Over the last month, I hadn't given Ron a second glance; Hermione and Harry have tried to get me to talk to him, but I refused until he apologized. But besides my argument with Ron, the three of them managed to officially form the D.A.– Dumbledore's Army. Overall, the last month consisted of weird glances from Professor Snape, pleads from Hermione and Harry to talk to Ron, and secret meetings with Draco in the Astronomy Tower.
At least twice a week, Draco and I have met during our breaks or lunch hour to hang out in the tower. We spoke about nothing and overall enjoyed each other's company. The more we hung out, the more I believed Draco would stop his mean and conniving ways against my friends and others, but I was sorely mistaken.
It was the day of the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. I wore a red Gryffindor sports shirt over my sweatshirt, with a large number seven in the front– for Harry, while Hermione wore one with a number one– for Ron.
But in the Quidditch Stand, I was disappointed. Slytherins wore a large silver crown-shaped pin that read: WEASLEY is our King. Picking up a box of them, I threw them in the trash and flicked off the Slytherin who was handing them out; but I was too late, almost the entire Slytherin house– along with other house members– wore the ugly badge.
"Ugly little badges..." Hermione muttered.
Both teams stood out of view from the crowd. Looking around, I couldn't find any sign of the Gryffindor team. Soon, the doors of the Quidditch pitch opened and out flew both teams. Cheered erupted all around the stands, most of them cheering for Slytherin. Hermione and I screamed as loud as we could for our team, jumping up and down.
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.
The balls were released out of the Quidditch box and the fourteen players shot upward. Harry hovered in the air while Ron zoomed off toward the goal hoops. Harry flew higher, dodging a Blunger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, looking for the Golden Snitch. On the other side of the stadium, Draco was doing exactly the same.
Lee Jordan commented on everything that went on in the stadium. The crowd yelled, booed, and sang a horrible song about Ron.
". . .and the crowd are loving this just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
My blood boiled at the stupid song they sang about Ron. I was truly humming with fury. No matter how angry I was at him, I did not want Ron to be bullied by the slimy Slytherins.
"— and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, trying to drown out the sound of the singing. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah..."
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie. At Angelina's lost goal, the Slytherins started to sing louder.
Harry turned around and, instead of looking for the Snitch, he turned his Firebolt toward Ron as Warrington pelted towards him.
"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron..."
The Slytherins now stomped along with their song, drawing more attention from Ron. And from the stands, I could see Angelina yelling at Harry. With a nod, Harry flew down towards the pitch, searching for the Snitch again. I couldn't even see the Snitch anywhere, no flashes of gold. Draco was still circling the stadium just like Harry. They passed midway around the pitch going in opposite directions and Harry looked angry at whatever Draco had said.
". . .so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!"
Harry zoomed around the stadium once more before our side of the pitch groaned in frustration. Ron didn't block another goal from Pucey.
"This is so horrible!" I groaned.
"I'm sorry your first Quidditch game might be a total loss," Hermione apologized.
The score was twenty-nil, but I was hopeful for a comeback– whether we could catch up or Harry catching the Snitch.
But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry's desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly.
"— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina — GRYFFINDOR SCORE!—"
Hermione and I jumped and cheered and Luna Lovegood made her lion hat roar. Although it was only a few points, I was completely overjoyed, proud of my house team.
The game continued and soon enough, there was a little glitter of gold in front of me. A large gasp came from my throat at the sight of the Golden Snitch.
"Harry!" I screamed, who was looking in the complete opposite direction. Although highly unlikely he heard me, he looked over towards me and his face brightened.
Quickly, he zoomed across the field and towards the Golden Snitch in front of me. In a matter of seconds, Draco noticed Harry's direction and also flew towards the Snitch.
In the view of Harry and Draco's speedy flying, I noticed a Bludger zooming through the air, straight at me.
"Charlotte!" Hermione screamed as the Bludger came our way.
Screwing my eyes shut, I pulled my arms up to cover my face. Seconds before I could get hit, the crowd gasped and screamed. The Bludger never hit me. Opening my eyes, I saw Draco holding onto his broom as he flew away while Harry held the Golden Snitch in his hands.
"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee shouted over the crowd.
"What happened?" I gasped. I had expected to get hit with the Bludger.
