Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, only the Archard family and other OCs belong to me. The French words/phrases will be italicized, as well as the spells. Reviews are appreciated!

Chapter 9: Foul Words

Esme POV

~Dream~

Dark. Darkness all around me. Almost nothing could be seen through the blackness, with no way to discern where I was; a room, a corridor, even outside, I couldn't tell. Shutting my eyes made little difference, yet it awoke my other senses. The air felt cold and damp, and in the distance I heard the drip drop of water. I shivered, both from the cold but also from fear. Something was out there.

I saw a shimmer through the dark. A creature stood before me, but nothing revealed what kind; I only knew that whatever it was, was gigantic. I was completely frozen, fear keeping me in place as I knew it was pointless to run. A deep hiss rumbled from the creature before me, drawing my eyes up, and up. There was a flash of fangs before the creature lunged; I screamed.

~End of Dream~

I gasped awake, my heart racing as I did my best to catch my breath. I felt a sinking feeling in my chest - was it happening all over again? Sweet Circe I hoped not, I didn't want another school year of a reoccurring nightmare. I took some calming breaths. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, it could simply be a normal bad dream. What proof did I have anyway; nothing, because I couldn't remember a single thing I had dreamed about.

"Esme?" Daphne called out softly. "You okay?"

I rolled over and moved aside the bed curtains to find Daphne rubbing her eyes as she stood by my bed.

"Oui, I'm okay." I reassured her.

Daphne was not convinced. "Move over."

I scooted over without argument and she climbed in next to me, shutting the bed curtain behind her.

"Did you have another nightmare?" she asked.

"I don't know. I can't remember what I dreamed about, but I woke up feeling scared…"

After a pause, she tentatively asked, "Does it feel like the persistent nightmare from last year?"

"Maybe…I don't know…" I trailed off. "But I have this terrible feeling that this won't be a quiet year after all."

"If I've learned anything from stories, it's never a quiet year at Hogwarts."

We cuddled close, lightly dozing as the sun slowly came up. We stayed in my bed, even as we heard the other girls get up and start getting ready for the day.

"At least today is Saturday, so it's not like the early wake up call will affect our performance in class," said Daphne after a bit.

"True, but we do have to get up for breakfast." I felt my stomach rumble, which got a giggle out of Daphne.

Together we climbed out of my bed and got our things together. Parkinson and the other girls had already left, so Daphne and I had the washroom to ourselves. We quickly got ready for the day and made our way out of the common room and up to the great hall.

I still felt tired from my unpleasant early wake up, and Daphne had to feel the same as she easily matched my slower pace. I was glad this hadn't happened during a weekday, as today I could enjoy a day of leisure activities until I could fall into hopefully dreamless sleep and be fresh-eyed before classes resumed. My usual cup of tea at breakfast did help at least, filling me with a pleasant warmth and chasing away the tired energy swirling around in my head.

We were chatting about the latest issue of Witch Weekly, specifically their latest ridiculous quiz about which famous wizard you are most compatible with: the Weird Sisters' lead singer Myron Wagtail, the famous part-vampire singer Blodwyn Bludd, the national Irish Quidditch team captain Darren O'Hare, Harry Potter (ew), or Gilderoy Lockhart (ewer). The fact that Potter and Lockhart were in the article was both disturbing and hilarious. Daphne and I both took the quiz and giggled over our results - thankfully neither of us ended up with Lockhart or Potter.

Ever since that horrible first class, Daphne had lost her admiration for Lockhart and joined me and the boys in coming up with new and witty insults about him. Lockhart hadn't improved at all and continued to be a show-boating mess of a wizard. Ever so slowly, more and more students were losing their high regard and respect for him. Unfortunately, some, like Parkinson and her friends, were of the mind that he was still a great wizard, but more importantly he was undeniably very handsome (gross).

Our laughter tampered off as Blaise and Theo entered the hall with a beaming Draco being shadowed by Crabbe and Goyle. The boys all quickly found places in the Second-Year section.

"Guess what?" asked Draco, then without waiting a second he continued. "As a reward for making the Slytherin Quidditch team as their new Seeker, Father has donated seven of the latest racing brooms!"

