Ten Questions (Harry Potter x Slytherin reader)

Chapter 41

Before my fourth year at Hogwarts, I had promised myself that I would never watch another game of Quidditch ever again.

Yet, here I was, sandwiched between Blaise and Daphne, the sun shining brightly on our faces as the Slytherin and Gryffindor players marched onto the pitch. I cringe when the stadium erupts into a series of loud cheers and hisses, the noise almost too much to take.

In the past, I had only attended school Quidditch matches because Adrian was one of Slytherin's chasers, even though I could hardly stand watching. I had promised myself that the moment Adrian left Hogwarts, I would not step foot in that stadium again. So when Dumbledore had announced that Quidditch would be cancelled for the entire school year during my fourth year at Hogwarts due to the tri-wizard tournament, I was relieved.

Of course, being with Harry complicated things now. 

I allow a small smile as Harry, decked in red and golden robes, emerges onto the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Strangely enough, a wave of pride washes over as my eyes follow him. For a brief moment, I see him glance my direction and wink, and I wonder if my eyes have deceived me. 

I smirk in return.

Idiot.

The team captains, Montague and Johnson, quickly shake hands in a tense exchange before the balls are tossed into the air, sending the pitch into complete chaos. I stifle a gasp as a bludger is instantly thrown at Harry, which he dodges with ease. I let out a sigh of relief.

"It's a shame your brother isn't on the team anymore," Daphne observes, her eyes refusing to leave the game. She frowns as the quaffle is snatched from Warrington . "Weasley wouldn't even stand a chance if he was still here."

I only nod in response. Adrian was good, I think to myself, remembering how he led Slytherin to most of their wins ever since he had made the team during his second year, a rare feat for most players at Hogwarts. Despite his obvious talent, watching him play, like every quidditch match, was a hard watch.

My eyes flicker over to the three golden hoops on the left side of the field, which is guarded by Ron Weasley. Even from where I am sitting, I can tell that he looks absolutely ill, with his face pale and his broomstick shaking slightly. I almost feel sorry for him, but then recall all of the nasty comments he has thrown my way during my five years at Hogwarts, then don't.

"I almost feel bad for him. Weasley, I mean," Blaise says, looking amused as he eyes the Gryffindor goalkeeper. He then looks down at his chest, where a badge that is made to look like a tiny silver crown, sits. Practically every other member of my house is wearing it. He gives it a small tug. "I can't believe Malfoy went through this much trouble to make these," he huffs, his tone laced with disgust.

I scan the robes of my housemates, with a silver pin on them that reads WEASLEY IS OUR KING across them. I can't help but roll my eyes. Though Ron Weasley was hardly my favorite person at Hogwarts, I still think of the move by Malfoy as classless.

My attention quickly returns to the game when the quaffle is back in our possession. As Warrington, one of the Slytherin chasers that had apparently replaced Adrian this year, zooms towards the other end of the pitch, Pansy Parkinson begins to make her way to the bottom of the stands. Positioning herself so that the entirety of Slytherin house can see her, she begins to shout.

"Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King."

Without hesitation, the rest of my housemates, including Blaise and Daphne, begin to join in on the chant. I glance at Harry, who falters upon hearing this. He is frozen in mid-air for what feels like minutes until Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Captain, shouts something at him. Clearly, the song has affected both Harry and Weasley.