The first two weeks of school went by...smoothly. Moody continued to teach us intensely dark stuff in Defense Against the Dark Arts; Trelawney literally quivered whenever her eyes grazed over me, yet she refused to speak a word to me; Snape would intentionally drop improper ingredients into my potions so that he could fail me (and my partner, Melody); and Vector, while insanely nice, somehow made her class so impossible that I was failing.
But, other than all of that—things were great.
I barely slept at night, due to the fact that every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother being tortured by that nefarious cloaked monster. However, on the second Saturday of the term, I was actually having a mediocre dose of sleep—when I was awoken very early in the morning by an overly excited Ashley Pucey.
"Lainey! Lainey! Lainey—OW!"
I sprung up and peered over the edge of my bunk bed to see that Ashley was hunched over, clutching her torso with her arms.
"Aw..." she moaned.
"What—what just happened?" I questioned, squinting at her through the darkness of our room. I could tell that she was wearing a Quidditch uniform—one that she had specially made over the summer.
"Melody punched me in the gut—"
"It's called a reflex, Pucey—you wake me up and I punch you," Melody explained groggily from the bed below mine.
"What's going on, Ashley? Why are you up?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"We're going to play Quidditch, remember? You said you'd come practice with me this morning, remember?"
I took in a deep breath of self-loathing. Yes, sadly, I remembered.
After putting on my lovely, green Quidditch uniform, Ashley and I crept out of the Slytherin dungeons and made our way toward the Quidditch stadium. The air was cool with the light breeze of autumn; the grass was damp with the droppings of dew that clung to each blade. With the sun barely over the horizon, I was sure that we were the only two people awake in all of Hogwarts.
My assumption was disproved when we arrived at the field, however; there were at least a dozen people mounted on their brooms, racing through the air as they passed the Quaffle around. Among them, I spotted the Weasley twins, along with Cedric Diggory. I nearly gagged at the sight of him. I actually gagged at the sight of Draco Malfoy and Vincent Crabbe, who we were swaggering toward us from the locker room. Both held two brooms in their hands, Malfoy seeming much more disgruntled than Crabbe; I almost thought the big old goon was smiling.
"Crabbe! You made it!" Ashley enthused, jumping up and down. "Oh—Lainey—this is going to be so much fun!"
"You told these two clowns to come here?" I questioned, pointing displeasingly at the two Slytherin boys who now stood in front of us.
"You're not the only one who's unhappy about it, Fitzroy," Malfoy grumbled sardonically. "I was under the impression that Crabbe and I were just coming out here so I could practice."
"H—here, we brought you brooms," Crabbe said, coyly thrusting his spare broom in Ashley's direction. Delighted, she snatched it from his hand with a beaming smile on her pink lips.
Unexpectedly, Malfoy shoved his spare broom right into my chest, and I flinched back before grabbing it.
"Oh—I'm so excited!" Ashley squealed. "Just look at all of those boys up there! Mm—Quidditch boys!"
Crabbe shuffled awkwardly with her comment while I just rolled my eyes.
"I think you've been spending too much time with Astoria," I griped, pulling on her arm. "C'mon, let's practice."
"I've heard your training to take my place as Seeker, Pucey," Malfoy snapped before we could mount our brooms. "I'll have you know that I've refined my skills to the point that even pathetic Potter won't beat me."
"Oh—I don't want to be Seeker—although I probably could," Ashley said as she jumped onto her broom. "I want to be Chaser—like Adrian. I want to beat his ass to the pulp and take his place on the team."
Malfoy's nostrils flared ragefully. "So I've been training all summer for nothing? Mudblood!" he roared, turning his attention toward me. I'd already gotten onto the broom he'd given me, and I was ready for a quick escape.
I snorted, gazing down at him as I slowly ascended into the air. "It's not for nothing, Malfoy. Maybe we'll actually win a match against Gryffindor next year—if you keep practicing."
"You lying—dirty-blooded—"
"I can't hear your insolent whining Malfoy," I called down to him. "I'm...above that sort of thing."
Crabbe actually grunted a laugh, causing Malfoy to instinctually whack his arm.
"Idiot! Don't give her that satisfaction—"
"Are you two boys ready to watch girls play some real Quidditch?" I hollered down to them. I glanced over at Ashley, who—for the first time—had a menacing expression on her face.
