Disclaimer: Hey, did you guys here that Jo sold me the rights to Harry Potter?

A.N. So, I went and got myself a job. Yaaaay! For me, anyways, but don't worry, I'm not working God-awful hours or anything, so I'll be able to update at about the same pace as I've been going. You guys did a little better with this last chapter, something like 6 reviews and well over 100 hits. Can we step it up a little more? I know more of you are reading than you let on, so don't be lazy. Enjoy!

Who Says Love and Quidditch Can't Mix?

Chapter Seven

Charlotte jumped into the shower and turned the water as hot as she could tolerate it. She stood under the hot spray, letting the water rinse away the remnants of her hangover. She would never, ever do something as stupid as last night again. Not when she had seen what alcohol can do to a person.

'How could you do something as stupid as that, you idiot?' she berated herself. 'You saw what alcohol did to Dad when you were little. You saw what the bruises looked like on Mum. And you go and get absolutely plastered off your ass! What were you thinking?!'

Charlotte leaned against the shower wall and hung her head, squeezing her eyes against the guilt welling up in her. She had sworn a long time ago that she would never end up like her father, not after seeing the bruises on her mother, not after being hurled against a wall at the age of six like some kind of rag doll. The painful memories served as a lesson to her. She and alcohol simply were not a good combination, especially now when the whole world knew her business. She could only hope that the press hadn't spotted her last night. If they had, she was in for a rude awakening at the press conference shortly.

She stepped out of the shower feeling slightly more awake, but feeling the guilt twist in her stomach quite painfully. Her mother would be so disappointed in her if she found out about her drinking. Oliver would lecture her about the responsibilities that come with being in the public spotlight, and then Hermione would remind him that he too had once been in the same position as Charlotte. And then the two would remind her that no matter what she did, they would love her very much, which would only reinforce the horrible guilt that Charlotte was feeling.

Charlotte shook her head and combed her wet hair out. Whatever guilt she was feeling, she had to put it aside to deal with the press in a thoroughly professional manner. Not to mention that she had to keep herself calm and collected for dinner with Derek's parents later.

Dinner with Derek's parents. She cringed at the very thought. She could only hope that the rest of her hangover was gone by then and that they wouldn't be able to suspect a thing. Of course, if the press had picked up on her partying, she was a goner no matter what. But, as neither Hermione or Oliver had mentioned anything about reading about her partying in the paper this morning, she figured she was safe, for now.

She pulled on her black and white pinstriped pants and buttoned up her favorite white blouse with the delicate pearl buttons. She wiped away the condensation in the mirror to get a good look at herself. She still looked a bit peaky, and the dark circles under her eyes refused to go away, but it wasn't anything that a little foundation couldn't fix. Her hair was starting to dry in crazy ringlets, but with a wave of her wand, the curls tamed themselves into a decent mass of honey brown ringlets, minus the frizz.

She stepped back to look at herself in the mirror with a sigh. Whatever she did, she knew she wouldn't look one hundred percent her best. A night of drinking will do that to a person, she decided, which was why she was never going to do it again. She could only hope that nobody would pick up on her less than normal appearance.

She hung up her towel and brushed her teeth, getting rid of the horrible taste left in her mouth from a combination of the alcohol, the tea, and the hangover potion that she had drank this morning. As a precaution she swilled some mouthwash as well.

She left the bathroom and went back to her room, digging through her closet for her best and most comfortable pair of black heels. She found them hiding under a mountain of discarded outfits that she'd been meaning to hang back up and slipped them on, pacing the room a couple times to get used to walking in heels again. She then went to her jewelry box to find her pearl earrings and the pearl necklace that Hermione and Oliver had bought her for her birthday a few years back and sprayed herself a few times with her best smelling perfume.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Derek was due to arrive at any time. She silently thanked both him and Aeryn for dragging her out last night when they did.

"Charlotte! Derek's here!" Belle called down the hall.

"Coming!" she yelled back, checking her reflection one last time before leaving her room.

