𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

8 | ﴾ Do You Think He Knows? ﴿

Despite my incessant attempts at sobering up the night before, the morning of Saturday was harsh and unforgiving. After Malfoy left the girls lavatory, I had stuck my head below the faucet and drank until my stomach hurt. When I re-emerged into the common room he was gone, as well as half of the students. Goyle, Crabbe, and Warrington made sure to shout snide remarks about what had occurred in the privacy of the bathroom. Pansy only shot daggers of hatred in my direction.

I sat on the edge of my bed wincing at 6am. Hilda looked like she hadn't even moved from the night before - as though she might've drowned in her pillow. I cautiously poked my foot at her until she groaned and turned over.

After fixing my Quidditch uniform to look less tight as per Draco's concerns, I stepped out of the castle and into the frosty October air. There was a few inches of snow on the ground and icy air nipped at my cheeks instantly. I whirled the green scarf I had on around my lower face and began my warm up walk.

The journey was spent trying to recall bits and pieces of the night before. My memory was totally clear up until the last few shots Hilda and I had taken and then Malfoy had barged in. After that it was an odd mixture of Malfoy looking very angry and then us on the floor, something else happening, him bunching up my dress...and then. Nothing. Had we?

I scrunched up my face and sighed into the hangover.

"Wait up, Madeleine!" A light hearted voice called from behind me. I spun to see Harry hopping down the steps behind me and dressed in thick clothing. He reached me and smiled, waving his hand awkwardly.

"Hi. I heard that the Slytherin practice was today and I know...I don't know you that well...but, I know, Malfoy. He can be cruel. You're the only girl so, I thought I would come for some, uh, moral support." His round glasses began to fog with his rambling and he plucked them off his face to rub them with his jacket.

I grinned back at him, an odd sort of relief flooding over me, "Brilliant, as you English would say!"

"Are you ready?" He queried as we began walking slowly down side by side.

I squinted, "I believe, yes. I used to play in France. But, alas, I 'ad much of this gin substance..." I trailed off, my hand going to my forehead.

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he looked amused, "Had ourselves a little midnight fun in the Slytherin house, did we?" The question was airy, but a hint of curiosity suggested that he was wondering what kind of fun exactly. I swallowed, knowing exactly what kind of fun had happened.

Harry was handsome and kind, gentle, but strong. His warm soul beside mine felt comforting. He had a brightness is his walk and in his words, unlike Malfoy who was damp and heavy. And explicitly unavailable, I thought to myself, considering he was practically engaged to that Astoria girl.

"You know, you'll do great," he was saying with encouragement, his breath coming out as a white cloud, "Malfoy will make a fuss that I'm there but I don't care. Don't worry about that."

I smiled at him sweetly and felt his fingers brush against my glove momentarily.

We reached the bottom of the hill where a cluster of green robes and black brooms were waiting. Montague was the first to spot us as he was stretching in our direction, "Ah, look what the trolls dragged in." He sneered at Harry, baring his terribly maintained teeth.

Malfoy turned on his heal up the hill and his face contorted violently as though it were electronically programmed to change in a split second, "Seriously, Potter? You think my players need escorts to their practices?" He walked up to us and jabbed his gloved finger into Harry's shoulder. Harry stepped back once but stood strongly against it.