someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

022

artemis had not spoken to draco in nearly seven days.

though, she didn't care all too much. it was not as if artemis hadn't lived through fourteen years without draco malfoy before she'd met him. it had been just shy of six months that she'd known him. it didn't matter that their friendship had crumbled like the delicate petals of a flower under the heat of flame. the only person (from the group of slytherins) that artemis still talked to comfortably was blaise. all theodore and pansy (artemis was not fond of the idea of making conversation with crabbe and goyle) had tried around her presence was to attempt convincing her to apologise. she wouldn't, she told them. not when draco had been the one in the wrong, in the midst of their dispute. unlike them, blaise had preferred to ignore the issue; sliding effortlessly between artemis and the slytherins as a mediator. he was not willing to play owl—not that artemis had tried, but he had outright told her so. fine by me, she'd replied.

despite what he had seemed like at first, blaise zabini had an amiable heart. as the two of them spent an increasing amount of time alone with one another, it became evident that blaise was simply a character who listened to others, rather than someone who expected others to listen to what spilled from his lips. he spoke almost poetically—with carefully chosen words that made artemis feel as if she were missing out. as if blaise was someone who experienced the world like no other person did. still; artemis preferred the company of cyrille. blaise understood, often smiling softly in farewell when the girl approached artemis, leaving to do... merlin knew what. artemis never thought to ask.

it was the twenty-third of november; the night prior to a much-awaited event. the day of the first task seemed to have crept upon hogwarts and its guests like a tsunami. though no one possessed knowledge of what nature the task would take, it was the most-present topic of discussion within the students—both beauxbatons and hogwarts.

"maybe the champions will have to battle one of professor hagrid's ugly monsters!" artemis heard once, as she passed by a group of third year boys with scarlet-crested robes. beside her, cyrille let a snort escape her full lips; and soon the both of them were guffawing at the ridiculousness of it all. really, who in their right mind sent three adolescents into a dangerous game in which many others had dies before?

"einar—frenchie!" a voice hollered from behind the two of them. as artemis turned to look, a weirded expression present amongst her features sobering her laughs, she saw hadie knight skimming across the ground with broad strides. with a start, artemis realised the tall brunette had in her hands one of cyrille's many rings. "you left this at the great hall," hadie said, once her long legs had carried her to them in record time.

"ah, merci," cyrille said—her tone somewhat sharp, eyes refusing to look upwards to meet the other girl's. once the ring had been slid onto its respective finger, hadie bade artemis farewell ("see you 'round einar.") and made her way back towards the castle; the scarce white sunlight hitting her bush of hair in such a way that made her appear fleetingly golden.

.

only on the day of the first task did the three schools discover the decision

of the headmasters and ministry officials: at a mere fourteen years of age, harry potter would not be allowed to participate in the triwizard tournament. it seemed everyone had assumed that, because being chosen as a champion was a contract bound by magic, potter would not be excused from the year-long competition. yet, they'd come to this decision—supposedly (though one could never fully trust the rapidly-passing gossip of teenagers) dumbledore had only just managed to find a way to unbind potter from such a magical contract. but he'd managed, nonetheless. perhaps the only group of people upset by the decision was gryffindor house—who had been looking forward to having a champion belonging to their own house. draco had raised his eyebrows and scowled brilliantly upon hearing such reasoning. he was not, however, surprised in the least—the gryffindors always wanted to be the hero, always wanted to be the one to claim any glory whatsoever. despicable, it was.