𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 | Draco Malfoy

29: A Snake Chant

Chapter 29: A Snake Chant

Madeline was right. Something was definitely off.

It had been two full week since Hogsmeade, and nothing had changed with the Gryffindors. Madeline found herself spending less and less time with Fred and his friends at breakfast, partially because they were all involved with the upcoming Quidditch match versus Slytherin. In fact, the Slytherins too were on edge. They weren't stressed or panicked by any means - no, never in Slytherin - but tension felt high in shared classes, glares and glances thrown around more than answers.

Madeline hadn't realised how big of a deal the Quidditch match was. Even Snape had his clear biases (which shouldn't be a surprise, really), and insisted on booking out the Quidditch field for practice more often than not. Perhaps this was why tension was running high with the Gryffindors and Madeline; after all, she was totally responsible for her house masters decisions.

And it seemed that the Slytherin team themselves were no less subtle in their distaste for their opponents. Miles Bletchley had been rumoured (with fourteen eyewitnesses, mind you) to have jinxed Alicia Spinnet with a hair-thickening charm. Apparently, her eyebrows had grown to half the size of her face, something Madeline kind-of-maybe had wanted to see for herself.

Okay, so maybe Slytherin house was being a little mean with the run-up to the game. She'd seen Draco, on numerous occasions, pretend to be Ron Weasley dropping the quaffle in the middle of the game (something he made sure Ron had ample view of), and Pansy had taken to making snide remarks to Angelina and Harry at any given moment.

And this continued through the end of October, halloween passing with an unexcited blur. November arrived, cold as ice, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces, chapped lips and dry skin becoming Daphne's biggest enemy. The mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragon skin gloves in the corridors between lessons. Even Madeline found herself shivering more often than not.

The evening before the big match, with the Slytherin team fast asleep in their beds, the remaining Slytherins crowded tightly around the fireplace, layers of blankets and pillows surrounding them as Madeline and Daphne passed around hot chocolates.

"Do you think we'll win?" Evie Sterling asked, knees tucked to her chest as she sipped on her hot chocolate.

"No doubt about it!" a short first-year boy boasted, grinning from ear to ear, "Draco and his team are the best. No questions asked."

"I wish I had that confidence," Tracy Davis sighed, leaning back into the sofa.

"Pansy made us all badges," Daphne held up a brown cardboard box, shaking it slightly, "I don't know what they have on them, but we are required by royal decree to wear them, apparently."

"I just can't wait for this to be all over," Madeline sighed, taking a seat next to Theo, who was cocooned in a nest of fluffy green blankets, "I've barely seen Fred in weeks. It's like Angelina is running practice every night, or something."

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows, "Wait, are you sure about that? You're not exaggerating or anything?"

"Yes?" Madeline asked in confusion.

"Because Snape booked out the Quidditch pitch almost every night last week. The Gryffindors had to practice in the mornings, and even then they only got half the time we got," Daphne explained, eyebrows drawn tight.

Madeline frowned. So he hadn't been as busy as he'd said. But then - was Fred avoiding her again?

"I can't think about what that means right now," Madeline shook her head, "Nope. Not now. Tomorrow, after the game."