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 woke to the faint shimmer of sunlight on her pillow and the dull ache of her bones murmuring beneath her skin. It was already past noon — a rare mercy, thanks to the professors giving them the day off in preparation for the Yule Ball. Her joints creaked like old floorboards and her muscles were sore in that familiar pre-moon way, but it was manageable. The ache of her bones was nothing compared to the ache of her heart.
A chipped mug of aconite tea steamed gently on her bedside table — Ginny's doing, no doubt. Matilda reached for it, fingers curling slowly around the warm ceramic, and took a cautious sip. It tasted like burnt herbs and licorice root, but it was worth it. The stuff helped.
What she wasn't ready for was the puffy eyes that greeted her in the mirror. She winced at the sight: face blotchy, lips chapped, dark circles painting half-moons under her eyes. The price of heartbreak, she supposed. It wasn't like she'd slept much after the fight with Fred. Even now, the memory of his voice still clanged against her skull.
You're the bitch!
She shut her eyes and exhaled through her nose. No. Not today.
The dormitory door slammed open and Ginny swept in, dress draped over one arm and a look of giddy determination on her face.
"You're up!" she beamed, ignoring the obvious state of her. "Come on, I need your help. This dress has more fabric than the Divination classroom."
Matilda set her mug down and pushed herself upright, limbs heavy. "Let me guess. Frills and ruffles?"
"And a bow the size of a Hippogriff's arse. We're going in with scissors."
Matilda slid out of her bed, pulling the covers up so Ginny could lay her pale blue dress across the quilt. It wasn't ugly, exactly, but it had been overloved by Mrs Weasley's wand. They worked quietly, snipping off the excess lace at the sleeves, hemming the skirt an inch higher, charming the neckline into something a little less Victorian librarian. It helped, having something to do with her hands. Something else to focus on.
"Are you okay?" Ginny asked timidly, glancing up at Matilda as she sewed the hem with her wand.
"I'm fine," Matilda said, offering Ginny a smile. "I'll be fine."
Ginny sighed, then glanced across the room at Matilda's dress, which hung on the bedpost like a promise. "It's a real shame, you know. Fred'll be eating his words the moment he sees you in that."
Matilda scoffed, grabbing a scrap of ribbon and tossing it aside. "I don't think he'll even notice me, Gin."
"Everyone will notice you, Tilly," Ginny said, as though stating a universal truth. "I'm lucky to even be going. I still can't believe I convinced Neville to bring me."
"Do you like him?" Matilda asked, eyebrow raised.
Ginny threw a pillow at her. "No! Neville and I are just friends."