Heated, Malfoy mounted his broom, Crabbe following swiftly behind. I could tell by the determination on Malfoy's face that he was going to come up after me, so I quickly zoomed away. The broom Malfoy had given me was not very fast, so he quickly caught up, grabbing viciously on the bristled end.
"I'll knock you off you broom, Mudblood!"
"Oh—and will you catch me as well?" I bantered, glancing back at him. To my surprise, he didn't look so angry anymore; a sly grin had now spread across his lips.
"Do you want me to catch you, Fitzroy?" he inquired arrogantly, one hand still clutched around the end of my boom.
My face fell with his words, and I fumbled for an answer. "Uh—well—what?"
Unable to get away from Malfoy's grasp, the two of us were merely hovering in midair, giving Fred and George Weasley the opportunity to fly up next to Malfoy in an intimidating manner.
"Bothering Fitz, are you, Malfoy?" Fred questioned.
"I do think we could do something about that, don't you, Freddy?" George said, waving his Beater's club in the air.
Malfoy immediately let go of my broom and I went slingshotting through the air. Once I'd gained control of my whacked up broom, I looked to my sides to see that the Weasley twins were now surrounding me.
"Thanks—guys," I panted. "What are you all doing out here anyway?"
"We're preparing for a Quidditch scrimmage," George told me.
"Just for fun, no House separation," Fred added. "We know you're a Keeper, but we do need three Chasers—"
"And a Seeker—"
"Harry's busy helping Hermione with her house elf obsession."
I let out a laugh, glancing down at the other end of the stadium. I recognized Cedric—unfortunately—along with some of his Hufflepuff friends. To my surprise, Adrian Pucey and Carl Vaisey were also playing with them and their Keeper seemed to be...ah—that prick, Kent Higgins—the one that had refused to date Astoria.
"Are they a team?" I questioned, pointing over at the seven guys.
"Unfortunately—"
"They're all pretty good—"
"But we have faith in your Quidditch skills, Fitz—"
"And we hear girl Pucey is pretty good," George finished.
"Oh—yeah, Ashley's good—Hey! Ashley!" I called over to her. She was hovering over by Crabbe and Malfoy, babbling on about something. Rapidly, she turned her attention toward me with a look of alarm on her face.
"What!"
"Want to play a scrimmage with the Quidditch boys?" I teased, jumping my eyebrows at her.
"YES!" she shrilled, darting up toward me. Crabbe and Malfoy followed sluggishly behind her. "Who's on our team? Who's on the other team? Can I be Chaser? Can I be Captain?"
"Whoa, whoa, Pucey, Wood is our captain," Fred insisted, motioning over toward Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Keeper, who was waiting over by the posts on the empty side of the pitch.
"But you can be Chaser," George assured her.
"Fitz is Chaser too," Fred added with a playful wink.
"The Mudblood is playing?" Malfoy sneered. "That's even more pathetic than you two blood traitors attempting to play. What are you two riding—two old sweeping brooms that Mummy didn't need anymore?"
Fred raised his bat to strike, but I grabbed his wrist before he could. I gave him a hard look with my eyes and he withdrew slowly.
"Malfoy claims that he's been practicing over the summer," I said slowly. "Claims he's better than Harry. Shall we see if his words ring true?"
Malfoy's body went stiff, a glint of fear in his eyes; he hadn't been expecting to actually prove himself.
"I'm not playing with this lousy git," Fred grumbled.
"I don't much want to play with him either, but wouldn't you just love to watch him beat Cedric?" I whispered.
"I'd love to watch them both tragically fall of their brooms—"
"Fred!" I hissed scoldingly as I punched his arm. "C'mon—let's just have fun. It doesn't always have to be a competition between the Houses—"
"Can I be the third Chaser?" Crabbe asked dully.
While not very pleased, Fred and George ultimately obliged and allowed four Slytherins to play on their team.
It really was an odd sight to see, all of these Houses mixing together. Our team had three Gryffindors and four Slytherins, while the other team had three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws and two Slytherins. The fact that made me queasy, however, was that Ashley and I were the only girls—and I was absolutely atrocious at being a Chaser.
"All right," Ashley said to Crabbe and I as we huddled near the middle. "Crabbe, are you a good Chaser?"
