"He's a complete imbecile," complained Layla over dinner that night. "The nerve of him."
"He can't be that bad."
"Oh yes he can Elle." Ever since transfiguration, Layla had been telling anyone who would listen about Brian Wilson. Apparently the hour they had spent together had been enough to make her decide that he was the most unpleasant person she had ever met.
"How was the Weasley?" asked Delia, cutting across Layla's tirade.
Estelle shrugged. She glanced across the hall, where the twins were laughing with Lee Jordan. The one on the right, Fred she assumed, looked up and caught her eye. His grin widened and he winked.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to her food.
Layla sniffed. "Well, he might be a prat, but at least he's not a mudblood like Wilson."
Delia scoffed, "Might as well be, as much as the Weasleys spend around them."
Estelle poked at her food disinterestedly, trying her best not to zone out of the girl's conversation.
"I hope you don't mind me cutting in," came a smooth voice from across the table. "But, I thought you might appreciate some more stimulating conversation."
Estelle looked up at Adrian Pucey in surprise. "Oh, Merlin, please," she said with a small smile. She hadn't talked to him much, outside of prefect duties and pureblood gatherings. He had made prefect though, so that stood for something.
"I was wondering how you were doing in herbology?" he asked curiously.
She groaned. "Professor Sprout is a wonderful person, but I can't stand it. It's basically just glorified gardening."
He laughed slightly. "I suppose that's true. I could help you if you'd like. I'm currently averaging around an O."
"Oh, thanks, but I don't want to add more to your plate, what with quidditch and prefect duties, not to mention all of our homework this year."
He waved her off. "Don't worry about it Estelle, I'm perfectly happy to help."
"Really?" she asked hopefully. "That would be amazing! I'm barely scraping an E at the moment."
"Of course. I have a free period after charms tomorrow if you'd like."
"I've actually got, uh, muggle studies then. Do you happen to have a free period before potions?"
He raised his eyebrows, and she could have sworn she saw a disdainful look flicker across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. He smiled again.
"Yeah, I have one then as well, that would work for me."
"Really Adrian, thank you!" she exclaimed, "And if there's anything I can do for you please let me know."
His lips twitched into a smirk. "Well, you could cheer me on at quidditch practice tomorrow."
Estelle's eyes widened slightly. "What?"
"Having your support would mean a lot to me," he said, running his hands through his hair, his cocky smirk spreading slightly.
"Uh, yeah, of course," she said quietly, her stomach turning slightly. He was flirting with her. He, a pureblood from a good family, was flirting with her. It was bound to happen some time soon. Her family was part of the sacred twenty-eight, after all, and she was the last of the line, meaning whoever she married would gain the entirety of the Fawley fortune. A small part of her hoped that he wasn't flirting with her for her money or her name, but for her.
The next day she met Adrian in the common room for his help. They sat together at the table, and he pulled a few books out of his bag.
"So, I've marked a few sections in here that should be helpful for the essay. Ultimately the key is to understand the plant anatomy. That can illustrate a lot about its function."
She furrowed her eyebrows and nodded as he guided her through an illustration of the Fanged Geranium.
"So, it's called a Fanged Geranium," he said, "but that's a misnomer, as its neither related to geraniums nor is it technically fanged." He reached across her to grab one of the books, and flipped it open. He scooted slightly closer so that their legs were touching and indicated to a passage in the book.
"Its 'fangs' are actually sharpened cellulose matter that it uses as a defense mechanism, to protect itself from predators. It's more aggressive when it is in poor health, which leads to it needing correct care to keep the herbologist safe."
Estelle nodded slightly, as she jotted down notes. He led her through the plant's structure, occasionally brushing against her hand as he pointed things out.
"I hope that helps," he said when he was done.
"I think so," she said with a smile, "Thanks, Adrian."
"As long as I see you at practice tonight it's not a problem," he said with a smirk. "Shall we head to potions?"
"Sounds good," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
"I can take that if you'd like," he offered, gesturing to the satchel.
"Oh, that's alright."
"Please, I insist," he said, beckoning for it.
"Are you sure?" she asked, "I carry around an excessive amount of books. It's rather heavy."
He laughed lightly. "I play quidditch Elle, a few books aren't going to throw me off."
"Well, if you're sure," she said, handing it over to him. They walked together to potions, discussing the upcoming lesson.
Later that night Estelle headed to the quidditch pitch, trying to hide her face under the hood of her cloak. She was not the only girl who was going to watch the quidditch practice. There was always something of a crowd of Slytherin girls that would show up to the practices. Unfortunately, she was not nearly as well hidden as she thought she was.
