Just a reminder—Malfoy, at least here, does not look like he does in the movie. So let your imagination wander. He should be subtly good-looking…charming and mischievous. Muaha. Also, I know that introducing new characters in fanfictions can be a bit daft, but there aren't many real characters that I can play off of. Enjoy, my pretties.
Ch. 4: Turning Green
"Cho! Wakey, wakey…"
Cho blinked painfully. Roger Davies was kneeling beside her shaking her gently. Opening her eyes to the handsome face of her Quidditch captain made her smile, and she stretched and uncurled herself from the armchair she had been sleeping in.
"Hey, there. Rise and shine, Cho. We have practice in seven hours, and I don't want our seeker half-dead and without breakfast. Come on, it's 10:00 already, up!"
Seven hours. The cheery, yet idiotic reminder alone made her instantly want to hurt the boy, but she got up nonetheless and stumbled up to her dorm. It being her last year at Hogwarts, her first class was at noon—Transfiguration, so she didn't worry about being late.
She opened her dorm closet and pulled out a fresh set of robes. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she set off toward the Great Hall. On the way out of the Common Room, Amita came rushing.
"Cho! Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you! You feeling alright then?"
"I'm fine, just a bit peaky," Cho said with a slight smile. She was pleased to finally see the concern of a friend. "I slept in the Common Room last night, I was so tired. Let's get some breakfast, shall we?"
"Only if you promise not to vomit all over me again," she laughed half-heartedly, for she was being quite serious.
Amita Lahiri was tall and willowy, with a quick laugh and soft eyes-- Cho had known her since their first year. They were, for the most part, inseparable.
Over breakfast, Amita read the headline of the Daily Prophet out-loud.
" 'Gnomes Lead Violent Union Strike in Southern France.' How devastating!" she said with an amused look on her face. "Look, they burned flags and everything."
Cho looked at the tiny, angry figures hopping in triumph in the picture. "Well…you know how it goes. The French and their gnomes," Cho said distractedly, waving her toast. She was feeling a bit better after eating breakfast, but was still very dazed.
"So did you do the Transfiguration homework? I spent half the night working on it, "Amita asked, changing the subject.
Cho had forgotten about that. Her good thoughts dashed away.
"Motherfucker…" was all she had to reply with.
Amita looked a little worried, "Cho, you've been so out of it. Here, copy mine…"
"Amita, you know I'm not senile," Cho mumbled. She knew she was.
An hour and a half later, they were walking down the fourth corridor to the Transfiguration Hall. Hopefully Professor McGonagall would forgive Cho's hurried work. She had, after all, fallen off a broomstick.
"Seats, everyone!" Professor McGonagall barked as the chattering class poured in.
Cho sat in her seat between Amita and another friend, Madeline Kinsey. She pulled out her textbook and quill and rested her chin in her palm. Another class, another uninspiring lecture.
"Today, we will be covering wide-scale transfigurations," Professor McGonagall announced after collecting their homework through a flick of her wand. "You and your partner will each receive a pin that you will in turn transfigure into a large wooden chair. Now, wide-scale transfigurations involve the careful precision of…" Cho's interest was draining when she felt a nudge to her left. Madeline had magicked a note over to her. She quickly snatched the persisting piece of paper out of the air and, making sure Professor McGonagall's back was turned, she unfolded the note.
Oy. Hey, I saw that awful fall you took on Saturday. Cho was getting a bit tired of people telling her that. Amita told me you'd been sick earlier…we should be stoning Davies for that, eh? Sorry I haven't been to see you since…they wouldn't let me into the Hospital Wing to see you and then there was this smashing party in the Common Room that night—my hangover was far too horrible the next morning for me to go visit you... So no wonder the grounds were so dreadfully empty Sunday. Cho had to read that sentence over several times before it made absolute sense. Madeline wasn't the type to go off drinking and partying on Saturday night. With round eyes and a spattering of freckles, she wasn't terribly shy; she was just a bit…well, conservative. And exceedingly bashful. She read on:
…Anyway, it's embarrassing, but I suppose Roger and I, in a matter of speaking, hooked up that night. If you catch my drift. She could practically see the blush blooming upon Madeline's face as she read the words.
I just thought I'd run that over with you…I didn't know how you would react. I hope you're feeling better, honestly. Maddie.
Cho knew she should be happy for this sudden burst of rebellion, but she couldn't help feeling a tad miffed. If Madeline, of all people, could do something that spontaneous, where was she in all this? And no wonder Roger had been so bright and perky that morning. No doubt she had done the same deed when they were together, but not until after five months. Oh Maddie, you minx. She wrote back:
Madeline, dear! You little mongrel. I love you for everything you do, darling! Let me know the details later, will you? Cho. It was decidedly fake, but what else could she write? She sent her response over, and gave a wink.
After four more classes, she was free for an hour before she had to go to practice. Madeline, Amita, and Cho were sipping coffee and studying in a far corner of the Common Room.
"So go over this with me one more time, will you?" Amita asked Cho for the fourth time. She was studying for an obscure History of Magic exam. Alas, a character flaw, but an adorable one at that Cho thought as she rolled her eyes. Amita was an insane study animal.
"I think it would do you better if you stopped this nonsense—this studying, honestly. Pish," Cho said, straightening in her armchair. She threw the papers over her shoulder.
Amita gasped. She ran to retrieve her lovelies. Madeline laughed and choked on her coffee.
As Amita sat back down, Cho snickered at her. After ten more minutes of silence on Amita's part, she finally threw her quill down.
"Fuck it, I don't care anymore,"
"Watch your language!" Cho said, pretending to be offended.
"Be quiet, or I'll squish you," Amita said.
"Quite a threat!"
Amita laughed and turned to Madeline.
"So, Mad…I hear you and Davies, eh…?"
Madeline immediately turned the color of her shirt—pink—and bit her lip.
"Well?" Cho said, gently punching Madeline's arm, "What are the details, dear?" She found herself smiling too hard, and she scolded herself mentally for doing so. This subtle rage of jealousy shouldn't have been so fervent.
"I was drunk, guys, give me a break."
"What now, Maddie drunk? Never!" Amita cried, her hands flying to her face. They laughed, and Madeline proceeded in telling the details of her escapade (I'll spare you from them). At ten to four, Cho left for Quidditch practice. She grabbed her Comet-Two-Sixty and pulled on an old set of blue flying robes. The entire time, she was very bothered. She hadn't done anything for more than seven months, and here was Madeline doing exactly what she needed. She needed to do something rash. And quickly.