"Er—I like to be the one with the bat, usually..." he replied awkwardly.
"A Beater? Oh—this is going to be awful—you're horrible at being Chaser, aren't you, Lainey?" Ashley moaned.
"Well—I'm usually Keeper—"
Throwing her head back, she groaned loudly. "Ugh! Well—fine—if you do happen to get the Quaffle, throw it to me immediately. Other than that, try to keep the other players away from me, got it?"
When the match began, it was completely crazy and confusing. We'd all magically changed the colors of our uniforms, purple for our team and orange for the other team. The colors mixed horribly as they whizzed through the sky, but that wasn't really my concern. I'd never actually played in an actual Quidditch game before, and I soon realized that I hated it.
Even though Ashley had the Quaffle, Carl Vaisey immediately flew over to me and tried to shove me off of my broom. I sped off, hurrying to help Ashley, who was being attacked by her brother, Adrian.
"Ash, pass!" I called to her as Adrian violently slammed into her. She barely wavered off course, however, and without paying attention to the horde of boys that were trying to destroy her, she zoomed over to the posts and scored on Kent Higgins with ease.
"YES!" I exclaimed as the Weasley twins hooted with excitement. Crabbe seemed totally flabbergasted by her skills, while Malfoy was too busy following Diggory round to even notice that we'd scored. Malfoy almost looked like he was...talking to Cedric. Oh—I hoped they weren't talking about me... Malfoy would try to embarrass me in front of Cedric...
The field reset, Adrian with the Quaffle this time. He was flying in line with Vaisey and the other Chaser, who I believed was seventh year Hufflepuff Jeremy Reeves—one of Cedric's friends. Ashley shoved her brother to the side as he flew, nearly knocking the Quaffle to the ground. He swiftly passed it to Vaisey, who I was flying next to, so I reached over with one hand and tried to snatch it from him.
"Piss off, Mudblood," he sneered, slamming me to the side. I nearly tipped over on my broom, but with great effort I was able to regain control. By that point it was too late, however, because Vaisey had passed back to Adrian, and consequently, Adrian had scored.
The orange team roared with excitement as Adrian began to yell taunts at his sister.
"You suck, Ashley! Told you girls can't play Quidditch!"
Ashley proved him wrong, of course, because after that, she singlehandedly scored four more goals, making the score fifty-ten to the purple team. This really seemed to enrage the two Beaters, because after that they began to aim every Bludger they could at Ashley. Fred and George saved her, of course, but there were a few close hits.
After both Puceys had scored two more goals each, making the score seventy-thirty, Ashley had the Quaffle again, but this time all three Chasers were on her. Crabbe did his best to shove the nasty Hufflepuff out of the way, but I stood no chance against Vaisey, and Adrian was relentless.
"Lainey!" Ashley cried. "Catch!"
"What?" I blurted in complete shock as a Quaffle flew out of the crowd of flyers and arched over toward me. I'd gotten pretty good at catching the Quaffle, since Fred and I had practice loads last year, but I hadn't been expecting this one, so when I reached out to grab it, I missed completely and watched in horror as the Quaffle fell toward the ground.
"LAINEY!" Ashley shrieked in outrage.
Vaisey realized what had happened and swooped down to retrieve the ball before it hit the ground. Adrian cheered as Vaisey blazed toward the goal posts, violently shooting the Quaffle and—
"WOOD I LOVE YOU!" Ashley screamed as Oliver Wood now held the Quaffle in his hands. He'd stopped Vaisey from scoring, much to the bitter Slytherin's dismay. "BE MY BOYFRIEND!"
"Just catch the Quaffle, Pucey," Wood barked as he chucked the Quaffle in Ashley's direction. She caught it swimmingly before zooming to score another ten points for the purple team.
"You can't even catch, Mudblood," Vaisey scoffed as he flashed past me.
"You can't even score!" I countered in aggravation. I couldn't believe I hadn't caught that Quaffle; it was embarrassing. Had Cedric been watching? What would he think? And...and what would Fred think?
Wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn't even notice that a Bludger was hurtling right toward me. I was sure it was about to slam me in the face when Fred flew out of nowhere and whacked it across the stadium toward Vaisey.
"Better watch out, Fitz," he said, giving me a wary look. "Wouldn't want you to get hit."
