Chapter 2: A Malfoy Does It Straight

Five in the morning, and only the locusts in the bushes of Malfoy Manor made a faint, purring sound.

Suddenly the scene of peaceful quiet was broken, as it was each morning at five, when a completely black head with holes for eyes stuck itself out of the front doors and glanced around the vicinity alertly. Then the head retreated and a smothered male voice was heard.

"Now, son. I don't think there is anyone around. Take your broom and get out, quickly!"

"Father!" a younger voice whined sleepily. "Why do we have to go through this routine every morning? First it was fencing, then duelling, wizard chess, quizzes of wizard pop bands, French seduction techniques, and now flying? I know how to fly -"

"Be quiet, Draco! Anybody could hear us, remember? You know the code of secrecy we ought to employ. The fact we always get up at four to practise beating other people in miscellaneous ways is not the world's to know!"

The black head turned around and supervised the vicinity again, obviously closing the case.

Surely enough, a second black head peered around the doorframe and moments later, both Malfoy males, backs pressed against the outer wall of the Manor, shuffled out of the house and disappeared into the shadow of the giant mansion.

Panting for fresh air, they faced each other before pulling off their identical woollen hats.

"Now, son, mount your broom…I want you to fly straight; straight ahead and neatly. " Lucius was still panting.

Draco narrowed his eyes in concentration at the command of his father and kicked his brand new Night Glider off into the air. Lucius rode approvingly beside him and they completed odd patterns in the sky as he instructed his child in flying his new toy. The Night Glider had replaced the Firebolt as the fastest broom in the world mere weeks ago, and Lucius smiled at the thought of his own blood finally being able to beat that mangy, mutty Harry Potter and make Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup.

It was therefore that Lucius, after having spent a good few minutes plotting this in silence, suddenly spoke:

"Hmm, Draco, I would like you to grip your broom tighter between your legs. It will make you go harder..."

Draco snapped out of his reveries and eyed his father in shock, blushing.

"Wh-what?"

"Remember, you are on the pitch and Potter comes for you…"

Draco choked and instantly lost control over his broom. High, scared screams erupted as the broomstick started plummeting downwards, meanderingly heading for a group of nearby trees.

"Draco!" Lucius snarled. "Get right back here! Grip it tightly and aim! Do you want to have Potter or not? Remember, a Malfoy does it straight!"

Now direly confused, Draco panickingly looked from his falling broom to his father and back. The snapping of branches and the bold rustle of leaves were heard, and then the garden of the Manor was quiet once more.

Lucius Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed wearily.