Strife Between Serpents
There was practice for the third time that week. You didn’t mind it, if it meant extra time practicing and perfecting your performance on your new broom then so be it. You were so used to the mechanics of your older model Cleansweep that the ones from the Nimbus 2001 felt a bit odd and sensitive, but that was something you’d learn to tackle quickly. You weren’t worried that you weren’t because you had to get accustomed to it quickly. The first match was against Gryffindor by the end of November and the date was closing in.
You walked out of the Slytherin changing tent and followed Pucey to the rest of the team. It didn’t take long for the team to walk over to the quidditch pitch, but the closer you got to it, you realized that it was being occupied by none other than the Gryffindor team.
Almost immediately you recognized the twins flying above. They stopped and approached the keeper, presumably chatting about something, but they were too high up for you to hear. A few moments later, said keeper flew down and approached Flint. The rest of his team followed and landed just behind him.
He seemed annoyed, but you weren’t paying attention. Instead, you were busy focusing on the two redheads who looked completely puzzled by your presence. Fred mouthed in surprise while George’s eyebrows were nearly up to his hairline. You merely grinned and gave them a playful wink. Adrian stood beside you and bumped his fist with yours as he noticed the twins’ confusion, amused by the situation.
You decided to finally listen in on the captains’ squabble when Flint introduced the reason why your team was there: Draco, the new Slytherin seeker. Flint continued to boast about the new brooms Draco’s father gifted the seven of you. In honesty, you couldn’t help but feel a little prideful, this was one of the most expensive things you owned and you and Pucey did your best at tryouts to get on the team.
A few seconds later, Ron and Hermione made their way down the bleachers and towards the two groups. Some of the Slytherins were saying some remarks about the Gryffindor players’ choice of brooms but were shut down by Hermione.
“At least no one of the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent.”
Your smile faltered for a brief second, but you recovered quickly. You knew Hermione hadn’t targeted you specifically, or perhaps she had, she didn’t really know you anyways, so who was to say what she meant? Regardless, it stung.
You felt a weight on your shoulder. Adrian’s hand laid there comfortably, helping you acknowledge that the two of you were amazing players, regardless of the broom. Whether or not you wanted to, you couldn’t help but scowl at the group of Gryffindors. That was until you heard Draco call Hermione a Mudblood.
The twins practically threw themselves towards Draco, but Flint managed to pull the second-year behind him before they could reach him. Ron cast something with his wand, but a flash of bright light shot out from the wrong end of his wand and Ron was now feet away, throwing up what seemed to be slugs. Most of the Slytherins began to laugh, except for Adrian and yourself. Your faces remained stoic.
Even though you were upset at Hermione’s comment earlier, you were caught off guard by Draco’s. You couldn’t control your hand when it immediately swung up and smacked the back of his head.
Everything fell silent.
It felt as if a bomb had been activated the moment you smacked him and now everyone was watching for the reaction. When there was none, everyone was even more shocked. Draco, instead of spewing nonsense, turned to look at you as he rubbed the sore spot. The face of pure shock stilled his features.
“If anyone thinks that a boy standing up for his friend is hilarious, I’d recommend shutting up before you end up with a quote on a tombstone than in the yearbook,” you chastised. “That goes for using repulsive language as well.”
Harry and Hermoine hurriedly carried Ron away as the attention was on your outburst. The Gryffindor team, knowing this was team infight, left. You, on the other hand, turned to face Draco. His face was red with embarrassment and you understood why. You publicly humiliated him… for good reason may you add.
“Why did you —” he began, but you were beyond pissed to even let him finish.
“I don’t ever want to hear you or anybody on this team use that term ever. I am serious about what I said.” You glared at everyone, daring them to say anything.
Flint approached you, face as serious as yours. “Physical altercations between players are not allowed. If you can’t —”
“I am not going to sit on my arse and allow other players to spout racial nonsense to others. Straighten your priorities, Flint — if you have to kick me off this team, then so be it.” You tossed the Nimbus at him, which he managed to catch, but stumbled a bit from the force you had thrown it with. “Have fun looking for another beater before the first match. Can’t guarantee you’ll win though.”
Adrian didn’t waste any time doing the same as you did and discarded the broom. “We’re a packaged deal,” he said smugly and joined your side as you made your way to the changing rooms.
But just before you walked away, you faced Draco one more time. “I am so disappointed in you.”
-----
At dinner, you decided to sit at the Gryffindor table. You had had enough infight and didn’t need to be seated around your very recent ex-quidditch team. If it lit a flame beneath them, then let it boil and spill you couldn’t care less. Yeah, your reputation might falter, but it's not like you had one, to begin with. Everyone in Slytherin had a mutual understanding for each other and so far everyone was able to respect them. You were poking your food around when you felt two mischievous presences approach you.
“Didn’t know you went and tried out for quidditch,” Fred said, dropping himself onto the seat beside you. You shrugged, pushing a potato around on your plate.
George took a seat on your other side. “Is that why Flint was looking for you?”
You nodded. “Yeah, he saw me and Pucey hitting a bludger around last week, held a tryout, and recruited us as beaters.”
Fred nearly choked on the potato he took from your plate. “A beater? You’re a beater?”
“Scared, Weasley?” You taunted, a smirk etching your face.
He scoffed, stealing another potato from your plate. “As if.”
“You should watch yourself next game,” you said with a wink.
“I should be the one saying that, Princess.”
You chuckled at the name. With a glance, you saw George roll his eyes dramatically and gag silently, just enough for the two of you to see. “Jeez, you two need to let off some steam, seriously.”