"Oh—of course—er—thanks," I stammered idiotically. His eyebrows jumped before he flew off to stop Ashley from being pounded by the same Bludger.
I was about to go help get Adrian off of Ashley's trail when Crabbe flew up next to me with a grudging look on his face.
"Do—do you really think she wants Wood to be her boyfriend?" he asked, a pathetic glimmer in his eyes.
Rolling my eyes, I groaned. "Crabbe—you really need to worry about that now? We're in the middle of a Quidditch game—"
Before I could finish my sentence, a Bludger came blundering by, whacking him in the head. His eyes rolled back as his body went limp, and I anxiously reached to grab his large body and stop it from plummeting to the ground.
Ashley, who had been zooming toward the goal posts with the Quaffle—spotted the scene and gasped loudly.
"Crabbe!" she cried, tossing the Quaffle into the air and rushing over to help me. I was nearly falling off my broom in order to keep Crabbe's fat body on his.
"Crabbe, wake up," I growled. "You are too bloody big for me to hold like this!"
Dazed, Crabbe shook his flubby face, blinking himself back into reality. "Wha—whe—where am I?"
"You are on your broomstick in the middle of the air and I am holding you so you really need to sit up and get a hold of yourself," I ranted through my gritted teeth.
As quickly as Crabbe could—so, slowly, Crabbe sat himself up and clutched the stick of his broom.
"Oh Crabbey!" Ashley wailed as she wrapped her arms around him. He nearly fell off of his broom again, so she quickly withdrew.
"WHERE ARE MY CHASERS!" Oliver Wood bellowed from down the field. The three orange Chasers were repeatedly pelting him with the Quaffle as he just barely deflected it each time.
"COMING!" Ashley shrilled as she zipped over toward Wood. In a complete haze, Crabbe lethargically followed after her. I was ready to go knock Vaisey off of his broom, but before I could even move, something caught my eye: up in the air, where the two Seekers were searching for the Snitch, a Bludger streamed rapidly past Malfoy, nearly colliding with his head.
"What the—WEASLEY!" he barked.
"A little busy," the twins both called up to Malfoy as they chased after a Bludger that was headed straight for Ashley, who now possessed the Quaffle.
As Malfoy was distracting himself by yelling curses at the Weasleys, Cedric Diggory had spotted the Snitch on the other side of the pitch.
"Malfoy! The Snitch!"
"—bunch of airheaded, ignorant fools! My father will hear—"
But, instead of listening to what Malfoy's father would hear about, I decided to whiz over toward the Snitch, since it wasn't very far from me. Cedric had almost caught it, but I just couldn't let him—he couldn't win—he was too much of a prick.
I'd reached his broom—I was flying in line with him—he looked over and saw me, a grin spreading across his lips—I nearly punched him in the face—but then—
The orange team exploded with cheers and applause as Cedric held the little golden Snitch up for all to see. I backed away, scowling at him with a hatred that coursed through my entire body. He was just so...perfect—and he knew it, too—and I resented him so much.
Malfoy had barely seemed to notice that he'd lost us the match, since he was now flying over toward the Weasleys, still throwing insults.
"—and you call yourselves real wizards! You're just a bunch of blood traitor scumbags—"
Before Malfoy could finish his sentence, Fred whacked his arm violently with the Beater's club, resulting in a howl of agony from the girlish git. His pity party didn't last long, though, before he lurched at Fred, trying to sock him in the face.
I swooped over toward the boys, sticking my broom between them in an attempt to break up the fight. Fred was trying to pound Malfoy's face with the bat while Malfoy tried to shove his fist into Fred's nose and then—
WHACK.
Malfoy—in his attempt to attack Fred—accidentally slapped his hand across my cheek. The entire stadium went silent as Ashley gasped loudly.
"Oh no you didn't!" she roared, charging over toward Malfoy. Crabbe grabbed her arm to stop her, but she was still seething with rage.
Slowly, I turned my gaze toward Malfoy as my cheek throbbed.
"You'll get it now, Malfoy," Fred snarled, preparing his club to take another blow at the little blond prick.
"It was her fault!" Malfoy accused childishly. "She got in the middle of it—"
"You shouldn't have been quarreling with them to begin with!" I blurted.
