All the same, Draco thought bitterly, they should've won.
He gritted his teeth as he helped Edmund, one of his chasers, back towards the castle. Edmund and Fallon, another Chaser, had been knocked off their brooms by a single Bludger sent their way by one of the Hufflepuff Beaters not ten minutes into the game. With only one Chaser left Slytherin had been easy prey for the Hufflepuff team. As Draco had discovered only after he had caught the Snitch, Hufflepuff had managed to score nineteen goals in the next fifteen minutes, while Slytherin only had the two they had scored before they had lost two Chasers.
Draco felt quite embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't really been counting Hufflepuff's goals, though in his defence he had never thought it possible for Hufflepuff to score that much. Not against Slytherin.
He just hoped Edmund and Fallon weren't too badly injured, he couldn't afford to waste time training up another new player. Not that Fizzlewinch had performed badly, it was just... Slytherin had to be perfect.
"Get out of the way," he said impatiently to the Gryffindor third-year blocking the entrance to the castle. He wanted to get up to the hospital wing as soon as possible so he could find out when his Chasers would be able to play again.
Bursting into the Entrance Hall, he saw that Madam Pomfrey was already on her way down to them. Relieved, Draco put Edmund down on the floor with a grunt. Bloody heavy, he was...
"Is he going to be all right?" Draco asked in his best concerned voice. He needed to know, he needed to start planning...
Madam Pomfrey took Edmund's pulse and felt the area where he had been hit. "I should think so," she said calmly.
"Will he be able to play Quidditch again? Soon? Because Edmund loves Quidditch, and he'd be very upset if we had to replace him..." Draco half-lied, trying to get the information he wanted.
"He'll be fine in time for the next match, don't worry," Madam Pomfrey assured him.
Phew.
"What about Fallon?" Draco asked. Fallon had been in front with Reagan Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, which must have been how Madam Pomfrey knew to come down here.
"He'll be fine as well."
Draco heaved a sigh of relief. It would be fine, it would all be fine, they would win the Cup, they would train and then they would win...
"So when will they be out of hospital?"
"Well, Fallon can leave tomorrow if he makes sure to take care of himself. Edmund may have to stay a little longer."
"How much longer?" Draco asked, his heart sinking.
"Oh, at least a week, dear," Madam Pomfrey said, casting a Floating Charm on Edmund and heading off up the stairs.
Damn.
Damn, damn, bloody damn!
Not good. This was not good. Edmund was his best Chaser. Without him there for all the practises, the others wouldn't be challenged enough, they might start getting complacent... and their match against Ravenclaw was only a little more than a month away, just before the Easter holidays...
Damn.
He would have to think about this. He had to win the Cup this time, after Potter had won the year before and in their third year, and especially since there wouldn't be a Cup next year if all went according to plan, which of course it would...
How could he fix this? He had to fix it, they would have to spend every free moment training... maybe he should come up with a new training program, there had to be something better than what they were doing already... he could ask the Ravenclaw Keeper. What was her name again? He had had a one night stand type thing with her last year, didn't think he had hurt her feelings too much... If he could find her and use his charms on her again, he was sure he could squeeze some information out of her.
Yeah. Okay. That was the plan. Now to write it down, and all would be fine...
He scanned the Great Hall for signs of the Ravenclaw Keeper at breakfast the next morning. He couldn't remember her name, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem if he played his cards right. He didn't spot her until just before the Hall started emptying, sitting next to her Seeker friend, blonde pigtails bouncing as she rose from the table. Draco rose as well and joined the increasing number of students heading of to their classes.
"You go on without me," he told Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't want them spoiling his chances.
It was rather difficult to follow her through the crowd, and several times he thought he'd lost her... but no, there she was, heading into that classroom. If he could just get through this throng of bloody second-years...
"Draco!"
Draco turned around. Crabbe and Goyle were making their way back towards him.
"What?!" he asked irritably.
Crabbe looked terrified, as well he should. Goyle was just nervous.
"We, um, we forgot what lesson we've got," he said, not looking Draco in the eye.
"Merlin! You two are just incredible! Charms, look, that way!" he pointed in the direction of the staircase.
Now they both looked terrified, and just stood there trying not to.
"Go!" Draco shouted.
They finally left, and Draco looked around for Ravenclaw Keeper Girl.
He had lost her again.
This was not his best day ever.
Sighing, he tried to remember where she had been before Crabbe and Goyle had decided on yet another public display of stupidity.
Ah yes. That classroom.
Hurrying, he walked the few steps to the door and entered.
There was no one there. Well, no one apart from...
"Granger," he said distractedly, looking around the room.
She looked mildly surprised to see him there. "Malfoy," she said, confused.
She wasn't here. She definitely wasn't here.
Sighing yet again, he turned to leave.
"Malfoy," Granger said again.
He looked back at her. "What?"
"Are we still playing chess tonight?"
"Why wouldn't we be?"
She shrugged and looked back down at whatever it was she was writing.
He left and began scanning the rapidly emptying hallways again.
He couldn't have said no, he thought to himself, what would she think of him? He couldn't tell her how worried he was about the Quidditch Cup, it would just add to her Gryffindor superiority complex. No, better to keep up appearances and pretend everything was normal.