"C'est magnifique! Très bien, Draco!" I congratulated him. We'd known he was the new Seeker shortly after try outs from Draco's excitement then. It was a great accomplishment, as Draco was the only Lower-Year to try out for the position.

"What even is the newest broom model?" asked Daphne.

Theo answered as he filled his plate with food, "The latest is from the Nimbus series, the 2001."

"You would've been able to use one if you'd listened to me and tried out too, Theo," commented Blaise. "You're a much better Chaser than Cassius Warrington. And he's sure to be distracted this year with taking his O.W.L.s too."

"I've told you before, mate," Theo replied after swallowing some juice. "I'd rather watch than play. And I quite like having free time to myself. Besides, I could always borrow Draco's broom to take it for a spin."

"If it means getting you out of the library, you can borrow it anytime I don't need it for practice," snarked Draco.

"I'm not always in the library."

"Really?" Draco asked in a disbelieving voice. "What are your plans for today then?"

Theo didn't reply as his eyes shifted away. Daphne smirked and replied for him, "Theo and I have plans to study in the library."

Draco flicked his hands at Theo, a smug smile stretching across his face. I giggled as Theo pretended not to be pouting.

Draco then shifted his attention to me. "Are you also studying today, Esme?"

"You're more than welcome to join us," offered Daphne in my direction as she reached to refill her drink. "We're working on our Transfiguration and Charms essays."

After pondering for a moment, I answered, "Honestly, I don't really feel up to studying today."

"You should come watch me and the team practice then," Draco said. "Professor Snape got us the Quidditch pitch this morning."

Thinking it over, I found myself actually tempted to accept. It would be good of me to continue making an effort with Draco and it may even help get my mind off of my worries from this morning. Additionally, Parkinson looked like she sucked on a lemon from Draco personally (and only) inviting me. "Alright, as long as the rest of the team doesn't mind me being there."

Draco perked up when I accepted, while Blaise snorted in amusement. I turned to my right to face him. "Hein?"

"Flint won't mind you being there at all," replied Blaise with an impish smirk, his eyes sparkling with the knowledge he held and I didn't.

I waited for Blaise to elaborate, but he remained silent and went back to his breakfast. He knew something, probably something 'a little birdy' told him, but not something important enough for him to share it.

The conversation moved along after that as we all finished up eating our breakfast. Afterwards, we all scattered to go about our days. I went back to the common room to grab my bag, as I wanted my sketchbook and quills at the very least in case I grew bored. Draco went with me as he needed to change and grab his Quidditch gear. I waited for him and then we left together to wait for the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team in the entrance hall.

Before too long, Flint turned around the corridor corner with three other boys I recognized as most of his fellow Fifth-Year boys, but I didn't know their names.

"Esme, great to see you!" greeted Flint as he came to a stop in front of me.

"Bonjour, Heir Flint," I greeted politely in return. "I hope it's alright if I watch the team's practice today."

Flint smiled wide. "As long as you don't share anything with your brothers, I don't mind at all."

One of the boys standing with Flint cleared his throat politely. Flint glanced at him and then blinked in realization. "Right! Mates, this is Esme Archard. Esme, this is Cassius Warrington, Lucian Bole, and Peregrine Derrick - but call him Perry."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said while nodding to each boy with a small smile. The boys each nodded in return.

"So this is the little Lady you told me about," commented Cassius as he gave me a small bow with a smirk stretching across his face. I had to force my smile to remain in place as I felt uneasy. I had honestly forgotten my interaction with Flint at the Winter Ball last year until now - and recalled Alaric's anger at Flint for dancing with me and Oliver's warning to keep my distance. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Before the thought of trying to find an excuse to leave could enter my mind, Adrian and another boy dressed in green and silver Quidditch robes joined us. Flint quickly introduced us and I learned the last nameless boy was Miles Bletchley.

Flint then held out his arm to me. "As captain, I'll be happy to escort you to the Quidditch pitch."

"Hang on," interrupted Draco. "I invited her, so if anyone is escorting her, it'd be me."

"Can't swing your weight on this Draco," taunted Flint.

