A Summer of Football
Link to picture: http://i408.photobucket.com/albums/p...soccerball.jpg
Draco Malfoy and Dean Thomas
1-2 year, none
I like a young Draco more than a teenage one, I think. I kind of laugh at my first drabble. xD Thank you my wonderful Dinny for betaing these.
Draco's is 292 and Dean's is 444.
France was lovely in Summertime, Draco decided. It was warm, but not too hot – it didn’t feel like his skin was burning off, at least. The view was much better, too.
Draco’s father bought property in the county some time ago, but it was Draco’s first time there. The house was out in the country, not far from a wizarding village. Spells were placed around the property so that in case Muggles were to stumble upon the land, the Malfoys would not be disturbed, and they could go on with their magic as they pleased. Draco normally would use that to his advantage and play Quidditch, but he didn’t feel like that today.
“Mother, may I go for a walk?” asked Draco on the warm summer day. He had always loved walking, and it would give him a chance to explore the area outside of where he was permitted to fly. He had always enjoyed exploring.
“Sure, dear,” his mother said from her leather chair, “I’ll just be a moment.” Draco scowled. He fully intended on going alone. He chose not to say anything.
They walked where Draco led them for what seemed like hours in the heat of the midday sun. Eventually Draco asked for a cooling charm to be placed on him before he started to sweat; he always thought it to be disgusting.
“Mother, what are they doing?” Draco stopped walking up the small hill and pointed to an area quite a distance in front of him. There were at least ten people running around, chasing a ball. A ball that was on the ground.
“I believe it is called football, dear. They’re Muggles.”
“Muggles run around chasing a ball?” Draco sneered at the thought; Narcissa nodded. “What idiots.”
“Dean, come in please,” Mrs. Thomas called from the doorway.
“In a minute, Mum!” In their overly large yard was Dean, staring intently at his friend’s feet. He was grinning.
Mrs. Thomas shut the door, knowing that it was no use trying to get him to stop playing. It was only her first try. That was a pain of being a mother, wasn’t it? No child ever does what they’re told when they’re first asked.
The door slammed shut as she left, and Dean’s friend looked up. It gave him the perfect chance to kick the ball away from Charles’s feet and start running down the yard to the goal.
If only he had been so lucky.
The grass was slick with the light summertime rain that fell moments ago, and while it was easier to slide the ball over the patchy grass, it was just as easy for Dean to slide, too. While Dean was regaining his balance, Charles took off towards their makeshift goal at the opposite end of the garden.
Dean grinned. He wasn’t the fastest on his friends for no reason. Before Charles made it half way to the goal, Dean had already caught up with him. Charles tried running faster, but that only spurred Dean on more.
Dean knew that it would be no good to get in front of Charles and try to block him that way; Charles would never give it up. It wouldn’t do to have Charles score the last goal, so Dean did the only thing that came to mind: he booted the ball away.
That way neither of them had it. For a while, at least.
“Dean!” his mother called, but Dean wasn’t listening. He was racing Charles to where the ball landed, near the corner of the fence.
He didn’t have anything in his mind except Charles and his lead on him, and the fact that his hair was sticking to his face in the mixture of sweat and rain water that covered his body. It was too distracting for him; Charles was gaining on him. He’d have to have his mum cut it later.
He slowed down in just enough time before he ran into the ball. Charles was just a moment behind him. “I win!” Dean exclaimed in a huff. He hated sprinting, but enjoyed winning.
“Dean Thomas, get in this house NOW! You are getting soaked and dirty, now come in.” Dean could have winced. He didn’t need to see his mum to know she was angry. He hadn’t even noticed the rain was picking up.
Charles picked up the ball and followed Dean inside, not regretting a single moment.