Wot In The Harri Potter?

19 - The Mistake

I am on cloud nine.

"Damn it, Harri," Draco says sharply when I once again shrug my shoulders at his query about whether I've solved the egg yet or not. "You have less than a month to go!"

The truth is, the Triwizard Tournament has been the last thing on my mind. An entire month has passed by since the night of the Yule Ball, - a month full of sneaky kisses in the corridors and long walks in the grounds. It is safe to say that Fred and I are well and truly an item.

"Chill, Draco," I mutter, my stomach doing somersaults as Fred winks at me from across the Great Hall. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

I am so unbothered, that I can see it infuriates Draco so.

I lazily spread marmite on my toast, already looking forward to the evening when Fred and I have planned to go for a fly on our broomsticks. Although I am sure not much flying will actually be achieved.

"This could be a matter of life and death!" Draco hisses, banging the end of his fork down on the table.

I glance up at him, startled. "Draco," I say calmly. "Stop being so dramatic, I'll be fine. You saw me during the first task didn't you? I literally outsmarted a fire breathing dragon."

"Not that I usually agree with Draco," Blaise drawls as he lazily stirs sugar into his teacup, "but I did overhear Cedric saying something about this task being even more challenging than the last."

"What?" I say sharply, giving Blaise my full attention. "How would he know?"

"Probably because instead of spending his every free moment mooning over some guy, he worked out the fucking clue!" Draco snaps.

Merlin, ever since the Yule Ball, Draco has been a right grumpy bitch.

Whenever he talks to me it is to ask about the sodding egg. Even Pansy can't stand to be around him, always hurrying away with excuses every time he walks into a room. I can't say I blame her.

"Well," Blaise continues lifting his teacup to his lips, "he did say taking a bath helped. Perhaps you should try that?"

"A bath?" I blink. "But we don't have baths here, only showers."

"Actually," drawls Graham Montague, a Slytherin in the year above us. "We do. Special Prefect privileges you see." He points to the shiny little 'P' pinned to his chest.

"Lucky twats," I mutter, pouring myself some pumpkin juice.

Graham's lip curls. "I was actually going to offer to give you the password, but seeing as you just called me a twat-"

"Wait!" Draco interrupts, "she didn't mean it. Harri, apologise."

My mouth falls open as I stare at Draco. "Excuse me? Don't tell me to apologise!"

"Oh, fine," he snaps, a deep scowl etched on his face. "Just go out there and die then. Why would I care? I'm just your best friend after all. Not that you'd know it lately owing to the fact that you'd rather stick your tongue down a Weasleys gob than hang out with us anymore."

Before I can say anything, Draco scrapes back his chair and leaves, not once looking back as he storms away.

Blaise and I exchange a look, both of us raising an eyebrow.

"Should I go after him?" I ask.

"Might be a good idea, yeah." Blaise smirks as he rips a large bite out of his toast with pearly white teeth.

Grabbing my bag, I hurry away after Draco.

I find him back in the common room slumped on the sofa by the fireplace.