The Mudblood

Chapter 42 : Year 3

The next two weeks were only slightly horrible. Due to the fact that Draco Malfoy had deathly blackmail on me, I was unable to talk to Cedric, something I thought wouldn't bother me, but it actually did. There were a few instances where Cedric tried to confront me in the Great Hall, but every time he did I made a mad dash toward the girls' bathroom to avoid him.

Malfoy was relentless with his harassment, as usual. His latest rumor was that I'd predicted the dragons and told Harry all about them because I fancied him, and that's how he'd done so well in the task. Yes, Harry had known about the dragons, but I hadn't told him, and I certainly didn't fancy him.

Fred and I were on better terms now, but I still caught him flirting with that Beauxbatons girl a few more times. I wanted to be angry, of course, but every time I caught him, he'd shoot me a teasing wink, which almost made me think that he was flirting with her just to make me...jealous...

On December 10th, the third year Slytherins and I came back from classes in the afternoon to find that Adrian Pucey and the other Prefects were pinning flyers to the walls in the common room.

"Adrian, I demand to know what is going on here," Ashley huffed, holding her head high.

"Why don't you just read the posters—oh wait, you can't read because you're a little prat," Adrian droned as he used his wand to float one of the flyers up toward the ceiling. The Prefect girl next to him did not look pleased by his childishness.

"'Dance lessons'?" I read from one of the nearby posters. "You're holding dance lessons, Adrian? That's cute."

"Not me," Adrian snapped as he let the floating flyer fall and then stalked over toward us. "McGonagall is—they're for the Yule Ball."

"Ball? What Ball?" Astoria squeaked, her facial expression resembling a desperate chipmunk.

"The Yule Ball," Adrian repeated impatiently. "It's some kind of tradition that goes with the Tournament. Everyone's going—well—everyone who's old enough is going. You losers can't attend."

"Why not?" Astoria demanded, her arms clutching the book in her arms with angered intensity.

"Fourth years and up, Greengrass," Adrian sneered. "I'll be going with your sister, of course. Nothing you can do about it—"

"Have you asked her?" Anderson interjected, his eyes darting warily in Astoria's direction. Her face was contorted in an expression of fury and depression.

"No—but who else would she go with?" Adrian snorted, crossing his arms.

"Hey—Daphne!" Anderson called over to Astoria's older sister, who was sitting on the couches with some other fourth years. "Want to go to the Ball with me?"

Daphne scrunched her snooty nose in the same fashion Astoria did every time she looked at my hair. "Ew—no. You're a third year!"

Anderson took in a deep breath before turning to Astoria. "Sorry—tried."

"Hey—Daphne, will you go to the Ball with me?" Adrian prompted, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"Of course, Adri!" Daphne enthused, causing Melody, Harper, and I to all snicker at her nickname for Adrian. "As long as we can bonk in the storage cupboard after!"

Astoria was seething through her teeth now, nearly crumpling the book in her arms. 

"Of course," Adrian replied slickly. "Anything for you, Daffodil."