She almost tripped over her feet as she walked into the kitchen, where Derek was standing talking to Hermione and Oliver. They all turned around when they heard her come falling in, sounding more like a horse than a normal human being trying to walk in heels.

"I tripped," Charlotte said shortly in response to the raised eyebrows in her direction.

"Not quite cut out for heels, eh, Charlie?" Derek asked, smiling slightly.

"I'd like to see you men walk around in them for a day and tell me how it feels," she said, walking carefully around the kitchen table to where they were all standing near the door, but nevertheless smiling.

He regarded her carefully for a moment, as if silently checking to see if she was all right after last night. She offered him a brief smile before turning to kiss Hermione and Oliver good bye.

"Jus' don' say too much, lass," Oliver warned as he hugged her. "Don' say more than yeh have to, trust me."

"I won't," she promised, kissing him on the cheek before stepping back to walk out the door with Derek.

"She'll be fine. I'll be right there with her," Derek said with a smile.

Charlotte rolled her eyes a bit but waved good bye before they Disapparated to the press conference.

She was still a bit unsteady on her feet when they reappeared in front of a large building somewhere in the middle of downtown London. Derek grabbed her arm to keep her from falling flat on her face.

"Thanks," she muttered, straightening her shirt and fixing her somewhat mussed hair.

"Sure," he said, keeping an eye on her. "So, how are you, erm, feeling from last night?"

She gave him a bit of a sharp look before replying. "Aeryn gave me a bit of a hangover potion this morning, but my head still aches a bit."

He nodded and they walked into the building in silence. After a few minutes though, Charlotte couldn't stand it any longer.

"So how good did it feel to hit Turner?"

He turned and grinned. "Too damn good. He was asking for it."

Charlotte nodded, a little more serious. "If you hadn't been there though. . ."

Derek shrugged, as if to say it was nothing. "I know."

"But really, Derek, I don't know what would have happened if you weren't there when you were. Turner's a lot bigger than me, and stronger."

Derek's eyes became distinctly colder, which shocked Charlotte for a moment. Even if she didn't remember much from last night, she remembered the look of cold fury in Derek's eyes when he had hit Turner. The look in his eyes now was almost scary.

"Derek," she said quietly, laying a hand on his arm to try to rid his eyes of that look, "thank you."

He stopped and looked her straight in the eyes. "Just swear you won't do something as stupid as that again."

His tone of voice left her slightly taken aback and hurt. But she knew that it wasn't just her job he was worried about. If she screwed up, he was going down with her.

"I won't," she said softly, looking down at her feet. His cold disappointment was almost as hard to bear as her parents' would be.

She followed him into a small room, where the rest of the team, plus Aeryn, was waiting. The only ones who looked as though they were feeling very normal and uninebriated were Callum and Pietro. Ace looked a little worse for wear, his face slightly ashen and his eyes squinting as though the light was too bright for him to bear. Turner, Derek was pleased to see, was sporting a bruised and puffy jaw. He glared at Derek and Charlotte when they walked in, but otherwise said nothing.

Aeryn hugged Charlotte when they walked over. "Feeling better?"

"A little," Charlotte whispered, hugging her best friend tightly.

"All right, you gents, listen up," Aeryn called out, waiting for them to gather around her. "Here's how it's gonna play out. You're to sit at the table and act like gentleman. No horseplay, no smart mouth answers to the questions. Keep it short and sweet. Give them what they want, but not too much. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but given past behavior by a certain few," she gave a pointed glare in Turner's direction, "I thought I'd give you all a heads up. Understood?"

There was murmured agreement from everyone all around.

"All right, then go out there and sit down, the press will be in shortly."

The guys all filed out silently, quite unusual at any other time, but quite understandable given the night they all had.

Derek tugged on Charlotte's arm as she made to follow them out. "I'll be in the very front, where you can see me. If you're unsure about a question and whether or not to answer it, just glance my way and I'll give you a clue, okay?"

