𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

10. | Lavender Haze

Sneaking over to the Hufflepuff's side during Quidditch matches was one of the best parts about having a friend in the nicest house of them all. Ever since the first Quidditch game, sitting with Slytherin, listening to my housemates cheer as they made a bloody fool out of my brother, I couldn't stomach it. Tossing on a golden scarf and keeping my head low pretty much did the trick; the rest of the Hufflepuffs either liked me enough or were so frightened of me that even if they did notice they wouldn't say anything.

I dive head-first into the blob of Hufflepuff's filing into the tower, immediately seeking out the fluff of hair Franchesca's known for.

"Girl, I know this game's about to be a good one," Franchesca says once she spots me, a wide smile piercing her face. "All the Ravenclaw's in my class were talking mad shit about your boy."

"Who?"

"Draco," she snickers. "Don't act dumb. I saw you two in the hallway."

"Well yeah, I was wishing him good luck for the game," I mumble, blinking back memories of Sirius's face of ash congratulating me for accepting his mission. "Just being friendly, since he was trying to be."

"Jaylene, you are the opposite of friendly. Don't think I forgot how you wouldn't speak to Cho Chang for two years because she looked at Cedric Diggory, and you two weren't even dating yet."

I wince.

"Nice one, Fran," Stephen whispers, coming up on her other side. "Way to bring up sensitive topics right before the game."

"I'm not sensitive," I insist.

"Never said you were," Stephen says as we take our traditional seats at the very top of the Hufflepuff bin. Far away enough from the Professors that I can actually talk to my friends without being on edge. I sandwich myself between my two best friends, automatically laying my head on Franchesca's shoulder and letting her familiar honey aroma waft over me.

"Is it just me, or do either of you two understand Quidditch at all?"

"No fucking clue," I mumble.

"I mean, I know they have to get the Snitch. But that's about it. My dad loves it and tried to take me to so many pro games as a kid and he would be telling me to look at all the fancy moves and the intricate plays, but do you know what I was looking at?" Stephen asks.

"Hm?"

"The muscles," he says with a cheeky grin. Franchesca playfully bats at his arm, and I can't stop the full-blown cackle that shakes through my body.

"Stephen! What a perv."

"What! Can you blame me? I was starting to bloom, I just-"

"G-ross!" Franchesca screeches, covering her ears. Stephen starts to laugh, his skinny body toppling over onto me. Dissolved into laughter, the three of us don't even notice the start of the game. We begin a game amongst ourselves of trying to upstage each other with over-the-top stories of our childhood. Stephen becomes the winner when he reveals his parents are descendants of Scottish lairds- and showing off an absolutely insane accent to match.

"Awa' an bile yer heid," he mutters, his cheeks flushed crimson.

"What the fuck are you saying," Franchesca snickers, sending me into another core-aching laughing fit. My head falls backwards, sending my face to the sky just in time to catch the eyes of Draco as he soars over me. His hand is outstretched, in hot pursuit of the little Golden Snitch. He smirks when he sees me, his eyes trailing away long enough to give the Ravenclaw Seeker a chance to grab the Snitch right out from under him.