Dark

Chapter 58

Eleanor
Dirt fell from my hair and into the basin below me. I stared at my reflection intently as I tried to remove as much debris as possible. A coating of dust also stuck to my robes so I removed them and held them out in one hand as I used the other to beat them as if they were a drum.
“Ugh!” I heard the furthest stall. “Why did it have to be you?”
I turned an annoyed expression to the ghost. She had her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips, reminiscent of a schoolgirl fit.
“And who would you prefer to visit you, Myrtle?” I asked snidely.
“Harry, of course!” Myrtle managed to pout further.
“Harry…” I rolled my eyes at this, “of course it’s Harry. Wouldn’t everyone prefer it to be Harry over me?”
The question had been rhetorical and my tone had oozed sarcasm, but Myrtle clearly didn’t want to miss an opportunity to speak about Harry.
“I’m not surprised, really.” Myrtle said before adding in a simpering voice, “He is just so bold and courageous.”
I gave a little tut at this. Of course even the ghosts would choose Harry over me. I knew my place, and it certainly wasn’t anywhere near Harry’s. I slipped my arms back into my robes and gave my hair one final pat down before turning on my heel toward the door.
“I’ll remind Harry of your undying love for him, shall I, Myrtle?”
Before the ghost could answer me the bathroom door swung shut and I was free of her. I turned to head for the staircase down the corridor and quite literally ran into something solid but not completely unwelcome for once.
“There you are,” Zabini said as I backed away a step from Draco.
“Where have you been all morning?” Draco asked.
“What does it matter where I’ve been?” I asked back, taking Draco’s hand and leading the boys down the hall.
“You’ve missed two classes already,” Draco answered with a hint of annoyance. “Astoria was going mad looking for you at Breakfast as well, nearly chewed my head off when I said I didn’t have a clue where you were.”
“What could Astoria have needed so early in the morning?” I quizzed him.
“Apparently some help with her Potions homework,” Zabini answered instead.
“Of course she does,” I said with an amused roll of my eyes. When did that girl not need help with some sort of homework?
“What’s that in your hair?” Draco asked, reaching his free hand up and pulling something white out of my hair.
“Nothing!” I said quickly, snatching the debris from his hand and tossing it away behind us. He certainly didn’t need to know what I was up to. If I was certain of anything, it was that a diehard Slytherin like Draco wouldn’t understand what I had been doing.
As we continued toward the Potions classroom in the dungeons, I was not unaware of the eyes that seemed to keep following us. My hand was placed directly in Draco’s, and though there were whispers and not too kind looks that found us, neither of us wavered in the action. What did it matter if other people didn’t agree? No one outside of Slytherin liked Draco anyway, so he didn’t have many people to please. I on the other hand just didn’t care if it bothered anyone. Let them be distressed about it. If the meeting in the Hog’s Head had proven anything, it was that these people weren’t going to trust me anyway. So what difference did it make if I appeased them or not?
It wasn’t until we reached the threshold of the Potions classroom though that I finally released Draco’s hand. As we stepped into the room, I immediately noticed one table in particular that had been watching for us. Harry’s eyes were narrowed, and he was clearly angry about something. Hermione’s eyes were wide, and she was whispering something in Harry’s ear which he seemed to be ignoring.
This behavior seemed to last throughout the entire lesson. I could feel Harry’s eyes staring daggers at me, and though he had enough sense to look down every time I glanced in his direction, it was clear from the look of apology on Hermione’s face that they were well aware of what was going on and that Harry wasn’t taking it well.
Mine and Draco’s presence was such a distraction to him that he actually caught his cauldron on fire, resulting in a thorough berating from Snape as the lesson came to an end. Thankfully for me, it had provided enough time for Draco, Zabini, and I to escape the classroom before he could try to confront me and cause a scene.
“So he hasn’t said anything yet?” Zabini asked in disbelief as we entered the Great Hall a couple of minutes later.
“No, but if that Potions lesson was any indication, he’s definitely aware of it by now.”
“Screw Potter, who cares if he knows.” Malfoy said grumpily.
