The Malfoy Girl

Close Quarters

Priscilla was miserable.

She felt like she saw Fred and Angelina everywhere she went and she was getting pretty sick of it.

It was as if they were purposefully rubbing it in her face. 

She groaned when she came around a corner just in time to have front-row seats to seeing the pair kissing in the middle of the hallway.

People have places to be, she thought bitterly as she ducked her head down to quickly pass them.

Another head of bright orange hair caught her eye and she sighed with relief as she charged towards George.

"Hey Sil-"

Before he could get out a proper greeting, she dragged him down the hallway with her. "They're driving me crazy!" She hissed in a low voice. "It's like they're doing it on purpose."

"They're not," George assured, falling into step with her. "I promise, my brother's dafter than a doorknob. He doesn't realize it's hurting you."

Priscilla simply grumbled in response as they continued down the hallway.

"I have to run to Snape's class, but can you meet me at the broom closet on the third floor after class?" George asked, "I've gotta talk to you about something."

Confused, Priscilla shook her head slowly. "Um, sure then? I suppose."

Flashing her a sparkling grin, he turned and sped off to make it to the warden's class in time, leaving Priscilla confused in his wake.

After her class ended, she made her way to the third floor broom closet still wondering what on earth George would have to talk to her about there.

As she approached the old wooden door, she glanced up and down the hallway, but there was no sign of the boy.

"George?" She called. She then noticed that the door was cracked open a bit.

Curiously, she pushed the door open wide with her foot.

Peeking in, she saw that the space was slightly bigger than she had anticipated a broom closet to be. It was more like a very small room, something she could imagine Professor Flitwick's coming to have tea in during his breaks.

She stepped fully into the room, the ceiling mere inches from the top of her head. She had to squint in the darkness, but she could see a tall figure standing at the back of the closet.

"George," she sighed in relief, starting towards him. "You almost scared me, what was it you wanted to—"

The figure turned and Priscilla's heart lurched into her throat.

Fred stared down at her, confused, and open his mouth to ask what she was on about when they heard the door shut quickly and latch.

With two pairs of eyes bulging out of their heads, the pair rushed towards the door to try to open it.

"It's stuck—!" Priscilla groaned, when a familiar laugh rang from the outside of the wood.

"You two can come out when you learn to communicate like adults!" George sneered, and Priscilla banged on the door violently with her fist.

"George! You prat!" She hissed, pounding on the door. "You open this door!"

George only laughed from the outside.

Shaking her head in frustration, Priscilla pulled her wand from her belt and pointed it at the knob.

"Alohomora!" She called, clearly and loudly, but the door didn't budge.

"Not gonna work." A voice drawled from beside her and Priscilla jumped, she had forgotten Fred was there. "We know how to block every spell in the book. He has to let us out."

Priscilla groaned in frustration before she took to kicking at the door aggressively.

Fred found a cozy spot on the floor to sit while he waited for her to tire herself out.

"Fuck you, George!" She howled, landing one more punch to the door before stomping away.

She moved to the very back of the broom closet, sliding down the wall and kicking her feet out when she met the ground with a "hmph."

After a few moments, Fred spoke, pulling at a loose fabric on his jumper. "What does he want us to talk about?"

Priscilla stayed silent for a moment, staring at the ground. She shuffled her feet before sighing, "I dunno. Maybe it's about the fact that you're ignoring me."

Fred blinked, craning his neck to look at her. "I—I'm not ignoring you."

Priscilla let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah? What do you call passing me in the hallway and not saying anything? Or seeing me in class and not saying anything, or seeing me in general and not saying anything?" She asked bitterly.

"I just—" Fred sighed, frustrated. "I don't get you."

"What's not to get?" She spat at him.

"You told me to leave you alone." He turned to face her fully. "This is what you wanted."

"I don't know what I want!" Priscilla cried, burying her head in her hands. "I don't know what I want, okay? I only know what other people want from me." She felt her face begin to burn, "I-I'm being pulled in so many different directions, I just, I can't..." she stifled a sniffle as she pulled her knees up to her chest, burying her face in them.

Fred stayed silent as Priscilla tried to control her breathing. A breeze seemed to flow especially harshly through this part of the castle, and a shiver ran up Priscilla's spine.

"Are you cold?" Fred's voice just barely above a whisper.

Priscilla glanced up, her reddening eyes welled with tears as she watched Fred pull his knit jumper over his head.

Before she could protest, he thrust the fabric into her hands. "It's okay, my mum made it, it's nice and soft." He murmured, and as she gently reached out to take it, his hands engulfed hers and he held her there for a moment.

Priscilla felt her breath hitch as her eyes flickered up to his chocolate ones. "I want to be your friend." He said quietly, "but you've gotta work with me. We can't have any more of this back and forth."

Priscilla glanced down at the cobblestone floor, nodding gently. He released her hands, and she was sad for a moment at the loss of contact.

She pulled the jumper over her head and it completely enveloped her, the fabric pooling around her thighs.

"I'm sorry that I ignored you," Fred continued, "but after watching you fall off my broom..."

"Fred," Priscilla breathed, leaning forward to take his face in her hands. "Stop worrying about that. It's not your fault, it could've happened to anyone."

He blinked at her. Only after she finished talking did Priscilla realize how close they had become. She swallowed hard as her eyes searched his for a sign, anything.

Slowly, his hands came up to ghost over hers. She felt overwhelmed by disappointment when he gently pulled her hands off of his cheeks, pushing them back towards her while nodding.

Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet. "Right then. We're all good then?" He extended a hand down to her.

Priscilla was still staring at him, as if in a trance. Then she blinked, shaking the thoughts away as she took his offering, using him to hoisting herself up. "Uh—yeah, yeah."

He nodded simply, and moved to knock on the broom closet door. "Alright mate, we've talked it out."

Priscilla let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding when the door finally swung open and light flooded the small room.

"Just in time," George grinned. "The next task is about to start."