Escape (A Marauder's Era Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

“I beat that fucker’s ass and he knows it!” I laughed with my friends, heading away from the pitch, brooms tucked under our arms, starting to pull the heavy quidditch gear off “Potter is just sexist, that’s why I won’t make the team…” I laughed but inside I was gutted, I really wanted to be on the team; I love playing quidditch and I thought myself a very good player, but I knew I wouldn’t beat both Sirius Black and sixth year Jayce Sinclair to become one of Gryffindor’s beaters. Especially not after I fell from my broom. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it.

Becky, one of my best friends added, “Either that or he’s bumming Black” I laughed it off and let the matter go. I didn’t want to get upset over something as trivial as quidditch when there are much worse things that I should be worrying about, particularly our OWLs this year. Anyway, I thought positively, you never know, I might even end up making the team! I grimaced to myself at the blind optimism, before speeding up and following my friends.

We stumbled into the changing rooms, I could tell I was much more tired and worn out than my friends, I knew they didn’t really care about getting on the team, not as much as me, and so they didn’t try as much as I did – plus, they didn’t fall off their broom. They all got changed faster than me. I was taking my time, still very dizzy from the high fall I took just a few minutes previous. I say fall, I was hit with a bludger that I’m sure was aimed to knock me off my broom, especially since practice had finished and I had turned my back…

“Hurry up, ass face” Becky said, standing by the door with her hand on her hip, exaggerating the fact that she was waiting for me. Becky was a muggle born, and I loved her for it. She came out with the most random things sometimes, lyrics to songs that either seem profound or absolutely ridiculous, quotes from films or books that don’t make sense. However, my absolute favourite are her insults, I'm pretty sure I don’t understand half of them but I use them anyway as they sound bizarre and make me laugh.

“Be patient, whore” I smirked and continued getting undressed, “Go, I’ll meet you in the common room, I’m going to get a shower and try to stop my head from spinning” I laughed slightly, less convincingly than I wanted to.

“You sure you’re ok?” Becky asked, her eyebrows furrowing together. That’s another thing I love about Becky, she is amazingly kind and thoughtful and caring – she’s the mother of our group. Well, some of the time she is, the rest she’s the partier and the drinker and the most outrageous of us all.

“I’m fine Bec, I’ll see you later” I smiled, she also knows when to drop a subject and not push, she knows the lines and when and when to not cross them.

“Ok bitch, see you soon” she blew me a fake kiss sarcastically, and made her way after the others back to the common room with a skip in her step. Crazy that girl is.

I carefully stripped off the remainder of my kit and stood in front of the mirror in my underwear, harshly analyzing my body. As I had expected there was a large bruise forming around my ribs, carefully I prodded them, wincing, knowing from experience what a broken rib feels like.  Definitely one, maybe two broken. Sighing, I turned to grab my towel to take to the shower and saw him behind me. The person who has tormented me for as long as I can remember. The person who charmed the bludger to knock me off my broom.

My cousin, Lucius Malfoy.  

Grabbing my towel and attempting to cover my slim frame but failing miserably, I practically screamed at him but new better and lowered my voice, “What are you doing here?” and finally fixed the towel in place, tucked under my arm around my body.

“I’m very concerned about my beloved cousin, you took a nasty fall and landed horribly” He smirked and came towards me. “Broken ribs if my guess is correct” He slowly came forward and gently placed his hand on my waist where the broken ribs were. I stood still where I was, knowing from experience that I would have to let him finish before I could get away, otherwise it would be worse.

He pulled the towel from around me and looked at the bruise, prodding it as I had done previously, however with much less care. I held back a wince, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he caused me pain as he said, “Two are broken”  with almost genuine concern.

“Don’t act all concerned for me Lucius, you cast the bloody hex!” I said, trying to stop myself from raising my voice. Looking up at him, anger raising in me at the sight of the sneer on his face.

“I am still concerned, can’t have you harmed severely,” I wanted to laugh cynically at his complete bullshit but stopped myself, letting him carry on what he was saying, knowing the punishment for interrupting him, “I only did it because I can’t have you playing quidditch, you’re a girl and a Malfoy girl at that. You should have more class and respect for yourself. Even though you were sorted into Gryffindor, you are still above all of these traitors”

However hard I tried to keep the anger under control, it didn’t last long “You seem to forget, Lucius” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “My dear Malfoy parents are dead, and yours have practically disowned me”

“And you seem to be forgetting that you are still living in our household, so you still are a Malfoy, even if you refuse to name yourself by it, taking your pathetic nobody of a mother’s maiden name. You are a Malfoy by blood anyway, putting you higher than all of these blood-traitors, especially that mudblood you call a best friend!”

“Those traitors” I air quoted anger radiating from my body and through my words “are my friends and I would put them higher than any of your kind any day” I backed up, starting to regret what I said, but the anger was still bubbling inside me, ‘How dare he call Becky a mudblood?’ I continued “Now get the fuck out of the girls’ changing room you pervert” I had barely aired my last word when he slapped me across the face and pushed me back.

“You will learn to speak to me better than that,” his words reflected his body, towering over me and threatening me. His hands enclosed around my neck and through that he pinned me to the lockers behind me. He held his face close to mine and whispered “or I will make you”

I started to struggle as breathing became harder but he held me there for a few seconds longer, purposely leaning on my broken ribs, looking me up and down suggestively, insinuating the worst and deepening this threat. Finally, with one last push into the lockers he left as suddenly as he came.

I barely breathed never mind moved for a long time after his depart before I collapsed to the floor, yet again harming my ribs, curling into a ball and crying myself to a sleep plagued with nightmares of my horrible cousin.