You chuckled, but your mood soured at the realization of what happened earlier. You huffed, disappointingly catching their attention. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me beating you in a match anymore.”
George was the first to sense something was off. “What do you mean?”
You decided to peel off the bandaid quickly, “I quit the team —”
“YOU WHAT?” They both shouted.
You covered your ears and blinked slowly, hoping you didn’t just go deaf.
Fred grabbed your shoulders and shook you seeing as you were failing to respond. “Y/N, what do you mean you quit the team?
“Yeah, we just saw you at the quidditch pitch with your team,” George said but remembered what they had seen happen. He added two and two together. “It’s because of what Draco said, wasn’t it?”
You looked up sadly, a flash of disgust hidden somewhere in your eyes. “It’s despicable. The way he called Hermione that rabid word — and on top of it, they laughed at Ron after he tried to help her!”
The twins gave each other knowing looks before leaning their heads on your shoulders. A simple touch to show that they understood. It remained quiet for a moment.
“You beat us to the punch —” Fred began, and George continued, “Quite literally.”
The three of you laughed.
“Guess we have you to thank for sticking up for our sorry brother,” Fred said as he sat up first, straightening himself before propping an elbow on the table. “How about we thank you by pranking some bigots?”
You couldn’t help but smile at their attempt of cheering you up. “That sounds great.”
-----
You and Adrian both sulked in the common room later that evening. His head hung from the armrest as he sat on one side, your body splayed much more messily over the other side of the couch.
“What’s up with you two?” Solaris asked as she walked into the gloomy scene.
You glanced at her and used your foot to nudge Adrian to answer. He gave a huff and raised his head to look at Solaris. “We’re off the Slytherin team.”
“WHAT — WHY?” She hurried over to the couch and kneeled in front of the couch, eager to hear the reason why the two of you were so moody.
“We quit,” you explained, “Draco called Hermione a Mudblood and I smacked him. Flint called me out on violence and I called him out on bigotry, so you know — I quit. I’m not going to play on a bigotted team.”
Adrian agreed. “Same here.”
The two of you lazily high-fived, then flopped back onto the couch.
Solaris shook her head and massaged her temples. “Merlin, that must’ve been shit. How’s Hermione?”
“I don’t think she knows what it means. She didn’t look offended, not even remotely.”
She sighed and leaned back onto the table behind her. “She’s muggle-born, I’d be surprised if she did.”
“Heard anything about Ron’s situation?” Adrian asked you lazily.
You waved your hand dismissively. “He’s okay now. He finished throwing up the last of the slugs a while ago.”
The three of you kept to yourselves for the remainder of the evening. Solaris decided to tell the two of you about a time she embarrassed herself in front of a girl she liked. This was a rare occurrence for her, she never liked talking about the times she made herself look like a fool, so the two of you listened intently. That was until someone decided to make themselves known and ruin the mood once more.
“Lupin. Pucey.” You heard a voice from the entrance to the common room say. It was Flint.
You groaned. “What do you want? We quit alright? We’re not playing with players who—”
“Draco wants to apologize.”
What?
“What?” You vocalized, stunned by the statement.
Flint approached your group and out stepped Draco from behind him. The boy didn’t even reach his shoulders and you could see him look at you wearily. His eyes seemed pinkish and puffed. Had he been… crying?
You gave Flint a weary look, then turned to look back at Draco. He looked like a little boy who had been caught stealing a chocolate bar. He looked anywhere, but your eyes as he tried to find words to say. Flint gave him a gentle shove.
He muttered something, but you couldn’t make sense of it.
“Didn’t hear you there Draco, what was that?” You mocked lightly.
“I apologize for calling Granger a Mudblood…” he said, his tone still a little disdainful.
“And?”
“And what?” He looked at you aghast.
You sighed before shaking your head. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to, it’s Hermione. If I don’t hear that you apologized to her by the end of the week, I’ll have a chat with our head of house — let’s see how that pans out.”
He ground his teeth and tsked in disapproval. “Fine.” He gave Flint a look and the older Slytherin nodded his head. Draco gave you a final glance before dropping it to the floor and walked out.
Once the door closed, you stood up and approached Flint with a knowing look. “What happened? He isn’t the type to apologize on his own.”
“Well, I had to go and brief Professor Snape about your sudden departure and had to explain the situation — the use of the word and the collateral— and something in him snapped. Not sure what it was but he reprimanded Draco when I told him what happened between the two of you and the Gryffindor.” He glared at you, there was something in his eyes… he knew something. “You knew what you were doing when you said you were disappointed in him, didn’t you?”
You feigned confusion. “All I said was that I was disappointed in him, which of course I was.”
He couldn’t help but shake his head and give up the conversation. Instead, he showcased the brooms he held in hand and finally approached the topic. “Look, I’ll work to make this team better, but I can only do so much as a captain. They’ll need to be able to improve on their own, so can you please rejoin the team?”
You thought it over, dramatically tapping your chin and humming.
“You and Pucey are the best beaters I’ve ever seen — I’m being sincere here, rejoin the team, please. I don’t want to recruit Draco’s dunces.”
“What about it, Puce?” You asked. “Should we?”
Adrian hadn’t moved from his spot, his head lolled on the armrest as he turned to look at you. “I say we give them another opportunity. Everyone deserves one, don’t they?”
Solaris groaned. “Just do it for the love of Merlin! I cannot deal with your angst!”
You turned to face Flint once more. “Well, captain… when’s practice?”