Students making their way into the stands jostle Hermione as she stands by the railing, watching the pitch below with a mix of boredom and hopeful anticipation – that is, at Harry catching the Snitch quickly and finishing the game as soon as possible. Today isn't a good day for a Quidditch match; just before she had made her way outside the skies had opened and fat droplets of rain had begun to shower the grounds. The hair not underneath her woollen hat clings to her skin, and she groans internally at the thought of having to dry her hair, with the curls becoming more unruly than they normally are. Her cheeks begin to burn with the cold, glowing a brilliant red colour to match her nose, which she is rubbing with her red-and-gold gloved hands to try to keep warm. A list of better things to be doing forms in her head: studying, homework, not being soaking wet. But, she has to be there to support her best friends, as it is the first game of the season, against their rivals. She sighs, blowing into her hands before pulling her hat down lower over her ears and tightening her scarf. As much as she's hoping for it to be over soon, deep down in her heart, Hermione knows this won't happen.

A sudden roar rises up over the students – or at least 3 out of the 4 houses – in the stands, and Hermione's attention is suddenly snapped back to the pitch. The Gryffindor team marches out of their changing room, with the famous Harry Potter leading, his Firebolt held with a strong grip in his gloved hand. He grins at the crowd, giddy and waving at all of his screaming fans. Despite the despicable weather, Harry is quite obviously looking forward to the game. Ron and Ginny Weasley flank him on either side, grinning at each other as though one had just told the other a rather funny joke.

The remaining house picks up the cheers as their own team emerges onto the pitch, clad in emerald green and silver and carrying sleek matching brooms. Urquhart leads them out in a triangle formation, face set. He doesn't bother playing to the crowd, and he doesn't need to, because the boy to his left is doing enough for the whole team. A smirk passes across the boy's pale face as he waves with his left hand, his Nimbus 2001 slung lazily over his shoulder as he struts to the centre of the pitch. With a flick of his head, the white-blond hair moves away from his piercing grey eyes, which are creased at the corners as his smirk turns to a grin, his teeth sparkling even in the cloudy day. Despite her immense hatred for him, Hermione can't bring herself to look away from him; he's just so mesmerising to watch, completely in his element.

He spins around, gazing at the Gryffindor stands, taunting them with a cheery wave. The Gryffindors around Hermione are quick to boo and hiss at him, and Hermione is about to join in until she realises who the blond boy is looking at. Her cheeks seem to go even redder – if that's even possible – and she watches him throw his head back with a laugh, before he winks, and blows a mocking kiss up to her. She stands, frozen, watching him turn back to the pitch to take his place before Madam Hooch. The players mount their brooms and take their places (Hermione takes a minute to stop blowing on her hands to cheer as Ron flies past her towards the goalposts) as Madam Hooch opens the chest containing the four balls. The Bludgers shoot out of their positions into the air, followed closely by the faint zipping of the Snitch as it escapes away from the Seekers. Madam Hooch throws the Quaffle into the air, and just like that the game starts. Chasers of both teams flash past Hermione, tossing the Quaffle from one colour to the other, but Hermione can't keep up with it's position due to the rain that's only increasing in its violence. A cheer erupts among the crowd, and from the students shouting, Hermione is able to conclude that the Gryffindor team just scored a goal.

She turns her face upwards, shielding her eyes against the rain, to watch the two Seekers circling the pitch as they try to scope the Snitch. A faint buzzing near her right ear makes her turn her head; a slight flash of gold flitters near the corner of the stand. She smiles to herself – it seems this game won't last very long after all.

Malfoy's eyes flicker across the pitch, the pelting rain making him more and more annoyed as he searches for that tiny speck of gold. He glances up, sighing to himself and leaning back on his stirrups, rubbing his gloved hands over his face. They come back soaked from the rain that had been drenching his face and hair. He leans back down, gripping the brooms handle tightly as he takes another sweeping look across the pitch, and stops. There. The tiny golden orb hovers near one of the Gryffindor stands. A smirk quickly turns to a grin, and soon he's diving, dropping down towards the pitch at breathtaking speed, and Malfoy felt free. His hair whips around his face as he gets closer and closer to the ground, pulling up just at the right time and circling towards the red and gold stand. The Snitch is still there, quickly flashing to and fro across the front row of the stand.

He leans further forward to gain speed, feeling Potter close on his heels. He longs to reach out and kick the broom out from under him, to push him out of the way, to allow him this one, single victory. He lifts the handle slightly, rising steadily from the ground until he was almost level with the stands. The Snitch is now beginning to flit above the soaked wild hair and red and gold hat of none other than Hermione Granger. His face sets into a straight line as he lifts the handle more, shooting up towards her. His brow furrows as he looks back, seeing Potter basically riding on the Nimbus 2001 with him. A low growl starts in his throat as he becomes level with the stands, eyes locking with Granger's as she dives backwards. His right arm stretches out, his left holding the broom steady, and just before the Snitch is able to soar away…

His fingers brush against its cold, golden body.

His leather-gloved hand wraps around it, grabbing hold of it for dear life.

The Snitch hums in his hand.

He's done it.

A grin spreads across his face as he pulls his arm in towards him, hollering at the top of his lungs as the rain pelts him, shouting until his throat goes numb and his voice trails off, and yet still shouting some more. He flips the broom, heart pounding with exhilaration as he dives back downwards, back towards the ground. Zacharias Smith makes the announcement – "Draco Malfoy has caught the Snitch! Slytherin wins the first match of the season!" – much to the dismay of the majority of the students watching. No cheers rise up to meet Malfoy as he reaches the ground, jumping off his broom with the biggest smile on his face. He opens his hands to see the golden ball resting there before raising his face to the sky, allowing the rain to pour down onto him.