Dedication to blurrryaddict ! Thanks so much for your votes and for reading and supporting my story. And thanks to all my other readers! I love all of you so much :)

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He wanted to turn around and run far, far away from here.

As he walked onto the pitch, his heart was pounding in his ears. His palms were so sweaty that he could hardly hold onto his broomstick. He didn't know how he was going to be able to fly it.

He walked over to the signup table. It was mad chaos, people were screaming frantically, pushing and shoving in a large crowd around the table. Angelina Johnson was waving her arms, a clipboard in one hand, trying to get the seemingly deaf first and second years in order.

"No, no a line! Please form a line behind the table to sign up!" She eventually grew tired and resorted to screaming. "Get in a line now! I refuse to give this clipboard to anyone who is not in a straight line, so if you're not in a line, you will not be allowed to try out!"

Even Draco was scared of her.

The line moved quicker than he had hoped. He hoped to stand in this line for hours, and somehow miss his chance at trying out. But soon he was at the front of the line, quill in hand, Angelina glaring at him.

Name:

Draco Malfoy. That was easy.

House:

Gryffindor. Really, was that a question?

Year:

Fifth.

Position (first and second choice):

He hesitated. He really wanted to be a seeker. He loved controlling the game, he wanted the thrill of chasing the snitch, the pressure for him to catch it, the roaring crowds admiring him when he won the game for his house. But he didn't think that was really an option, as that position had already been filled. But he's not even here. If it were anybody else, they would lose their spot. But no, this was Harry Potter, so of course he got special treatment.

Except Draco couldn't really argue. Potter was an amazing seeker, and with Draco out of practice, Potter was definitely the better of the two.

Well, he wasn't going to be a keeper. He would rather die than sit in the same spot all game. He didn't really want to be a beater, but he didn't really want to be a chaser, either. At least with being a chaser, he would be able to score some points.

He sighed, scribbled "chaser" as his first choice and "beater" as his second, and grabbed a red shirt from Angelina and walked away. He stood awkwardly by the wall, looking around. A few younger students were flying through the air, warming up, but obviously just trying to show off. The older students, like Draco, were meandering around on the ground or standing off to the side. They also looked like they didn't really want to be there, as they probably had tried out before and didn't make it, or their friend had pressured them to tryout. He saw Weasley standing by himself nervously.

"Alright, everyone!" Angelina yelled, stepping into the center of the pitch. "Welcome to the 1995 Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts! We are really excited to see all of you here, and we are even more excited to see what you all have to offer! We'll start off with some drills for the positions you're trying out for, and later we'll have some scrimmages going! We'll start with everyone's first choice, so beaters, go along and follow Fred and George, keepers will be with Katie, seekers will be with Alicia, and chasers will be with me! Good luck, and have fun!"

She blew her whistle, and everyone swarmed to find their positions. Draco, along with everyone else wearing a red shirt, flew over to one set of goalposts. Looking back, he saw the keepers in green at the other. The beaters were in blue in the middle of the field. There was no one wearing yellow.

He scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on Granger. His heart jumped a little. She really came to see him? But then he followed her eyes and she was watching Weasley. His brief happiness immediately came crashing down. She caught his glance and gave him an over-eager smile and two thumbs up. He smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes. It never did. Not in five years.

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Drills had gone reasonably well. Draco was definitely the fastest out of all of those after the chaser position. He could dive better than anyone else, and he could pull off the greatest number of tricks, as well as the most complex ones. His aim was not the greatest, but it wasn't the worst, either. He was sure it was from his lack of upper body strength, but that was something that just a few weeks of training could fix.

That being said, he was horrible at the beater drills. He could always hit the ball with the bat, but it never went where he wanted it to go. He nearly took out one of the twins several times, which definitely made some of the teammates think he was there just to harm someone. But in all honesty, he was just quite terrible at being a beater.

It was time for the scrimmage. His team had black headbands, the other white. He didn't know the names of anyone on his team, apart from Weasley as his keeper. That would make things interesting.

He made his way to the middle of the field. He locked eyes with the third year trying out for chaser on the white team, whom he was going up against in the face off. He mounted his broom, flew up into the air, and waited for the start. He was so nervous that he felt as if he were going to fall off his broom. If he couldn't handle the pressure of playing in front of his house, how could he manage to play in front of the entire school?

The whistle blew.

His nerves were suddenly pushed to the back of his mind. He immediately grabbed the quaffle and sped off to the goalposts. He adrenaline pumped through his veins, the wind rushed through his hair, and the excitement spread throughout his body.

He scanned his teammates, finding a fourth year open. He chucked the ball at them, but as soon as she caught it, a bludger was shot directly at her head. She dropped the ball.

He dove at top speed, being the first to do so. He got to the ball before anyone else was even close. The second he felt the leather touch his fingertips he pulled back up, causing two chasers from the other team to collide into each other below him.

