The Slytherin Princess | Draco Malfoy x Reader

Chapter 6: Angry Conversations

You and Draco get into a spat after Quidditch practice again. But the team captain has had quite enough of your arguing. 

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Classes the next day absolutely flew by for you, since Draco didn't say a word to you, and you were able to actually listen to the lecture.

Quidditch practice, however, was a slightly different story.

It seemed like all Draco was able to do was yell at you for everything you did, even though Arlie wasn't saying you were screwing up.

As the team landed after practice, you angrily threw your broom back into its bag, whirling around as Draco entered the tent.

"What the absolute fuck, Malfoy!?" you cried, surprising him and the other teammates still getting their things together to leave.

"What are you talking about?" he asked dismissively, his expression too cool for your liking.

"What do you mean what am I talking about?" you yelled. "Arlie was out there telling me what to do, but for whatever fucking reason, you think you have the authority to tell me everything Arlie told me to do is wrong?"

"Because you were doing everything wrong," he said passively, igniting a fury in you that you hadn't previously realized was possible to feel.

"You aren't the team captain!" you shouted. "You're not even the Seeker anymore! Maybe if you had listened to Arlie, you'd still be Seeker!"

Draco's eyes darkened, and he stepped closer to you. You refused to back down, only standing taller as he towered over you.

"And maybe if you weren't such a pretentious bitch who whines every time things don't go her way, you could've earned the spot with actual talent and not just badgering Arlie until he gave in to shut you the fuck up!"

You stepped back just a bit, tears stinging the back your eyes. You'd never cried at anything Draco had said to you before. Why was this time different?

The other teammates had long since left the tent, clearly eager to get away from whatever latest argument the two of you were about to have. Arlie entered the tent right as you pulled back your fist to hit Draco in the face, and Arlie ran up to grab your arms and pull them back before you had the chance to swing.

"Arlie, let go of me!" you shouted, but he only held you tighter.

"Until the two of you can figure out how to get along, you're both suspended from the team!" he shouted, and you went limp in his grasp.

He let go of you, and you stumbled to catch yourself before you fell over. "Arlie, no, please," you begged, but Arlie shook his head. "Y/N, I'm serious. This is getting way out of hand and we can't focus on actually playing Quidditch because you two can't even speak to each other without arguing or throwing insults or yelling."

Your mind flashed to the night before, when Draco had given you his robe to keep you warm and had held your hand to get the both of you in before curfew, and the stinging of your eyes only intensified.

"Don't kick us off," Draco cut in, his tone worried. "Quidditch is like, the only fun thing I have to do outside of classes."

Arlie sighed. "You two have one week. That's it. Understand? You have one week to prove to me that the two of you can get along. I don't care if you rip each other to shreds outside of practice and game time, but when it's time to get out on that field and play Quidditch, you two have to put your differences aside."

You nodded vigorously, opening your mouth to respond, but Arlie held his hand up.

"I'm serious. Anything beyond playful banter—and I mean playful—and both of you are gone. For the rest of the season."