"Elle!" called out a loud voice. A few rows above her sat Layla waving her hand violently.
Estelle groaned, knowing that at this point there was no chance of remaining unseen.
"What are you doing here?" asked Layla with a grin as Estelle slipped next to her. "You always make fun of me for coming."
"Adrian asked me to," she explained quietly.
"Adrian Pucey?" exclaimed Layla.
"Yes tell the whole school why don't you," muttered Estelle irritably.
"Oh, Elle, that's so exciting. Adrian's wonderful. Imagine if you and he ended up together," she gave a dreamy sigh. Estelle groaned. Layla was sweet, but she was also ridiculously invested in the love lives of everyone in the school, especially Estelle. Suddenly Layla's glance turned accusatory. "And you showed up in your school robes?"
"Um, yes?"
"Estelle Elizabeth Fawley," moaned Layla. "You are absolutely hopeless. If a boy asks you to come to his quidditch practice you have to show up in more than your regular school robes."
"Why? He's wearing his quidditch robes."
"Merlin help me," muttered Layla. "That's a play alright. In order to show you are interested you have to put in a little effort."
"But I'm not interested."
Layla rolled her eyes. "Well even if you aren't now, you might be later, and you don't want to brush him off immediately." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright, it's fine, this is fine. I can fix it."
"For Merlin's sake, Layla, you don't need to fix anything."
"Oh be quiet and come here." Estelle had known Layla long enough that it was useless to argue, and she scooched forwards obligingly. Layla loosened Estelle's tie and unbuttoned the top of her shirt. She pursed her lips.
"I suppose that's the best I can do for your outfit. But if I deal with your hair you should be presentable."
"Wow thanks," scoffed Estelle, but she didn't resist when Layla undid her bun and instead pulled her hair up into a twist, fastening it with a silver hairpin that she pulled from her bag.
"Sweetie, you are lucky you have me," said Layla, admiring her handiwork. "Alright, now you have to cheer for him and pretend you enjoy the game."
Estelle groaned. "Quidditch is so dull. Not to mention that the point system is absolutely bonkers. Besides, this isn't even a real game."
"Yeah, that's what we're trying to avoid," said Layla. "Look, just smile and look excited whenever he throws the ball."
"It's not like he can hear me."
"Not the point Elle."
"Can't I just read?"
"Absolutely not."
Estelle rolled her eyes, but did what her friend told her to do. Perhaps Layla was right. She couldn't afford to brush off Adrian. Not with her father's pressure to find a respectable pureblood. After all, at least he could hold a book the right way up. And he didn't have the annoying habit of looking her up and down like a piece of meat in the way Miles Bletchley did.
She watched, rather disinterestedly, as the green-clad team flew up and down the field. If this is what her life was like now, she supposed the Weasley twin was right: it was awfully tedious. She didn't know how she managed to survive through the next hour, and she definitely didn't understand how Layla was enjoying it, but somehow she made it.
She wound her way down the steps to the ground, where she was greeted by Marcus Flint.
"I don't think I've seen you here before," he said with an oily smile. "I'm the captain, but you can call me Marcus."
"Yes, I know," she said dryly. "Amazingly, I know who the captain of our house team is."
"Excuse us, Marcus," said Adrian, a cold look on his face. "Miss Fawley is here to see me."
Marcus smirked and slapped him on the back. "Well, I don't want to step on my teammates turf," he said before heading off to the changing rooms.
"Sorry about him," said Adrian, the harshness dissipating from his tone. "He's a bit of an ass."
Estelle bit the scathing remark on the tip of her tongue, and instead simply smiled. "It's no problem."
"I was surprised you showed up," said Adrian.
"Well, I did say I would."
"Yeah, but I don't think I've seen you at a single quidditch game in the last four years."
Estelle shrugged. "I don't have anything against quidditch." She did, she thought it was
dumb and barbaric. "I just appreciate the quiet when everyone's out on the pitch." That much at least was true. "You flew well today though!" She had no idea how well he flew, but he didn't fall off so it must have been fairly well.
Adrian smiled appreciatively. "Thanks. I've always enjoyed the sport, and despite Flint's lesser qualities he does whip the team into shape."
Estelle smiled, "Yes, I've heard our team tends to do well."
"Well, I'd best head off and change. Thanks for coming to watch, Elle."
"No problem, it was fun." It wasn't.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and he took her hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips.