My visit to the Hospital Wing was short-lived. James, who felt responsible for my injury, was the one to escort me back to the Slytherin Common Room. Although my bones weren't fractured anymore, it still felt very odd to walk, and not because it was painful — it wasn't — but because my back felt slightly stiff as I traipsed back to the dorms.
James had helped me back to my bed, carefully bringing the covers over my body. Daphne and Tracey were surprised to find out why I wasn't in bed this morning or in class all day. Apparently, it wasn't so out of character for me to wander off and skip class.
"I still cannot believe how close you and James Lancaster are," Daphne said once James had left. "I would kill to have an S4 bring me all the way back from the Hospital Wing to my bed."
"Well, he does feel responsible for what happened. Technically, him throwing me off the couch is what fractured my spine," I said, shrugging. Daphne looked even more perplexed than when she had seen James enter the dormitory with me.
"He did what?" Tracey was more outraged than perplexed.
"Oh, no, no, not on purpose. It was an accident," I clarified. "I scared him in his sleep and, well, you know — reflexes."
"Right, well, he better not hurt you again, accidentally or not," Tracey said. "These S4 dudes are really beginning to irk me anyway. You spend too much time with them."
"I suppose I could spend tomorrow day with you to make up for it?" I proposed. Tracey's left eyebrow perked up.
"Tomorrow and the rest of the week," she corrected.
"And what about me?" Daphne chimed in. "Don't I get to spend time with Maeve as well? You're not the only one who misses her, Tracey."
"What's that about missing me anyway? I see you two every morning and night — we sleep in the same dorm, girls. I spend most of my time with you all, if we consider that," I said, gently hoisting my body up into a seated position.
"Oh, rubbish. Sleeping does not count," Tracey responded, rolling her eyes at me. "Besides, we all know you like to sneak out at night. And when you're not with the S4, you're with those bloody Gryffindors."
"I suppose that's true," I retreated, pursing my lips. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to put you all aside. It's just, you know..."
"Malfoy? Yeah, we know," Tracey sighed but smiled. "You know we're not necessarily friends with him. It's just that Blaise is, and he and Daphne are—"
"—Not together," Daphne interjected. "Look, Maeve, I don't care for Malfoy, but I hope you realize you'll have to act nice around him anyway when you go home for the holidays. Your mum and his mum are—"
"—Very close, I know," I interrupted with a bite of annoyance in my voice. "But it's not the first time that Malfoy and I aren't getting along either."
"Sure, but not like this, and you know it," Daphne said, concern in her voice.
"When was the last time again? Something to do with quidditch?" Tracey wondered aloud.
"Yeah, last year — Him buying his way into the quidditch team, making it impossible for me to try out for Seeker," I said, painfully recalling the memories. "And then, me allegedly stealing his new fancy broom — he was, of course, being piss-baby dramatic about the whole ordeal — alleged ordeal."
"Dunno," Tracey said. "Pretty sure I recall you punching him in the face."
"Yes, well, he was practically begging for it," I said matter-of-factly. "Besides, in hindsight, he deserved it even more for being the one to tamper with my cauldron."
"Seems like you and Malfoy will never be friends," Daphne said, apparently pondering over something.
"Yes, well, screw him," I asserted.
There was a pause. One where I was numbly staring at the wall opposite from my bed, and Tracey was shuffling awkwardly where she stood.
"I've got an idea," Daphne said suddenly.
"Oh?" I said.
Tracey simply raised an eyebrow at Daphne.
"Well, you know how we say, keep your friends close, but your enemies—"
"NO," I said firmly. "Absolutely not."
"No, listen. Hear me out —"
"I am not fraternizing with him or whatever—"
"No, Maeve, listen," Daphne insisted. I sighed but acquiesced for her to continue. "I think you could do it."
"What? What are you talking about?" I asked, bewildered.
"This is getting interesting," Tracey said, gently hoisting herself on her bed, and staring intently at Daphne and me.
"So, keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?" Daphne repeated. "I was thinking... you could get cozier with Malfoy, infiltrate his inner circle, and then, we could find out something about him that we could use — that you could use—"
"Daphne, I'm not interested in any sort of elaborate revenge like that. Besides, I know everything there is to know about Malfoy already — He's a prat, and that's pretty much all there is to him."
