The next week dragged by slowly, with agonizingly long days. I worked myself to the bone by staying up late in the library, feeling the pressure of trying to learn complex new topics alongside reducing my language barrier. Trelawney had told me at the start of the school week, in a blithering, whimpering voice, that she was concerned about my ability to pass her class. I'd felt a stab of fear. I had already read one of the two divination books that were assigned to our year; clearly my language had not been up to par at the time.
Snow was falling slowly over the castle in thin, unambitious sheets, only to melt away every few days again. It was still early into the cold season, nevertheless - the library had a way of reflecting the temperature outside. I tended to hide in the stacks where other people wouldn't recognize me or bother me despite how dark it was in the aisles. I had started bringing large blankets from my bed using a shrinking charm, and illuminating my reading with the tip of my wand. Sometimes books would fall randomly on my head from the tall shelves and I attributed it to magical energy being pent up in the forgotten texts.
In the middle of the week there was loud chatter at a table on the other side of one of the aisles I was working in. I stood up sighing begrudgingly, realizing I would need to move to a quieter lane. As I was shrinking my blanket down I became aware of my name being dropped, "...and she's on the Slytherin Quidditch team now did ya hear that? Malfoy must be furious. Probably why Potter asked her to join him to Hogsmeade. Flirting with the enemy, an all that." The voice was Irish in nature and I recognized it as belonging to a boy named Finnigan.
I peered through the books, pushing some aside enough to gain a visual. Dust plumed up into the air tickling my nose and I shoved it into my robe to stifle a sneeze.
Dean Thomas was adjusting his tie to be looser around his neck, "Well, I don't know much about that. Harry did say he thought she had an interesting aura about her, probably genuinely fancies her. Everyone does in a way, but she's just... so weird. Potter's weird. Makes sense."
Seamus sat down and bit into an apple with little grace. He spat his sentence through his full mouth, "Eh, well let's just hope Malfoy's got the same weakness. You heard about him foolin' 'round with her in potions class on first day," he took another messy bite and opened a book as Dean flinched away from Seamus' spray radius, "Finally give that git a good kick in the gut if she does end up with Potter. Could take apart the whole Slytherin team if he goes down."
"Hmm..." Dean seemed to be tuning out the conversation as he rolled out parchment.
Seamus was clearly not about to drop it, and his unstable voice volume shot back into the calm atmosphere of the study section like a bomb, "Oi believe Malfoy's got a thing for her, seen him watchin' her float 'round in her pretty little purple dresses. Blimey, reminds us all a that Triwizard Tournament four years ago and those French girls driftin' about. Reckon' he thenks he's so sneaky with his beady little eyes." Dean stared up at Seamus with a tired look. At that moment a book fell from above me and launched itself squarely into my skull. I closed a hand over my mouth and gritted my teeth through the painful impact, squeezing my eyes shut to avoid being noisy.
"He just seems angry all the time, "Dean was saying nonchalantly, "The guy scares me. She's better off with Potter. And," he stared up at Seamus, "I'd say you were jealous."
I had heard enough. I turned around and slithered away through the stacks of books. As I was walking out I noticed Crabbe and Goyle sitting near the entrance to the library and I shot them a strange look. They just stared with empty eyes. It was bizarre to see them in the library, ever.
I collided into a mass of green robes and looked up to see Minerva McGonagall, her spectacles glinting down at me in the fire light of the dull room. She said nothing as I apologized and moved quickly out of the library.
Friday night, Hilda pinched my shoulder as I was tending to a Dragonweed flower in a shiny black pot in the common room. I stood up, straightening my soft blue dress and teal silk robes. I was dressed in my weekend attire which was delicate and reflective of the culture along the warm, French Mediterranean coast. I had been mildly home sick that week after receiving a letter from my family with a moving picture. My brother had just made the Herbology team at his school and was dressed up for their first competition. He was holding a large, unusual looking hybrid plant in his arms that he had probably grown himself, his platinum hair hung straight to his shoulders.
"I've got a surprise for you," Hilda was grinning devilishly and I felt myself match her expression, curiosity brimming. We had been growing closer and closer the past few weeks, discovering that both of us were mischievous and goofy.
"What would you 'ave, hmm?" I could feel some of the boys sitting at the fire glancing over at us but I blurred my peripherals incase I accidentally caught Malfoy's eye. I had been let down by meeting Astoria, my heart had even ached slightly the first night. It was a wake up call, and somehow, I knew he could also sense my change in interest. It felt like he was staring at me when I wasn't looking all week, but I never dared check out of pride and self control.
Hilda leaned in closer to me and whispered in my ear, "I got muggle alcohol. The Weasley's brought some in and were selling it in the courtyard, just so happened to overhear. It's called gin, and it's supposed to make you feel funny and brave." She leaned back and raised her eyebrows at me. I nodded my head yes and we scurried up the dungeon hallway away from the Slytherin dormitories.