"They should have been doing their job by saving me from that Bludger—"
"It didn't even hit you!" I barked. "If you hadn't been so preoccupied with insulting the Weasleys we would have won the match—"
"You don't deserve a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team!" Ashley bellowed.
"All of you—shut up!" Wood snapped as he hovered toward us. "Let's get off the pitch before Madam Hooch sees you all tussling."
Grumbling bitterly, the seven of us floated down toward the grass and stalked to the locker rooms without a word. Before I could enter the Slytherin locker room to return the broom, Cedric and his two friends came up behind us, snickering.
"It looks like your little girlfriend isn't very good at Quidditch, Ceddy," one of his friends, Jeremy Reeves, bashed as the other howled with laughter. Cedric stood uneasily, contemplating whether to laugh with them or reject their ridicule.
"She can't even catch a Quaffle!" the other jeered loudly.
Malfoy snorted before entering the locker room with Crabbe, who pulled Ashley along. Fred came up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Are these blokes giving you trouble, Fitz?" he questioned, eyeing the seventh year Hufflepuffs with scorn.
My eyes flickered from the two cackling boys to Cedric, who gazed at me with discomfort. I bored my eyes into his, my face twitching with animosity before I spoke. "No, not at all."
Fred took his hand off of my shoulder, still wary of the mocking Hufflepuffs.
"C'mon, Fred," George urged, pulling his brother toward the Gryffindor locker room. "Good game, Lainey."
"You too..." I replied airily before retreating into the Slytherin locker room.
Within, Malfoy was violently taking off his gear and shoving it into one of the lockers. Ashley was gingerly rubbing Crabbe's forehead, which had bulged into a large, purple mass where the Bludger had hit him.
"Complete rubbish..." Malfoy was mumbling to himself. "Why didn't you tell your little Weaselbee to protect the Seeker, huh, Mudblood? I could have lost an eye with that Bludger!"
"But you didn't, so it's time to get over it," I retorted before trudging over to the broom closet. As I was returning the broom to its resting position, the door suddenly slammed shut behind me, and I found myself standing in utter darkness. "Hey! Who—"
"Shut it, Mudblood," a voice sneered as the tip of a wand was thrust into my neck. I gagged, stumbling back into the wall of brooms.
"M—Malfoy?" I stammered, struggling to see him through the darkness. Small rays of light shone in through the cracks in the door, but it was still nearly impossible for me to see his facial features. I could...feel him, though. His body was nearly pressed up against mine, and his hot, angry breath was spraying my face. But, even without the physical sensation that marked his proximity, something in my brain seemed to be aware of him—
"You predicted my failure, didn't you?" he demanded, digging his wand deeper into my skin. I tried to swallow. "You knew that bloody Hufflepuff would get the Snitch, and you just had to make sure your little prediction came true. So you told those Weaselbees not to protect me—"
"You are being completely ridiculous!" I croaked. "Why would I ever want our team to lose?"
"You could never stand to see me win," he sneered. "And you wanted to see your Hufflepuff boy beat me—"
"My Hufflepuff boy? Do you know how absurd you sound? It was just for fun, Malfoy—I had no idea who was going to win—"
"You did—and you humiliated me!" he seethed, pressing himself angrily against me.
I gulped, trying to compose myself. "I think you do a pretty good job of humiliating yourself—"
"I should have done this a long time ago, Mudblood—" he began, but before he could do whatever he wanted to do, I forcefully shoved him out of the way and darted for the door. Even in the darkness I was able to find the handle, but when I tried to spin it, I found that it was locked.
"You locked us in here?" I demanded with a tone of rage.
Malfoy took a few angry steps toward me, his figure coming into focus as the thin rays of light touched him. "No," he grunted, trying to turn the door handle. Like me, he realized that it wouldn't budge.
I let out a spiteful laugh, shaking my head. "I should have seen this coming. Why do we always get locked in rooms together, hm? It seems a little suspicious, if you ask me—"
"Crabbe!" Malfoy barked, banging on the door.
I pressed my ear against the wooden door, but heard nothing on the other side. "They're gone—and we're locked in here."
"Well—you know the spell—open it," he snapped irritably.
