𝐵𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 | 𝒟.𝑀.

34 | ﴾ Machiavellian ﴿

The night sky was dark and filled with stars almost immediately after dinner when we were all expected to report to the itch for detention. Draco and I had decided to wear our actual Quidditch uniforms for the sake of staying warm and nimble while we flew around repairing damages to goal posts and the ground.

He had thrown his arm around me while we walked down with our brooms strapped to our backs, but this time it was a welcome embrace. I leaned into him as we both fought not to slip on the dark and steep pathway.

"This is preposterous, why don't we just fly?" he moaned, almost losing his balance altogether on an ice patch, pulling me down with him. "Neither of us need this ludicrous exercise." The bruise on his face had considerably darkened to a horrible medley of purples and yellows, and the white of his eye had a sickly red hue. The hit must have been unbelievably painful.

"I quite like de walk, et es a good warm up and a good time to mentally prepare," I said lightheartedly and he laughed in disagreement.

"More like an opportune method to injure oneself before a game." He slipped a second, then immediately third time and cursed under his breath. "I'd rather swim with a grindylow than walk this entire distance."

"Pfft, who says a grindylow would want to swim wit' you," I bantered and he shook his head, looking away. "What 'appened to your face, Draco?" I was hoping he would at least explain the situation considering I was now involved with the detention.

He sighed and I could hear the irritation laced in his throat, "I found Diggory in the courtyard. We fought, and a bunch of idiotic Gryffindor's involved themselves. I doubt we'll be out here long given how many people are in detention." I looked up at his face, surprised that he was the type to get into physical altercations. He'd always pegged me as more of a sneaky enemy.

He seemed to read my thoughts as he peered down at me, "I didn't intend to fight him in that way, it just happened. Quit judging my face."

"I'm not judging your face," I replied, but an amused grin was spreading across mine as I realized he was vainly embarrassed in my presence.

His expression read that he didn't believe me as he stared carefully at where he was placing his feet, "Yeah. I lost something...quite important to me recently. It would've been really helpful."

Oh god, the map, I thought guiltily in my head.

His eyes lingered slyly on the white gloves I was wearing, "These look good on you. You're my little Quidditch queen." He ruffled my hair with his matching glove teasingly and I pushed away from him, fixing my now frazzled braids.

"Okay but seriously I'm not walking the whole way down," he repeated.

I gave up the battle, sick of his classic whining, "Fine." I ripped my broom off of my back and flew towards the pitch, thoroughly enjoying the idea that I would get to practice with the white magnetic gloves.

"Hey!" I heard him cry in outrage before he was following me down in the same way.

My hands were glued to the broom comfortably in a way I had never experienced before. I had complete control over the way the broom maneuvered, but could easily unlock my hands in a similar fashion to clip-ins on a bicycle; simply one had to twist the gloves in a specific click away from the handle and the magnets freed their grasp.

The pitch was lit by hundreds of glowing orbs that someone had cast to allow work to ensue in the darkness. Madame Hootch stood in the center of the pitch scolding several other figures while they waited for us to arrive. I landed in a run and lined myself up with the others, noticing that beside Cedric there was also the Weasley twins and Harry Potter scowling in the cold breeze.