Chapter 1 : Quidditch Star
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NOTE: Imagine the adult-actors a bit older than they really are. Around 30 year old. And feel free to imagine other actors for OCs :D
DISCLAIMER: Anything you find familiar belongs to J. K. Rowling.
I heave deeply, bracing myself as I stand in front of the doors of the Tornadoes Quidditch pitch. I'm not here for some stupid autograph, or for the pictures, let alone for the souvenirs. I don't even wait here since the day before the practice started, like others did. I have to admit, it really is cool that I can see the members of the Tornadoes practice.
It feels awkward to be in the sea of crowds of people, who are waiting for the Tornadoes to go out. I am, in fact, one of the tallest from everyone here. It isn't really comforting that I was as tall as my mother when I was only ten. She said it's okay being tall and added that I take that after my father. I can still remember the conversation like it was yesterday.
"The girls called me a freak because I'm so tall," I protested one day. Mum was cooking my dinner when I came flying into our small flat that day.
I sat on my usual seat and Mum sat beside me. "Oh, they're just jealous of you. You're so beautiful and smart. Those girls are plain while you're unique."
"But, I have no friends at all," I muttered. Mum sighed heavily and took my hand in hers.
"Listen to me, girl. You don't let those girls change you into someone you're not. You're unique, okay? People can find a lot of girls like those Beauxbatons girls, but you... You're the one and only this whole world."
I wasn't feeling any better that she finally pulled her into her arms. She hugged me tightly, as if by doing that, she could squeezed the pain away, like squeezing water from fabric. I remembered I cried when she hugged me, but I promised myself that it would be the last time I cried. I hadn't cried for two years and James Potter said it should have been inside the world records.
Too consumed by my thoughts, I nearly didn't realise that the Tornadoes members are already out. I can hear kids from all ages shout as the door opens. They chant all names of the players. My ears are literally buzzing from all of the sounds around me. Kids shouting, mother trying to shut up their kids, teenagers scream girlishly in awe. I wouldn't be amazed if my ears bled like mad. But, I realise that most of the people in this place scream one name. The same name they chant for the past four years since I learned the word Quidditch.
He is the Captain of the Tornadoes and also the Seeker. He is ranked as the second best Seeker in the whole world, after Harry Potter. Soon after the War ended, he joined the Tornadoes. People didn't like to see him playing at first, but when he got the chance to play once, no one could ever deny that only Harry Potter could ever beat him in Quidditch.
I practically know everything about Draco Malfoy. James Potter once said that if there was a competition for it, I'd wipe out all other contestants. After Mum told me the truth about him, it was like a mandatory for me to know everything about Draco Malfoy. James often to tease me about it. He'll ask me anything about Draco Malfoy and I'll answer all about it.
"What's Draco Malfoy's car?" James once asked.
"That really expensive Muggle sportscar with the logo of Slytherin painted on the side of the car. It was specially made for him," I'd answer.
"What's the brand of his favourite robes?"
"Nah, he prefers to wear Muggle tuxedo."
"What's the name of his new girlfriend?"
"What's is the name of his new Elf?"
I froze when he reached that question. I knew every each one of his Elves, but I never heard a thing about him getting a new Elf. I looked at James in bewilderment and he laughed at my expression. I cocked an eye brow, my face probably was screaming why the hell was he laughing.
"He's not getting any Elf," James said. "I was just teasing you. It'll be an international holiday if I could ever know something about Mr Draco Malfoy that you didn't."
I would roll my eyes every time he tricked me into that way but I agreed about it nevertheless. James was a hundred percent right. No one but myself knew better about Draco Malfoy.
And another person.
I snap back to reality when someone pushes me aside roughly. A bunch of teenage girls, maybe around seventeen, are trying, or more like fighting, to get the Quidditch gloves Draco Malfoy throws. The Quidditch superstar merely smiles kindly at the reaction of the girls, no smugness in his smile. If only Mum was here, she'd know if it was just a phony or not.
I see his blond head begins to walk out of the area. I quickly slide toward the direction he's going, bumping everyone as I do so. I even knock a girl of three off her feet. I'd feel guilty for it and would apologise if it wasn't because Draco is already out of my sight. I'm out breath when I finally get out of the suffocating room.
I remember reading in the Daily Prophey, where Draco's best friend since childhood, Blaise Zabini, said about Draco went through life as if he owned the whole world. That is how he looks to me right now, as he moves across the parking lot to his Ferrari. I find myself thinking how James would be beyond ecstatic to see that car. After all, he's like the second Arthur Weasley.
James is for later. For now, I take a deep breath and begin to walk toward Draco Malfoy.
"Hello," I say.
Draco turns around and gives me a sincere smile. If I never heard stories about the real him from Mum, I'd guess that he really was meant that smile.
"Hello there," he says. "I'm sorry, I can't give you any authograph. It wouldn't be fair for the others."
I shake my head. "I don't want one."
He cocks an eye brow, in such way that I'm familiar with. "You know, you shouldn't be here. If the guards found you, both of us could get in trouble."
"I have to," I say. "I need to talk to you."
James would probably ram his head to the nearest wall he found if he saw how nervous I got.
"Listen, love, I don't mean to be rude or anything."
"Lyra," I say. "My name's Lyra."
"Right," he says. "Nice to meet you Lyra. But, listen, I'm kind of late now. We have this party for dinner, I've got to get ready for it."
"Yes, I know that," I say honestly.
