The next morning, Calli discovered that sleeping on her anger had done absolutely nothing to improve it.
If anything, she was angrier.
Her eyes opened, landed immediately on the Slytherin Quidditch robes she'd thrown over the back of her chair the night before, and narrowed.
"Don't." Stella said from her own bed.
Calli hadn't even moved.
"I didn't do anything."
"You looked at those robes like you were considering murder."
"I was considering arson."
Lucy groaned from beneath her blankets.
"It's too early for crimes."
Calli dragged herself out of bed.
"Fine. No crimes before breakfast."
"Or after breakfast." Stella added.
"We'll see."
"Calli."
"I'm joking."
Neither of them looked convinced.
The Slytherin common room was already crowded when they entered.
Calli had nearly reached the exit when she saw Montague.
He was sitting near the fireplace with Warrington and Pucey, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who had spent part of yesterday with a bleeding nose.
His eyes found hers.
And he smirked.
Calli stopped.
Lucy walked directly into her back.
"Oh, no."
Stella caught Calli's arm.
"Keep walking."
"I'm walking."
She wasn't.
Montague's smirk widened.
"Morning, Nott."
Calli's fingers curled.
"Morning."
"Enjoy your new position?"
Lucy made a strangled noise.
Calli smiled.
It wasn't a pleasant smile.
"Enjoy breathing through your nose again?"
His expression flickered.
Stella tugged Calli firmly towards the exit.
"Breakfast."
Behind them, Montague laughed.
Calli stopped again.
Lucy grabbed her other arm.
"No."
"I only want to-"
"Forward." Stella ordered.
Between them, they practically marched her out of the common room.
Calli muttered darkly all the way to the Great Hall.
Breakfast wasn't much better.
The Quidditch match dominated conversation despite being over.
Gryffindors were celebrating their victory.
Slytherins were complaining about Potter catching the Snitch.
YOU ARE READING
Callidora ☆ Fred Weasley
FanfictionCallidora Nott has always known exactly what is expected of her. As the daughter of one of Britain's oldest pure-blood families, her future has already been carefully planned; alliances, power, and a life shaped by tradition she never chose. At home...