“Shut up, Malfoy,” I replied simply.
“What?” He argued back. “He’s nothing but a pain in the arse.”
"As are you, don't forget." I countered with a smirk.
"There's no way I'm as much of a-"
With a pointed look from both me and Zabini, Draco shut his mouth.
"So Potter's figured out one secret, but does he realize you'll be playing him at the first-"
I stopped Zabini with a swift punch to the arm.
"Hey!"
"No one outside of Slytherin knows yet," I explained, exasperated at the level of incompetency between the two boys.
"Well that's a lie." Draco grumbled.
"Wait, does someone outside of Slytherin actually know?" Zabini asked, looking between me and Draco.
"A trusted source," I answered.
"Or two," Draco grumbled again.
"What is wrong with you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at Draco.
"Nothing, I just don't understand why you would go to them for-"
"Oh fuck off, Malfoy." I sped up, leaving the two behind. I didn't need to explain myself to either of them, and it would have been pointless in Malfoy's case anyway. I had caught the angry glances he had given the twins in the days since he had initiated our second kiss. I wasn't about to start an argument with the annoying boy when he was clearly jealous that I had asked the twins for help instead of him. Besides, I fully intended to make the twins regret having helped me get my position on the team. I was probably more determined than the rest of the team put together to beat the Gryffindors. It would be a sweet reward to see the look on Harry's face if I could prove to him that he wasn't the best thing that had ever happened at Hogwarts. Beating him at Quidditch was a perfect way to take him down a notch.

Harry
It was quickly becoming impossible to fix a regular night of the week for D.A. meetings. I was forced to accommodate three different house Quidditch teams' schedules, which frequently changed depending on the weather. The only good part about planning for D.A. meetings was the time I spent pretending to read in Umbridge's class. I would prop my book open and then let my mind wander to what spells we could work on next, forming full out lessons plans in the middle of what should have been our real Defense class. It had become clear that many of the people in Umbridge's class spent the time simply staring blanking at their books while not even attempting to read. The most blatantly obvious display of defiance though was still Eleanor. Most of Umbridge's classes she didn't bother to attend, but when she did show up she would simply sit in her seat, staring daggers at Umbridge as the professor attempted to ignore her. I took a great deal of satisfaction in the moments that she dared to check if Eleanor was still watching her though. Umbridge would look up quickly, with just her eyes to find Eleanor still glaring at her, at which point she would get a huffy expression and return to whatever she had been doing previously.
It didn't escape my attention though that there were moments when Malfoy would reach over and grip Eleanor's hand while he whispered at her. It always seemed like he was trying to get her to stop testing Umbridge's patience, but I wasn't sure if that was really the case. All I was certain of was that every time he touched Eleanor even in the slightest bit, I felt a fire rising up inside of me. No matter how many times I had told Eleanor that she needed to steer clear of Malfoy, she kept going back. The same applied to Malfoy as well, because it didn't matter to him either how many times I told him to leave her alone.
We were meeting up for our final D.A. meeting prior to the first match of the Quidditch season, which was good for scheduling because there wouldn't be further matches until after the winter holidays. Hermione had finally devised a way of alerting other members of the D.A. to when we were going to meet next, so as the last couple of people filed in for the meeting, she began to pass out gold discs. As she wrapped back around toward the front of the room and handed mine over last, I noticed that it was actually a Galleon.
"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding hers up for examination. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting, he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."
There was a collective blank expression that met Hermione's words.
"Well - I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But...well, if you don’t want to use them..."
"You can do a Protean Charm?" Terry Boot asked.
"Yes," Hermione answered.
"But that's...that's N.E.W.T. standard, that is," he said weakly.
"Oh," Hermione said quietly, trying to look modest. "Oh...well...yes, I suppose it is..."
With that, the group was won over with the Galleons, and we finally had a fail safe way to let others know when to meet.
As the first Quidditch match approached though I was feeling pretty confident in Gryffindor's chances of winning. The only thing really worrying me was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him. I was use to enduring the snide comments and whispers of, "Hey, Potty, I heard Warrington's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday." It was easy to let them roll off of me after four years, and the snarky replies of, "Warrington's aim is so pathetic I'd be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me," came naturally.