"Sure, but what if you just humoured him for now, pretend to like him, be flirty and coy—"
"What in the Hells are you on about? That's disgusting. Malfoy's so — vile!" I exasperated, widening my eyes in shock at her suggestions.
"Oh, come on! It'll be easy!" Daphne insisted.
"How? He hates my guts just as much as I hate his," I pointed out.
"Well..." Tracey coughed.
"What?" I said.
"Well, you know... he's definitely attracted to you," Tracey clarified. Puzzled, I raised my eyebrows at her, urging her to elaborate.
"Oh, come on, Maeve," Daphne laughed. "It's obvious, is it not? Why else do you think he's been taking you disowning him so badly? He fancies you. He always has."
"That's ridiculous," I stated.
"Remember when we were six? The Malfoy Family's Annual Yule?" Daphne began. "It was the first year the Greengrasses were invited. I was meeting Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and you for the first time, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. But why are you bringing that up?"
"Before I got to acquaint you, Draco said something about how I was going to meet his wife for when he's older," Daphne said. "And that's not the only time in our childhood where he would allude to you two getting married when you're older."
"Oh, well, that was just him being six, and I mean — Sure, maybe he fancied me as a child, but things are different now."
"No, I'm pretty sure he still fancies you," Tracey interjected, frowning slightly at me. I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes at her.
"That's ridiculous—"
"You're living in denial, Maeve," Tracey stated.
"It's not denial; it's just pure logic," I insisted.
"Maybe, maybe not," Tracey shrugged.
"Or maybe you're the most oblivious person on the planet, Blackwood," Daphne said.
"No, no, I'm not. You two are just saying nonsense to convince me to flirt with Malfoy or whatever — As if I would have any experience with that."
"Well, you have been practicing on James Lancaster these past few months," Tracey said with an amused smirk on her lips. I tried to ignore the burning feeling in my cheeks.
The door of the dormitory suddenly flew open.
"It's attendance time," Pansy said. She had a disgruntled look on her face, and her hair was dishevelled.
"What happened to you?" Daphne said, eyeing Pansy's unusually shabby appearance. Pansy exhaled a dramatic sigh.
"The bloody Care for Magical Creatures book," she grunted.
"Aren't you supposed to simply stroke its spine?" Tracey pointed out with a raised eyebrow.
"Sure, but it's a bit hard to touch its spine when it's trying to bite my hands off!" Pansy groaned. "Well, anyway, girls, Lancaster called for fifth-year attendance."
"Oh, he's doing our group again?" Tracey asked, almost disappointed.
"Yeah, Malfoy's over the moon about it," Pansy said sarcastically.
"Wait, Malfoy dislikes Lancaster?" I asked, genuinely surprised.
"Haven't you seen his face every time Lancaster is assigned to take attendance for our group?" Pansy said.
"It's like he thinks there's a sour stench in the room," Tracey added.
"But Lancaster doesn't smell bad," I said, baffled.
"That's not—"
"Attendance." Millicent Bulstrode's voice, though unemotional and uninterested, was stern and interruptive. She stood at the dormitory entrance, gesturing for us to follow her out where we were supposed to line up for attendance.
Begrudgingly, I got out of bed and followed my peers to the common room, where we found the fifth-year boys and waited for James Lancaster to call our names.
"Blackwood," James called. I didn't even say anything before he spotted me and noted down my presence on his parchment.
I paid close attention to Malfoy during attendance this time. I would have thought that the sour face he bore was simply his usual facial expression, but the way his surly eyes were glued to Lancaster and his lips twisted into a disgruntled grimace. Not even Potter's presence could have swayed Malfoy to display such a petulant expression.
Malfoy's intense stare suddenly landed on me and softened slightly. My heart jolted in my chest, but somehow, I could not look away from him. My eyes were trapped on him, and he seemed to find it amusing as he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at me before returning his gaze to James.
I was mortified by this disgustingly awkward eye-contact encounter with Malfoy and mentally noted to avoid getting caught looking at him again in the future.
As December rolled around, I realized that we barely saw any dementors anymore, not even in this chilly and frosty weather. Ever since the incident with Harry Potter two quidditch matches ago, Dumbledore had been very stern with them, and they'd been keeping their distance.
Everyone was very pleased by it, me included, as walking to our Care for Magical Creatures class was a lot less creepy. Although, ever since Black's infiltration, security and curfew at Hogwarts had been stricter, the lack of dementors sure did help bring a jollier air to the upcoming holiday season.
