Eve
The next week was the longest of my life.
I moved from class to class numbly, going through the classwork slowly and often having to start over from making a mistake. On the bright side, I had plenty of time to do my homework and make up the work I'd missed because I still wasn't sleeping well. I was managing to keep it together in front of everyone, even the times when I wanted to be alone in the dormitory but Pansy and Millicent refused to leave.
Being in Potions, however, was especially difficult.
Malfoy and Blaise were back on speaking terms, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore Blaise whenever he looked at me from across the table. I was just grateful he hadn't tried talking to me again since the day I returned to classes.
I even managed to keep Ginny from getting worried about me over the course of the week, acting like nothing was wrong and making sure to not zone out whenever she was talking with me. Most of the time, I was able to distract myself long enough to not even think about what had happened the week before. And for the most part, it was working. I was slowly starting to feel okay again.
I was in the library studying alone when the strangest thing possible could have happened.
Malfoy burst in and rounded the corner around the nearest bookshelf, causing me to jump and look up at him. He was absolutely breathless as he stopped by my table and said between gasps for air, "There...you are. I've been—looking everywhere for you."
"Um...why?" I asked suspiciously, carefully sitting up. I badly wanted to back away from him, because this was the closest he'd ever gotten to me since I last spoke with him a week ago in the common room. And I'd promised myself that was the last time I'd ever talk to Malfoy.
"Hang on," Malfoy gasped, collapsing into the chair across from me and holding his chest. "I just sprinted all the way from the locker room."
I rolled my eyes as he took a full minute to catch his breath. My fingernails were dug deep into both of my arms under the table, fighting every urge I had to get up and leave. I didn't want to be near him, I didn't want to even be in the same room as him—
"Alright," Malfoy said finally. He leaned back in his chair and said as casually as possible, "Something's come up and I need a favor from you."
For half a second, all I did was stare at him. Since when did the great Draco Malfoy want anything to do with me? Almost in shock, I said slowly, "Sorry...what?"
This time it was Malfoy's turn to roll his eyes. But he still refused to meet my gaze as he asked with annoyance, "You know the Quidditch match against Gryffindor is this Saturday, right? You must know that."
"I do," I said coldly, keeping my arms crossed in front of me. Why wouldn't he look at me? If anyone should be avoiding eye contact, it was me.
"We were practicing today and Flint got knocked off his broom," Malfoy told me, his eyes fixed on the window beside us. "He's in the hospital wing with a concussion. Pomfrey says he's done with playing until next week."
"Okay..." I said, looking at him across the table and waiting for him to finally make eye contact with me. "What does this have to do with me?"
"The match is in two days. We need another Chaser or we'll be disqualified."
"Get to the point," I snapped, praying he wasn't going to ask what I thought he was.
"Christ, Hawkings, are you stupid?" Malfoy spat. "We need you to play for us this Saturday."
I finally allowed myself to lean away from him, glaring across the table. "Are you mad? Absolutely not. What makes you think—"
"I heard you talking to Zabini after our last match," Malfoy interrupted, not seeming to notice the way I visibly flinched at his words. "I know you used to play. Come on, Hawkings. There's no one else in Slytherin who plays Quidditch."
"Malfoy," I snapped, but he was still avoiding my gaze. "Would you at least look at me?"
Finally his eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I almost lost my composure when I remembered the things he said to me the last time we spoke.
I didn't do it for you. Zabini always picks up every girl he sees, and I'm sick of it.
I shook myself and said flatly, "There's no way I'm playing. You'll have to find someone else."
My notes were in my arms and I was out of my chair, turning for the door, when Malfoy said from behind me, "Don't you think you owe me?"
I turned back around so quickly that I almost dropped my books. The anger rose up hot as I said harshly, "Are you going to keep throwing that back in my face every chance you get? You already said you didn't do it for me, don't think I haven't forgotten. Do you honestly think that I'm going to do whatever you ask me because you think I'm grateful you—"
"Damn it Hawkings, calm down, would you?" Malfoy cut me off, standing up from the table quickly and moving closer to me. I automatically took a step back, feeling hot, angry tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. I wasn't going to cry here, not in front of him for the second time— "Just listen to me. We just need you to play for us this Saturday, or else we'll be disqualified and Gryffindor will win. I heard you say you were a great player—"
"I was being stupid," I snapped. "Can't you find someone else to do it? Ask Pansy."
Malfoy actually laughed at this, shaking his head and saying, "Good one. And after that I suppose I could ask Millicent? Come on, Eve, I know you want to."
"I don't, actually," I said. Maybe if Blaise wasn't on the team, I would do it. But there was no way I was going to play Quidditch with him after what happened last week.
"Is this because of Zabini?" Malfoy asked exasperatedly, and for a moment I genuinely thought he'd read my mind. "Look, he isn't going to try and talk to you anymore. Okay? He's over it."
"That's nice," I said in the coldest tone I've ever used. "I'm not playing Quidditch. Please get out of my way."
But Malfoy didn't move out of the way; instead, he took a step closer. My mouth was opening to tell him to back off, but he interrupted me, saying quietly, "I really think you should do it. It'll show him that you're tougher than you look, you know?"
I blinked, wanting to take a step away from him but suddenly finding that my feet were frozen to the floor. Malfoy was looking down at me intensely, and for the first time, he was speaking to me in a voice that wasn't commanding or insulting. My mouth opened and closed uselessly, suddenly at a loss for words. The more and more I thought about it, I realized Malfoy actually might be making some sort of sense. If I did this, if I did play Quidditch this Saturday, Blaise would think I was completely fine. Because who in their right mind would play Quidditch on the same team as him after what happened?
"You'll do it, right?" Malfoy asked arrogantly, finally leaning away from me. "Come on. We've still got today and tomorrow to practice before it, you'd be fine."
"I..." I trailed off, biting my lip. "I haven't got a broom..."
"We have extras, don't be stupid," Malfoy said, looking at me carefully. "So you'll do it? It's only one match. No big deal."
Only one match, I thought, knowing it was much, much more than that to me. "Fine," I said quietly. "I'll do it."
I just hoped I wouldn't regret it.
"Good," Malfoy nodded, as though he'd been expecting me to agree all along. And then he said what I knew he would, adding, "We're even now."
"You're an ass," I snapped, to which Malfoy gave me an annoying smirk.
"Let's go, we're practicing until dark," he said, turning for the doors without waiting for me. "You'll have to find clothes somewhere, I don't think any girls have played for Slytherin in ages..."
I rolled my eyes and followed Malfoy out, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. Why would I agree to something like this?
As I desended the steps after Malfoy, I realized I never acted this coldly around anyone else. I never snapped at anyone, and I'd certainly never called someone an ass before. Something about him just made me act differently, made me angry and impulsive.
Malfoy brought out the worst in me, that was for sure.