𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

5 | ﴾ This Isn't The Circus ﴿

I was awake at 6am to prepare to meet Malfoy and it was a horrible experience. I had gone to bed closer to 1am and with hardly any sleep I was bitter making my way down to the pitch through a thick, cold fog. The Quidditch uniform at least provided some warmth against yesterday's rainy fallout. The stone steps were slimy but I once again intended to use the walk there as a means to warm up.

I had several theories as to why he'd picked such an unreasonably early time to train with me. To avoid being seen training me by other people, to punish me with the early start time, or perhaps because we both had no morning classes on Friday's immediately afterwards.

By the time I was nearing the bottom of the mossy hill my blond hair was soaked from the dew and air and I raised a gloved hand to smooth the long wisps at the front that weren't tied into the braids. I had taken the time to further alter my uniform that morning to get on Malfoy's nerves even more. It now hugged me in an even more flattering way that complimented my breasts and thin waist. My pants were basically in the shape of leggings instead of the baggy, unsightly trousers. The long green Slytherin robes fell silkily from my shoulders. I felt tired, but ready for action. I wanted to make it as hard as possible for these boys to truly despise me being on their team, starting with Malfoy.

When I reached the bottom however I couldn't see anyone. I walked to the center of the field and took in just how much fog was out there. It was difficult to see the stands and pillars such a short distance away. It was like being lost in a gray sea of mist.

It was 6:54 am. I guessed that it was fair to give him more time to arrive, trying to remove the growing fear that this had all been a joke to set me up while he was back at the dorms sleeping in late. I climbed onto my broom and tried pulling some tricks to pass the time. Standing on the broom handle while it hovered a few feet high. Performing a rescue by hanging from the handle with two, then one hand, then climbing back on. Riding side saddle. Doing a perfect backwards loop.

It reminded me of waiting around at my previous school for training to start. Most of the other girls had stood respectfully chatting to one another but I could never stay still. Not that they were any less vicious in the actual game, I was just... helplessly restless.

I pulled my broom up, arching my back into the next loop when suddenly a force smashed into my side which winded me. I gasped and fought not to lose my balance with little avail. Before I could hit the ground a hand grabbed my hood and then let me fall the final foot onto my face.

I sat up on my knees choking, and rubbing dirt from my face. I struggled to breath for a few moments before my pride could contain itself. I looked at Malfoy who was hovering above me tossing a bludger up and down. He had a demonic look on his face and he shook his head, "This isn't the circus, Desrosiers. Your cheap tricks won't help you out here. Get up."

"You - play dirty, Malfoy. I was - waiting." I wheezed, still recovering from the shocking impact. I would not puke in front of him.

"Precisely. Never assume you can let your guard down, Frenchie." He smirked and brought himself back down to the ground, dismantling from his black broom with ease, "This is Hogwarts. This is where champions are made. No more games, can you actually fly competitively?" He was taller than me by several inches and I stared up at him with a hard expression, feigning recovery. I was acutely aware that I probably had dirt all over my cheeks, while his face was smooth and clean, aristocratic. Cunning.

Even his hair took well to the moisture in the air. I probably looked like I'd just crawled out of a swamp.

I blew hair out of my eyes, "I am, quick... and how do you say, artistic? Creative? I can block most anything. Defensive is my strength."