"I don't have my wand you twit—I left it in my room because I thought we were just going to play Quidditch—"
"You ignorant Mudblood—you should always have your wand! I swear—"
"Just give me yours," I interrupted hastily. "I'll do the spell and we'll get the bloody hell out of here—"
"I'm not letting you use my wand!"
"Malfoy—"
"Fine," he snarled, shoving the wand in my face. I quickly took it in my hand, feeling an odd sensation flow through me. Last time I'd tried to use this wand was in Ollivander's shop last winter, and absolutely nothing had happened. I sincerely hoped that I'd be able to perform a simple charm—
"Alohomora," I whispered, tapping Malfoy's wand lightly on the door handle. However, my gentle spell somehow elicited a massive, blazing spark of light that nearly set the entire broom cupboard on fire. Malfoy jumped back and I nearly screamed as the beam of light illuminated our faces, and then slowly died down. The metal door handle remained hot, however, emitting a light reddish glow for seconds after the spark.
"You idiot!" Malfoy barked, snatching his wand from my hand. "You're going to get us killed!"
"I didn't think that would happen!" I insisted. "I didn't think anything would happen! Nothing happened last time I used that wand—"
"Well now you've just destroyed the door handle—look." Malfoy lit the tip of his wand, revealing that the metal handle had melted and morphed into an unrecognizable mass.
I groaned loudly, slumping down against the wall behind me. Malfoy pointed the bright light in my face and I covered my eyes.
"So—what—you destroy the door handle and now you're giving up?" he demanded impatiently. "You must know another spell—"
"I don't—and even if I did, I'm never using that bloody wand again. You should know a spell—you're a fourth year! Besides—it's your fault we're in here anyway—"
"My fault? I hardly see how this is my fault—"
"Oh, get stuffed, Malfoy," I grumbled. "I'm just going to take a nap over here and possibly—hopefully—die. Don't come near me."
"I don't see why I'm not allowed to be near you—I'm entitled to sit wherever I choose—"
"Oh really?" I countered nastily. "Because two years ago you wanted to be as far away from me as possible."
"That was two years ago," Malfoy said, lowering his wand as he cleared his throat. "Things have changed."
"I don't really think that anything has changed. You just had a bad Quidditch match and you freaked out on me for it—just like two years ago; you think I like one of the Weasleys and you're mocking me for it—just like two years ago; and you are a selfish, arrogant git who I loathe—just like two years ago."
"I'd argue you on that last point, Fitzroy," he countered while he—against my will—took a seat against the wall next to me.
I snorted bitterly. "What—you think I don't loathe you anymore?"
"I don't think you've ever loathed me," he corrected smugly.
By the dim light radiating from the tip of his wand, I could see that he was gazing over at me, and part of me wanted to punch him. The other part of me—oh—oh no—I can't—that's disgusting—
"Am I right?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.
Rolling my eyes, I turned my head away from him and titled it back. "When are you ever right?" was all I said before closing my eyes.
I could feel his eyes on me, hear him breathe—his heartbeat—but I ignored it all. My body was exhausted from the Quidditch match, and my mind was exhausted from bickering with Draco Malfoy. As I drifted into a land of dreams, my groggy brain spit out a question that had been skipping through my thoughts.
"Am I a bad Chaser?" I asked softly. My eyelids were heavy and my body was limp...
The last thing I heard was the sarcastic smirk in his voice when he replied, "Horrible."
∆
Somehow, my nap in the broom cupboard was the most rejuvenating sleep I'd had since I'd seen the vision of my mother's torture. I was unsure of how long I slept, but I did know that when I woke up, my head was not leaning against the wall—it was rested on someone's shoulder. At first I accepted it, thinking nothing of it, but then my memories came back to me, and I realized whose shoulder I was sleeping on.
I flinched away faster than I'd ever moved in my entire life. Scrambling into the corner of the room, I stared wide eyed at Malfoy in the dim light as his grimaced face awakened.
"God—Mudblood, what's your problem?" he croaked before clearing his throat.
"I just—I was just—I can't—I—ew—wow," I stammered as I jumped up to my feet. My heart was beating a million times a second as I tried to grab a hold of my thoughts. "That was the worst thing I've ever done—I think I might go throw up—"
"Not in here," he griped. "I don't want to be stuck in this closet with you and your regurgitation—"
Ignoring Malfoy completely, I turned to the old wooden door of the broom closet and violently slammed it with my foot. Apparently, all of the anxious adrenaline that was coursing through me had done its job, because the lock on the door snapped, and the big old piece of wood collapsed to the ground with an echoing thud.