Ron on the other hand though, had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers, and intimidation. So when a Slytherin would question him with, "Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?" he wouldn't say anything. Instead Ron had taken to just turning a shade of green and hurrying along to our next class.
It wasn't long before the morning of the match dawned, however, and ready or not, Ron would have to go out there and do his best.
"You all right?" I asked him as I woke to the bright sun filtering in through the tower window.
Ron nodded but didn't dare to open his mouth and speak. His expression reminded me distinctly of the time his slug-vomiting charm had backfired on him. He looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then.
"You just need some breakfast," I told him bracingly, "C'mon."
The Great hall was filling up fast when we arrived and the talk was louder than usual. As we passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise and when I turned to look at them, I noticed that nearly every Slytherin was wearing a strange silver badge in addition to their green and silver scarves and hats. I tried to read what the closest one said, but as I hurried Ron along toward the Gryffindor table, I was too far to make out the words.
We received a rousing welcome as we took our seats with the rest of Gryffindor house. The table was a sea of red and gold, but rather than raising Ron's spirits, the joy of the Gryffindors seemed to drain him further.
"I must've been mental to do this," he whispered. "Mental."
"Don't be thick," I told him, passing him a choice of cereals. "You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."
Nothing that Hermione or I said though seemed to rouse his confidence throughout breakfast, and he dejectedly got up from his seat when it was time to head down to the pitch.
Hermione and I got up too but as I made to walk off from the table she gripped my arm and pulled me off to the side.
"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she whispered urgently.
I looked at her questioningly but she shook her head warningly and glanced back at Ron who was waiting on me.
"Good luck, Ron," she said in a falsely bright voice, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry -"
Ron seemed to come back to himself as we made our way toward the pitch. He kept touching the spot where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled. Thankfully, he was too distracted to notice much around him, but I was able to finally catch a glimpse at one of the badges on a passing Slytherin. I could just barely make out the words: Weasley Is Our King.
I knew immediately that this couldn't be good and hurried Ron down the sloping lawns and into the locker room.
Angelina was already changed when we walked in, and we joined the rest of the team in hurrying to don our Quidditch robes. As the minutes flew by and the start of the match approached, I could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the stands. I was starting to feel nervous now, but the fluttering of my stomach was certainly nothing compared to Ron's. He was quite literally clutching his stomach in hand and staring straight ahead, his jaw set and his complexion a pale grey.
"It's time," Angelina said in a hushed voice, looking at her watch. "Come on everyone...good luck."
We all rose, shouldering our broom, and marched single file out of the changing room. A roar of sound greeted us immediately and my eyes wandered toward the large section of red and gold occupying the stands. As we drew close to center field I could make out all of the Slytherins, already standing at the ready, brooms at their sides. Unlike their fellow housemates in the stands, none of them donned a silver badge. I caught sight of Malfoy standing at one side, the sun light practically glinting off of his pale blonde hair. He noticed me and smirked before giving his head a little jerk toward the other side of the Slytherin team's formation.
My jaw literally dropped open when I saw Eleanor standing there, a broom in hand, wearing the green and silver Quidditch robes. I caught her wink at someone and followed her gaze to find George looking back at her. Fred was beside him and gave the two of them a mischievous smile. They had known. They had definitely known, and they hadn't told the rest of us. This was the secret they were in on with Eleanor that I was going to hate.
I looked back at Eleanor again and this time she was staring straight back at me. She raised her eyebrows in my direction with a small smile forming on her lips. The broom she was holding was obvious now as a school broom, the handle was stripped and there were clearly tail end twigs missing and some were even bent. In her other hand she held a beaters bat.
"Their new beater is your sister?" Angelina asked me, her tone dripping with annoyance before she took to the very center of the field and shook hands with the Slytherin captain. The next thing I knew, the whistle had blown and I was a solid second behind everyone else in mounting my broom and taking off.