She nodded and gave him a small smile, his disappointment still slightly painful. She walked out into the bigger conference room and sat down next to Callum at the end of the very long table that had been set up. There were water glasses in front of each of them, as well as nametags identifying them all. Charlotte took up her water glass and looked out at the room. It was a typical set up, rows and rows of chairs stretching all the way to the back of the room, with tags identifying where each reporter should sit. She could hear the distinctive buzz of almost a hundred reporters on the other side of the double doors at the very back of the room, and felt a nervous tingle in her stomach.

"Worried?" Callum asked her quietly, watching as her hand trembled slightly on her water glass.

"A little," she admitted, setting the glass down when she realized her hand was shaking.

"Don't be. As far as I saw last night, there were no reporters in the club. At least, not that I noticed. If it comes up, just don't answer any questions. Tell them anything you like, that they're mistaken or something. Unless they've got proof, they've got nothing. Once you're in the game long enough, you start to learn the ways of the world, or at least, the nifty little world that the press tries to create," Callum added with a slightly twisted smile.

"Thanks, Callum. I notice you don't seem to be as bad off as some of the others," Charlotte said with a nod toward the end of the table, where Ace was sitting with his head in his hands.

"I had a feeling about where things were headed last night, so I kept chasing the firewhiskey with water. I also keep some of that hangover potion with me when I know we're going out to celebrate. Just slip a little in with my water and I'm set for the night," he said with a grin.

"Slip some my way next time, won't you?" she said quietly as the doors opened with a clatter and the reporters started to stream in.

"Sure thing, love."

It took a good ten minutes for all the reporters to settle themselves in and quiet down, their various magical recording devices out, cameras at the ready.

The first few questions were directed at Ace and what he thought of yesterday's performance by the team as a whole, and some of the individual performances. Quite a few asked what Ace thought about Charlotte's performance, and to her relief, he had nothing to complain about. Some raised the question whether or not the goal she let in was an indication of how her future performance might be.

"Look, she may be Oliver Wood's daughter, but everyone's entitled to a slip up every once in awhile. I'm sure Oliver himself would agree!" Ace said rather tartly when several reporters wouldn't let the issue drop.

Charlotte grinned a little.

"But can we really contribute her talent to Oliver Wood?" a reporter spoke up.

The noise level in the room dropped a little.

"And by that you mean?" Ace asked, frowning a little.

"Well, whether or not you're aware the Charlotte Wood really isn't Oliver Wood's daughter remains to be seen," the reporter said with a sly smile.

Charlotte drew a breath. Was this going where she thought this was going?

"What's your point?" Chase spoke up, glaring at the reporter.

"Only that her performance can't be entirely contributed to Oliver Wood's talent. It's not like she inherited his genes or anything, as she's not his biological daughter. Did you know that her mother, the same Hermione Granger that helped Harry Potter in his quest to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was married to another man before she was married to Oliver Wood?"

There was an uprising in muttering going on in the room.

"Oh yes, that's right, folks, Charlotte Wood is actually Charlotte McAllister. Her father was a drunk and used to beat her and her mother. Oliver Wood did them a favor by stepping in and trying to help. Matt McAllister was killed by Charlotte's mother in self defense when Charlotte was six years old."

The noise was rising in the room, but Charlotte only heard a dim buzzing. How did this reporter find all this out? And more importantly, why was he bringing all this up?

"Oh yes, her real father was a drunk, but that apparently doesn't stop Charlotte herself from indulging in the booze," the reporter said maliciously, his eyes glittering in her direction.

"What are you talking about?" Ace tried to sound tough, but the look on his face said he was worried.

"After yesterday's win, your team went out to celebrate, correct?"

Ace sat up a little straighter. "We went out, yes, but what business of yours is that?"

"I think it's the public's business if the star Keeper of the team is going out and drinking herself silly."

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof?" Chase said angrily.

The reporter looked a little taken aback. In his haste to make Charlotte out to be some kind of fool, he had forgotten about getting proof.

Aeryn stepped in hurriedly before things could get out of hand. "Thank you all for your time and cooperation, this conference is now over."

Charlotte stood up quickly and walked to the door leading out of the conference room, trying to keep her tears back as best as she could. She could hear her name being called behind her, but if she stayed in the room for a second longer, she was going to lose it completely.