Malfoy scurried to stand as he brushed off his uniform. "Why didn't you do that before, Fitzroy? You wanted to sleep in a closet with me, didn't you?"
I whipped around, pointing my finger threateningly between his eyes. "If you tell anyone—I swear—"
I heard a girl clear her throat, and Malfoy and I both slowly averted our attention to the center of the Slytherin locker room. On one of the wooden benches, Adrian Pucey was lying with Daphne Greengrass straddling over him.
"Excuse me—we're trying to snog here," Daphne complained, raising her eyebrows at us. Luckily they were both clothed, but it was still a painfully awkward situation.
"Hey—what were you two doing in there?" Adrian questioned, craning his neck to look at us.
"We were sleeping together," Malfoy drawled, a mischievous grin on his lips.
"Oh my God," I groaned, throwing my head back in frustration.
"Wow—and I thought we were being naughty by having a snogging date in the locker room," Daphne said before letting out a trail of snickers.
"Damn, Malfoy, I didn't think you'd bonk someone as vile as a Mudblood," Adrian taunted through his uncontrolled, mocking laughter.
"She came onto me, honestly—"
"When did snogging date become an actual phrase?" I interrupted incredulously. "And hey—we were not doing anything sexual in there! And—oh—never mind—" I grabbed Malfoy's sleeve and began to pull him toward the exit. "C'mon..."
"You're not going to fix that door?" he pestered as I dragged him out of the stadium.
"No—I don't have my wand, and I'm sure you wouldn't be able to do the spell," I retorted spitefully. Malfoy seemed to have this prideful aura about him at the moment that I just couldn't stand. As soon as we got into the castle, I darted away from him.
When I got to the common room, I found Astoria waiting for me on one of the sofas.
"Oh thank God, Lainey—I've been waiting here for hours," she groaned, not even moving from her lounged position.
"You didn't think to look for me?" I questioned, putting my hands on my hips. I really just wanted to go back to our dormitory and shower for an extended period of time in order to rid myself of Malfoy germs, but apparently Astoria had other plans.
"Eh, I did, and then I said nah," she mused. "So, where were you?"
"Stuck in a closet with Malfoy," I complained as I slumped down into one of the armchairs.
"Oh, you two were having a snogging date?" she questioned, her tone completely serious as she stared down at her fingernails.
"Um—no—oh—never mind," I carped impatiently. "Why have you been waiting here for me?"
"Oh!" she blurted, perking up in her seat. "Well—Evan's birthday is coming up—you know—so I was wondering what you think I should get for him."
"Coming up? Astoria, his birthday isn't until the end of November! You do realize it's September still, right?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows in amusement.
"November is right around the corner, Lainey, and I need to get Evan the perfect gift. What does he like? Would it be too soon to get him a condom?"
I choked on air, my throat clogging as my entire body doubled over off of the armchair. Struggling to pull myself back up, I managed to say, "Um yes—much too soon—"
"Eh—I don't think you realize how passionate your brother is—"
"I just—I can't—talk to you right now," I gagged as I stumbled to my feet. Astoria was still casually examining her nails as I tried to compose myself in the least dramatic way possible.
"Any other suggestions?" she asked.
"Lainey!" a voice boomed from the entrance to the common room. I turned my dizzy head to see that Ashley Pucey was rushing toward me. "Oh—I'm so glad to see you've made it out of the closet!"
I blinked, trying to organize my thoughts. "You—you knew I was trapped in that closet?"
Ashley's body went rigid as she stared at me with wide eyes. "Uh—er—um—eep—la—what?"
"Why didn't you let us out?" I questioned, my tone riddled with disbelief.
"I—er—well—eee—neh—meh—I don't—uh... Gotta go!" Ashley blubbered incoherently. Without another word, she dashed out of the common room, leaving me utterly confused.
"Back to the condom dilemma," Astoria droned inconsiderately.
I ignored her completely, though; my mind was reeling with questions. Why wouldn't Ashley let me out of the closet? What was she hiding from me? Why was she being so strange?
And why had Draco Malfoy been so content with me sleeping on his shoulder?