She was a misfit, he was a git.
Matilda Diggory enters her fifth year of school, ready to remain as under the radar as possible, only there's a catch. She's somehow managed to catch the eye of a particularly annoying redhead, who seems hell-bent on...
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Matilda's new verve and enthusiasm towards her studies and Quidditch began to show rapid results. She received the best grades she'd ever had, earning praise from all her teachers – including Snape, who had taken her aside during their classes to advance her knowledge. Matilda was grateful for this as it meant one less reason to be around Fred Weasley, who seemed to be doing perfectly fine without her.
Not that she cared, of course.
She spent every evening studying or out on the pitch, flying laps and sending quaffles through the rings. Her body was working tenfold to keep up with her, leaving her physically exhausted by the end of each day and collapsing into her bed. She liked how her mind was always occupied by learning or training since it left little to no room for thinking about how cold and empty she felt. The heat of a cigarette between her fingers kept her warm most nights, the tobacco she breathed in kept her grounded. She would twist the cigarette between her long, skinny fingers for hours, mesmerised by the tendons in her hand moving as she did so. That was another thing she'd become obsessed with, too. For every day she went without breakfast or lunch, Matilda could feel herself get lighter and lighter. She hoped one day she'd be so light she could just float away and disappear.
It had been four weeks since she started this gruelling routine. Four weeks since she last allowed herself to feel something. Over that time, she had grown more and more reclusive from her classmates and teammates. Matilda hadn't had a proper conversation with anyone other than Professor Lupin in weeks.
The last time she spoke with him, he had expressed his concerns about her changes, but Matilda brushed him off easily with an explanation that she was merely preparing for the O.W.L.s and that having people around only distracted her.
Unfortunately, Matilda would be unable to avoid people today.
It was the day of the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor Quidditch match. The match would either eliminate them from the Quidditch Cup or earn them a spot in the game.
Matilda walked alongside her teammates towards the pitch, her broom tucked under her arm while she adjusted the strap of her watch. She was nervous about this game, and she felt ashamed thinking that the only reason she wanted to win was so that she'd have a reason to keep training every other night.
Merlin's beard, she needed to sort out her priorities.
She changed into her scarlet robes and braided her hair back into a plait that fell over her shoulder. While waiting for the others to come back out of the changing rooms, she sat down and rubbed at her temple. Matilda swore under her breath, "Not today, please. Fuck. Any day but today."
As a result of her hardworking routine, she'd been the victim of horrible headaches that would fuzz her vision and make her dizzy at the slightest turn of her head. Today couldn't be a worse day to feel ill.
"You alright?"
Matilda looked up to see Fred exiting the changing rooms, throwing his beater bat between his hands.