She ran down the hall a short way and found an empty hallway where she was guaranteed some privacy for the moment. She leaned against the wall and covered her face, letting her tears fall freely. That reporter had just tried to cut down her career from under her for no reason at all. And exposing her dark family past for the whole room to hear as though she had no feelings at all!

Her shoulders shook with the sobs she was trying to hold back. Her family past was about to become known worldwide. Come tomorrow morning, the whole world would know that Charlotte's real father was a drunk, and that she may or may not have participated in a night of drinking. She might as well be clearing out her locker now.

She felt ashamed of her background. Matt had been a drunk and had abused both her and her mother, and now the world was about to find out. They might be sympathetic to her, but what about her mother? Hermione was the one who had killed Matt out of self defense. And even with that under her belt, some people just didn't look kindly upon others who had killed a person, whether in self defense or not. What might the world have to say about Hermione now? And what would they say about Oliver, who had married Hermione mere months after Matt had died?

Charlotte cried harder. All this was going to come back to hurt not only her, but her mother and Oliver, who was more a father to her than Matt ever was. And it was all her fault. A little night of fun was going to come back to haunt her forever.

Charlotte gave a little gasp when she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her, pulling her in to lay her head against a strong chest as she cried. She knew it was Derek, and she cried harder when she remembered the cold disappointment in his voice earlier.

"Don't cry, Charlie," he said softly, hugging her tighter.

"I'm sorry," she choked out through her sobs.

"Sorry for what?"

"Ruining your career," she choked out again.

"You didn't ruin my career. And yours isn't over either. That bastard was just trying to discredit your talent. He's just jealous. He used to be an agent, but when the guy he was representing turned into a wash up, he was forced out of the agency. He's just bitter, that's all."

"But the whole world's going to know about my father!" she gasped out through a fresh wave of tears.

"No, they're not," Derek said firmly. "Aeryn threatened them all. If they print it, she will personally hunt them down. There's no proof of what you did last night, and if they're trying to discredit you, it's something like slander, and they can get in big trouble for it, which Aeryn so kindly reminded them."

She raised her head to look at his face. His eyes were troubled, but she saw the truth in them. She gave a little hiccup and reached up to wipe away her tears. She had gotten his shirt all wet, and she was now feeling quite embarrassed.

"I'm sorry I got your shirt all wet," she mumbled, wiping around her eyes, hoping her mascara hadn't run all over the place.

"Charlotte," he said in the same firm voice.

She didn't want to look him in the eye. "What?"

He tilted her head up to meet his eyes. "You don't have to apologize. You were upset. I would be too. It's fine."

Charlotte nodded, now feeling ridiculously stupid. No matter what he said, she was going to feel incredibly stupid for the rest of the day.

"Think you're going to be all right now?" he asked her as they walked out of the building and into the bright sunlight.

She nodded as they walked along. "I just don't understand why that guy was trying to cut me down."

Derek shook his head. "He's a right cad. Don't pay any attention to it. The tabloids will try to do it too. Just hold your head up high and go about your business. Unless there's proof, they've got nothing."

Charlotte glanced at the clock hanging from the corner building. It was hard to believe that the whole fiasco had taken an hour. It felt like much longer to her. She didn't realize that she had sighed, but Derek heard it.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" she answered absently, watching the children play in the park across the street.

"You sighed. You only sigh when there's something wrong."

"What? Oh, nothing. Really. Just thinking about joining you and your parents for dinner later, I guess."

He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, if you're envisioning a perfect evening, I wouldn't. I know my mother's going to open her big mouth at some point, so be prepared."

She smiled at him. "I guess I'll reserve my judgment until I get there."

He looked slightly nervous about the whole thing. "You know, you don't have to do this. I didn't expect you to want to come when I asked you."

She pretended to be offended. "Really, Derek, do I look like the type of person who would decline a dinner invitation because we've had our differences in the past?"

"Well, no. . .but-"

"There's no but's about it. I may have disliked you a tad bit in school-"

"A tad bit? You loathed me with a passion!"

