𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

3 | ﴾ A Sport Opportunity ﴿

One we'd reached the hospital, he had spent a good hour trying to convince Madam Pomfrey that I was responsible for the ink spill while she generously applied a green solution to his face and wiped furiously. I had stared back into his eyes, holding his gaze from the hosital bed opposite him and said nothing. Pomfrey seemed disinterested in the topic of blame and more concerned with stopping the ink from relentlessly regenerating from where she had managed to remove it.

We had both been released at the same time with newly darkened hair. Mine had streaks of brown throughout it while Draco's was nearly fully gothic black. He was now reminiscent of a miniature Snape with his obsidian hair and pale complexion. I was secretly jealous of anyone who was going to be in the boy's bathroom at the moment he saw his new appearance – it was surely going to be hysterical.

After the ink accident I didn't see Draco around for almost a week. He seemed to have found a way to collectively avoid almost everyone in the Slytherin common room. I was sure he'd claimed illness or a family issue in order to get out of classes.

I wasn't particularly bothered by it and kept my mind busy on schoolwork and hobbies.

I read an entire divination textbook that week, making the most of my time outside under the tree. The weather was starting to dampen around the edges and winter's bite was beginning to creep into the smell and temperature in the air.

I also spent a lot of time flying over the Black Lake, trying ridiculous tricks like hanging upside down at breakneck speed just over the water's surface. The move felt like an optical illusion, as though flying extremely close to the ceiling of the sky. My daring personality with sports had often led to broken bones and serious injuries, but I had never shaken the habitual approach to games. My parents had eventually given up trying to stop me. My mother would walk around the house wincing when she saw me with any sort of equipment in my hands or on my body.

On Saturday I woke to the sound of excited yelling in the common room. The girl whose bed was next to mine blinked at me in a similar state of sleepy bewilderment. She sat up with messy brown waves sticking up in every direction and groaned in annoyance. I spent a few minutes braiding my long hair into two braids and wrapped a lanky silk robe around my petite nightgown. I knew if Snape saw me traipsing around the common room in only the short night dress he would surely deduct points from the house, or worse. It wasn't the same in France, where rules about clothing were far laxer. The British seemed more uncomfortable with their own thoughts.

The girl and I only nodded to each other as we left the room. I recognized her from sharing sleeping quarters the previous year. She tended to be wild and rude, but had a witty charm to her and confidence bigger than anyone else in the room combined. Her snarky retorts at the boys in the common room made her popular and she was always seen with a flask on the weekends, laughing too loudly and sitting in the center of the crowd. She was tall, slender, and beautiful with tanned skin and dark blue eyes that commanded the attention of whomever she was speaking with. I knew she assumed I couldn't speak any English at all because the previous year had basically been that way. She probably didn't want to risk wasting her precious energy on decoding my poor word choices.

The common room was packed with shouting students at one end, closest to the dungeon exit. The soft green fire was flickering with nonchalance in the stone hearth, completely ignored in the seating area. Bizarre that a fire would be burning at that hour of the morning, but it was on an endless loop no matter the time of day.

The other Slytherins were dressed in muggle clothing, most still in pajamas and gesturing towards a piece of parchment nailed to the wall.

I squinted and noticed that it was a bulletin for Quidditch team tryouts. Three spots were miraculously available, and I felt my heart lurch longingly. A sport opportunity.