Little Bird

Chapter Sixteen

Eve

            Friday's practice went nearly the same as Thursday's, except this time Malfoy got us to work on our passing and shooting instead of just scrimmaging the whole time. I worked just as hard as I had the last time, wanting—no, needing to show the other Slytherins that I wasn't just some quiet girl that got put into the wrong House.

            After the rest of the team had left the field late Friday night, Malfoy came over to me and asked me if I was going to be okay tomorrow.

            "Yeah," I said, meaning to keep my voice steady but not being able to hide the nervousness. "I'll be fine. Why?"

            "I don't know," Malfoy replied, his voice turning defensive. "You've probably never played in front of that big of a crowd before. You look like someone who gets freaked out easily."

            "Thanks," I said dryly, even though it was true. "I think I'll be okay."

            The sun disappeared behind the stadium then, drowning us in milky grey twilight. I glared at him through the dusky lighting, annoyed that he was looking at me as though he was unsure I was going to be able to keep it together tomorrow. Did he really think I was that much of a baby?

            Ignoring the tiny voice in the back of my mind that whispered, "Maybe you are", I tucked the borrowed broom under my arm as Malfoy said, "Well, just make sure you get changed before lunch. Meet us at the pitch when you're done."

            "Okay," I replied, tugging at the end of my braid nervously as I tried to think of what to say. There was an awkward moment of silence where I considered thanking him for asking me to play, but then I remembered what happened the last time I had thanked him and decided against it. He would just say something to make me regret it.

            "Well," Malfoy said uncomfortably. "See you tomorrow, I guess."

            "Yeah," I said, equally as awkward. "Bye."

            And then I turned away from him to head back up to the girls locker room, wishing I had the guts to ask him why he had gone to me of all people when he could have easily asked Crabbe, or even Goyle. It wasn't exactly a secret that he hated me, and I couldn't deny that I felt the same way towards him.

            You were his only option, I reminded myself as I entered the empty locker room, tossing my bag onto the nearest bench. And I only agreed so I could prove to Blaise that I'm okay.

            I just hoped I wouldn't regret all this after the match tomorrow.

~*~

            About an hour before the match began, my nerves got the best of me and I vomited in the dormitory bathroom.

            Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and flushing the toilet, I stood shakily and stumbled to the sink so I could brush my teeth. I spat into the porcelain bowl and cupped one hand under the running tap water, bending forward to rinse the acidic taste from my mouth.

            I'd never been this nervous over a Quidditch match before. 

            What if I was so shaky and freaked out that I played terribly? What if I made a stupid mistake and fell off my broom in front of all those people? What if Slytherin lost and everyone blamed me?

            I rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyes, hissing under my breath, "Get it together."

            And then I put my hands on the counter and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my pale skin, my glossy eyes, my swollen lips. I stared at my reflected image and told myself it was just another match.