She gave a small smile. "Well, I may have ignored you a bit."

He chuckled. "You call giving me the cold shoulder the entire year, despite the fact that we were both Heads and therefore had to live together, ignoring me a bit?"

She sniffed. "I had work to do."

"Oh please. So did I."

She smirked. "Funny, I don't recall you ever sitting down to crack a book."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides inheriting my dear old father's good looks, I must have got his brains as well."

She snorted. "Sure, Derek."

"I did!"

She laughed. "Okay. I'll go with it. In the meantime, I told my parents that I would be back after the press thing was over. So I'm assuming you're coming to get me for this dinner at seven?"

He nodded. "I'll be there. Just remember to wear a skirt or something, so my mother doesn't have a reason to start in on you right off the bat."

"Yes, sir." she saluted him before disappearing into an alley to Disapparate.

She didn't notice the slightly disappointed look on his face that she had left him.


"You would think," Charlotte said in an exasperated voice, "that four hours would simply drag by."

Belle sat on Charlotte's bed, watching her older sister struggle with her hair. "I thought your hair looked fine the way it was, Charlie."

Charlotte cast her hair a scornful look. "But I couldn't very well go to dinner at the Malfoy's with just a simple hairstyle. Derek said his mother would be looking for a reason to disparage me."

Belle shrugged. "Maybe you should have started sooner."

Charlotte sighed as she stabbed a bobby pin into place, hoping it would hold her thick hair. "I didn't think my hair was going to be this difficult. What time is it, anyway?"

Belle glanced at the alarm clock. "It's ten to seven."

Charlotte gave a little yelp. "No!"

Belle nodded sympathetically. "Do you want some help?"

Charlotte looked at her sister's reflection in the mirror. "You could dig in my closet to find my pink dress sandals."

Belle scrunched her nose but otherwise said nothing as she hopped off the bed to dig through the disaster at the bottom of Charlotte's closet. "Found them!"

Charlotte gave another sigh as she cast one more look in the mirror at her hair. It would have to do. There wasn't much time to do anything else with it, and Derek would be arriving at any minute.

"Thanks, Belles," Charlotte said as she took the sandals from her sister and sat down on the bed to put them on.

"If it means anything, I think you look smashing," Belle offered.

Charlotte smiled. "Thank you. I can only hope that Derek's mother thinks the same way."

Belle smirked. "You want Derek to think so too."

Charlotte scoffed. "Oh please. I don't really care. He's my agent, nothing else."

"But you want him to be something else, don't you?"

"Belle!"

"Charlotte! Derek's here!"

Charlotte twitched but stood up. "What do you think, Belle?"

"I think he'll be pleased," Belle said with a grin.

"Ugh."

Charlotte walked out of the room, feeling very self conscious in her floaty pink and purple striped dress. It wasn't often that she felt the need to wear a dress, so when she did, she made sure that everything was just right. She didn't want to feel like she was forced to wear the stupid thing for nothing. Her hair hung in soft curls down to her shoulders, with the sides pinned up into place. Her bangs fell wispy just to tops of her eyes, which she had highlighted with a touch of purple eyeliner and some pink and green eyeshadow. She had put on her favorite pink ribbon choker with the pink and purple stones set into the pendant that dangled at the base of her neck, and the earrings that matched. Her strappy dress sandals were a light pink and gave her an extra two inches of height, not that she needed it.

Derek was sitting at the table with Hermione and Oliver. They were discussing the disaster that was the press conference from earlier. Charlotte had come home and told them both everything. Oliver was more than a little mad. Hermione had gone pale at the idea of their past being revealed to the whole world, but once Charlotte explained what Aeryn was going to do to take care of the situation, Hermione had perked up considerably.

The table had gone quiet when she walked into the kitchen. Much to her dismay, Derek's mouth was hanging open and his eyes had gone all glossy. It was a good thing that Oliver had turned around in his seat to get a better look at her, otherwise he would have seen the stupid look on Derek's face, and quite possibly might have had a reason to hurt the poor guy.