Except it wasn't, because he'd lost Ravenclaw Keeper Girl and if he kept searching for her now he would be late for Charms.
He kicked the bottom step of the stone staircase a few times to vent his frustration, then forced himself to calm down using a focusing technique his father had taught him. When he felt that he once again conveyed an air of cool stoicism, he walked confidently up to the classroom.
He spent the lesson planning the Quidditch training session for Wednesday, writing down things to tell the team and drawing diagrams of formations they should try. With Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him it wasn't difficult to hide the fact that he wasn't working from Professor Flitwick; however, he had to at least look like he was paying attention in Transfiguration afterwards. He knew McGonagall disliked him and she would love the opportunity to punish him in some way. He wasn't going to give it to her. Besides, it would mess up his training schedule if he got detention, and he couldn't afford to have anything like that happen.
He finally caught up with Ravenclaw Keeper Girl at lunch. He learned that her name was Brenda, mentally filed that information under "temporarily pertinent" and asked her to come for an evening stroll with him the next day.
She turned him down.
He asked about another night of the week.
She declined.
Damn.
He had read her wrong. Reading people wrong was a serious mistake, his father had taught him. In the wrong situation it could get you killed.
Draco really didn't want to be killed.
He also didn't want to lose the Quidditch Cup to Potter yet again, which was looking unpleasantly likely, considering that Gryffindor had already won their match against Ravenclaw.
It made Draco want to kick things again, but he couldn't do that in public, and finding and flirting with Brenda had taken up his whole lunch hour so he had to hurry to Potions on an empty stomach. He didn't have time to grab a bite to eat or kick anything afterwards, because he had to finish his homework so that he would be free to play chess with Granger after supper.
The chess game wasn't going so well either. Yes, Draco had won the last one, but, as Granger had predicted, it didn't look like she was going to lose two in a row. Draco hoped he could at least keep the game going until next time; he really didn't want to make his day any worse by losing to a Mudblood.
She was waiting for him in front of the prefects' meeting room, absently stroking her cat, who was rubbing himself against her legs.. He reached for the doorknob, but she pulled his arm back.
"We can't play in there tonight," she told him.
"Why not?"
"The fifth-year prefects are planning some kind of post-OWL celebration."
Draco groaned. This was just what he needed. "Can't we just throw them out?" he asked, irritated.
"Malfoy, they have just as much right to be in there as we do. More, in fact, since they're actually doing something that resembles prefects' duties. Besides, we're outnumbered four to one."
Draco sighed. He should have known something like this was happen, just to ice the cake that was his wonderful day.
"But it's okay," Granger was saying. "I know somewhere we can go."
Probably a broom closet, Draco thought miserably as he followed her and the cat up to the seventh floor.
They stopped in front of a tapestry depicting several very ugly trolls wearing tutus, and Granger walked up and down in front of it three times, furrowing her brow.
Draco was just about to make a sarcastic comment about Granger doing ballet when a door appeared in the wall opposite.
Granger turned the doorknob and held it open for him, looking at him expectantly.
He went in and she followed, closing the door behind her.
The room was perfect.
A table with a large chessboard stood in the middle, a very comfortable looking chair on either side. On the other side of these was a large fireplace filled with big, roaring flames, and by the wall there was a smaller table, containing all kinds of drinks and snacks. Opposite this table a green sofa was standing against the wall. Granger's cat was already making himself comfortable on it.
Draco turned back to Granger, the confusion evident on his face.
"It's called the Room of Requirement," she told him. "It gives you whatever you need."
"Interesting," was the best response Draco could muster. Not a very good one, all things considered.
Granger smiled smugly. "Shall we?" she asked, producing the piece of parchment where they had written down the latest positions of their pieces.
Draco joined her at the table and began pushing his pieces into place. They offered minimal resistance or even advice, something he was entirely unused to.
"It's your turn," Granger said.
Trying to ignore her obvious glee at the state of the game, he stared down at the board and made his move.
It was a good one.
He could tell because Granger still hadn't won two hours later.
Sadly, this didn't seem to quash her enthusiasm in the slightest. She gazed at the board intensely, her dark eyes narrowed in concentration, biting her lip so hard Draco was sure she was going to draw blood soon.
She looked... not quite ugly, Draco had to admit.
She smiled to herself and reached out to move a piece.
Her cat chose that moment to jump on the table and knock both the board and the pieces to the floor. The board landed with a resounding crack, then it was split down the middle and the pieces were in pieces.
It very nearly made Draco jump.
"Crookshanks!" Granger cried, obviously very upset. "Look what you've done!"
The cat just purred loudly and rubbed her face with his before jumping back down to the floor and promptly falling asleep by the fire.
Granger looked down at the mess on the carpet. She seemed to be fighting back tears and fatigue at the same time.
Draco, meanwhile, was watching her and having other thoughts.
"Granger," he said quietly.
She didn't seem to notice.
"Granger," he repeated, a little louder this time.
She sniffed, but didn't look up.
Draco stood up and rounded the table so he stood in front of her.
"Hermione," he said.
This time she reacted, looking at him, surprised.
She really was not that ugly, Draco thought, studying her face.
He was tired, so his judgement might not be sound, but dammit, he had had an absolutely awful day, and he could really do with some-
His train of thought was interrupted by her kissing him.