm handshake. Hermione moved to stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi, pretty girl.” Draco wrapped a stray curl round his finger, playing with it for a few seconds. “This is a surprise, coming to watch me play.”
“Well Harry was coming. And the Weasley’s of which I still like. And I heard there’s free prosecco,” Hermione said playfully.
“No other reason then?”
“Your mother wrote me.”
That caught him off guard. “Mother wrote to you? Merlin, what did she say?”
“Nothing bad, don’t worry. She simply said she missed me, and the family box was meant to be filled by exactly that – family.”
Draco huffed. “Subtle, Mother,” he mumbled.
Hermione laughed. “I know. Anyway, I’ll let you get breakfast and get your game face on.” She turned to walk out of the tent before adding with a wink, “If I don’t see you beforehand… No barrel rolls this time.”
All of a sudden he was looking forward to eating, had a second wind and a tightness in his trousers.
“Here we are with Draco Malfoy, Captain of the English team – joining us straight out of the international luncheon – food and people. Aptly named if I do say so myself,” chuckled a news reporter. Draco did not. “Well, Captain, how are we feeling?” A quick-quotes-quill was buzzing along a notepad, beginning to the record the conversation between the two men.
Draco cleared his throat. “I’m feeling good. Nervous of course but it’s nothing that won’t pass, as soon as we get out on the field – well there’s nothing like it.”
“Indeed, indeed. How are your players coping with what be an immense pressure as hosts?”
“They’re coping incredibly well. Tonight will actually be the first international game our young seeker has played, and he has been an inspiration for us all. He’s already back in the gym starting to warm up. I am certain my players are more than ready to take on Italy tonight.” Draco smiled warmly to the man.
“Just a final question from me before you head down the line. Your fans and young people who admire you love to know the little things. So, what’s your pre-game secrets? Any rituals?”
Draco chuckled. “Erm, I don’t really have any secrets. As for rituals, I mean I don’t know. I will always be stricter with my diets when it comes to playing season. High protein foods, more vegetables and healthy fats. Minimal Firewhiskey,” he said jokingly with a wink. “I’ve also started consuming protein shakes, a good friend of mine had suggested it to help during my recovery. A muggle method, but it has been great.”
“Well, there you have it folks. Draco Malfoy’s rituals revealed. Thank you for talking with me, and all good luck for tonight.”
Draco nodded in thanks, making his way down the strip of people reporting for their news outlets, all asking him similar questions.
“How was your recovery?” One asked.
“It was long, painful sometimes, but I am glad it is over. It was a trying time to be sure, missing my team prepare for the most important games of their career. Simultaneously, it wounded me not being the one preparing them. But Ginevra done a wonderful job on my behalf.”
“Are you happy with the ban that was decided against Switzerland’s player Olsson?”
“I am satisfied with the outcome of the panel and the decision they came to yes, but I am disappointed it had to come to that. He is a young player, with a lot of time in front of him and I’m sure he’s annoyed with himself for the outcome. I have no hard feelings towards the young man,” he replied graciously.
By the time he had made his way down the strip and back to the makeshift village, he was drained already. He had forgotten how much social battery he needed for game days. Especially the ones on the more important side.
“Well, it took you long enough,” Theo whined, sitting on the armchair, putting down one of the newspapers provided. He jumped up, a big smile on his face. “Are you excited? I’ve been in here all on my lonesome waiting for someone to talk to.”
“Theo how on ear—”
“I met Granger as I was coming up to the village. She showed me the way to your tent,” he clarified.
Draco’s eyebrows rose. “Really? She spoke to you?”
“Yes. She was quite pleasant. Asked me how I was doing and how Blaise was doing.”
“Anything else?”
“No.” Theo immediately picked up the newspaper again.
“Theo…”
“Nothing honestly!”
“It’s a long walk from here to the gate. You can’t keep your mouth shut for three seconds when alone with someone. You’re a gossip. A blessing and a curse. What. Else. Was. Said?”
“I just asked how things were going with her. Work and things like that. Asked how she felt about the whole Ronald situation, if she was coming to the game. Small talk,” Theo said cheerily.
Draco threw himself on the couch and put his head in his hands. “Merlin. Why ask her about that? Of all the fucking things on the planet to talk about you go for the one thing you should have avoided!”
“Hey!” Theo yelled. “I only wanted to know if she was okay. You might have lost your wife, but in the process of all of that I lost a good friend – no, I lost a best friend. But I couldn’t do a damn thing about it! You were angry, she was fuming and there was no talking to either of you!” Theo stood, running a hand through his brown, wavy hair. “You know Draco, for someone who tried so hard to be less of an arsehole, you seem to be pretty good at still being one.” He was out of sight in seconds.
Draco growled in frustration. He and Theo always got along just fine, never argued. They saw eye to eye in almost everything, having each other’s backs even as children winding their parents up. He recalled a time – they couldn’t have been older than eight or nine – when they were playing in the halls of the Manor. Theo often took his tutor lessons during the summer at the Manor, Narcissa wanting to keep him out of the hands of his father for as long as possible. Draco had been chasing him through the place trying to catch him when Theo had rounded a corner and slid, right into an old vase his grandfather had adored. Lucius was furious. Both boys refused to let the other take the blame.
Now he was just furious with himself. How could he be annoyed with Theo? His feelings were valid. It was a problem he was going to have to solve later.
Draco stood in the tunnel, clutching his broom handle tight, looking onto his players. “We go out there, we give them everything we’ve got. And then we give them hell.” He smiled menacingly. The commentators of the game announced Italy, and the cheers for the Italian players made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.
“Please welcome onto the pitch, your hosts for the 2009 Quidditch World Cup… England!”
