malice. |harry potter|

1.7

"i told you. you were brilliant."

♥

     The Slytherin quidditch team was rowdy, tossing around apples and slinging food at one another during breakfast. Mali looked over to Harry, who looked as though he was about to throw up.

      "Oh, I do hope we win."

     "We will, Lottie," assured Draco cockily. Mali wasn't sure how to feel. She wanted Slytherin to win, of course, because she wanted the House Cup. But at the same time, she wanted Harry to have a good first game.

♥

     Over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was trying to coax Harry into eating something.

     "It won't do you much good to faint in the middle of the game, Harry!"

     "She's right mate, you gotta eat something," added Ron.

     "Thank you Ronald. Oh look Harry, Fallon's coming over, I'm sure she'll say the same thing." Mali shoved Ron over, and sat down next to Harry, who had snapped up his head at the mention of her name. "Fallon, Harry's not eating." Mali rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

     "Really, your hair looks ridiculous and you won't eat? Pick a struggle," she teased, earning a small chuckle from Harry. "Now listen, you are going to do wonderfully, don't worry about it."

     "How do you know?" Harry asked, his first words all morning.

     "Because I'm always right." She smirked. Mali reached up a hand to comb through his hair, trying to flatten it. "Your hair. Honestly, Harry, doesn't it ever lay flat?" Harry's face flushed red, and Mali worriedly pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, much like the manner she did when they were hiding from the troll. "Are you alright?"

     "Why wouldn't I be?"

     "Well, I don't know, your face is all flushed," she said, furrowing her eyebrows. Harry quickly pushed her wrist down, waving her off.

     "I'm fine, Mali. Just nerves, I suppose." The girl frowned, but went back to her normal cheerful self.

     "Well, alright. Good luck! I'll be rooting for you, you'll be brilliant," she whispered the last part in his ear, and then pecked his cheek before getting up to return to the Slytherin table. When she was a good ways away, Harry's face turned a deep shade of red, Hermione and Ron both smirking at him.

     "Oh, shut up."

♥

"And the game begins! Angelina Johnson takes the quaffle, what a chaser that girl is! And rather attractive, too-"

"Jordan," threatened McGonagall.

     "Sorry, Professor." Malice, Colletta, Draco, and Theo sat in the Slytherin student section, watching the game from the first row. Mali's eyes darted to Harry, who was hovering high above the pitch, looking out for the snitch. "Johnson passes the quaffle to Bell... who scores! Ten points to Gryffindor!" The stands cheered, the group clad in green booing loudly. "Captain Marcus Flint takes the quaffle, flying towards the Gryffindor keeper, Oliver Wood. He shoots... he misses. Oliver keeps his guard."

     Marcus Flint practically growled at Oliver, who only smirked in response, shrugging. "In a twist of events, Flint has abducted a beater's bat, and is now heading to attack a bludger," Flint hit a bludger, so fast that he snapped Oliver Wood's broom and sent him flying towards the ground.