"Malfoy took Crabbe's bat and hit the Bludger out of the way. Doing that, he missed the Snitch," Hermione shouted over the crowd to me.
"Oh, god," I breathed. "Come on!"
I grabbed Hermione's arm and ran down the stand and over to the Quidditch tent where Draco was having a screaming contest with Harry.
"—Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper... but then he was born in a bin... Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
Harry did not answer him and turned away, looking for Ron. Seeing Hermione and me, he waved us closer, ignoring Draco.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called, as we hugged Harry. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly — we wanted to sing about his mother, see —"
"Draco, stop it," I commanded.
"— we couldn't fit in useless loser either — for his father, you know —"
Fred and George had realized what Draco was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking around at Draco.
"Fred, George, ignore him. He's going to get you into trouble," I harshly whispered to them. Angelina gave me a grateful look and stood around, just in case.
"— but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" said Draco, sneering. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay —"
Harry grabbed hold of George; meanwhile, Angelina and two other girls held back Fred from jumping at Draco.
"Or perhaps," said Draco, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"
Before Harry and George could jump at Draco, I realized I had flown forward and punched Draco in the face. Harry and George didn't have a chance to run at him, as I did.
"Charlotte Harring!"
I heard a voice call. Draco did nothing, but stare me down with confusion, disappointment, and. . . hatred. My fist still in the air, threatening to hit him again as he held onto his jaw. Draco's goons yelled at me from behind him– threatening to duel with me–, while George swore at Draco, a whistle blew in the distance, and I heard the shouting of my friends from behind me. With my fist in the air, I was thrown backwards, falling on my back and groaning.
"What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch. Turning my head, I tried to catch my breath from being thrown back, I faced the yelling woman.
Draco held his jaw while Harry and George were glaring at him, Fred was let go of, and Hermione was helping me up. "What are you doing down here? You don't play Quidditch– to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"
Instead of Harry and George going to get changed, they followed me as I hid my bruised hand. In the entrance hall, there was no sound except for the sound of our footsteps.
"You guys will say nothing and let me get the punishment. I saved your asses from getting kicked off the Quidditch team. You better win every game after this," I said, turning to the two boys.
We had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagall's office when she came marching along the corridor behind us. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf but tore it from her throw with shaking hands as she strode towards us, looking livid.
"In!" she said furiously to me, pointing at the door. As the two boys tried to come in, she gave them an icy glare and told them to stand in the back of the office while she brought me to her desk.
"Well?" she asked, sitting down in her desk chair. "Explain yourself!"
"Malfoy—"
"Shut up!" I yelled at Harry, who tried to explain for me. Turning back around, I said to McGonagall, "Draco Malfoy was provoking and bullying the Weasleys and then turned on Harry as well."
"Provoking them?" shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist onto her desk so that her tartan biscuit tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. "He'd just lost against them, hadn't he, of course, he wanted to provoke them! What were you going near the changing tent?"
"I knew what was going to happen," I stated.
"That is not a justifiable reason to be in a restricted area. And why did you strike Malfoy?"
"He insulted my parents," George snarled behind me, "and Harry's mother."
"So instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort it out, you decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?" bellowed Professor McGonagall. "Have you any idea what you've—?"
"Hem, hem."
I spun around to see Dolores Umbridge standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and smiling in the horribly sickly, ominous way that I had come to associate with imminent misery.
"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice.
"Help?" she repeated in a constricted voice. "What do you mean, 'help'?"
Professor Umbridge moved forward into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.
"Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority." I would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils.
"You thought wrong," she said, turning her back on Umbridge. "Now, you better listen very closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered your friends– or you–, I do not care if he insulted every family member you could think of, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving you a week's worth of detention!"
"Yes, Professor Mc—"
"Hem, hem."
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face toward Professor Umbridge again.
"Yes?"
"I think this deserves rather more than a detention," said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open. "But unfortunately," she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, "it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores."
"Well, actually, Minerva," simpered Umbridge, "I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it... I mean," she gave a little false laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, "the Minister just sent it... Ah yes..."
She had pulled out a piece of parchment that she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before reading how she now had supreme punishment over punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts.
"So... I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again," she said, looking from Harry to George and back again.
"Ban them? They didn't even do anything! I punched Draco! It's not even fair."
