Huffily Puffily || Golden Trio

They're All Lying || lviii

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"What do you mean, we're playing Gryffindor instead?!"

Max rounded on Cedric menacingly; she needn't raise her fists in order to make the young Quidditch captain back away, holding us hands up in defense— as if he had any chance of fighting Maxine O'Flaherty. She was not the only one upset by this news; Lucy had stayed up late with Anthony talking in the common room, and they were both feeling the effects of having hardly slept.

"It's not my fault!" Cedric defended himself. He barely managed to duck out of Max's way when she stepped toward him. He ran around the back of the couch and hid. He was trying his best not to look like he was cowering, but it was sort of hard to appear confident when he had his hands on the back of the couch, ready to push it toward Max as a diversion. "Edward's just sent me a note this morning! Malfoy's wrist is too injured to play!"

"That's rubbish," Heidi scoffed. She was the least temperamental out of them all, but even she was very annoyed at this turn of events. "That was ages ago! It's obvious why they're doing it— they're too big of cowards to play in this weather."

Lucy and Anthony shared a long, painful glance. Their long night was evidenced by the candy wrappers and newly decorated Common Room Tree, along with the pillows thrown around the room. Wordlessly, Daisy walked over and passed them each a mug of coffee.

"I can't believe Eddie would— thanks, Daisy— ever go for something like this," Anthony frowned. He brought the mug of coffee up to his lips and took a sip. His eyes lit up. "You remembered the cream!"

"Of course I remembered the cream," Daisy snorted. "Six years and you still need more cream than coffee."

"I am who I am," he said, shrugging. He couched and placed his mug down and then pointed an accusing finger at Herbert. "Explain your man's actions at ONCE!"

Herbert was not fully awake either. He rubbed his glasses with the hem of his shirt. "It's not his fault," he said wearily, "Malfoy and the rest of the team got a note directly from Madam Pomfrey. If Ed made him play anyway, and they lost, then Malfoy's father would've thrown a fit."

"This is exactly the type of shit Flint would have pulled," Maxine grumbled. She sank into the couch, resigned that they had to play Gryffindor, but certainly not happy about it.

Lucy, who had so far been pretending that there weren't two recently filled vacancies on the Slytherin team, quickly busied herself by taking a long drink of her coffee. She felt an unpleasant twist in the pit of her stomach.

Anthony's grip around the mug tightened, and he gave a strained sort of smile. "Yeah, well, good thing he's dead."

"Really, Anthony?" Cedric sighed. He found it distasteful to speak of the dead disrespectfully, but Anthony didn't feel the same.

He looked around at Cedric. He wasn't smiling anymore. "If Tommy hadn't done it, then I would have," he said darkly.

Everyone in the room quieted. Lucy leaned back into the couch, trying to keep her face blank. She really wished everyone would pretend that night didn't happen. She already talked about it loads of times. That meant it wasn't supposed to bother her anymore. Talking about it meant it didn't happen. And it didn't. Didn't happen. Didn't bother her. Either one was fine.

Her opinions on the three Slytherins were very conflicted, and they changed day to day. Sometimes, she hated them. Wished she could have killed them herself all over again. They made her hate the color red, hate that empty classroom down the Charms corridor. As if what they'd done wasn't unforgivable enough, they had to piss off Tom. They had to make him spiral out of control. If it wasn't for them, Tom would have never lost his temper, and everything would be fine, and he'd be alive, and they could have been friends forever. Right? ...Right?