NEMESIS || Draco Malfoy

23

"Cheated their way to victory— I just know they did," Pansy grumbled — short, raven hair in more of a mess than usual — and her face distorted into a scowl on our way to Defence against the Dark Arts.

She was talking about yesterday's quidditch match, of course. Every single Slytherin outraged by a score as awful as 250 to 0 for Gryffindor.

And after being lucky enough to have our first lessons with Ravenclaw, she couldn't stop blabbering on about Weasley's apparent cheating, now that our next lesson was with them.

And though I didn't witness the tragedy of that match, I took her word for it.

Walking into the familiar classroom, my eyes scanned it quickly; finding Gryffindor's as chipper as ever, laughing and talking, some even wearing our badges — I assumed after the loss, more than just a few of my housemates got rid of the Weasley is our King badges by simply throwing them onto the pitch or into the nearest bush.

It was Weasley himself who sat on top of his desk rather than the chair he was supposed to sit on. One foot of his was resting against the backrest, while the other secured the chair by standing on top of it. Lavender Brown swooning over him, clinging onto his arm as he told stories of yesterday's match;

The way he kicked that Quaffle away, and held this one — by almost throwing himself off his broom, of course. How very selfless of him.

The scraps of conversation I overheard were enough to make me roll my eyes, holding Pansy by her robes and pushing her further towards our shared desk when she attempted to stride over to them.

The door loudly fell into its hinges behind us before we even reached our desk, the sound startling me as I whipped around with a low gasp escaping my mouth.

My gaze got stuck on Weasley, though, the sound seeming to startle him just as much — if not more — as he struggled to keep the chair he had been balancing on in an upright position; failing miserably as it landed on the floor with a loud thud.

All former confidence wiped off his face; his eyes batted open to look up at Snape, who stood before him now, looking down on him condescendingly as he raised a brow.

"Weasley," He snarled, a hint of amusement in his voice as the next words left his mouth. "Five points from Gryffindor for not knowing how to sit on a chair properly."

His eyes were no longer on the boy but instead on the fallen chair lying between the two. It was with a single flick of his wrist that the chair stood tall again, tugging itself underneath the desk like it was supposed to.

I snorted dryly as I diverted my eyes off of them, a small smile lingering on my lips now as I hurried over to my own seat.

"Jumpy today, are we?"

My brows furrowed before my eyes even landed on Malfoy, a mocking tone in his voice as the question left his mouth.

"Have you always sat there?" I retorted, instead, a bored expression on my face as I sat down in the row in front of him. "Or have you just been getting more annoying to the point I can't ignore you anymore?"

Unbothered, I hunched over to fish book, parchment and quill, as well as the closed ink bottle out of my bag.

"Oh, please," Malfoy scoffed. "You don't have to pretend—"

"For fucks sake, would you two please just shut up—!" Aggravation laced Blaise's voice as he raised his head off the table it was previously resting on, a glare in his eyes and a scowl on his face.

His eyes flickered back and forth between Malfoy and me, challenging either of us to go against his friendly suggestion.

The bruise on his cheek from the match had become undeniably worse since last night, purple and blue against his dark skin and probably the reason for his awful mood.