You and Draco get into a spat after Quidditch practice again. But the team captain has had quite enough of your arguing.
~~~
Classes the next day absolutely flew by for you, since Draco didn't say a word to you, and you were able to actually listen to the lecture.
Quidditch practice, however, was a slightly different story.
It seemed like all Draco was able to do was yell at you for everything you did, even though Arlie wasn't saying you were screwing up.
As the team landed after practice, you angrily threw your broom back into its bag, whirling around as Draco entered the tent.
"What the absolute fuck, Malfoy!?" you cried, surprising him and the other teammates still getting their things together to leave.
"What are you talking about?" he asked dismissively, his expression too cool for your liking.
"What do you mean what am I talking about?" you yelled. "Arlie was out there telling me what to do, but for whatever fucking reason, you think you have the authority to tell me everything Arlie told me to do is wrong?"
"Because you were doing everything wrong," he said passively, igniting a fury in you that you hadn't previously realized was possible to feel.
"You aren't the team captain!" you shouted. "You're not even the Seeker anymore! Maybe if you had listened to Arlie, you'd still be Seeker!"
Draco's eyes darkened, and he stepped closer to you. You refused to back down, only standing taller as he towered over you.
"And maybe if you weren't such a pretentious bitch who whines every time things don't go her way, you could've earned the spot with actual talent and not just badgering Arlie until he gave in to shut you the fuck up!"
You stepped back just a bit, tears stinging the back your eyes. You'd never cried at anything Draco had said to you before. Why was this time different?
The other teammates had long since left the tent, clearly eager to get away from whatever latest argument the two of you were about to have. Arlie entered the tent right as you pulled back your fist to hit Draco in the face, and Arlie ran up to grab your arms and pull them back before you had the chance to swing.
"Arlie, let go of me!" you shouted, but he only held you tighter.
"Until the two of you can figure out how to get along, you're both suspended from the team!" he shouted, and you went limp in his grasp.
He let go of you, and you stumbled to catch yourself before you fell over. "Arlie, no, please," you begged, but Arlie shook his head. "Y/N, I'm serious. This is getting way out of hand and we can't focus on actually playing Quidditch because you two can't even speak to each other without arguing or throwing insults or yelling."
Your mind flashed to the night before, when Draco had given you his robe to keep you warm and had held your hand to get the both of you in before curfew, and the stinging of your eyes only intensified.
"Don't kick us off," Draco cut in, his tone worried. "Quidditch is like, the only fun thing I have to do outside of classes."
Arlie sighed. "You two have one week. That's it. Understand? You have one week to prove to me that the two of you can get along. I don't care if you rip each other to shreds outside of practice and game time, but when it's time to get out on that field and play Quidditch, you two have to put your differences aside."
You nodded vigorously, opening your mouth to respond, but Arlie held his hand up.
"I'm serious. Anything beyond playful banter—and I mean playful—and both of you are gone. For the rest of the season."
Your mouth dropped, but Draco held up his hand. "Wizards' honor, sir," he said, and Arlie shook his head.
"One week," he repeated. "Now out of the tent, Ravenclaw has next practice slot."
Your thoughts were swirling as you left the tent, Draco by your side. You had always prided yourself on being able to ignore Draco—why did you have to give into your anger this time?
"You think you'll be able to control yourself for a week?" Draco asked smugly.
You huffed. "Maybe, if you stop being such a royal prick all the time."
"How am I a prick?" he asked with a laugh. "None of this would be a problem if you didn't respond to the shit I said."
You looked at him incredulously, though neither of your paces slowed. "I'm sorry, I don't recall any times where I threw shit at you in class. Or any times when I shoved you so hard you fell over and dislocated your shoulder. Or any times when I got you in trouble and sent to detention because I couldn't wait twenty minutes to stop you outside of class to ask me a question."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Because I knew you wouldn't stop if I tried to stop you outside of class," he snarked. "You always act like you have some quest that you can't be stopped on your way to completing. It's infuriating, and it's no wonder you barely have any friends because you have to rely on the people who don't get tired of only seeing you on the weekends."
You barely heard what he'd said, though, because your mind had already stopped functioning to remind you that you had never even heard the question that Draco had said he had for you.
You stopped in the courtyard, grabbing onto Draco's wrist. He whirled around, his eyes plainly showing annoyance, but you ignored it. "What was the question?" you asked. Seeing his confusion, you continued. "On the note. You said you had a question for me after class. What was the question?"
Draco's eyes searched yours for a few seconds, before lighting up in recognition. "Oh," he said simply, heaving a giant sigh and deciding to look quite literally anywhere other than you. "I, um..."
You crossed your arms, exhaling heavily. "Today, junior, we both have classes in the morning."
"Ineedtutoringinpotions," he blurted out, and you blinked a couple of times in surprise.
"What?" you asked, and he scrubbed at his face impatiently.
"I need tutoring in potions," he said again, only slightly slower. "And since you've never messed up a potion that I've seen...I was thinking it'd be convenient to have you help me. Since we're partners, and all."
You stared at him, knowing full well your disbelief showed plainly on your face. "I—well, what's in it for me?" you asked, not caring that that was probably the rudest question you could've asked. You knew Draco was struggling in Potions—it had been evident all year—but you could barely stand the kid, you needed some sort of incentive.
"I don't know," he said, his tone annoyed. "We can figure something out. My dad will probably pay you or something—or I can pay for all the Butterbeers from now on or whatever."
