To the untrained eye, it would appear that Ginny Weasley was a terrible seeker. She had none of Potter’s finesse; she lacked that quality which made Potter seem like an extension of his broom, rather than just a person sitting astride it. She did not fly with the arrogant assurance and control that Draco himself possessed. To the untrained eye, the girl was downright graceless in the air.

Draco prided himself on having a very well-trained eye. Careful study told him that Ginny Weasley was like a pickpocket. Her seemingly random circuits of the pitch were, in fact, a ruse. In the same fashion that a pickpocket feigned clumsiness in order to divest a person of their wallet, this red-haired actress simply meandered about with no obvious purpose until she plucked the little golden target from the air without ever giving an indication she’d even seen the thing. It was ingenious.

Draco was certain that victory was his now that he’d discovered her game plan. He tailed her closely, eyes peeled for any flash of gold. When she rounded on him, wearing a saucy smile, he was taken aback. She reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately, startling him into immobility. At first the cheering confused him; then he saw the Snitch struggling futilely in her hand. Merlin, she was good.