The original date plans seemed to be going up in smoke.
Louis was far too curious about the "technical breakthrough" the twins had mentioned—after all, it directly concerned his plan to replicate their Transfiguration Candy.
"Sorry, Hermione…" Louis told her. "I've got to take care of something. You'll have to go watch Quidditch practice on your own."
"That's fine, go on." Hermione was gracious about it. After all, she sometimes did the same—when inspiration struck, she would throw herself completely into her studies.
Louis was dragged away, but Hermione's interest didn't fade. She still wanted to see how Slytherin trained.
So she went to the Quidditch pitch alone, intending to watch from the sidelines.
From what the twins had said, there should be plenty of spectators around. If others could watch, why not her?
Sure enough, when she arrived at the pitch, there were already quite a few onlookers.
Besides a number of Slytherins, students from other houses had also gathered, including some Quidditch players trying to spy. Not that the Slytherin team cared in the slightest.
After all, their edge was in sheer hardware.
Nimbus 2001s. Every single one of them. Which house in Hogwarts could possibly compare?
Let the others seethe with envy!
A few Gryffindor players were there too, standing stiffly as they stared at the gleaming new brooms, jealousy practically written across their faces.
Hermione found a spot and sat down, looking up at the Slytherin players zipping aimlessly through the air. She frowned slightly.
What is that supposed to be? No system, no coordination—it looked more like they were just showing off their new brooms.
That made Hermione worry for her own house's team. Ravenclaw's Seeker was her friend Cho Chang, after all.
And these new brooms were far faster than the Cleansweep series used by the other houses.
"Mind if I sit here?" A voice rang out, slightly familiar.
Hermione turned and saw Cassandra, shading herself with a pointed witch's hat.
Every time Hermione saw Cassandra, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. The girl exuded an innate sense of hauteur, and her wizard-like attire only added to the aura of mystery.
Her friend Padma had warned her more than once to be careful around that girl.
Still, Hermione wasn't the type to be rude without reason. Smiling, she said, "Of course, go ahead."
"Thank you." Cassandra removed her hat, setting it aside. She smoothed her hair with an elegant motion, golden waves cascading softly over her shoulders.
Hermione's envy spiked again. "Your hair looks amazing," she admitted, eyes full of admiration.
Her own bushy curls always stuck up like a lion's mane. Every morning, it took ages to tame them into something manageable.
"My hair, hm?" Cassandra looked very pleased at the topic, especially with Hermione's admiring gaze.
"It's not bad, though sometimes I use Sleekeazy's Hair Potion—it makes it much smoother." She reached out and touched Hermione's curls, then shook her head. "Yours are so dry. Like straw. Careful, or you'll end up losing it."
Her tone was as lofty and sharp as ever, but then she added, almost casually, "I still have a few unopened bottles. I'll give you one sometime."
"Really? That'd be great!"
And just like that, once the conversation turned to girl talk, the two of them grew lively. Within minutes, the tension was gone, and they were chatting happily together.
As the two girls chatted pleasantly, the Slytherins on their brooms couldn't resist circling them, or else diving down at full speed right over their heads.
"Let's move somewhere else," Hermione muttered, annoyed at the interruptions. "They don't even look like they're training for Quidditch, just showing off their brooms."
Cassandra was about to agree when a mocking, drawling voice rang out.
"Well, well. A Ravenclaw Mudblood who thinks she's too good for the Slytherin Quidditch team!"
Draco Malfoy, astride his Nimbus 2001 and flaunting it like a sports car, pulled up right in front of Hermione and Cassandra.
He glared venomously at Hermione. "You filthy Mudblood—what do you know about Quidditch?"
Soaring through the air on his new broom, Draco felt a rush of heady pride. It made him think Harry Potter wasn't so great after all; once the real matches began, he was certain he could leave Potter far behind.
In his eyes, Louis's earlier warnings meant nothing—just pointless stabs at him. His simmering dissatisfaction boiled over, and Hermione's offhand remark had been the spark.
And of course, this was the perfect chance to show off in front of Cassandra.
Smug, Draco failed to notice the slight furrow in Cassandra's brows.
"What do you mean by that, Malfoy?" Hermione's hand darted to her wand. She remembered clearly what Louis had told her: if anyone ever called her "Mudblood," she was free to retaliate with magic—no need to hold back.
And that was exactly what she intended to do.
But Draco, oblivious to how close he was to a hex, carried on, puffed up with self-satisfaction.
"I said you're a Mudblood. What, you think clinging to Wilson makes you something else? No way, not a chance. What, going to run crying to him?"
He was crafty enough to jab where it hurt—trying to stop Hermione from tattling to Louis by goading her instead.
The rest of the Slytherin team hovered closer, their faces full of malice.
From the stands, the Gryffindor players—who had been scowling enviously at the new brooms—immediately stepped forward, ready to close ranks. Compared to Slytherin, the other houses stood together. Backing up a friend was only natural.
The tension built.
Hermione glared at Draco, her voice cold.
"I won't tell Louis. But…"
She drew her wand, preparing to silence him on the spot—when Cassandra moved first.
Smack!
A white glove struck Draco Malfoy square across the face.
Cassandra stood tall, almond-shaped eyes blazing, one pale, slender hand still frozen in the motion of throwing.
"Pick it up!" she commanded, her voice like steel. "Do you need me to teach you what pure-blood pride really means, Malfoy?"
The queenly aura she radiated froze the crowd in awe. Even Ron, watching nearby, couldn't help blurting out, "She's amazing!"
"You… what did you say?"
The sudden blow left Draco reeling. He stared blankly at the glove lying on the ground, utterly at a loss.
"Hmph. Disrespecting women—is that what passes for Malfoy family pride?" Cassandra tilted her chin high, her tone imperious. "Pick it up. I think it's time I taught you what honor really means."
---/---
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