Mischief Managed || Draco Malfoy

2. Mudblood

It's a few days later, in the chill September air, that Lydia sits alone in the courtyard. Most people are getting their names in to the cup in a last minute ditch to have their chance at being chosen for the tournament. The Weasley Twins had a slight mishap yesterday and, in her eyes, that was the funniest thing they've done by far that she has seen.

She leans her head back against the wall and rubs her eyes, sighing. "Finish your potions homework then go to dinner." She whispers to herself. It's going to be a long feast today, since the champions are being chosen.

"Talking to yourself, mudblood?" A bitter voice snaps.

Lydia sighs and looks up, smiling sweetly. "Malfoy, hello darling." She says sweetly. "What do I owe this pleasure?"

He rolls his eyes, glaring. "You think your funny, Bailey? You think you'll last against me?"

Lydia smiles still. "I don't Draco, no. But I'm the bigger person, so I won't be wasting my time on you like you seem to be doing with me. I just wonder, Draco, how I'm already in my third year and you've only just discovered me? It's no secret I'm a mudblood, everyone knows whos who in this school."

"You were never a problem before now. Now even the sight of you sickens me, knowing you're in the same room as me every day." He snaps.

Lydia rolls her eyes and closes her books, shoving them in her satchel. "Have fun with this game of yours Draco, because you're the only one playing it."

He grabs her bag as she tries to swiftly pass, tipping the books out. "Hey!" Lydia snaps, glaring. Just as she bends down to pick them up, they burst into flames and she backs up, gasping.

Draco smirks, slyly slipping his wand back. "Look what you did, mudblood."

"Hey! I saw that!" Hermione calls, rushing over. "You owe her new books!"

"Look at this, filthy mudbloods sticking up for one and other. Disgusting." He snaps.

Hermione flinched at the word, so Lydia takes her hand on the sly. "Leave it, Hermione, it's fine."

"Is there a problem here." A nasally voice demands.

Lydia looks up, her jaw clenched. "No, professor Snape, I just had a mishap with a spell. Draco helped me put it out." She lies calmly.

"Mm." He hums. "5 points from Gryffindor. 3 points to Slytherin. All of you, inside, now." He snaps, pointing to the doors to the great hall.

Lydia and Hermione rush ahead, holding hands still. "I'm sorry he called you that." Lydia whispers.

"It's okay." Hermione promises, squeezing her hand gently. "Sit with us today, please?"

Lydia gives a small smile and nods, sitting at the part of the table Harry and Co usually sit at. She stays quiet, close to Hermione, as they talk and eat. "I still have my copies of those books from last year, I'll get them to you this evening." Hermione promises.

Lydia blushes. "It's okay, honest. I'll write to my parents and ask for my allowance."

"No, don't be silly. You stood up for me - I owe you." Hermione smiles gently.

Lydia just smiles gently and nods, playing with her wand in her lap; it's beech wood, 11 1/4 inch in length with a unicorn hair core, very flexible and trusty. It's old, sure, and has many scratches and divots from her brothers using it as an arrow, but it's hers. They soon learned not to when they almost set the attic alight.

Lydia is pulled from her thoughts as Dumbledore calls the ruckus in the great hall to a silence, every single person in the room ready to hear who gets the 'honour' of partaking in the tournament. Honour is not a word Lydia or Hermione would use, that's for sure.