Snake hair: tempered tournament (Draco x F!Reader) (book 4)

Interview

The first thing I did the next morning was search for Draco. I ran through the halls, searching for my bleach-headed boyfriend. I found him in a hall near the Slytherin dungeons. I tapped him on the shoulder and the first thing he did when he saw me was pulling me into a hug. 

"(Y/N), oh my Merlin! How is this possible?" He asked. "I have no idea." I mumbled into his shoulder. He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. "It was like you knew it was coming." He exclaimed. I gave him a confused look. "When we were watching people putting their name into the Goblet, you asked if I would be mad if you got framed." 

I thought back to that moment and chuckled. "Yeah, it was like I felt it coming." I looked down to the ground. "I don't want this." I muttered, just loud enough for Draco to hear. "I know, but we can't do anything about it." He stated. 

Professor Snape appeared behind Draco. "Mrs. Hydra, journalists  from the Daily Prophet are waiting for you." I mentally groaned and followed Snape.

He lead me inside a room and inside were Cedric, Fleur and Victor. Behind them was a man with a gigantic camera in his hands and besides him was a woman with horrible bleached hair. She wore a sating green jacket and a grass green skirt that was way to tight for her. 

Harry appeared behind me and we walked towards the other champions. We got put into a position for a picture. Me and Fleur were in wooden chairs and the three boys behind us.

The camera man took a picture and the woman stepped forward. "Hello, I'm Reta Skeeter." She gave all of us a hand. "I write for the Daily Prophet. But of course you know that, don't you? It's you we don't know. You're the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?" She caressed Fleur's cheek. "What secrets lie underneath those dangerous eyes?"  She grabbed my cheek and pinched it. "What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath those curls?" She ran a hand through Cedric's hair. "In short, what makes a champion tick?  Me, Myself & I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. So who's feeling up to sharing?" Nobody answered. "Shall we start with the youngest? Lovely."

 She pulled me out of my chair and she pushed me into a broom cupboard. "This is cozy." She exclaimed. "This is a broom cupboard." I stated. "Don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?" I just shook my head. 

"So tell me, (Y/N). Here you sit, a mere girl of 13...." 

"I'm fourteen." I corrected.

 "About to compete against four other students not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself, but who have mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizzies daydreams. Concerned?" She asked.

"Honestly, yes. Yes I'm. But I'm not concerned about winning, I'm concerned about dying." I answered. I looked at the green quill that was writing everything down. 

"Just ignore the quill. Then, of course, you're no ordinary girl of 13, are you?" 

"Fourteen." I corrected again.

"You're story is legend. Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you so keen on entering such a dangerous tournament? Or is it to win over the heart of your boyfriend, once and for all? He is, after all, a Malfoy and the Slytherin Prince." I was taken aback by the question.

"I didn't enter. Both me and Harry were set up. And on the other hand, it would be the opposite way, him trying to win me over once and for all."

"Of course you didn't enter. And of course you didn't want to win over your boyfriend to stay with you. Everyone loves a rebel, (Y/N). Scratch that last." The quill obeyed and scratched the last part that was written on the notebook.