"Ban us?" Harry said. "From playing... ever again?"
"Yes, Mr Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick," said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. "You and Mr Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped too — if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr Malfoy as well. I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall," she continued, turning back to Professor McGonagall who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. "The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them."
"Nobody fought beside me! They didn't even do anything!" I shouted at Professor Umbtich.
"Then you are banned, as well," she nodded curtly.
"I don't even fly or play or anything! You're being a complete bi—"
"Well," she spoke over me, "my decision is set in stone. Good afternoon to you." And with a look of the utmost satisfaction, Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake.
—:—
"Draco Malfoy, if you don't come down from your common room, I will find a way to get inside and punch you even harder than I did before," I shouted from outside the Slytherin Door in the Dungeon.
I had been pacing in the dungeons since I left Professor McGonagall's office.
"Malfoy, I will—" I was cut off by the stone wall separating and a white-blond boy stalking out. "I hate you," I seethed.
"Is that what you've come here for? To profess your hatred towards me?" Draco spat.
"How is it that you can be nice and kind to me, but to everyone else, be this horrible monster that they hate, hm?"
"You were different. You were kind to me, you didn't see me as a Slytherin or a Malfoy, you just saw– me," his voice softened, but his eyes hardened in an instant, "but that's all changed. You're just as arrogant and judgemental as those people you call your friends!"
"You're the arrogant one! A complete sore loser– Harry, Fred, and George were all kicked off the team because you provoked them and spoke ill about their mothers. How could you be that cruel?" I spat.
Draco smirked at my words, "they deserve it!"
"And what do you deserve? You should be taken off the team, as well, for being a spoiled sport and a sore loser," I hissed at him.
Draco stood in anger, not saying anything for a while. I glared at him and scoffed at his silence.
"You know what? Here," I slipped off my necklace and threw it at him.
"Char, no—"
"Don't call me that!" I shouted. "My name is Charlotte, to you. Or Harring, if you please."
"I don't hate you," he whispered, picking up the necklace that fell on the ground. "And you don't hate me, either. You're not capable of it, you're too kind."
"You don't know what I'm capable of, Malfoy," I glared at him.
"Char, you're not a mean person. I don't know what came over you, but I don't know why you punched me—"
"You spoke ill of my friends' parents! What do you expect? You wanted me to stand there while you tormented them? Give you a little pat on the hand for being horrible?" I scoffed sitting on the bench across from the Slytherin door.
"I didn't mean— I—" Draco sighed and sat on the bench next to me. "Let me put your necklace on, it's not safe for you to not wear it."
Draco pulled my hair to the side, to expose my neck and slowly placed my necklace back on my neck. Clasping it shut, he let it fall down my chest. I closed my eyes, trying to contain the anger that ate at my bones and threatened to come out.
"You know, I don't deserve you," he whispers, grabbing my hand.
"I know," I respond softly and opened my eyes.
"Do you actually hate me?"
"I hate that you haven't changed since last year, still hot and cold Malfoy."
Draco didn't respond. He continued to hold my hand and play with my fingers. The charm bracelet under my sleeve jingled at his movements.
"I'd change for you," he said after a while.
"Why?"
"I..." Draco trailed off. "I like you," he mumbled.
"I know," I finally turned to him.
Draco's face was slightly pink and he looked nervous. Still playing with my hand, he turned his own and locks our fingers together.
"But I like you, too, Draco..."
"I know," he smiled, mimicking me.
"—but I don't like how you act. You're mean to everyone, but me, and that doesn't reassure me in your feelings towards me at all," I finished.
"As I said, I'd change for you, Char."
"So you've said. I can only hope so, hot and cold are temperatures for a thermostat, not a quality I want in a boyfri—" I slapped my hand over my mouth at what I said.
Instead of laughing, Draco pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"I'm sorry I'll never be as good of a boyfriend as Diggory was," Draco picked up a charm from my bracelet– the broom.
"He was never my boyfriend," I mumbled.
"But you wanted him to be."
"But he wasn't. It doesn't matter, it won't change anything," I whispered.
"Would you let me be your boyfriend," Draco said, "if I asked?"
"I'd only consider it if you were to convince me you've changed," I sighed.
"I'd do anything for you, Char."
"I know."