Puppet Strings (Hogwarts x Reader)

Chapter 6

She thought that even more so as Harry exited the office some time later, his face white as a sheet.

"She tried to get me to drop Quidditch training!" Harry exclaimed. "I told her no, but she still insisted on getting Madam Hooch to oversee our sessions. Honestly...."

Now that Harry was talking to Y/n again, she heard about Quidditch more often that she'd have liked. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin this, and Quidditch formations that. It seemed a new development had arisen nearly every time she went to speak with Harry.

Tonight was no exception. As she entered the Gryffindor common room, Harry exclaimed to her, "We're not playing Slytherin!"

Y/n paused. "What?"

"For the first match. We're not playing you guys! Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured, but it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in the terrible weather. Think it'll damage their chances. . . ."

"Oh."

"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it!"

"Yes, but you can't prove that," Y/n replied as she sat down across from Harry on a couch.

"And," Harry went on, "we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory."

Y/n his a smile.

"What?" said Harry, frowning at this lighthearted behavior.

"Nothing."

"No, tell me."

"Diggory's just easy on the eyes, is all," she remarked as Fred and George Weasley entered the common room.

"Diggory?" Fred asked.

"Yep," Y/n said, popping the 'p.' "Was just telling Harry about how he's a piece of eye candy. You know—strong and silent. The ladies love it."

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," said Fred impatiently.

"Actually," Harry said, "I was telling her all about how we're not playing Slytherin anymore."

"Oh." George rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you're worried, Harry, Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, you caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"I'm more annoyed that the Slytherins are basically cheating." His eyes suddenly lit up. "Hey Y/n, you wouldn't mind—"

"I'm not talking to Flint."

"What? Why not?" Harry protested.

"You're pretty and smart," George pointed out. "You could probably come up with an argument to get him to decide to play."

"Number one, he doesn't even know me, and number two, it doesn't matter what Flint says. As long as Malfoy keeps faking, I wouldn't even get anywhere."

"Awe come on," Fred said. "You wouldn't do this for us?" He slid on the couch beside her.

"Yeah, we're your best friends!" George and Fred both pretended to bat their eyelashes, leaning close.

"Ugh, get off," Y/n said, but she was grinning as she pushed them away. "Alright fine, fine! But no promises, and because I even have to talk to that little ferret boy, I'm expecting something in return."

"Yes ma'am," George said, already grinning mischievously at his brother.

***

It was late at night when Y/n was sitting on the couch of the Slytherin common room, reading a fantasy book she'd brought from Ilvermorny.

"Oh."

Y/n looked up to see Malfoy in the doorway, coming down from his dormitory staircase. He had his school bag in his hand, as if he were coming down here to study.

When he saw Y/n he turned away to head back upstairs—

"Wait," Y/n said.

Malfoy turned back to her in confusion. "What?"

"I need to talk to you."

He looked only more confused. "What?"

"Oh my—is it so hard to believe?"

"A bit, yeah."

"God, you don't have to stare at me like I'm something on the bottom of your shoe."

"You're a Potter."

"You said I had potential."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're still related to him."

"I'm adopted, actually."

Malfoy blinked, then scoffed and shook his head, turning to go back up the staircase.

"Wait! I'm sorry." Being around Fred and George always made Y/n a little more sarcastic. "I really do need to talk to you, though."

Malfoy stood there for a moment, then sighed and stepped deeper into the common room. He sat down across from Y/n, scowling. "What is it?"

"It's about Quidditch."

"Okay....?"

Y/n sighed. "I know you're faking your arm so you don't have to play."

Malfoy scoffed. "Oh please—"

"Don't even try to deny it. You're faking it for attention, and so that you don't have to play in this horrible weather."

Malfoy scowled, dropping all pretense. "So what? It's my word against anyone else's."

That was true. That was very true. Malfoy had influence in this school—mostly because of his father, yes, but he had influence nonetheless. Y/n would have to play this argument out very carefully.

Very carefully.

Perhaps it was time to lean into her Slytherin side. A little manipulation wouldn't hurt, right?

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Yes, obviously. But you made a stupid mistake. Don't you think playing Gryffindor in this weather would have been an actual advantage?"

Malfoy paused, blinking. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what?'"

"The reason you're confronting me about this is because of that? You want Slytherin to win?"

Y/n gave him an incredulous look. "Of course I do."

"But your brother's on Gryffindor!"

"And? I'm a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decide whether or not she were telling the truth. "What do you even mean? Playing in this weather would be a disadvantage to anyone."

"Yes, but especially to Gryffindor. Harry wears glasses—you think he's going to be able to see the Snitch with raindrops battering against his lenses?"

Malfoy studied her. Y/n held his gaze.

Eventually he sighed. "Even if you are right, it doesn't matter. Flint already made up his mind. Even if I say anything, it won't change. Hufflepuff's already been told they're playing."

Y/n frowned. Damn, she thought. So close. At least she actually had managed to convince Malfoy. It was the thought that counted, she supposed.

"That's stupid," Y/n said for Malfoy's sake.

"Yeah."

A moment of silence.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Y/n said, grabbing her book and standing. She moved for the dorm staircase—

"Potter?"

Y/n turned, expecting a jab.

Malfoy hesitated. It seemed as though he'd discarded whatever he'd wanted to say, though, because he just uttered a brief, "Good night."

"Good night," Y/n echoed, frowning. She started on the steps, even more confused than she had been before.