𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

7 | ﴾ Do You Love Her? ﴿

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.