𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 80

CHAPTER EIGHTY
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH HERMIONE 
VOICES WORRY

. . .

"Gryffindor's gotten permission for Quidditch again." Draco drawled, as he came to sit down next to his friends in the common room during break. The sound of the downpour outside, the same downpour that had driven the entirety of the school's population inside the castle, hammered over the surface of the Black Lake, echoing down into the depths where the Slytherin common room, where the large, ornate windows were filled with cloudy, murky green water. 

Aviana's eyebrows raised, the only part of her face visible beneath the copy of the Daily Prophet she was reading. Draco noticed almost instantaneously. 

"Do you have something to say about that?" He asked.

She made of fuss of finishing her reading, pulling the sides of the newspaper tight so that it made that sharp cracking noise before she folded it neatly, allowing it to rest in her lap. "Nothing particularly." She replied in a hum, head tilted as she, quite distractedly, staring off into space. Then, she straightened and looked directly at him. "Just wondering why exactly you thought they wouldn't." 

"Well it's obvious, isn't?" Draco drawled, bored, as he sat down next to Pansy. "Professor Umbridge actually places value on things, and the Gryffindor team is entirely worthless. What, with all the tactics and the fouls they've played?" 

"Draco," Aviana's eyebrows furrowed, "last practise Montague actually suggested that we actively use stooging as a tactic. As in the foul that has been banned since 1884." 

"I don't see  why that matters. And I don't see why you complained about it - you were going to be the third Chaser that scores the goal. You weren't going to get hurt - Montague and Pucey were going to tackle Weasley." 

"I don't care about what I was supposed to do in the whole plan, it's a foul, and I'd rather play a clean game and win because of my skills than having any of our players cheat." Aviana's nose wrinkled in disgust. "One of our house values is pride, for Merlin's sake, how can we pride ourselves on cheating?"

"Easily. By winning." Draco replied. 

"And how does Umbridge value you, Crabbe and Goyle dressing up as Dementors to scare Potter out of playing?" Aviana asked. 

"Professor Umbridge was a Slytherin too... she understands what we have to do." Draco shrugged. "You thought it was funny too." 

"No, I didn't." Aviana replied. "I was pissed off because we didn't finish the match!" 

"Shouldn't join the team if you can't deal with it, Rosier."

"Shouldn't have the team at all if you're not actually going to bother to play, Malfoy." Aviana snapped. "Besides, if we do win, through clean tactics and how you're supposed to play a game of Quidditch, wouldn't it be far better to win against Gryffindor, Potter and Weasley than it would against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" 

Draco didn't reply for a moment. "I suppose it would be more satisfactory." 

"Exactly. Think things through before you come up with inane suggestions." Aviana stood up, discarding her newspaper on the coffee table. "Blaise, Pansy, the only people I respect here, I will see you later. Draco, please go and consider things. Seriously, I think you might have banged your head on all your delusions."