She was dragging me by the hand and we were laughing. I was trying not to slide in my tiny slippers under my long dress. She pulled me into one of Filch's broom cupboards and we downed more shots, cringing and gasping at the shocking taste. She held out the half full bottle and eyed how much we'd already consumed through squinty eyes. It was a lot. The jug was nearly the size of a milk bottle. Magical persons must have some sort of tolerance to it that muggles do not, I mused. I had seen drunk, stumbling muggles in the streets of France and it was shocking how little it took for them to fall on their faces and go to sleep in public.
"It's like chewing on a very sour tree," Hilda's eyes were watering, but she was laughing nonetheless. I giggled back and spun her around in an odd dance, brooms clattering around us.
When we opened the door the hallway was virtually quiet. No one seemed to question our entrance from the closet. People were mainly headed to their dorms for weekend gatherings and had their own plans on their minds.
I spotted Ron walking alone and jumped uncontrollably, pulling on Hilda, "We 'ave to speak with 'im!" I ran over to Ron, "Oh mon dieu! Ronald!"
He looked up with a bemused look on his face, "Oh damn, my brother's gave you two booz did they?" He was clearly a bit nervous but kept a friendly composure, his eyes were scanning skeptically at our difficulty standing still.
"Can you tell, 'arry Potter, I am excited to see 'im tomorrow," I gushed in a silly tone and Hilda laughed. My long hair had escaped my braids from earlier and was flying in front of my face.
"Sure," Ron looked at me, uneasy with our drunken presence, "I bet he'll be ecstatic to know your so keen about it. Anyways, I have to go...ladies..." He dismissed himself, looking back once to laugh to himself at the sight of our dancing. Hilda was swinging the jug around and I had to force her to shrink it back into her robe pockets.
When we arrived back in the Slytherin common room after running around the castle for an hour and half there were games going on around the fire place: about twenty people had crammed themselves into the tiny space for socializing. Hilda and I burst through the door and then clapped our hands over our mouths to prevent our giggling from attracting too much attention. We were normally very quiet around others and our current behavior was quite out of character.
It seemed like a lost cause as everyone was now staring at us in confusion, including Malfoy who was leaning over Blaise arguing about a chess position. I could feel my face get even redder than it already was when he furrowed his brows at me as if to decipher what was wrong with me. Hilda smacked my wrist to distract me and mouthed no.
"Come hang out, girls," Pansy said, eyeing us. She was sitting with Montague and Warrington and had a devilish look on her smug face.
"In a second," Hilda burped and grabbed my hand. We made our way to the girls lavatory noticing ourselves for the first time since we'd become inebriated. I looked at myself, with my pastel flowing gowns and long platinum hair waving down to my waist. Hilda looked me over, "You look like you're from a commune in Sweden! But it's really pretty. You -" she hiccupped and hugged me, "- are so pretty. And so am I."
"Absolutely," I hugged her back. Both of our cheeks were rosy and our eyes were squinty. We took more shots while still hugging and my vision started to blur noticeably.
There was a loud bang and the doorway swung hard on it's ancient creaky hinges. We both looked up at Malfoy who was leaning in the door frame with an evil glare, "If you two are done snogging, I need to speak with my Keeper in private."
Hilda giggled, "Noo, nO No," She said in a very drunken tone, her words coming out in quirky highs and lows. I wanted to cover my eyes and look away as she swung the jug around and Malfoy made a disdained face. "You can leave her be until your precious practice. She doesn't want to be alone with you." The jug pivoted dangerously close to Malfoy's nose and he swung his head back with a snarl.
"Doubt she'll even make it tomorrow if you two don't stop fucking around with that-" he eyed the nondescript jug, "-whatever the hell that crap is."
Oh, merde... Tomorrow was our first official quidditch practice as a team. I had never been that drunk before and was suddenly aware that tomorrow was going to be really rough, between quidditch and then meeting up with the Gryffindor's at Hogsmeade...
"It's okay, Hilda. I will speak wit 'im," I stated, trying to keep my voice level.
"Ugh, god, okAY," She said hugging me one last time, the jug smashing into the back of my head with a crack. I winced. She left the room, prodding Malfoy hard in the chest, a look of suspicion on her tiny face and he swatted her off of him with disgust.
I went to the sink to soak my face with water and heard the door slam shut. He clicked the lock and I spun around. He hadn't advanced from the door, he was just leaning there, looking me up and down with disappointment, "Well, now that you're good and drunk I hope that you have a plan for being up bright and early." He was staring through my soul, his arms crossed. I took in his black hoodie and joggers, and soft messy blond hair. He looked like he belonged in a college soccer team.
I just sighed and rubbed my forehead. It would be fine, I could chug water and go to bed immediately. It was only 9pm. His voice cut through my growing headache once again, and I blinked away how blurry he was starting to look, "You idiot," he hissed angrily, "You know the others don't approve of you playing on the team. I vouched for your speed and agility. I won't be so generous again, since you clearly don't take this seriously."