"Good, then you know how important that is for me." He turns his back at me before he looks at me again. He narrows his eyes for awhile.
"Do I know you?" he finally says. I shrug casually.
"No reasons of why you would." I glance at his jacket. "I like your jacket, by the way."
"Really? It's an old thing. We got all way back, the jacket and I."
"Yeah, since after the War."
He runs his hand through his blonde head and nods. "That's right. The reporters seem to write all stuffs that aren't important at all." He then glances at his watch. "But, I'm sorry, lovely, I really need to go."
He opens the door and slides inside the car. I'm taken aback by his action. He isn't even going to say goodbye or anything. It's like he's eager to get away from me. I begin to walk away from him when he calls me again. Another round of hope fills my heart.
"Hey!" he says. "Wait a minute. I've got something for you."
All the hopes crumple down like some piles of books. I watch as he grabs his broom, the same broom he has mounted a thousand times through his games. Firebolt 3, the fastest and most expensive broom ever in the whole world. Only Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter own that broom.
"Here, you can have this," he says. He literally shoves the broom into my arms and I stare at it. I look back at him and find him winks at him, pretty much the same way like he does to most of his fans. "It's not really fair for the others, I know, but you kind of remind me of someone."
I look at the broom again before I push it back into his hands. "I don't want it," I say.
He looks like I just called him a Hippogrif. "I'm sorry?" he says.
"I said, I don't want it. In fact, I don't want anything from you but a few minutes of talking."
He laughs away my comment in disbelief. "Listen here, girl, but I really need to go right now. I've given you that broom, and Merlin knows how much that cost to me. What else you want from me?" Something from they way he calls me 'girl' gave me back the confidence. It was something Mum always called me.
"I want to talk something important."
He annoyingly glances at his watch again. "You know what's important for me right now? I have to get to that party or my friends would kick my arse. So, why don't you call your parents or someone to pick you up?" He tosses his broom back inside his car and gets in. "Nice meeting you, Lyra."
But, I will never let him away.
"She bought that jacket for you!" I say. He turns off the engine that he just turns on.
"Excuse me?" he says. His jaw clenches tightly and something unpleasant flashes in his eyes. I stop myself from taking a step backward.
"She said that she bought it for you on your nineteenth birthday. You were crying because your parents were in Azkaban and you couldn't celebrate your birthday with them. You were ashamed that you cried only for something so juvenile and you locked yourself in your room. She then came into your room, the jacket was hidden behind her back, and then wrapped them around you. She said that she'd a surprise for you if only you'd come down. When you did, there were your best friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, who were holding a big plate of a birthday cake."
I've said correctly. I've said the right thing, the same thing like I've rehearsed for weeks with James, James playing the role of Draco Malfoy. Draco gets out of the car and stands towering me. His grey-eyes are boring into mine, trying to search anything in my mind with his legendary Legillimency skills.
"You're Hermione Granger's kid, aren't you?"
And everything feels like collapsing around us.
I swallow heavily and say, "Yes."
"I always tell everyone that this jacket is like some good luck charm, but I never say why. We'd promised to not tell anyone about it."
"Don't be mad," I say. "She only told me."
"She said that she never once break any promises she made. Even the one about her not going back here to London."
"But, she broke that promise," he says slowly. "She came back here."
"She did," I say, bitting my lips nervously.
"Well, tell Granger that she better comes here by herself rather than sending you here," he says briskly. I shake my head.
"She's not gonna. Though you waited for a thousand years, she's not going to see you."
He clicks his tongue and scowls. "Same old stubborn Hermione. And she used to say that it was I who was stubborn like a rock."
"My mum is dead," I manage to spit out the word. "She died two years ago."
Draco gone paler than he already is. He looks like he's about to fall on his knees when he catches himself from doing so. He closes his eyes and balls his fist. "No," he whispers. "Ohfuck, no." He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his blonde hair before he talks again.
"How?" he says. "How did she die?"
"It was brain tumor," I say. "They found it our too late, said the doctors back in Paris."
He takes my hands in his big ones. My stomach clenches in a knot. "I'm really sorry about it, Lyra. Thank you for coming here to tell me about it, or I'd never know about it. I mean, I didn't even know if she got married with Ron Weasley."
"She didn't, actually," I say, feeling nervous once again. "She never married anyone."
"Oh," Draco says and he looks like he's ashamed. "Well, okay then."
"It's cool. I got that a lot from everyone." He nods.
"Now, I get it why you didn't want that broom. Compared to what you told me, it really was important," he says.
"It wasn't only that," I add. He tilts his head to his right.
"I don't get it."
I bit my lip hard until I can feel the copper taste of blood in my mouth. I have to do that or I'd scream out the obvious at him. I really want to curse him to oblivion for being so dense about it. Isn't it so plainly obvious? I heard that he was the second smartest kid in Hogwarts after Mum, but how can he get so stupid?
"Mum said you hid a lot of things from the world," I begin.
"So was she," he says. I look down and begin to play with my ring. Mum's ring.
"I shouldn't have come here... She always said it was a bad idea, but I insisted so. Now, that I had said about her death to you, I became to realise why she said it was a bad idea. I mean..." I let out a shaky breath. "How am I suppose to tell you that?"
"To tell me what?" he says. "Tell me what, Lyra?"
I look up, right into his eyes. The same grey-orbs I've seen every time I look into the mirror. I feel like I want to kill myself when I realise how we look ridiculously alike.
"Tell you that you're my dad."
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