Draco's face dusted with red and I understood why. Despite being from an Ancient and Noble House compared to Flint just being from a Noble House, Draco and Flint were both heirs and therefore on the same standing. However, Flint was older and technically ranked higher than Draco in this setting as the captain, so unless Draco wanted to attempt to duel a Fifth-Year, arguing further wouldn't do anything.

I quickly stepped forward to diffuse the situation as I worried Draco would foolishly continue to argue anyways. "Please, we're at school; there's no need for such stuffy practices. Let's just all walk together."

"Fine, whatever you say," agreed Flint and thus the subject was dropped. "Time to go boys - and lady."

Together we all headed out of the castle, though I still ended up wedged between Draco and Flint. The entire way down to the pitch was taken in mostly awkward silence - only Adrian and Miles dared to speak and kept up a slow string of chatter.

I was surprised when we got to the pitch to see it wasn't empty like I thought it would be. A new source of uneasiness sprung inside my chest as we approached the cluster of red and gold robes.

"What are you doing here, Flint?" Oliver angrily called out while landing, with Alaric and the rest of the team not far behind him.

When I saw the burning fury in Alaric's eyes (directly solely on Flint), I hung back and vanished from sight behind the line the Fifth-Year boys formed as they funneled around Flint. Draco had been pushed back as well.

"Quidditch practice," replied Flint in a mocking tone of voice.

Oh dear, this wouldn't be good.

"This is our practice time! I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today, so you can clear off now!" Oliver sounded even angrier than before.

"Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

"That doesn't matter," I heard a female voice snap. She had to be one of the Gryffindor players, as the Slytherin team didn't have any girls on it right now.

"Katie is right. Oliver reserved the whole pitch, so you all don't have any right to be here," called out Alaric, before adding with a voice that commanded authority, "Those are the rules."

"Easy, Archard. I've got a note," Flint replied, sounding not at all bothered by the Gryffindors no doubt hissing in his face.

I then realized what was happening: Draco had said earlier that Professor Snape got them the pitch this morning - meaning Professor Snape arranged for the team to butt in on the Gryffindors, or worse, steal the whole pitch from them. I didn't like any of this one bit, but there wasn't anything I could do, so I remained silent, feeling guilty for even being here.

There was some rustling before Alaric's voice read out, "I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

"You've got a new Seeker?" asked Wood, distracted. "Where?"

The boys seemed to take this as some sort of cue and parted, thus revealing Draco and I to the gathered Gryffindors. My eyes locked onto Alaric's who was clearly surprised to see me there, before a stormy look overcame his entire face.

"Aren't you Lord Lucius Malfoy's son?"

I glanced away from Alaric when Flint replied in Draco's stead, uneasily looking at the wide and self-satisfied smirk which showed off Flint's crooked teeth. "Funny you should mention Draco's father. Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

Around me the boys each held out their new broomsticks, the polished black wood shining in the early morning light.

"The very latest model. Only came out last month. I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand model by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps, sweeps the board with them," said Flint in a careless tone of voice, while smugness radiated off him.

I glanced at the Gryffindor's various brooms and saw that besides Alaric, Oliver, and Potter, the others' brooms were nowhere near as nice or new-looking. I tried to meet Alaric's eyes again in an attempt to portray how sorry I am that this was happening, but he was completely focused on Flint - like most of the other Gryffindors were. They had all remained silent, either seething in anger or because there was nothing they could think of to say in response.

"Oh look~, a field invasion," Flint cooed sarcastically. I followed his eyes and saw Granger and Weasley were scurrying over.

"What's happening? Why aren't you playing?" asked Weasley, either completely oblivious to the current mood or simply completely ignoring it. "And what's he doing here?" He asked as his eyes cut to Draco.

"Going blind now, Weasley?" snarked Draco, before answering smugly, "I'm the new Slytherin Seeker. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Weasley gaped, mouth so wide opened a billywig could fly right in.

Draco continued, "Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The boys around me snickered and laughed at Draco's quip. My uneasiness over the growing confrontation aside, it was rather witty and comparatively wasn't the most insulting thing Draco could've said. Still, I was careful not to laugh knowing Alaric would notice if I did.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Granger commented sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

I frowned at Granger's implication that Lord Malfoy bought Draco's spot on the team when Draco had fully earned it - even beating out several Upper-Years for the position. Besides, everyone knew how competitive the Quidditch teams were - there was zero possibility of any of them risking their chances of winning for a bribe of new brooms.