A week before the end of term was Daphne Greengrass' birthday and, incidentally, another Hogsmeade trip. She was ecstatic.
"Oh, this will be the best Hogsmeade trip ever!" she enthused. "And Maeve, you have no choice but to stick around!"
"Well, obviously, I'll stick around," I laughed. "It's not every day that our sweet Daphne turns fourteen."
"Fourteen," she repeated in awe. She beamed. "I like being the oldest."
"Didn't Millicent turn fourteen in October?" Tracey asked.
"She did?" I asked, surprised.
"She hates birthdays, remember?" Tracey said. "So, we've just never gotten in the habit of celebrating hers."
"Oh, right," I said, a memory suddenly unlocking in my brain. "She jinxed Nott last year for mentioning the word "birthday" on her birthday — apparently, he didn't even know it was her birthday."
"Well, Millicent's a unique birthday person — I would much rather we worship my birthday," Daphne said with a coy smile.
"Of course, my fair lady. Your wish is my command, my queen," I said in what I thought sounded very posh but probably just sounded like Malfoy's family's accent.
"Daphne?" A little voice interrupted my hilarious display of worship towards Daphne.
It was a small porcelain-skinned girl with a round lightly freckled face and brown hair. I immediately recognized her but also wondered why I had never really seen her around Hogwarts that much.
"Oh, Astoria," Daphne said, her smile turning into mild disappointment.
"I just wanted to say happy birthday," she squeaked in her tiny voice.
"Yes, yes. Now, move along," Daphne said dismissively, peering around as if she didn't want to be seen in her little sister's presence.
Little Astoria went on her sheepish way and joined her small group of first-year friends. Daphne huffed.
"Do you hate your sister or what?" I asked, perturbed by her lack of affection.
"No, it's not that — she just really suffocates me sometimes," Daphne looked like she was trying not to roll her eyes.
"I dunno. I think this is the first time I've seen her in your presence since the start of term," I confessed, eyeing my friend with suspicion.
"Well, she irritates me," Daphne shook her head. "Anyway, enough about her. This is my special day."
"Right, my sweet fair lady," I continued in my Malfoy family accent. Daphne giggled whilst Tracey peered back at little Astoria Greengrass. I wondered if she thought the same thing as me: that Daphne was a prick to her sister for no reason.
Soon after, we were already lining up for Hogsmeade in the snowy courtyard. Malfoy and his goons were looking at Harry Potter, who was to be left behind again, particularly smugly. Fred and George quickly went to swoop Harry and lead him back into the castle. I tried to peer over students' heads to see what they were up to but people just kept moving forward, making it hard for me to see well.
"Maeve, it's my birthday," Daphne reminded me suddenly, cutting me away from my thoughts. "Don't go looking for any of those Gryffindor losers, today. You promised."
"Right, I apologize," I said quickly, shifting all of my attention on her. I didn't dare confront her about her name-calling as it was her birthday and I knew how sensitive Daphne could be around that time of the year. "All of my attention is on you today."
"And me," Tracey interjected.
"And you, Tracey," I affirmed. She smiled cockily.
Unsurprisingly, the first place we stopped by at Hogsmeade was Honeydukes. Daphne marveled over the seemingly infinite selection of dazzling candies and sweets. When we entered, it was also already crowded with Hogswarts students who were equally as mesmerized as us by the beautiful assortment of prismatic confectionery.
"None of this is impressive to me," a voice droned. "Of course, father often brought me here as a child."
I groaned in disgust upon hearing the blonde prick, Draco Malfoy, talking to Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson.
"That's not even true," I hissed at Daphne and Tracey. They perked their eyebrows up at me. "He probably only went here about five times tops as a kid. Dunno why he's acting so smug about it — most wizarding families have been here just as often before."
"It's Malfoy. What'd you expect?" Tracey said, shrugging.
"I suppose I shouldn't expect much," I said decidedly. Tracey extended her hand with a nod to indicate that she agreed.
"I only went two times as a kid," Daphne chimed in. "Of course, most of the time, my parents were fixated on poor little Astoria's meager health — but anyway, what do you all think about this?"
She lifted her hands in the air to show the vast selection of sweets she picked out.
"Very colourful," I noted, looking down at my handpicked selection which incidentally comprised of a darker-coloured variety.
