Lost, bird? Alistair. V x Malvina. A

Chapter 1. Slytherin

Alistair drifted down the candlelit corridors of Hogwarts, his mind stuck on the upcoming Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

The collision came out of nowhere. He stumbled as someone crashed into him from behind. Spinning around, irritation died on his lips when he saw her, a girl on the stone floor, messy hair falling around her face, and broken glasses scattered by her knee.

A few first-year Gryffindor boys snickered as they hurried past, clearly the cause behind her fall.

"I'm so sorry!" One called over his shoulder, already retreating with his friends, laughter trailing behind him.

Alistair exhaled, annoyance giving way to something softer. He crouched beside her and gently gathered the pieces of her glasses.

"Reparo," he murmured. The lenses mended under his touch. He held them out to her, his fingers brushing hers for just a second too long.

"That must've hurt," he said quietly, not quite meeting her eyes as he offered his hand. "Here. Let me help you up."

Malvina looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Thanks," she said, taking his hand.

His grip was firm as he pulled her to her feet, steadying her before letting go.

After a brief pause, she glanced around before adding, "First-years, am I right?" The comment came out a little awkward, but it was her attempt to ease the tension.

"First-years. More bravery than brains." A faint smirk touched his lips. "Though that applies to most of them."

He brushed the wrinkles from his robes but didn't leave. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before drifting away.

"You're not hurt?" he asked, the concern in his voice carefully restrained. "That was a nasty fall. These stone floors don't forgive much."

Malvina lifted her hands, studying her palms. The skin was rubbed raw, tinged pink, with tiny beads of blood welling where they had scraped against the stone floor.

"Just a few scratches," she said, brushing it off with a small shrug. "I'll be fine, though. I should probably visit Madam Pomfrey."

Alistair's eyes dropped to her scraped palms without meaning to. Something unreadable flickered across his face. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial, unscrewing the lid to reveal a bright green serum that smelled faintly of mint.

"Hold still," he muttered, catching her wrist before she could protest. His fingers were cool against her skin.

"This will sting for a few seconds."

He turned her palm upward and dabbed the serum onto the wound.

The liquid felt icy at first, followed by a sharp sting. Malvina hissed through her teeth, but the pain quickly faded as numbness spread across her palms like cool water.

A few students passed by, slowing just enough to stare. Their expressions shifted with curiosity as they spotted Alistair Vaine holding a girl's hand in the middle of the corridor.

A Slytherin girl arched an eyebrow and leaned toward her friend, whispering something under her breath.

A faint green glow lingered over Malvina's skin as the cuts knitted themselves closed.

"You get hurt often?" she asked curiously, keeping her eyes fixed on her newly healed hands instead of meeting his gaze.

She gently pulled them from his grasp and pressed her thumbs against the smooth skin, testing the healed wounds with a soft squeeze.

He screwed the lid back onto the vial and slipped it into his bag, his gaze drifting toward the stone pillars.

"Often enough." He tucked a loose strand of black hair behind his ear. "I play Quidditch. It's not exactly a gentle sport."

Taking a few steps back, he leaned against the stone wall, folding his arms across his chest.

"Quidditch," she repeated, amusement tugging at the cornes of her mouth.

Finally, she looked up towards the boy. Her eyes met his icy blue gaze before trailing to his sharp nose and thin lips. Catching herself staring for a moment too long, she quickly glanced away.

Her gaze landed on the crest embroidered across his robes.

Slytherin, of course.

The warmth slipped from her expression, replaced by careful indifference.

"Thank you. I should get going. My friends are waiting for me." Her tone was noticeably colder than before.

"Right."

The word came out dry. She wouldn't want to be seen talking to a snake, he thought as she quickened her pace, putting more distance between them.

The corridor was beginning to thin, most students already gathering in the Great Hall for dinner. Torchlight cast long shadows across the stone floor, and the distance between them seemed to hang in the air like smoke.

A group of Slytherin girls rounded the corner, led by a tall blonde with sharp cheekbones and a perfect smile. The moment she spotted Alistair, her entire face lit up.

She slipped her arm through his with practiced familiarity.

"Alistair, darling. We saved you a seat."

He didn't pull away, but he didn't lean into her, either.

His gaze lingered on Malvina's back for a heartbeat longer than it should have.

"Coming," he said to Daphne.

Not to Malvina.