ELEVEN

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Word Count: 945

The panic of the game got to me

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The panic of the game got to me. Vines now whipped around and tried to pull me into the hedges as I ran for my life through the maze. I was alone, scared, and most of all done with the tournament. I wanted out. I wanted free. 

And that's when I remembered there was an easy way to escape. I reached for my wand. Just three red sparks up into the sky were all it would take, and the tournament officials would come and collect me. It would be giving up, but everyone knew I shouldn't have made it this far anyway. 

Just as I raised my wand to the sky, a yell echoed through the maze. 

Francesco. 

He roared as if he were in pain. 

My resolution faltered. I lowered my wand. Knowing he was in trouble stopped me from giving up for some unknown reason. Even if he could give up too and call for help, I knew he wouldn't do that. He had the same stubborn pureblood pride the Medici boys had, and he would die for it in a silly game. 

His cry for help sounded close, so I took off running in the direction of it. The hedges began to move again, but this time they seemed to open up the path, not close in all around me. I felt herded, racing closer and closer to where I heard Francesco yell out in pain and frustration. 

"Francesco!" I called when his voice seemed nearby. "Francesco! Where are you?" 

Another cry broke out. I whirled about, but it wasn't until my eyes dipped low that I realized where he was. This time, I found him lying on the ground as vines and roots wrapped around him in death grips, trying desperately to pull him under the hedgerows. 

He clawed at the ground, his fingers digging into the dirt as the vines pulled him back. Briefly, his dark eyes met mine, and I saw raw fear there. It evoked in me a primal instinct and surge of brazen courage I didn't know I had. 

Gripping my wand tightly, I rushed to him and began firing at will incendiary curses on the demon vines. They lashed out in a few last attempts at both me and Francesco. Sharp splinters raked across our skin, leaving scratches on me and gouges on Francesco's face and neck. 

He grappled for purchase and wound up grabbing onto me wherever he could. His hands wrapped around my calves first as he tried to pull himself out. Then my thighs. Then my waist. My arms. 

I hauled him up as soon as the majority of the vines were burned to ash and losing purchase. Without letting go of him, I pulled him swiftly forward as new angry vines shot out in a last attempt to claim us as their victims. We stumbled back into a new alley of the maze, and the hedges closed in just before the vines could snatch us. 

All fell quiet again. Only our heavy breathing broke the silence. 

I looked Francesco over, noting how beaten down and worn out he appeared. Blood smeared across his neck and cheek where the vines had been most vicious about abusing him. Bruises were already forming where the vines had banded around his arms and legs. His hair was a wild mess, curls hanging down over his face. Dirt and twigs covered us both. 

But he was okay. He was alive. He was with me. 

I couldn't deny the relief I felt. Even if he was a Pazzi. 

Despite what I was supposed to think about him, the tournament had changed my mind. Placing myself in mortal danger put everything else into perspective, and I found the family feud to be quite trivial now. Francesco Pazzi was still a person, and I was learning he was actually quite a good one. He might have been broody and severe, but his actions spoke to a good and decent heart. 

The hedges finally stopped moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a flash of pale blue light. 

We both turned to look, but his hand remained firmly clasped in mine. 

Now in view, the TriWizard Tournament Cup stood on display. Ripe for the taking. 

We looked hesitantly to each other, but he never let go of my hand. 

"You should take it," he intoned. 

"No—" I quickly countered. My hand squeezed tighter around his fingers. At his questioning look, I added, "Together. We should do it together. I never wanted to win this thing anyway." 

His eyes narrowed, but not in a severe way. No, he gazed at me curiously, as if I was a puzzle he was dying to figure out. At last, he drawled, "All right. Together." 

My stomach flipped again at his words. With fingers still entwined, we walked together up to the cup. It pulsed a little brighter every step we took closer, and soon my heart was hammering in time with the pulses. 

I couldn't believe Hogwarts was going to win the tournament. Moreover, I couldn't believe I was going to win it with a Slytherin Pazzi. 

We reached for it together, and I dared to feel hopeful. To feel accomplished. Relieved. A little bit joyful even. 

And then Francesco dropped my hand. At the last second, he let me grab the handle. Alone. 

The world upended itself, and I plunged into darkness just before falling face first in the grass outside the maze entrance with the winning cup in hand.

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