We later found our way to Zonko's Joke Shop where we browsed the merchandise but didn't dare buy anything. Fred and George were there, unsurprisingly, and I thought they were going to come see me, but they seemed to have noted that I was busy with Daphne and Tracey and left me alone. They simply threw me an I-noticed-you-there look before venturing off to another aisle together.
We exited Zonko's Joke Shop, and aimlessly trekked around Hogsmeade, nearing the edge of the forest nearby, chattering about gleefully.
"This Winter break, you two are coming over," Tracey declared. "I already told my mum you're coming, so you have no choice now."
"Blimey, is it too late to cancel?" I said jokingly. Tracey raised her eyebrows at me in disbelief.
"Oh. Ha. Ha. You're hilarious, Blackwood," she said. "Keep laughing. We both know my place will be a break from all the Malfoy drama for you. You're welcome."
"Speaking of Malfoy," Daphne said, extending her arms out to halt us in our strides. "Isn't that Malfoy over there? Running out of the forest?"
And indeed it was. The blonde prick and his goons were haphazardly zooming out of the forest, looking dishevelled, covered in snow, and panicking.
"Seems like they're coming from the path to the Shrieking Shack," Tracey said, amused.
The boys suddenly halted in their tracks when they reached the road in the village, and pampered their clothing, brushing off any excess snow, and in Malfoy's case, rearranging his hair.
"Oi, Malfoy!" I called out, unable to resist. "Got a bit of a scare, did we?"
He was seething. I was holding back my laughter.
"Was the Shrieking Shack a bit too scary for Draco? Does Draco need me to get Mummy?" I taunted, a huge smirk plastered on my face. Tracey elbowed me, as if warning me to stop, but I couldn't help it.
"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," Tracey said, hungrily. "I've been meaning to get a butterbeer and some tarts ever since we got here."
"I second that," Daphne said with a nod.
"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Blackwood," Malfoy said, now making his way towards us with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.
"Or what? Gonna go cry to Daddy?" I said, snorting. Malfoy sneered, his body now only a few feet away from mine.
"You won't be able to run away from me, this Christmas break," he said, suddenly smirking.
"What? So, you think I'm scared of you?" I laughed, crossing my arms.
"Are you not? Been avoiding me all term. Now, is it the Holiday season, making you suddenly feel a bit bold?" Malfoy smirked and chuckled.
I tried to keep my cool, ignoring my heart trying to jump out of my chest, and simply raised an eyebrow at him.
"I haven't been avoiding you all term," I said as if it were painfully obvious — which it was. "You've just been unbearable to be around all term."
"I'll show you what's unbearable," he taunted.
"Okay. Try me," I countered.
"Butterbeer!" Tracey exclaimed. "Butterbeer, Crabbe? Butterbeer, Goyle? Daphne?"
As if on cue, Tracey and Daphne linked arms with me and began dragging my fuming body away from Malfoy.
"I better not see your nasty face at the Manour, this Christmas!" Malfoy called.
"I wouldn't even dream of it!" I called back just as Tracey and Daphne pulled me behind a building.
They looked exhausted with me and shared a knowing look with each other.
"What?" I said.
"You didn't have to provoke him," Tracey said.
"Oh, come on. You also get heated sometimes," I said. Tracey blinked.
"I don't start fights, Maeve. You were looking for trouble with Malfoy just now," Tracey said reasonably.
"Well, I couldn't just ignore him — he looked so pathetic. I had to say something—"
"No, you didn't, " Daphne said. "You don't want Malfoy as your enemy. You should know better."
"He's already my enemy at this point, Daphne. Not much I can do. Mind as well entertain myself."
"Oh, this whole Blackwood-Malfoy ordeal is so infuriating," Tracey said exasperated. "You two are both childish and annoying. Just ignore him and move on."
"Or better yet," Daphne said. "Just at least pretend to apologize so this whole predicament thing can come to an end."
"He's the one that should apologize," I scoffed.
"Or don't. I don't care. Just don't make this a thing on my birthday," Daphne said desperately. I softened my furied expression.
"You're right," I admitted. "This isn't important right now. I should've just ignored him — let's just get butterbeer, right?"
Daphne sighed. Tracey huffed a laugh.
"Yeah, let's get some bloody butterbeer," Daphne agreed.