He saw the bludger coming for him out of the corner of his eye, twisting his broomstick upside-down to dodge it. It missed the bristles of his broom by centimeters.

McLaggen was at the far left of the hoops, closest to him. He stared him directly in the eyes, positioning his body right at him, and threw the ball to the right-most hoop.

It went in.

He heard Granger screaming from the stands, as well as the applause from a few others. His teammates flew to him, congratulating him. His body filled with pride, a Malfoy smirk creeping onto his face.

It was the most alive he had felt in a long, long time.

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"I mean, sixteen goals, that's amazing-"

"Not just amazing, that's unheard of!"

"Maybe McLaggen really just is that bad."

"I've seen him play a thousand times before, I think Malfoy just really was that good."

"And that Sloth Grip Roll to avoid that bludger? Iconic."

"He sounds like a real ball-hog, if you ask me."

"Oh, please. Did you see the rest of his team? They were just God-awful. I'm surprised Malfoy didn't break his back carrying them."

Malfoy smirked as he moved through the common room. Yes, people were talking about him, but for once, it wasn't negative. The praise. The admiration. He loved it. He sat in the armchair by the fireplace, opening his book. He soaked it all in. The words circulating through the common room warmed his body more than the fire did.

Was this his life now? Were people actually going to see him as something more than the disappointment who wallows through the halls? Were people going to actually see him as a Malfoy, as a man of respect, of a man to be admired and praised and feared?

"Where the hell is he."

No, of course not.

He closed his book, standing up. "Does there seem to be a problem, Potter?"

He moved across the room as if he were flying instead of walking. His long legs floated his body quickly towards him, until he grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall. He put his face in Draco's, their eyes staring into each other. His were wide with rage, his nose sneered, his mouth breathing heavily. Draco felt his stomach drop as he stared into Potter's wild eyes.

"Who do you think you are?" Potter sneered.

The whispers and murmuring had stopped. There was a collective gasp when Draco was pushed up against the wall, but the common room was now in a shocked silence. He couldn't see anything apart from Potter's piercing eyes, but he was sure everyone was drozen in place.

Draco laughed. "Excuse me?"

"What do you think gives you the right to try out for my quidditch team?"

"Your Quidditch team?" He laughed again, trying to ignore the growing pit in his stomach. "Last time I checked Angelina Johnson was the captain, you are just the seeker who steps to the side and watches for 90% of the game."

The murmurs started back up again.

"T-that is not true!" He stuttered as he shouted, pressing him further against the wall. Draco's breathing hitched when Potter's body was pressed up against his, a knot forming in his chest when they collided. He was so close that he could feel his heavy breaths, his heart pounding against his own. It took everything in him to not let his composure fall.

"Are you sure? Do you need me to remind you who was not present at tryouts today?"

"Stop it-"

He scoffed. "Scared, Potter? Scared I am going to take your spot? That I am going to outshine the great Harry Potter, youngest seeker in a decade? Just because you got your spot first year does not mean you get to keep it."

"What? I- Don't you dare talk to me like that!"

"I have heard you say it yourself! Just because you had a spot last year does not mean you get to keep it."

He pushed against him a little harder. "And you think you can replace me? You think you could be better than me?"

"Oh, you have no idea! You weren't even there. Do you know how many people tried out for your spot? How many people would die to take your place? And you did not even have the nerve to show up!"

He continued, knowing that it would just frustrate him. "Oh, there had to be at least twenty seekers there! And, in my humble opinion, they were all fantastic. I have never seen someone pull off a Wronski Feint as well as Peter Eldin! You should have seen Julian Clark's Plumton Pass. Let me tell you, I was in shock at the talent that this house has! As soon as the house got wind of your detention, it was like everyone knew they had the opportunity to finally show the world how better they are than you, not just at Quidditch, but in everything, quite frankly-"

Draco was cut off by a fist colliding with his nose.

He blinked in shock, putting his fingers up to his nose, and felt nauseous when he pulled them away to see them covered in blood.

His eyes burned with rage. "How dare you." He pulled his fist back as far as he could while still being pinned up against the wall, but Potter was pulled off of him by Weasley before he could get his hit in.

"He's not worth it, mate." They sent him a nasty glare, as if he were the one who threw the punch, and walked off to their dormitory.

Granger rushed up to him. "Oh, Draco, I'm sure your nose is broken!" She cried, touching his nose, causing him to wince. "Here, let me walk you to the hospital wing."

Normally he would shove her aside and go himself, but he liked the attention he was getting. First, everyone was talking about how he absolutely killed tryouts. Then, he was able to infuriate Potter enough for him to throw a punch. Not even a hex or a jinx, but a barbaric, non-magical hit. Now, he had someone rushing to his aid when he was hurt. Even more so, she had called him Draco. She had to have been the first person in the castle to do so. He tried his best not to smile.

It had been a great day for Draco Malfoy.

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Happy Thursday everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you enjoyed, to be afraid to leave a vote and a comment!

See you all on Sunday <3