Pansy's eyes narrowed dangerously and her voice spiked into a shriek. "Not that boy? Are you suggesting I am some kind of tart and that's why he was interested?"
I blushed profusely, horrified at the turn our seemingly harmless conversation had taken. "Pansy, I--"
"Don't speak to me ever again!" she yelled overdramatically. Blaise stood. "How could you, Y/N, I thought you were my friend!"
She collapsed into fake sobs, hiding her face in Daphne's shoulder, and the latter began to pat her on the back, staring at me accusingly. Gritting my teeth involuntarily, I stood up, glaring at the both of them.
"Oh for Merlin's sake," I hissed, "Pull yourself together! Did it ever cross your mind, Pansy, that maybe I was the one who needed a friend sometimes instead of always having to listen to your love life?"
Blaise had since arrived and was tugging my arm to diffuse the situation. "Come on, L/N, it's not worth it."
"No, because you were too busy giving Malfoy the googly eyes to even notice that I'm not okay!" I continued, in a quieter voice. "If that's how you're going to treat me, we were never friends anyway!"
I ripped my arm from his grasp and stomped out of the Great Hall. There was a slight burning sensation in my eyes. To Blaise's credit, he didn't say anything as we walked down to the Black Lake, where I let myself wilt onto the ground, staring morosely out into the inky water. I trailed my fingers over the smooth pebbles that lined its shores.
Blaise remained standing. "Giving her a reaction only gave her power over you."
His voice was even, and I sighed, looking up at him sheepishly. "I realize that now. It was just too much in the heat of the moment."
He nodded sympathetically, coming to sit a short distance away. I laid down, keeping my gaze on the stormy grey clouds that circled around the sun like Dementors around their prey.
"Would you honestly have confided in her even if she had acted like a true friend?" he asked, struggling to keep his expression neutral.
I giggled ruefully. "Honestly? No."
He smiled back. "At least you acknowledge it."
Just as one of the said clouds began to look suspiciously like a Grim, a dreamy, feminine voice floated through the air. Blaise stiffened perceptibly.
"The first thing I liked here was the Lake, you know."
Not even bothering to sit up, I replied, "If you like it that much, you should see the Slytherin common room. We live right under it, you'd probably like it."
A tinkling laugh sounded, and then the girl's face loomed into view. She had mounds of wavy, platinum hair that fell in tousled ringlets to her waist and the kind of pale skin that could only be genetic. Kind, faded blue eyes twinkled gently from behind an absurd pair of sparkly pink glasses, made out of cardboard and complete with wings, that seemed to have come out of a slightly wacky magazine. Small red radishes dangled from her ears.
"Nice glasses," I grinned, gesturing for her to lie by me.
She plopped down gracefully by my side, mimicking my position to perfection, before answering softly. "Thank you, they're to see the Nargles. You've got quite a few buzzing around your head."
I was hesitant to ask what on Earth Nargles were, so I settled for a toneless, "I've been preoccupied lately."
"Such is always the case for a mind of quality, and thank Merlin for it, for what else would we do with our time?"
She began to pick at the sparkly silver polish that coated her fingernails, and I giggled. "I'm Y/N." Pointing over to him, I added: "And that's Blaise."
"Oh, I know who you are," she replied dreamily. "My name is Luna Lovegood."
"The Quibbler!" I blurted excitedly. The only time I had ever picked up an issue was highly entertaining.
She seemed surprised at my tone. "Most people hate it, really. They call me Loony Lovegood because I believe in the things that they can't see."
Blaise snorted, and I tossed a pebble at him. "Just because they don't see them doesn't mean they're not there."
She hummed in response, beginning to sing a tune under her breath. It was oddly peaceful to lay there with her and restrained Blaise, and I realized I quite enjoyed it, Loony or not. At least she wasn't constantly demanding things from me, badgering me with questions and orders and slurs. I should've known it would be too good to last.
"Oi, L/N!"
That voice. I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to keep my temper in check, struggling to not get up and curse him on the spot to avoid the humiliation that was sure to come.
"Oh Merlin," his snide voice sounded in a disgusted yell. "Don't tell me you're actually friends with Loony Lovegood! For the love of all that is good and holy, I'm starting to think it's to you that I should have directed my speech about the right sort of people, and not Potter!"
"Get away from me now, Draco, or so help me I'll--"
"Kiss me?" he offered nonchalantly.
My eyes flew open and I scrambled up. "What?"
