WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

38.

I open and close my mouth, looking between Malfoy and Montague. Montague cocks his head and I in no mind will disobey him because God knows what he's capable of.

I gulp and fly towards the center, arching an eyebrow at Malfoy. "You comin' or what?"

Malfoy groans and complies. I raise my hand; locking it into his, I give it a firm shake and nod. He does the same. I totally did not notice the way his muscles moved in his tight beige jumper are how messy his hair is or the veins in his arms. Nope, I saw none of that.

The clouds darken threateningly as the wind gains some frostiness.

"Rules only apply during Quidditch," he smirks. His skin looks ghost grey in the lack of light.

I raise my hand in a salute, "roger that."

The rest of the group cheers as we are finally dismissed. Me and Adira walk up to the changing rooms sluggishly, doing everything else even more slowly. Today's training was by far the most painful.

"It's raining," says Adira. I stop for a moment and hear the pitter patter of falling droplets grow heavier and faster by the minute. "And you're wearing a crop hoodie," she points at my bare stomach. I gulp and untangle and dry my hair as Adira admits Andreas and Warrington into the changing room.

"The Girls' changing room is so much cleaner man," Andreas looks around. "Woah, what's that? A crop hoodie, Celestia? In this weather?" Thunder rumbles in the distance as the wind howls against the stands.

"Yeah, bet the rain's going to love it." I chuckle swinging my broom around my shoulders. I could literally bring this storm to an end. Or at least make it out without a drop on my skin. But I don't see them leaving me anytime soon and it would be most extraordinary if I was to do so. So, I decide to roll like normal folk and face the storm (well as normal as a wizard or witch can be.)

"I bet the rain isn't the only one who's going to love it," Warrington and Andreas share identical smirks. I scrunch my face up and click my fingers. The lights go out and we rush outside, wanting to get to the castle as soon as possible. I hold my broom with one hand and Adira's hand with the other. Water beats against my skin so forcefully I feel as if I'm in the flow of a river rather than in a downpour.

Lightning lights the sky in brilliant streaks. The grey fog embraces every tree, every square centimeter of the ground. And we stand, finally out of reach of the mighty storm, panting and weighed down by our soaked clothes.

Warrington swishes his wand and dries us all, well almost. My wand is in my dorm, since they are strictly not allowed on the Quidditch pitch during practice.

I pat my damp jumper shivering slightly and thank him.

"You might want to go and get changed," Warrington says rubbing his neck.

"Woah, no you don't honey," Andreas coughs, "you're going to miss dinner."

"And get a cold," points out Adira, running a hand through her hair, "we live in the dungeons. You do know how cold it is right?"

"Point taken," Warrington shrugs. "We better hurry. Don't want my carrot cakes to be over."

"You like carrot cakes?" I ask, walking briskly with the rest of them. My stomach feels cold, really cold.

"Oh, I'd die for it," Warrington muses.

"So," Andreas huffs, "are we ready for our great entrance?" I stand in front of the closed doors of the Great hall and am transported back to the last time I did so.

"And draw all eyes to us?" Adira moves back, raising her hands. "No thank you, I'd rather go to the kitchens and have the elves give me -"

Andreas grabs her, "you're not going anywhere." Adira grunts rolling her eyes.