𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹, draco malfoy

˗ˋ 50

CHAPTER FIFTY
✧
-: fourth year :-

── IN WHICH THE FIRST 
DAY COMES AND GOES

. . .

"Hermione, you know I agree with you - but please, for the love of God, eat something." Marlie pushed the metal rack of golden pieces of toasts towards her friend. "It's a good cause, but if they're gonna make all this food whether you eat it all not, what's the point of starving yourself?" 

It was the morning following the rather lavish Start-of-Term feast, and had officially been over twelve hours since Dumbledore announced that the Triwizard Tournament would be going ahead once again, decades after the most recent and including delegations from Beauxbatons, a French wizarding school and Durmstrang, which was somewhere to the East - nobody was exactly sure where, simply because the location wasn't on any map and like Hogwarts, it was unplottable.

Except Durmstrang seemed to be a little heavier on the security of their school and nobody even knew what country it was in, which Marlie assumed was to do with the interest in Dark Magic that took place there. 

And after a good night of sleep in a practically toasty dorm room - in which Parvati, Lavender, Hermione, Marlie and Faye had spent an evening with the remnants of their purchases from the trolley earlier on the train and gossiping about their summers; mostly about Faye's muggle boyfriend Freddie and Marlie and Dean; of course not forgetting to mention the trouble at the Quidditch World Cup - the five had dressed in their uniform and made their way downstairs.

As usual, Marlie hadn't gotten five feet before a sixth year prefect told her in the haughtiest of tones to 'pull her skirt down' to which she had completely ignored and rolled it even higher. That morning, her tights were replaced with two thigh-high socks, one with a pattern of hearts on and the other with stars. Apparently, she had been too tired to decipher between the two in the lamp light, but did get a pair of thick socks to go over them and numb her feet from the boots.

However, she had managed to get the same pair of boots she had had for several years and procured various holes in and managed to do something with her tie that was somewhat similiar to a four-in-hand knot, adorned her finger in rings, wrists in bracelets and necklace in various chains before pulling strands of her hair back, applying a lot of eyeliner and mascara and stolen one of Faye's lipglosses that she was certain not to miss. 

Her bag was falling apart from the weight of the books, but Hermione was swearing she was going to learn how to sew and fix it before the house-elves did, but her cardigan was pulled over her blouse and her fleece laid over the flap of her bag rather than actually being worn.

"Good morning ladies." Fred barely looked over to them as he, George and Lee sat down in the space besides them. "I think that a potion could do it, you know. Marls, your opinion?"

"Not a big fan of the nickname." Marlie replied, pushing the toast rack closer to Hermione was such a look in her eyes that the Granger couldn't help but do as she was told, before turning towards the group. "A potion? To get you into the tournament." 

"Yeah." George nodded. "An aging potion. We'd only have to take a couple sips.. maybe mix it with pumpkin juice or just have a mouthful or two to get a few months on us and then we could easily enter."