sweet talk ↯ draco malfoy

TEN

TEN | pissed in his cup

WRAPPING HER HOUSE scarf around her neck, Rosalie set off for the Quidditch pitch. Today's match was Slytherin, obviously, versus Ravenclaw.

Rosalie was excited, she'd never been to a Quidditch game before. Of course, she always heard her mother and father discussing the British team but they had never gotten around to going to a match.

Rosalie followed the masses down to the pitch, listening to the excited chatter that surrounded her as they walked. She was pleasantly surprised to see the amount of people that were going to the game - mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws though.

After finding a seat on the Slytherin side of the audience, Rosalie took the time to survey the place. Six large polls varying in size stood, three on the left and three in the right, with large rings on the top of each. In between the sets of polls stood the teams, seven players on each, with their broomsticks as they prepared for the match.

Rosalie was able to easily pick out Draco, his platinum blonde, almost white hair stood out like sore thumb.

She watched the players mount their brooms and before she knew it, the whistle had blown and they set off.

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Rosalie leaned up against a tree, watching the excitable Ravenclaw pass by, intoxicated over the win over Slytherin. She couldn't help but be a bit disappointed in the loss. From what she has heard, Slytherin hasn't been able to snag the Quidditch Cup in a few years.

Ever since Harry Potter had become the Seeker for Gryffindor.

If there was one thing that Rosalie could moderately tolerate about Harry, it was his uncanny Quidditch talents. His ability to play had nothing to with his past, he earned his place on the team and earned every opportunity regarding the game.

But that didn't mean she was happy that her house hadn't won the Cup recently, even if she wasn't at the school.

Rosalie was pulled from her thoughts when she spotted the familiar hair of a certain boy making his way up the path towards the castle.

When he neared her, Rosalie called out to him. "Good game, Draco."

"Are you following me or something?" Draco snaps, his grip tightening on his broom. "God - everywhere I turn, you're there!"

Rosalie furrows her brows at him. "How is it my fault that we not only are in the same house but have essentially all the same classes?"

"How is it my fault that you don't know when to shut up?" Draco says, glaring over his shoulder at the girl as they make their way to the school.

"Who pissed in your cup this morning?" Rosalie mutters, watching Draco's knuckles turn white as they grip his broom harder.

"Oh, I don't know!" Draco throws his free hand up in aggravation. "You, maybe!"

"Draco," Rosalie says, grabbing his arm to halt his quick steps. "You played great today - you got the snitch! Why are you acting like a prick?"

"But we didn't win," he yanks his arm out of her grip. "What the bloody hell does it matter if we didn't win?"

"Gryffindor couldn't beat Ravenclaw either," Rosalie points out, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And why does that have any relevance?" He asks, his eyes cold as he watches Rosalie.

"Gryffindor isn't better than Slytherin - Harry isn't better than you." Rosalie says, sighing at Draco's angry expression.

"Yeah and how is that supposed to make me feel any better?" Draco's voice is aspirated, his hand shoving through his sweaty hair. He's obviously in a foul mood from the match and Rosalie's words are doing nothing but aggravate him more.

"Don't you want to be better than them?" Rosalie asks, confused by Draco's sudden mood swings.

"Not everything has to do with Potter and his entourage! You're the most daft person I have ever met, Grimmett." Draco snarls before abruptly turning and stalking down the rest of the path, leaving a stunning Rosalie behind.

"Bloody hell," a voice from behind Rosalie says, causing her to jump around. The source of the sound coming from the unfortunate Ronald Weasley. "Who pissed in his cup this morning?"

"It seems like I did," Rosalie says, not feeling the usual distaste she did when she was around what some student refer to as the Golden Trio.

"He's always piss poor after Slytherin loses a match," Ron says, kicking his foot against the ground as he stands with his hands shoved into his pockets. "I wouldn't take it personally."

Sighing, the brunette looks up at the castle where Draco is who doubt inside, lurking the halls. She wondered if Draco had meant what he said about herself being "daft".

"Are you and Malfoy dating?" Ron asks, glancing around them to see that the sun has begun to set.

"No," Rosalie denies quickly, eyes falling into Ron. "Why?"

He shrugs, scratching the side of his head. "None of us understand how you can stand being within twenty feet of him. He's horrid."

"He's not that bad once you get to know him," she rolls her eyes. "But that's not any of your business, isn't it?"

"There's one person that's worse than Malfoy, though." Ron says, a look of disgust growing into his face as a smirk appears on Rosalie's.

"His father," they say simultaneously before laughing quietly.

"You know, Ron," Rosalie says, inching up the path. "You'd be better off if you didn't lurk in You-Know-Who's shadow."

Ron looks up at Rosalie in confusion and she quickly realizes her mistake. "Harry, I'm talking about Harry." She clarifies.

And with that, Rosalie turns away from the redhead to begin her way up to the school. The sun has set during their conversation and curfew would be lurking just around the corner.

"Rosalie!" Ron calls, picking his pace to meet her.

"What?" Rosalie asks, turning around to see him holding out a broom. She's about to ask what he was trying to do when she realizes that the broom in Ron's hand is Draco's.

With a small smile, Rosalie takes the broom. "Thanks, Ron." She says before turning back to the Weasley, making her way up the path to the castle.

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