I could tell Draco agreed as I saw his smirk flicker on his face. His eyes hardened into slits in anger. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

I froze as my eyes widened in shock. What was he thinking using such a vulgar word!

Everyone flew into an uproar: "Why you little brat!" - "How dare you!" - "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!".

I only glimpsed at Weasley whipping out his wand before I was suddenly shoved backwards. I yelped in fear I was about to hit the ground, but thankfully Adrian caught me.

"Esme!" I heard Alaric calling out in worry.

Flint shielded Draco with his large bulk - no doubt from whatever horror Weasley was about to unleash by idiotically using his nearly snapped wand. The sudden loud bang that echoed around the pitch proved me right. Everyone froze in deathly silence.

Oh sweet Circe, what did Weasley do?

Adrian was still holding me against him, but slowly straightened and let me go as we heard Granger suddenly shout, "Ron! Ron! Are you alright?"

I cautiously moved around the bodies to find Weasley sprawled in the grass a bit of distance from where he previously had been. Weasley got up on his hands, opening his mouth to reply. However, instead of words coming out of it, he gave a disgustingly large belch as several slugs dribbled out of his mouth and into his lap.

I gagged at the sight and turned away as I clutched my hands to my own mouth. The silence then broke as Flint and the rest of the Slytherin team broke into roaring laughter. Flint was practically hanging off his broomstick for support, while Draco clutched his stomach as tears gathered in his eyes, he was laughing so hard. I still felt incredibly nauseous and the disgusting sounds of Weasley continually belching up more slugs was not helping me one bit.

Glancing off to the side, I saw Potter and Granger rushing Weasley away - most likely to the hospital wing so Madame Pomfrey could cure Weasley of whatever spell had rebounded on him. While those three fled from the situation, the rest of us were left to deal with the fallout. Many of the pale and green faces of the Gryffindors shifted to an angry red once again as they regrouped themselves to face the Slytherin team.

"Don't give us that look, Weasleys," snapped Flint. "Your brother cursed himself. Not our fault he was daft enough to use a broken wand."

"Your ickle-Seeker was still the one to use that foul word!" one of the Weasley twins roared back.

"Oh~ what? Are you gonna fight us now like a Muggle?" taunted Lucian as he and Perry puffed up themselves behind Flint.

Alaric's hand landed on the shoulder of the Weasley twin who had spoken. "There will be none of that." He then stepped forward, placing himself in front of the other Gryffindors as he stared down Flint and the other Upper-Year Slytherins. "The pitch is all yours."

Some of the Gryffindors started to argue but were cut off by Oliver. "Alaric's right. There's no point practicing without the entire team here anymore."

Together Alaric and Oliver ushered away the still fuming Gryffindors, though Alaric hung back as he called out. "Allez, petite soeur."

Listening to my brother, I squeezed my way through my fellow Slytherins. "I'll see you later then, Draco," I said softly as I passed him, before hurrying to where Alaric waited with an expectant look.

As I finally caught up, Alaric wrapped his arm around me and I moved closer to him as we left the pitch.

"Are you alright?" asked Alaric, voice so soft it would've been lost in the wind if I hadn't been so close to him.

"Still uneasy from the disgusting sight of the slugs," I admitted. "But other than that I'm fine, grand frère."

Alaric was silent for a couple steps before he spoke again, his tone unusually hard. "I want you to do your best and stay away from Flint, Esme. He might seem nice and easygoing, but he knows how to stir the cauldron with an innocent face. I don't want you mixed up in the trouble he causes for his own enjoyment."

"I understand, and I will do my best," I promised Alaric. It wasn't as if I spent much time around the Fifth-Year anyways; I'd only been today because of Draco.

Still…Alaric was right. Things went from bad to worse rather quickly, and I especially didn't like how satisfied Draco looked using such a horrid word. I didn't like the term Mudblood one bit. No one, not even Granger at her most annoying, deserved to be called that. Hopefully Draco wouldn't make a habit of using such an impolite word, but something told me this wouldn't be the last time he did so.

Oui - yes

C'est Magnifique = how magnificent

Très bien = very good

Hein = what?