He looked away, his face tight and jaw clenching, "It's bad enough you're meddling with the likes of Potter." He spat the last word with so much venom I inhaled sharply. I stared at him in his mysterious state, but couldn't really think logically enough to determine what signals he was sending. I had heard that the two never got along, but hadn't been around to witness anything foundational besides classroom bickering.
"Leave 'arry out of dis," I softly managed to say, holding back the urge to burp. I swayed and clung to the edge of the green tiled counter. The last few shots Hilda and I had taken were hitting me all at once like a hail storm. I saw Malfoy's hand twitch forward a few inches reflexively to catch me, before I stabled myself and he retracted it into his cold posture once more. I heard him whisper Harry with disgust, as though he had never heard the boy's first name said out loud before.
"You meddle with - Greenass," I stated, before realizing I had pronounced her name wrong and burst out laughing. The drunkenness could not contain itself any longer and I just kept laughing loudly and obnoxiously at the sight of his serious face and raised eyebrow. He snorted at my odd mannerisms, but didn't try to defend her.
"Okay, that's enough, you're not embarrassing me tomorrow." He stepped forward and I stumbled backwards instinctively, still tearing up from the silly comment I had just made. My long blue dress caught under my back foot and I slipped. He took two large strides and grabbed my wrist quickly but it wasn't enough to stop the momentum. We toppled backwards and he landed on me with another snarl.
"We 'ave to stop meeting like dis," I laughed more and ignored the pain in my head from hitting the tiled floor. I was so drunk I wrapped my arms around his waste as he tried to push up off of me with both hands. I was like a sea monster holding him down.
He finally stopped pushing and just glared down at me. I could feel one of his legs between mine and for a fleeting moment I thought he might knee me in the crotch for his freedom.
"Let go." He demanded with a steady voice, staring into my eyes with his grey-blue orbs. Our faces were so close I could smell his breath as it tickled my nose. I could also smell my boozy breath radiating between us, realizing it was probably horrible for him. He was irritated, and I laughed again tilting my head back and gazing down at him through hooded eyes.
"Madeleine, you have to go to bed now." He said as though he were my parent. There was a hint of familiar unease creeping into his voice, similar to the one I had heard on the quidditch pitch.
"Oh, first names now?" I tugged him closer by wrapping my free leg around him. I now had three limbs around him like some kind of nightmare octopus dragging him to his death.
"Fuck, stop." He lifted his open palm and slammed it back down beside my face, the hood from the black hoodie was hanging against the back of his head. In my inebriated state I didn't even flinch. I just bit my lower lip teasingly.
"Tell me about Astoria, do you love her?" My eyes were fixed on his expression, waiting for any hints.
He closed his eyes and sighed. He spoke without looking at me, "Would it even matter?" He sounded defeated, and my heart suddenly dropped a note.
"Oh non, you are not 'appy, are you?" I squeezed him in my arms and he tensed, trying to maintain his push away from me.
"Why are you like this, ugh," He slowly gave up straining his arms and laid down completely on me, his hard body pushing against me, "Do you want us to lay like this all night?" His blond hair was pushed up against the side of my face, his face in my neck. I could feel the sensation of his breath against my jawline and the tip of his pointy nose against my cheek. I tightened my hold on him, like a child with an oversized teddy bear at the zoo. I smiled and burrowed my face into his hair.
"I would," I said with a silly tone into his hair, "You love her or non?" Now that he was flattened against me I could feel his heart starting to race, and something else against my upper thigh, hard.
My eyes widened and I inhaled deeply. He was a man after all, this wouldn't be easy for any boy to avoid happening. Still, it gave him an oddly human quality that seemed all too rare to the rest of the world.
"You're...really drunk, Madeleine," his voice was raspy now, in my ear, "Just go to bed. You can talk to me tomorrow. When you get up on time, like we discussed."
I could feel his hardness throbbing against me and his breathing was coming out louder. His heart was racing against my chest through my thin dress. It was instinctual the way I turned my head towards his and our lips met in the heat of our breath. He kissed me back in equal passion, his tongue sliding through my lips with the urgency of sexual starvation. I felt him run his hand down my side, his thumb barely grazing over my left breast. He twisted his hand between us and began bunching up my long dress until he got to the bottom and brought his fingers up along the inside of my bare thigh. He was obviously fighting to not grind against my leg.
He kept kissing me with so much passion that I no longer felt compelled to glue him down. I ran one hand down his chest slowly and the other one up his neck.
I gasped against his lips as his fingers slid between my legs and curled into my panties, touching my bare skin teasingly. He froze from my reaction, as though we had both been drunk and he was suddenly sober to the situation. I felt his eyes fly open and he pulled away.
"Okay, you're drunk." Was all he said as he opportunistically pushed out of my arms. He pulled my to a standing position in one quick motion and my head spun from the change in posture, "You need to chug as much water as you can and go to bed. Do you understand me? 7am."
He straightened his hoodie and left me to stare into my own drunken reflection. I still felt light headed and high from his smell and touch.
When I got to my room, Hilda was passed out face down in her bed without any covers. I slid into my own and was out like a light.