Cheers erupted throughout the stands, people cheering as loud as they could for the team. Louder than Italy for sure. Draco was first out the tunnel, soaring high up into the sky. He waved around, a genuine smile on his face. He caught Ginny’s face, pure happiness painted on it. He was convinced not even a wacky potion could give him a high remotely close to this one.
The commentator announced the Italian and English players names and their positions, putting a bit more oomph into the latter – patriotism Draco supposed. The referee levitated the chest out to the centre of the pitch. Within seconds, the balls had been launched into the air.
Ginny caught the quaffle first, as she usually did. Passing to Ashcombe who flew with it well, Warrington on his left hitting the bludger back to the Italians.
“On your right!” Draco yelled, willing his voice to carry. Ashcombe had no choice but to pass back to Ginny who was closer to the goal rings, just nearly missing the bludger again. Ginny threw the quaffle with all of her might, but it came up short. A collective groan came from the English crowd and Draco could hear Ginny cursing to the heavens.
An hour had passed, and the snitch was still nowhere to be seen. Young Firth hadn’t been seen in a while, presumably searching for the tiny ball higher up. Draco’s team were winning, one hundred points to Italy’s seventy. Draco had scored the most, not without the help of his teammates. He had narrowly missed at least ten bludgers paths, honestly by inches. He was going to get his beaters something shiny by the end of this.
At the two-hour mark, the game was slowing. Matches had been known to go for longer, and a half time would be called if necessary, but Draco could feel the end coming. He just hoped that it was his seeker that caught it. Both had only been spied by Draco a handful of times, but he wasn’t fully paying attention. His eyes were on the quaffle. Except for when he was exchanging worried glances with Ginny. Even if Italy caught the snitch now, they could still win – Ginny was thinking the exact same thing.
Fucking hell my arms are burning. My calves are about to cramp, my thighs are already gone, and my arse is fused to this fucking broom. Where the fuck is Firth? Where are the beaters?! I hope to Merlin someone catches—
“And the snitch has been caught! England are the winners! With four hundred and ninety points, England have secured a place in the quarterfinals! Italy will place the loser of the next match to see who progresses! We’ve won!”
Every thought Draco had was consumed by euphoria. Sheer exhilaration. He couldn’t hear anything, the roars of the stands were deafening and even though he was flying midair, he could feel the vibrations of people jumping for pure joy. The players circled the pitch, making their victory lap and throwing their hands in the air.
Once they were on the ground, families from the boxes made their way down to the pitch. Before any of them made it to him, Ginny smiled fondly at him. It took a second, as if they were both deciding whether or not it was appropriate, but Ginny wrapped her arms around his middle as they whooped for joy. “Well done, Ferret!”
“Well done to you Ginny,” he said, clapping his hands for her as their embrace came to an end.
“Son!” Narcissa’s soft tones called from the pitch as she threw away all elegance to run to her son. She hugged him tightly, a grin spread across her face ear to ear. “Oh my dragon, I couldn’t be prouder of you!”
Draco laughed. “It was the first game, Mum.”
“It doesn’t matter! Oh, I could burst for joy!”
He shook hands with family members, hugging teammates laughing and cheering with Blaise before he came face to face with Theo. The two men stood awkwardly before smiles broke out, and in a second they too were hugging. “We good?” Draco asked hopefully.
“Yeah man, we’re good,” Theo replied, clapping his back. “I think someone might want to speak to you.”
He looked round, seeing Hermione with the biggest smile on her face. She always had that glow, that happy glow when she was proud of something she had done, discovered. Or when she was proud of someone. She was proud of him; it was all over her face. Seeing her like that, smiling at his across the field, it solidified something in them. His second chance.
Their second chance.
“You looked pretty good out there,” Hermione observed. “For having an injury,” she added with a wink.
“Did I now? Merlin, Granger, don’t inflate my ego anymore,” Draco scoffed.
“Why not? I have never seen you deny a compliment.” She smiled again. “You deserve it just this once.”
Draco’s cheeks coloured a light pink tinge. He wanted nothing more than to grab to her, spin her around and never let her go. He didn’t know how to act around her, what she might or might not be comfortable with. If she would allow it, he would bring her home in the morning and act like no time had passed. Of course, he knew that wasn’t feasible. Time had passed, they had changed and whether it was for the greater good of their relationship – well the jury was still out on that one.
“Do you want to stay for a while? We’ll probably go back and celebrate I should think,” Draco offered.
“I erm, I have an early morning presentation for the muggle university I work with now for research. I should probably turn in,” Hermione said, glancing at her watch.
It was like a wall was coming in. He felt like he was losing her, and he hadn’t even gotten her back yet really.
“What about dinner?” Draco blurted. “Tomorrow. Dinner. With me?” It was word vomit. Nonsense pouring out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop it. What a fucking arse—
“I would love to. Owl me where and when,” she replied softly.
Draco physically recoiled, shaking his head as he huffed a laugh. She smiled, a giggle slipping out of her lips. She came a step closer, and other, until she was standing toe to toe with him. Even in the slightly raised shoes she wore, the top of her head only came to his collarbone. She went on her tiptoes raising a hand to his shoulder, pulling him down slightly. He held his breath, letting her make the move. Letting her be in control. Deciding the next step. They were face to face now, standing in their own little world with no one else round them. Completely alone. Hermione leaned in slightly, hesitating a little when she got close. And then, she went for it.
Hermione’s lips captured just the side of his mouth, a centimetre of her own on his lips. Even though it was a brief kiss – barely a kiss – it was so sweet. Her mouth was like honey, the most expensive, delicious kind. She pulled away hovering slightly over the spot she had pressed her lips.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered.
Draco found himself looking forward to eating, had a second wind and had a slight tightness in his trousers – for the second time that day.