Bonjour = hello

Madame = Mrs.

Allez = come along

Petite soeur = little sister

Grand frère = big brother

Extra POV

Alaric POV

We all regrouped in the dressing room after the confrontation with the Slytherin Quidditch team. Not much else was said besides Oliver informing the team when to expect our next training day. Having said all I wanted to to Esme, I sent her back to the castle with Fred and George to meet up with Blaire.

I didn't want her going back to the Slytherin common room any time soon - I think Esme was more shaken by what happened than she was either aware of or was willing to admit. Either way, Blaire would sort her out, and I trusted the twins to revert back to their fun-loving selves soon enough to help lighten things - those two never did seem to stay negative for too long.

With my sister taken care of, I could now focus on Ollie, who lingered in the dressing room. He was over-meticulously cleaning the chalkboard of everything that had been written on it during the team meeting.

I leaned against one of the wooden pillars and crossed my arms as I regarded my best friend. The only noise was the sounds of his aggressive erasing. Since Oliver refused to speak, I went first. "Well~, this morning certainly turned into a steaming pile of dragon dung."

I waited expectantly for a response of any kind but was met with only silence. Giving him a few more moments to gather his thoughts, I continued to wait in patient silence. However, Oliver continued to stubbornly hold his silence. A sigh escaped my lips. "Blessed Magic. Ollie, I'm not a Legilimens. Talk to me."

He finally stopped erasing the clean chalkboard and sat down on one of the nearby benches. "Am I already failing again as captain?"

"Hein? Non, Ollie, non. You're a great captain! Where's this coming from?"

"I couldn't lead us to victory once again last year, and I can't help but feel today was an omen for the rest of the season."

"You know you're not to blame for anything that happened right? Malfoy proved himself a brat and Weasley proved himself rashly incompetent. Neither what those two boys did had anything to do with you."

"It's not just what happened!" he suddenly shouted before hissing out a breath of frustration. "Yes, I'm angry that Flint found a way to nick the pitch from us when I put the effort in to reserve it, but such underhanded tactics are practically normal when it comes to Flint. It was so him to lord over us the teams' new brooms. Ha! Like the latest brooms is what makes a good Quidditch player." Oliver tossed the eraser away from him.

I watched it bounce across the floor before standing up and settling myself down next to him on the bench. "Then what's bothering you?"

He ran his hands over his short hair, nothing becoming mussed from the action. "I'm not blind. I saw how everyone was this morning. No one cared or really tried to pay attention to everything I spent the summer break working on. The team doesn't take me seriously, they never have, because they don't believe I can do this, can bring in victory for Gryffindor."

"It's true."

"What?!" Oliver startled as he jerked his head to me as quick as a flash. "You're not supposed to agree with me!"

I smirked as I chuckled. "You didn't let me finish, mate." Smiling gentler, I continued. "Most of what you said was completely and entirely incorrect. Your eyes are just fine, but what you saw this morning was a bunch of tired teenagers struggling to function so early in the morning. No more, no less. We're all excited for Quidditch this year, and we have plenty of time for other practices to spell out the dust from the summer break."

I looked away from Ollie to frown at the far wall. "It's true that the team doesn't appreciate your hard work and enthusiasm for Quidditch. However, that by no means equates to the team not taking you seriously. The twins may joke around, but you are still our captain for a reason." Lifting up my hand I poked his forehead. "This brilliant mind of yours is able to form actual strategies besides 'win the match'." Dropping my hand, I slapped it against his back. "You'll get this team to become even better, and I just know you'll lead us to victory. Just, maybe don't expect hyper-focus at the crack of dawn, okay?"

I felt Ollie's arm snake around my waist and I naturally returned his side-hug. "Thanks 'Laric."

"Don't thank me for the truth, I'm always happy to share it."

Ollie pulled away as he stood up suddenly. "Well, if we can't practice as a team, let's go find Brian and pull him away from whatever dusty book he's reading so the three of us can toss a Quaffle around."

I smiled up at him and accepted the hand he reached out to pull me up. "Sounds good to me."

Hein = what?

Non = no

Big thank you to my Beta-Readers: Anonymous and TheSparkler!