Chapter 11: Duelling

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Over the next while, I noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione were acting somewhat suspiciously around me. Every time I neared them, they stopped talking suddenly, or seemed to change the subject. At first I thought nothing of it, but it slowly began to get on my nerves.

I didn't have too long to ponder on it though, as the first Quidditch match of the season was upon us. It was us against Slytherin, and I knew my father was going to be in the stands watching. Did I want to make sure I won in order to prove a point, or should I let Draco win to avoid angering my father further? To hell with it.

The match began and it didn't look promising. I scored the first goal of the match, but, before anyone could even celebrate, a Bludger went straight for my skull. I spun out of the way and glared at the culprit, but he just grinned. That showed me about how much respect my last name afforded me.

I retrieved the Quaffle again and headed straight for the hoops, but a Slytherin Chaser crashed into the side of me. I grunted in pain and dropped the Quaffle, a resounding groan echoing across the field. I caught my breath again and went to retrieve the Quaffle, but Madam Hooch had realised what had happened and we received a penalty.

That didn't put Slytherin off, and they were back to their tactics as soon as the whistle blew again.

No sooner had I got retrieved the Quaffle again than I ended up doubled over in pain and plummeting towards the ground. I tried to pull up but I was struggling to even catch my breath. A Bludger had been hit right into my stomach and the Slytherin Beaters were ridiculously powerful with their hits.

I knew my teammates were suffering similar treatment so couldn't help me and I heard gasps as the ground appeared to get closer and closer. I scrunched my eyes shut, bracing for impact. This wasn't good, I didn't want to be hospitalised for the rest of the week.

I yelled in pain as I hit the ground. Every inch of my body ached but the worst part was my arm. I had foolishly tried to brace myself with it, and it had been snapped clean in half. I fought the urge to scream at the unsightly injury, it would be fine. Madam Pomfrey would heal it!

I heard groans as Slytherin's points started going up. I felt like I was going to be sick with the pain, but I had to deal with it until the match was over. I forced myself to my feet again, mounting my broom and shooting off, after being given the go-ahead by Hooch to rejoin the game - I wasn't fouled for it due to it being unintentional, or rather intentional from Slytherin's side.

Attention on me had quickly shifted to Harry as he flew erratically. I squinted before my eyes widened. He was being chased by a rogue Bludger! Fred and George tried their best to help him as he chased after the Snitch, Draco hot on his tail.

I focused my attention back to the game, grabbing the Quaffle and trying my best to ride with no hands. My left arm was of no use whatsoever, and my right was otherwise occupied, so I was glad I had good balance.

I scored a goal, but it didn't do much against Slytherin's points. We were losing badly, the only solace we had was that Draco had gone flying off his broom, leaving Harry to chase the Snitch alone.

I scored another goal as screams filled the stadium due to Harry narrowly avoiding being hit multiple times. I watched wide-eyed, momentarily forgetting my injuries and the game, as Harry still tried to catch the Snitch. He stood on the end of his broom, arm outstretched, as the bludger got closer and closer. His hand closed around the Snitch before he was violently smacked off of his broom, landing in a similar style to me. His arm also seemed broken, and everyone realised the match was over.

I landed beside him, concern etched on my features as I looked down at him. Everyone was cheering, Gryffindor had won, but I had other priorities. Harry was number one, but immediately below it was how angry my father was going to be - both at Draco and myself. But anger at Draco always turned into anger at me.

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