"Well, I'm ready," she said with a shrug, to break the silence.

"Oh, Charlie, you look wonderful!" Hermione said as she stood up and gave her a hug.

"Thanks, Mum."

"I think yer gonna do well, lass," Oliver said gruffly, giving her a hug as well.

"You look. . .amazing, Charlie," Derek finally managed to get out.

"Thank you, Derek. Shouldn't we be going? So you're mother doesn't say anything?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. We should. Come on, I'll Apparate us both there."

He offered her his arm and she took it, allowing him to lead her outside.

"Don't wait up for me! I don't know when I'll be back!" Charlotte called to her parents before Derek Apparated them away.

Once the compressed feeling of Apparating had worn off and she had straightened her dress and fixed her hair, Charlotte allowed herself a good look at the Malfoy estate. She felt her mouth hang open slightly at all the grandeur.

The house sat on several acres of perfectly manicured grass. The walkway leading up to the house was lined with perfectly trimmed rosebushes, in which live fairies were sitting, casting a faint glow on the path stretching before them. The house itself was enormous. Three or four stories tall, it was built from red brick. The very large front door was heavy and oaken, but Derek pushed it open with ease as he guided Charlotte inside.

"You've not seen it all yet, I'm afraid," he said quietly as they walked through the front hall.

She turned her head this way and that to get a good look at her surroundings. The walls were covered in a soft green floral wallpaper, which looked old fashioned to Charlotte, with pictures spaced here and there all along the hall. The floor was of wood, something dark and polished to a shine. Charlotte felt as though she should slip on such a shiny floor, but her footing was quite steady.

Derek led her into what she presumed to be the sitting room of the ground floor. There was a large bookcase on the wall near the fireplace that held quite possibly hundreds of books. The fireplace crackled merrily, but for some reason, Charlotte felt an impending sense of doom creeping up on her. She turned to look at Derek for some kind of reassurance.

"Don't worry, it's just the fact that you haven't met my mother yet," he said quietly, understanding the terrified look in her eyes.

She gulped and walked a few steps away from him to get a better look at the room. There were two dark green chintz armchairs sitting on either side of the fireplace, with dark wood tables beside each. A long couch upholstered in the same fabric as the chairs was against the wall to her left, with plenty of cabinet space for family heirlooms to her right. She walked over to the cabinets to get a better look at the treasures they held.

"Don't touch anything," Derek warned from behind her as she reached out a hand to touch a heavy gold locket.

She gave him a questioning look.

"Just don't. You have no idea what's been accumulated in those cabinets over the centuries."

"He's quite right," said a prissy voice from the doorway.

They both turned to face the source of the voice. A woman of Hermione's age stood just inside the door, her nose sticking quite high in the air. Charlotte had a fleeting idea that the woman just might drown in a rainstorm if she happened to be in one with her nose held that high.

Derek's mother walked further into the room, surveying Charlotte as though she was forming an opinion of her. She stuck out a hand once she had stopped in front of Charlotte. Charlotte took it, feeling how soft the woman's hands were compared to her own calloused ones.

"I'm Pansy Malfoy," the woman introduced herself unnecessarily. "I must say, you look nothing like I had imagined you to."

Derek opened his mouth to call his mother out on the lie, as she had seen Charlotte's picture in the papers almost every day since she had been drafted, but his father walked in just then.

"Ah, Derek, you're back with our guest. Good evening, Charlotte," Draco Malfoy said, shaking her hand as well.

"Good evening, sir. It's a pleasure to meet both you and your wife," she said politely, smiling slightly in spite of her nerves.

Draco smiled at her as well, but she noticed that his smile did not extend fully to his eyes, which remained slightly cold, unlike Derek's.

He barely cast a glance in his wife's direction before saying imperiously, "Come, I'm sure dinner is about ready. I hope you're hungry."

Charlotte cast Derek a questioning glance as to his father's curious behavior toward his mother.

"They don't get along very well," he whispered as quietly as possible as they followed behind the two elder Malfoys to the dining room.

