Living. Dying. Surviving. // The Goblet Of Fire

2

IT WAS LATER THE NEXT DAY WHEN YOU SAW DRACO AGAIN. The students of the school rushed past you. News of something beyond the walls of the castle sparked their interest, and they sacrificed a few minutes of dinner to get a good look.

You shrink back into yourself, attempting to be smaller and slink through the wave of bodies. It works, and you're left alone in the hallway, marching towards the Great Hall. Unlike everyone else, your focus was on the food, and you hope to sneak in before the dinner crowd is no longer absorbed by whatever was happening at the Great Lake.

But then you come across him and his unavoidable frown.

"Y/n," he greets, unlike himself to, but with that same cold tone of his. He pretends to wipe off dirt from his robe — really it's an excuse to dig through his pockets. "Here."
He outstretches a small glass bottle. Judging by the crease of his forehead, it takes all of his willpower to offer it to you. "Take it."

You blink at the potion. "I don't want it."
"Take it," he repeats, stepping closer. "It's yours."

"It's not. I didn't make that."
"I made it. Now, take it."
"I'm not sure I want to do that."
"Why not?"
"There's a high chance it'll kill me."

"It won't-" he sucks in a breath. You're somehow more annoying than you were in class. The lines between his eyebrows deepen with each passing second. "It's a wit-sharpening potion," he says, obviously tired of your childish refusal. "I made it, because you messed yours up."

You reel your head back and point to yourself.
"I-" you scoff. "I only messed up because you cut me."

His grip around the bottle tightens and his throat bobs. "Just... take it," he hisses, though his intimidating stare falters. And... is he fidgeting with his tie? Then, it clicks.

"Is this you making it up to me?" You voice your disbelief with a short chuckle. Did he really think he was in debt to you because of his mistake, leading to your injury and failed grade? You don't have the heart to tell him you went back after class ended and scored an A plus.

"You know," you start, then pull the unexpected. You reach for his head, faster than he can react, and ruffle his hair. You leave the strands a mess atop his scalp. "I wasn't expecting an apology."

Draco resists the urge to end your life. He sneers, trying to swat away your hand, but all he hits is the empty air as you pull your bandaged hand away. "This isn't an apology," he spits, shoving the potion into your grip. "I'm not sorry."

As he leaves, stomping away, you take a look at the potion. It's like he said; A wit-sharpening potion, well made too. Since Draco did make it, it might kill you, but it's good enough for your collection. You just won't tell Dalila how it came into your possession.

You stuff the potion into the pocket of your robe and continue towards the Great Hall. Draco took up the few spare minutes you had, and now people were coming back from their short-lived adventure.

"We saw the new arrivals!" Dalila appears, bumping your shoulder as she joins your side. Fred and George linger behind you and her, speaking to each other about an... underwater ship?

She takes a tight grip of your sleeve, eyes going wide as she explains everything. She starts with the pegasi, around ten of them, all pulling a large and beautifully decorated cart. She laughs as she tells how they almost mowed down Hagrid. Then she explains how a massive ship surfaced from under the water. The thought of that made you grimace.

It was starting to make sense why the underclassmen were shoved into classes of the older kids to make room for the new arrivals. But the question was the reason Hogwarts was welcoming incomers.

"So, what did they look like? Do you know where they're from?"

At your questions, Dalila purses her lips. "Well, we only saw them arrive, we didn't actually see who they were."

You roll your eyes.
"But!" She holds her hands up to stop any refute. "I heard that they'll be joining us for dinner!"

You nod half-heartedly, curious of the new guests, but their sudden appearance sparked questions that Dalila would call you a Ravenclaw for asking.

"We'll talk after," Dalila bids you a goodbye as you part ways once inside the Great Hall. She takes Fred's hand and pulls him towards the Gryffindor table while you sulk the entire way to the Slytherin table.

It's been six years and you still haven't forgiven the Sorting Hat for putting you in Slytherin.
It left you to fend for yourself in a dorm filled with insufferable people who thought themselves too highly to have basic human empathy.

You plop down in your seat with a huff. It doesn't take long for everyone to settle in. Quickly, the tables are filled up, though there two more tables near the front of the room than remain empty.

Draco sits opposite of you, a few seats down. Even when you try to tease him from across the table, he avoids your gaze like it's the devil.

Dumbledore steps up to his owl lectern.
"I'd like to make an announcement."