Grey eyes stared back at me sardonically. "As if. I just came to perhaps--"
He interrupted himself to pluck the only daisy that had escaped the oppression of the rocks that surrounded it. Under my disbelieving gaze, he crushed it in his fingers. "--by and by, notice how entertaining I found the episode with Pansy in the Great Hall earlier."
"That's petty, Malfoy," Blaise said disdainfully, brushing the pebbles off his pressed trousers.
I decided to take his advice and ignore the jab. "Thank you for the chat, Luna. I'll be seeing you at the Quidditch match tomorrow, right?"
She nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes. I made a hat especially for the occasion."
"Decked in Slytherin colors, I hope," Draco sniffed, staring me straight in the eye. "Like a team of Mudbloods and the Blood Traitors that support them could ever stand a chance against Slytherin."
My fists clenched. "How dare you speak so lowly of people who have never done anything to you, Malfoy? You make me sick." I turned on my heel. "Oh, and for the record? I hope Harry is going to crush Slytherin alive at the Quidditch match tomorrow, so your pride gets taken down a notch or two!"
Draco's calculating gaze instantly went blank, and my stomach dropped as I realized what I had just said. No, no, no, it was supposed to be a secret, what had I done?
"Potter's on the team?" he deduced thoughtfully, and then his eyes brightened with a glint I didn't like at all. "Seeker... of course."
"I wouldn't feel so glorious if I were you, Malfoy," I hissed. "After all, it's your stupid move with the Remembrall that has made him the youngest Seeker in a century. Try telling your father about that."
Leaving the three of them stunned behind me, I stomped up to the castle, considering evacuating my anger through a nice, long session at the library. However, as soon as I had passed the door, I saw Hermione and Harry hunched over a book together at a table in the back. She had unfortunately already noted my presence and was frantically gesturing for me to come over. Reluctantly, I made my way over to their table.
"What do you want, Hermione?" I asked dully, causing them both to look at me in shock.
If I were being completely honest with myself, I knew my reaction was entirely unjustified. I should have been happy, elated really, that Hermione was finally finding friends within her own House and perhaps enjoying it more because of that. But between the fact that I truly had a problem with Ron, that my time at Hogwarts was getting more and more miserable, and that she was my first and truest friend here, I couldn't help but feel spited and abandoned. At this rate, she'd be gushing about Nicholas Flamel to the both of them, when we had sworn to keep it a secret.
"Whatever is the matter with you?" she demanded.
"With me?" I answered. "Nothing, nothing at all!"
"Y/N..." Harry said quietly, and I turned my gaze to him guiltily.
"Don't Y/N me, Harry! Things have been happening, alright, and because of them I keep messing up and being a horrible friend! I... I accidentally just told Draco about you being your House's Seeker."
I hung my head shamefully. That was something else I hadn't really meant to say, and his silence confirmed my worst fears. Until he laid a comforting hand over mine, and emerald held my gaze. There were whispers in the corridors that Harry had exactly his mother's eyes; if that was true, she must have had beautiful ones indeed.
"It's alright," he said slowly, putting things back into perspective. "The match is tomorrow anyway, it was bound to get out sooner or later. Besides, I trust you had good reason to share that information with him."
I snorted, squeezing his fingers quickly as I sat down. All the anger and resentment I had felt were escaping from me like a balloon that had just been popped. "Draco Malfoy is the biggest git I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. He called me a Blood Traitor and you Mudbloods, and I lost my temper."
The two of them looked at me uncomprehendingly, and it suddenly came to mind that they might not know what I was talking about. I sighed, "Of course you wouldn't know what that is. It's an insulting term for someone, a pureblood, who associates with people below them. Someone who associates with Muggleborns, in this case."
"Me?" Hermione let out a tiny squeak, and I turned to her gravely.
"I don't care about Malfoy," I replied quietly. "Hermione, you're not beneath me in any sense, and all the fuss about blood status is disgusting and unjustified. But at least now you know why I got angry."
"So that's why you also were annoyed that time at the Slytherin table..." she deduced, putting two and two together.
"Yes," I answered curtly. "Yes, that's exactly why."
********************
The following morning, when I came down for breakfast, the first thing I noticed was how green Harry looked over at the Gryffindor table. Really, he matched my tie at this point. Laughing, I made my way over to sit by him.
"Cheer up, Harry, if I didn't know any better, I would've thought you'd be going to the death row instead of your first Quidditch match!"
He pushed the eggs around his plate moodily. "It's the nerves; they're killing me."
