Spellbind

5. November 5th, 1994 Pt. 2

A/N:
>>>>> = Time Skip
<<<<< = Flashback
*=*=*=*=* = Next Scene

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Niyla POV:

My hands laced together around his body, he seemed to have no problem with the fact he was riding with the daughter of a werewolf.— As far as he knew, that was true. For a prolonged moment, we hovered several hundred feet above the lake, a good distance from the castle. The lowering sun seemingly cast a mirage from the glinting light coming off the lake's deep-green water.— I had never seen Hogwarts look so...picturesque.

I tried to convince myself no one was staring as we landed rather roughly on the front lawn, and walked into the entrance hall. Everyone there swiveled their heads in our direction, most of them were standing near the Goblet of Fire.— A magical object tasked with selecting the Champions for the Triwizard Tournament. The wooden Goblet had been placed in the entrance hall, on a stool. A thin golden line- the age line, to prevent students under the age of fifteen from entering— had been traced on the floor; forming a circle ten feet around the Goblet. A warble of whispers erupted and some averted themselves from us as we passed; down the hall.

Some Gryffindors were huddled by the marble staircase, speaking without paying any mind to who was near them. Krum and I were headed toward the library, since the sun was getting too low to study outdoors.

"—That bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth." A boy named Dean said.

"We can't have a Slytherin Champion!" Seamus, another Gryfinndor, spoke offhandedly.

My eyes flashed in their direction, they went rigid with surprise. I had a strong impulse to confront them, the atmosphere grew tense; I strained to force myself to keep walking.— Perhaps I was being oversensitive.

"Um-Krum," I turned to him as we neared a corridor by the dungeons.

He looked downward at me. His deep-set eyes bore a troubled expression.

"Will you meet me at the library? I'd like to go put this in my dorm." I gestured with the broomstick he had given me.

"Okay," he smiled.

"Vot did that boy mean,—" he went on. "—They can't have a Slytherin Champion? Aren't you a Slytherin?"

I hesitated a step. My hands suddenly felt slick.- Nervous that once he truly knows how much people dislike me, so will he.

"Yeah," I huffed- not really a sigh.

"The Slytherin House isn't exactly favored by most. For—" I paused.

"A number of reasons..."

"Oh," creases formed in between his thick eyebrows. "I see, so you don't plan to put your name in the Goblet?"

"No," I scoffed with a bit of humor.

He pursed his lips with a thinking expression. "Shame. I think if you were a Champion, you could win."

I smiled, pleased. "I doubt that."

"You saw how I was on this thing." I held up the broom.

"I'm not nearly as clever as you." I blushed at my own words.

He grinned, his stark black lashes narrowing as the edges of his eyes crinkled.

"I'll see you at the library, maybe Malfoy is there." He turned from me with a serene smile.

"Right...See you in a bit." I said, walking away.

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I sat with Krum and Draco, and even Crabbe and Goyle, in the library for about an hour before some of his Durmstrang classmates pulled him away from us. I read absentmindedly through my notes from earlier lessons once again, while the others prattled on. Until my ears twitched reflexively to the sound of Ron's voice.

"—Just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

I stood swiftly, his voice moving further away.

"I'll see you guys later," I said as I collected my things from the table, struggling not to move without too much urgency.

"Okay," Draco barely glanced in my direction.

My eyes cast around the corridor, noting most were engrossed in their own conversations to take notice I was approaching Harry and Ron.

"Uh- Harry," I called out when I was close enough.

They stopped, their backs ramrod straight.

"Niyla," said Harry, his eyes rigid.

"Do you have a moment?" I kept my voice calm, though my hands here were dampened from how uneasy this made me feel.— Being forced to talk to Harry, when he clearly wasn't ready to speak with me just yet.

"Harry's a bit busy right now—" Ron glowered. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm sure Malfoy will care to listen; you two have gotten quite chummy over the summer."

"Ron," Harry nudged Ron's arm.

"Well it's true," he said angrily. "Just because he doesn't bully you anymore Harry, doesn't mean I'll forgive him. Or her for being friends with him."

I looked away from them for a second, biting my tongue. Reminding myself I'm only doing this for Sirius. I took a deep breath and looked at Harry.

"I didn't come up to you to talk about Draco, are you willing to hear me out or not?"

"About what?" He questioned.

My eyes darted to Ron. "I'd rather talk about it, without you here, Weasley," I said coldly.

He crossed his arms, stubbornly staying close to Harry. Harry didn't move either, his expression becoming vexed. I remembered the words on the parchment my father sent me, dimly.

"Fine," I sighed sharply. "If you want to continue on like this, then I guess it isn't on me whether or not you get the message."

"What message?" Harry asked, taking a step toward me as I turned back to the direction we had come from.

His hand was on my arm in an instant and I couldn't control the infuriated emotion that surged through me. I spun on my heel and since we were practically the same height our faces were only a few inches from each's.

"Don't touch me," I said through my teeth.

His eyes widened. I felt my body begin to tremble. I don't know when it started.— After a while, I just assumed I was just born with the fear of physical touch. And when I'm suddenly being grabbed, it starts to feel like the walls around me are closing in, and can't control the quivering that plagues my body. That's why, it was such a shock to Draco when I first hugged him.

I hadn't noticed Ron unsheathed his wand until I yanked my arm away and a few students began to stare in our direction.

I looked at Ron with a snigger escaping my lips. Faint creases formed in between my eyebrows.

"Pathetic," I muttered. Halfly speaking to myself.

I turned to Harry.

"What rot is he feeding you?" I said with humor.

"Bet, he makes you feel sorry for yourself. Just like how he feels for himself." I continued, knowing he didn't have a response.

"Do you really care that I'm friends with your former bully? Or is it because he—" I nodded quickly in Ron's direction. "Told you, you should?"

"I didn't tell him anything," Ron held on to his wand, still pointing it at me.

"Whatever," I spat. "I don't give a crap anymore."

"Well then,—" Harry forced Ron's arm down. "Say what you wanted to say."

I scoffed. "No," I lifted my chin and looked around to make sure the people watching weren't within earshot.

"Fuck that, I'm not going to be my father's messager."

I turned away the moment my last words were out. "But I will say this because it involves his safety, he said to tell you not to use Hedwig and to change owls often."

I could see it in his eyes.— Him deciphering what I meant; who I was talking about.