Daisy Potter and the Wedding (Book 8, Harry Potter ff)

Chapter 35 - Capture the Softpaw

The ongoing prank war that we had started at the beginning of the school year ramped up a bit after the Easter holidays. It seemed like people were thinking of the fact that this was our last year, our last chance to fuck around in school before we were all chucked out into the world of adult life.

And as exciting as adult life could be - I found myself daydreaming increasingly more about my future wedding, my future ginger babies - I also wasn't ready to let my Hogwarts story fizzle out. I wanted to go out with a bang.

For example, while everyone else was pranking Harry by drawing giant green eyebrows on his face while he was asleep, or Louis by hanging a rubber replica of a ballsack from his broom at Quidditch practice while he wasn't looking, or Luna by presenting her with a fake Quibbler that had a picture of her father emblazoned across the cover, with the title, 'How I Created My Daughter Luna From Pipe Cleaners, Sponge Stuffing From Inside A Sofa, And This One Simple Spell,' the Insurgents were pranking Ron by plastering up posters of a deepfaked picture of him lounging sexily in leather trousers, bearing legends such as, 'THERE IS NOTHING 'RON' WITH KINKY SEX,' or 'GAY SEX IS NEVER 'RON.''

Terry nearly pissed himself laughing putting one especially risqué one up on Snape's classroom door.

On rare occasions, Hermione actually managed to get us all into the library to revise for our NEWTs. We'd take over the tables in the centre of the room and, parchment, textbooks, quills, and packets of crisps and sweets strewn across them, chatter animatedly as we wrote out notes and highlighted paragraphs.

"Softpaw, how do you cross-transfigure a rabbit into a decorative throw?"

"It's a bit cruel, like, so I'm going to refuse to answer that question based on moral grounds."

"Lmao, you're just saying that because you don't know."

"He's not wrong."

Some of our best days after Easter were at that cluster of desks, throwing rubbers at each other and lounging across the chairs, laughing and messing around while Hermione tutted at us. Harry, Ron, and Kylie would snigger at her as she told me, Terry, and the twins off, and sometimes Draco, Blaise, Suzanne, Shannon, and our Gryffindor classmates would join us and eventually create such a cheerful ruckus that Madam Pince kicked us out half an hour before the library closed.

Perhaps our good spirits were driven by the fact that we all knew we were going to be all right whatever the results of our exams were. We were Daisy Potter's year group, Dumbledore's Army, the ones who had fought Lord Voldemort and won. People were going to be lining up to hire us; we'd have our pick as I'm sure offers would be coming in left and right.

Just like the Bludgers at Quidditch practice; as the spring evenings got longer and the sunny days on our skin warmer, I made the most of the weather by taking my team out and flying with them. We spent many evenings zooming around on the mostly empty pitch, whooping and laughing as Harry, Ginny, and Louis tossed the Quaffle to each other, Ron kicked and slapped it away from the three gold hoops with a grin, the twins defended me vigorously with their bats, and I dove and swooped for the Snitch feeling the wind in my hair and the rush in my stomach.

Classes had mostly wrapped up teaching and now focused on revision periods, each professor trying frantically to get us prepared for the exams that, if we were anyone else, would decide our whole futures. A charged energy was in the air, following us from class into the Great Hall as we ate rambunctiously, all into the courtyards at break and the common room in the evening.

"What do you guys think we'll be doing in a year?" Fred said casually one night as he lounged back in an armchair, the fading golden light from the setting sun casting rays across his face. I gazed at his chocolate eyes, glowing like warm honey in the sunlight before snapping out of my stupor. Godric, he's handsome.