"Well, you can't go on an empty stomach," I replied, picking up a piece of lightly buttered toast from the center of the table and handing it to him on a red napkin. "Eat this at least."
He sighed, but took a small bite to humor me, and I got up, satisfied. "Seriously, Harry, you're going to be fine-- they didn't choose you to be the youngest Seeker in so long for nothing, you know! Now put a smile on that face and go win this!"
He rolled his eyes at my antics, but I could see how the corners of his lips lifted as I went back to the Slytherin table to grab a buttered scone and serve myself some pumpkin juice. It was strange, having no one in particular to sit with-- obviously, Pansy and Daphne had migrated up the table to be next to Draco --but surprisingly, I didn't mind it too much. I rummaged around in my bag for my latest bit of light reading about wand cores, and pored over it feverishly. Blaise soon came over, annoyed by the rest of the group's conversation.
In fact, by the time I realized I was perhaps getting a little too enthusiastic, the Great Hall was practically deserted. Gasping and snapping my book shut immediately, I swallowed the last bit of my abandoned scone and hurried down to the pitch, sliding into the Slytherin stands practically unnoticed. I took a nondescript seat in the first row-- everyone was scrambling to get to the very back --just in time to see the players kick off and soar expertly into the air.
Judging by how confidently he gained altitude, it was clear that Harry had vastly improved at flying in the past weeks. The commentating started, and I was soon lost by the rapidity with which Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor who was friends with Fred and George, spoke.
"And that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he's blocked off by a second Bludger--sent his way by either Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which-- nice play by Gryffindor Beater anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes-- she's really flying-- come on, now, Angelina-- keeper Bletchley dives-- misses-- GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"
Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. I gasped. Harry had just barely avoided a Bludger that was now being chased by the twins.
"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and a Chaser Bell and speeds towards the-- wait a moment, was that the Snitch?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Harry had seen it too, and had promptly gone into a dive after the small streak of gold, the Slytherin Seeker following suit. Neck and neck they hurtled towards the Snitch, and all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to e doing as they hung in mid-air to watch. Harry was faster than Higgs, he put on an extra burst of speed-- there was a loud crack, and Harry was sent spinning off course, for Marcus Flint had just blocked his way with his broom.
"No!" I screamed, earning myself quite a few reproving glares from the Slytherins.
Madam Hooch spoke to Flint angrily, whilst Jordan let off steam into the microphone, Professor McGonagall desperately trying to temper his outrage.
"After that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-- I mean, after that open and revolting foul-- all right, all right, the Gryffindor Seeker nearly gets killed, which would happen to anyone I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
I was still scrutinizing Harry, and felt my stomach drop when his broomstick suddenly gave an out-of-the-blue, frightening lurch. He gripped it tightly, shock flitting across his face, but it was as though the broom were trying to buck him off, which was highly unusual. And then it was zigzagging through the air and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him. Lee Jordan was still commentating as though everything were fine, but I was wondering why nobody had called for a time out yet.
Horrified, I looked over to where the teachers were, only to see both Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell whispering frantically under their breath. What on Earth were they doing? More importantly, was either of them responsible for this?
Harry was barely holding on at this point, legs dangling in the air as the crowd gasped and oohed. Just as I was about to run down and force Madam Hooch to see what was going on, he was able to clamber back onto his broom, and was presently speeding towards the ground. We all saw him clap his hand over his mouth like he was about to be sick--he hit the pitch on all fours--coughed-- and something gold fell into his hand.
"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted.
There was a stunned silence, and then the Gryffindor stands and I broke out into a deafening cheer. Harry, after a moment of elation, was swept off the pitch by Hermione, Ron and Hagrid, and I was about to try to catch up to them when I realized how many Slytherins were trying to pour out of the stands at once. Gutted, I sat back down, listening to Marcus Flint howling about how Harry "didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it" whilst Lee Jordan screamed that Gryffindor had won 170 to 60 and Luna's hat, that resembled a lion, roared with approval from the opposite side of the pitch. I watched Draco sweeping out with a bitter sneer contorting his face, Professor Dumbledore rising from his seat with a small, proud smile, and most of all, Professor Snape collecting his black robes around his legs and limping away, Quirrell eyeing his back beadily.
That look made me realize that the game had changed with Harry's broom acting up today. There was something dangerous going on at Hogwarts, something that connected Fluffy and Snape and Quirrell and Nicholas Flamel, something that involved a person who had to have bad intentions, who was probably working for someone. And I needed to find out what it was before the snitch did.