Draco frustratedly flopped down on a couch in the Slytherin common room, banging the table with his fists. He lost a duel against that Mudblood! Could there be a bigger disgrace?

Blaise, Pansy, and Theo gathered around him, sitting on the couches a little away from him, looking here and there awkwardly. They weren't sure of what to say, but their need was dismissed by Draco, who asked to be left alone. One by one, they left the common room, leaving him to his thoughts.

However, Draco didn't have time to dwell too long as another Slytherin boy approached him just then. "Hello," he said breathlessly, suggesting he'd been running to get there. "I've got this note for you. From Professor Slughorn."

"Slughorn?" Draco asked, confused. He wasn't even taking Potions now. So why the note? He unfolded the paper and read:

Mr. Malfoy, I have booked the Quidditch pitch for the Slytherins for Tuesday evening. As the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, I suggest you begin looking out for people interested in making the team and conduct the tryouts so that training sessions can begin next week.

Horace Slughorn

He was Quidditch Captain? When and how was he to know this? He figured it must have been mentioned in the letter too, the one to invite him back to Hogwarts, and he must not have read it carefully enough, having teared up after the Head Boy bit. But oh, things seemed to be getting worse and worse. First Head Boy, then Quidditch Captain? Had McGonagall really, finally gone bonkers? And this had to come at just the time when he was not looking forward to any kind of work, academic or duty-related. Not even Quidditch.

Suddenly, he saw that the boy was still standing beside the couch. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Oh, Slughorn just told me to report to you if I wanted to be a Quidditch player for Slytherin," he said. "Can I participate in the tryouts?"

"Yeah, I'll fix a timing for them later," Draco mumbled. He didn't feel like doing anything at the moment.

"Okay," the boy said brightly, settling down on the other end of the room with a friend.

Draco felt exhausted, so he heaved himself up to go to his dormitory, and maybe have a nap. It would settle his swirling thoughts, anyway. But then he saw that boy again and got reminded of the tryouts once more. Might as well draft an announcement now, he thought. 

He grabbed a parchment and quill and set to work, looking for the right words, writing and crossing and rewriting and crossing things out again. Finally, he completed the draft and signed off at the bottom, going through it once more. Yes, it contained everything of relevance. Day, date, time, venue, he counted off on his fingers. He faired the thing out on a separate sheet, then got up and stuck it on the notice board. His writing was sprawling and a little untidy, but he would allow himself that. 

Satisfied, he went to his dorm, lay down, and before he succumbed to his thoughts, willed himself to an afternoon sleep.

***

Hermione gulped down a glass of water, leaning back on one of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. "Ahh, that felt good," she said. She'd been very thirsty for quite some time.

Ron was pacing agitatedly around the room. "I told you not to mess in duels, Hermione," he said angrily. "But you wouldn't listen, would you? You wouldn't listen to me at all!"

Hermione said nothing. She knew there was some truth to what he said. 

"Look at you now," he said. "All covered in marks and scars from that spell. Look at your hands, Hermione. Do you still expect me not to get angry?"

"No, Ron," Hermione said. "I'm not saying anything like that. But come on, I'm okay."

"Oh, don't you even get me started - "

"Ron," Ginny said, folding her arms over her chest. "Hermione's good now, you don't need to fuss too much. She's not a baby." She turned to Hermione. "Honestly, I was going to express some concern regarding you but Ron's done that for me thrice over, and now I'm only getting sick of him."

Hermione smiled, but she felt relieved it was just Ron and not Ginny and Harry too. Plus, she was honestly okay. There was no pain or stinging, and the little scars left would heal with dittany over a few days.

"Shut up, Ginny, don't you get in between Hermione and me today."

"Mate," Harry said, irritated. "Can you cut the protective boyfriend thing short? I'm really trying to work on this four-foot-long essay and the due date is tomorrow. Hermione's done this ages ago and she still won't help me."

"Come on, Harry, this is first-year stuff," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, and I know what to write, but I'm no good with words," Harry said. "I can't express it on paper. Plus, my essay is still one-and-a-half foot short. I think I'm missing something important."

"Not the point, Harry," Ron walked over to him. "Can you really not see the condition Hermione's in?"

"What condition?" Hermione stood up, annoyed. "Ron, can you give it a rest?"

"I'm going to give it a rest only when you give me your word that you won't get involved in this kind of stuff ever again."

"Look, Ron, I don't understand," Hermione said. "It wasn't me who began this, it was Malfoy, and you know full well I wouldn't have backed out."

