- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕿he lively, energetic buzz around the castle could only mean one thing on the cool, Autumnal morning.
Quidditch.
Gryffindor were playing against Slytherin for the first match of the season, much to the two rival house's anticipation and nervousness. They didn't have the best history when it came to the Wizarding Sport, sometimes things went too far, too quickly. Especially between Harry and Draco.
The Gryffindor team captain was eager to beat the Slytherin seeker, after all of the overwhelming suspicion he has weighing in his chest, even though he hadn't yet obtained any proof of his conspiracies. He felt it in his gut though, that Draco Malfoy was a death eater, and that wasn't something easy to ignore.
Today was all about Quidditch, though, so he'd simply use those feelings to stimulate his performance.
Harry Potter wasn't the only one thinking about the Slytherin either, there was a certain Irish Hufflepuff too,
"Draco!"
Draco stiffened, every muscle in his body filling with dread as he hears the distinctive call of his jolly, little Hufflepuff.
He closes his eyes for a long second, realising there was no possible way he could continue on, simply ignoring her. She'd spotted him now, and if he knew anything about Oonagh O'Connor, is that she's the nosy fucker she claims she is, unwilling to let him go until he makes it apparent.
He swivels around, immediately battling to school his expression. Whether he wanted to laugh, swear, tease or roll his eyes was unknowing to him. What he did know was that she definitely liked to support both teams equally.
"You look ridiculous" He snorts, powerless to hold back his thoughts, especially as he spies the glittery hearts on either cheek. One crimson red, the other forest green.
Any other day, Oonagh would have been quick to smile, defend herself and then possibly joke something easy back. Not today, not when she doesn't find him sporting his Slytherin quidditch gear, instead, his habitual dark attire.
She frowns, continuing to eye him up and down as she mutters, "You're not playing"
Draco's stomach lurches uncomfortably, swallowing down the uneasy lump creeping up his throat, nodding, "No. No, i'm not"
"Oh"
The ground seems to shake underneath her planted feet, trying to grasp each one of the spiralling emotions swirling inside her chest. Confusion and surprise seemed to come as a pairing, then there was some concern, worry and then there it was. The one she found herself sinking deeply inside from the news. Disappointment.
Draco was easily one of the best players in the castle, he'd been on the team since their second year, every game he plays, especially against Gryffindor was incredible to watch. And anybody with eyes could tell he thrived soaring through the air, when he wasn't being a pompous git, that was. He wasn't playing, and Oonagh's exuberance slowly started to slip away.
