Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

The Three Broomsticks

Ow.

Ow, ow, ow.

Damn the Ogden's.

My hangover is fierce.

I awake unusually early the next morning, fighting a powerful headache and complex feelings regarding last night.

Laying my head back against my pillow and letting my eyes flutter back shut, I replay everything that'd happened.

First of all, and absolutely foremost:

Screw Barty - and Evan too, of course.

Entitled, ill-mannered pricks!

How is it possible that Reggie's their best friend?

He seems so completely different from them, to me at least.

That triggers an entirely different line of thought. Because ...

Reggie.

Reggie ...

I smile, suddenly completely distracted from my anger as I recall our run-in in the library. A bit unexpectedly mischievous of him, slipping his notebook into my bag. And as a pretence to see me?

I didn't imagine all that, right?

He actually admitted to it - quite readily, even.

My eyes re-opening, I stare up at the ceiling.

Not sure quite what to make of that, other than the seemingly obvious.

And we'd been flirting with one another.

Unintentionally, of course, and just a bit of light flirtation.

I didn't mean to do it.

It just happened, just one of those things, you know?

And he was definitely flirting back, right?

So is it possible - shall I allow myself to consider that perhaps he ...

Sirius suddenly flashes into the fore of my thoughts. A sobering intrusion as I picture my friend's handsome face twisting in a mixture of displeasure and concern at the idea of my working with Regulus.

Narrowing my eyes at this, I continue to stare upwards, now painfully aware of my frustration and self-loathing at the idea of entertaining an attraction that'd be so treacherous to Sirius.

Did I say attraction?

Did I actually admit –

Alright. Quite enough of that. This train of thought's officially over.

Slipping out of bed, I quickly shuffle over to my trunk. It's a cold morning, judging from the chill I feel in the air. And sure enough, a quick glance out our dormitory window confirms my suspicions: a thin layer of snow coating everything as far as the eye could see. The grounds, far below and brilliantly white, look as though someone came in the early hours and coated the world in icing sugar.

Layer up. Cosy's the name of the game today.

Digging through my trunk, I pull the warmest, thickest jumper I can find and slip it over my head. As I finish dressing, I glance over at Mary; fast asleep, the thick ringlets of her black hair framing her peaceful face as she dozes.

I'll go down for an early breakfast, that'll sort me out. A strong cup of tea and something to fortify my growling stomach and aching head. A proper breakfast: the best possible remedy for a hangover.