You smiled despite yourself—you'd never seen the Slytherin Prince this uncomfortable. You wished it could last forever—but you were also exhausted.
"Fine, Malfoy. We'll figure something out. But this means you have to cooperate with me. You know, treat me with basic human decency and all that."
Draco opened his mouth quickly, and you waited for the inevitable insult—but it didn't come. He took a breath and nodded. "I'll try to be less of a dick," he said earnestly, running a hand through his hair again. "Can we meet tomorrow? After classes?"
"After Quidditch practice," you reminded him, and he nodded. "Right," he said. "You can come up to my room?"
You didn't want to be alone with this boy in his room, God only knew what he might try to say or do. But you also didn't want to deal with questions from Silver, Marin, or Juniper if they saw the two of you studying together, so you clamped your mouth shut and nodded. "Sounds great. I'll meet you in the Common Room after Quidditch practice tomorrow."
His eyes lit up, and he almost smiled. "Great, I'll see you then."
And before you could even react, he was gone.
~~~
Dinner that evening was spent with Silver and Marin, and Silver wouldn't shut up about Quidditch practice.
"Is there anything you can talk about besides Quidditch?" you asked. "Or me and Draco?"
"Considering Arlie said you almost punched the kid in the face, I think I'm allowed to keep talking about it," Silver said. "Why did you almost punch him, anyway?"
"He was just being a prick, per usual," you said with a shrug. "I just let it get to me more than I usually do."
Silver shook his head. "I can't believe how much of an idiot he is. Calling you out of your name like that. Claiming you didn't earn your Quidditch position. Like, who does that to someone they're in love with?"
"Silver, for the last fucking time, he is not in love with me!" you cried, causing quite a few stares. You didn't even acknowledge any of them; instead, you shoved away from the table. "That man-child does not love me. If he did, he wouldn't call me a pretentious bitch. He wouldn't tell me that I didn't earn or deserve my position on the Quidditch team. He wouldn't shove me off a stool and dislocate my shoulder in the middle of class. He wouldn't throw shit at me in class and then refuse to speak up when I got in trouble for it. People don't do those kinds of things to people when they love them!"
You whirled around, nearly sprinting out of the Great Hall. You heard a voice call your name, but you ignored them. You made it to the Common Room only moments later, surprised you weren't yet out of breath.
"Pompous lizard," you said to the painting in front of your dorm, and it swung open to let you upstairs.
"Y/N, wait!" came the call again, and you could tell from the panic lacing the tone that it was Silver. You refused to listen, hauling up the stairs at an even faster speed instead.
Only when you made it to the safety of your room did you let tears start to fall.
You wanted to love Hogwarts. You really did. And you loved your classes. You loved your house. You loved learning magic, you loved learning to care for magical creatures, you loved learning about Muggles and their world. You loved studying for the career you one day hoped to have. You loved your friends.
But the one thing that made almost nothing seem worth it was Draco. How he bullied you nearly every day, how he had done so for years. How he insulted you and called you nearly every name in the book. How he would get pissed with you over the slightest of things and only be meaner to you as a result.
Your shower was hot, and you allowed the burning feeling to envelop you as much as possible. You stayed in there until your fingers were wrinkly and your skin was lobster red, and you wrapped yourself in your favorite fluffy green bathrobe, throwing yourself on the bed after exiting the steaming bathroom.
Juniper laid on her own bed across the room, her books open in front of her. Her eyes met yours as you rolled over on your bed, but wisely, she said nothing about your current appearance.
Instead, she pointed to your bedside table. "Owl flew up with that in its talons," she said simply. "It's addressed to you. I don't know who it's from."
You sighed, reaching out to grab it and peeling it open as you sat up on your bed.
Y/N,
I know you probably won't even give this letter a second glance once you see who it's from but hear me out.
I owe you an apology. Really, I owe you several apologies.
Meet me in the Astronomy Tower at dusk. I've got a lot of things I want to talk to you about.
-Draco
He was right, you realized. He was, without a doubt, the last person you wanted to see right now. But you had an hour or so until dusk, so you decided the least you could do was make him regret ever being shitty to you.
You pulled on your favorite outfit, the one you only ever wore to Hogsmeade or to Quidditch matches you weren't playing in. This was the outfit that had attracted Emerson Albatross, this was the outfit you had been wearing when you had made out with a random Gryffindor sixth-year below the Quidditch stands months before, and this was the outfit you had worn when you managed to get the substitute Divinations professor to bump up your test grade by just enough points to round up your final grade to another outstanding A.
Needless to say, this was your lucky outfit.
You admired yourself in the mirror, happy with how you looked even if you were dreading where you were going.
The outfit in question was a striking emerald green sweater that made your eyes pop, paired with black jeans and sparkling silver shoes. Your wand was tucked safely inside your pants pocket, and you had blow-dried your hair to shiny, soft perfection.
Before you knew it, dusk was approaching, and Juniper whistled at you as you went to exit your room.
"Where are you going so close to curfew?" she asked knowingly. "And all dressed up like that?"
You smiled at her, despite the dread churning in your gut. "To meet someone who owes me an apology," you said sweetly, kicking up your heel as you closed the door behind you.
Letting out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, you began to descend the stairs to the Common Room, headed for the Astronomy Tower.
You wanted to get it over with, you told yourself. You wanted nothing more than to hear what Draco Malfoy possibly had to say and get back to your room to sleep the awful day away.
So why did you feel so excited to be going to see the stupid prick?