Charlotte wondered if maybe this was going to affect dinner in any way. She certainly hoped not. When they entered the dining room, she allowed Derek to pull out a chair for her and help her slide it closer to the table. He sat down beside her and offered her a small smile before the house elves began bringing out platters upon platters of food.

Charlotte must have looked amazed, for Pansy gave another sniff. "You mustn't be so amazed, Charlotte, we have dinner like this every night."

Derek shot his mother a look for being such a snob, but she ignored it. 'Well, if she can play that game, so can I,' he thought darkly as he took a dish from her without speaking a word of thanks.

"Parsnips, Charlie?" he held the dish out to her.

She smiled her thanks to him and took it, spooning some of the smashed parsnips onto her plate, which already was filled with a few slices of juicy roast beef, some mashed potatoes and gravy, and a French roll with butter.

Draco eyed her plate with a small smile. "Quite the appetite, Charlotte."

She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or not. "Oh, well, you know, I have to keep my energy up for the almost daily Quidditch practices."

Pansy gave her a cold look. "You had better hope you keep your figure. You won't be able to eat like this once you leave the Quidditch pitch."

Draco and Derek both gave Pansy an extremely dirty look. Charlotte felt quite uncomfortable now, so she picked up her knife and fork to cut her roast beef before taking a bite to save herself from having to answer another question.

"So Derek says you're quite the flier," Draco said after a few tense minutes of silence.

Charlotte took a sip of her elderflower wine before answering. "Oh, I don't know, I'm not that spectacular. I just fly to keep up with the others."

Draco chuckled. "I can remember when I was on the Slytherin House team. You would have thought that the captains in my team were going for size more than skill. I was the smallest one on the team, but then again, I was Seeker, so there you go."

Charlotte gave a small smile and took another bite of her parsnips. She had to admit, the food was excellent, though the conversation was a bit stuffy and awkward.

"Well, I must say, you did inherit some decent Quidditch genes," Draco conceded.

Derek's eyes flashed warningly in his mother's direction, but she took no notice. Cringing as his mother opened her mouth, he could only hope that this wasn't going to be an insult to Charlotte.

"Well of course she did, Draco, Matt McAllister was quite the Quidditch man in his days at school," Pansy said sweetly, her eyes colder than ever as she looked at Charlotte.

The roast beef Charlotte had swallowed got lodged in her throat in a lump. Trying not to choke, she picked up her wine glass to take a sip, only to find her hand shaking as she did.

"Mother!" Derek said indignantly, laying a hand on Charlotte's shoulder as she tried to get the lump in her throat to go down.

"Well, what did you want me to say? That she got all her talent from that buffoon Oliver Wood? I should hardly think-"

"What you think doesn't matter, Pansy," Draco snarled as he tried to give Charlotte what he hoped was a concerned look as she almost gagged on the lump in her throat.

"Excuse me," she managed to say before getting up from the table and almost running out of the room.

"Was it something I said?" Pansy asked in a surprised tone.

Derek's face went red. "Thanks a lot, Mother," he snapped as he threw his napkin down on the table to go after Charlotte.

He caught a glimpse of her running around a corner further down the hall, trying to get back to the front hall to leave.

"Charlotte, wait!"

He ran to catch up to her. He came around the last corner to the front hall to find the front door standing open and her silhouette running down the walkway.

"Charlotte!"

He ran harder to catch up to her, and when he did, he caught her by the elbow to try to stop her.

"Derek, let go!"

He spun her around to look at her. She was crying again, though he wasn't surprised in the least. The hurt was evident in her eyes as he looked at her, at a loss for what to say.

"Look, she shouldn't have said it," he started, but she jerked her arm out of his grasp.

"She shouldn't have, but she did. And what am I to do? It's the truth, isn't it? There's no escaping the truth," she gasped out through her tears, turning around to set off down the walk again.

"Charlotte, hang on," he tried again.

"Derek, just let it drop. I'm going home," she cried, the tears still running down her cheeks.

"Please don't-"

She whirled on the spot and disappeared.

"Go," he finished, looking at the spot where she vanished.