"Why, Hermione? Why wouldn't you back out? Couldn't you sense what kind of danger Malfoy would've put you in?"

"Chicken out? And compromise my self-respect? No thanks, Ron. I'd much rather have the Cruciatus on me."

"See, there you go again," Ron huffed. 

"Look, Ron, I will never give up on my self-esteem, okay? If someone challenges me, I accept it, and I fight, regardless of the outcome. And you do not get a say in this."

Ron looked furious. Harry stood up and went tentatively towards him to pacify him, but before he could say something, Ron gave one scathing glare at Hermione and went out of the common room, slamming the portrait shut such that the Fat Lady shrieked. 

"Okay, that was ugly," Ginny said, goggling at the space where Ron had just been.

***

Over Monday and Tuesday, the Gryffindors and Slytherins shared two common lessons, but the interaction between them was surprisingly less. The Slytherins didn't pick any fights, as the news of Hermione and Draco's duel had spread around the school like wildfire, and the only people who didn't seem to know anything were the staff. Anyway, the snakes kept their distance from the lions wisely enough, and since the latter weren't keen on any more encounters, there seemed to be a deadly silence between the two groups, but which clearly masked a cold fire. Looks were still exchanged, faces were still made at each other, and one or two snide comments didn't go amiss. Even so, the tension between the two groups was less than ever, as the Slytherins for the first time felt wary, even a little intimidated, by the Gryffindors. If a commonplace Gryffindor Mudblood could defeat a powerful Slytherin wizard, a Death Eater at that, despite his Dark Wizard training, then there was no telling what the other Gryffindors could do who were just as good. Hence peace was held all around, even in the Head Common Room at nights, and Draco's incessant headache started to ebb away. 

By Tuesday morning, at least fifteen to seventeen people had come to Draco to ask for details about the trials, and he directed everyone to the notice in the common room. They could see for themselves!

Around five in the evening, Draco set off to the Quidditch pitch with Goyle as he was Draco's only friend still on the team. Since the tryouts officially began at around a quarter past five, he mounted his broom and flew around the pitch. It felt better than he'd thought it would. He kept looking out for the students slowly trickling into the stands and on the grounds, and when enough people had gathered, he dismounted.

Draco began the tryouts the standard way, instructing everyone to do a simple round of the pitch on their brooms. This turned out to be good since half the people couldn't make it. Some seemed so tiny they felt like they'd blow away in the wind, and this was precisely what happened to one. In shock from the fall, the boy was escorted to the hospital wing by two others from the stands, when someone told Draco that he was a first-year.

"NOBODY FROM FIRST YEAR SHOULD BE HERE!" Draco yelled. "ONLY SECOND-YEAR ONWARDS CAN PLAY!" Two girls and three boys left the pitch, laughing hysterically, which only annoyed him even more.

Next, Draco had Goyle bring out the balls. He picked up the Quaffle and then instructed the remaining people interested in Chasing to catch it airborne as he threw it towards them. Two of them went tumbling down their brooms on their first attempt and it was clear they hadn't played before. Draco had another set of people from the stands to take them away and continued the exercise. He was beginning to get impressed by a fourth-year girl with long flowing hair - her passes were excellent. He would surely consider her if she made it through all the exercises. 

After the Chasers had had a shot at attempting goals in the Quidditch hoops - Goyle acted as Keeper - Draco shortlisted some of them in his head and sent all of them to the stands. Next, he tested the Beaters - one of them would obviously be Goyle - and then the Keeper. Finally, when he had selected the team to his satisfaction, he sent the rest of them back to the castle. Then he instructed the final members of the team to play an informal match together without the Snitch since Draco himself wouldn't be playing - he would only be observing the match to see how the players worked together. The coordination wasn't brilliant, he saw, but it was something he could work with. The rest of it would come with practice.

Draco noted down the names of his team members - one of them being the fourth-year girl -  then asked everyone to come down and return to the castle. Goyle said, "Well, that's a good team, I bet. Hey, you know what, I heard the Gryffindor trials are tomorrow. Let's check them out, shall we?"

"Of course," Draco grinned. Oh, what was the Gryffindor hype all about? Let them meet the Slytherins on the pitch this time. He'd be damned if he didn't wrestle out the Quidditch Cup from under their noses this year.

***

A/N: So, people, imagine you have your House Quidditch trials today. Which person would you be? The first-year come to prank the Captain? The kid to get thrown from the broom, not unlike the Quaffle? Or a final selected team member? And if you're on the team, which position would you play?