Little Bird

Chapter Twenty-Three

Eve

            When I woke up that Saturday morning, I could hear the downpour of the rain even from my dormitory underneath the castle. I rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes hard and wondering how badly it was storming out. Then I remembered I would be playing in the Quidditch match at noon, and my heart sank. Playing in the rain was never good; it made it way too easy to slide off the broomstick.

            I changed quickly, keeping quiet because Millicent was still sleeping—and it was never good if you woke her up before she was ready. I dressed warmly and put my hair into a long braid, knowing that it would be windy even if the rain stopped by the time the match started.

            When I finally made my way into the common room, Draco was talking rapidly with Flint by the fireplace. I started over to them slowly, unsure if I should put myself into their conversation or just leave the room.

            "Malfoy, you're being ridiculous," Flint said exasperatedly as I got closer. "It isn't even storming that badly—"

            "Are you blind? It's horrible out there, you're the one who's being stupid," Malfoy retorted. "Just tell Hooch to call it off, no one wants to play in this—"

            He broke off when he finally saw me, and even I could see how annoyed he was. Draco gave me a tired smile before continuing to Flint, "I don't understand why you won't just cancel the match. I know you hate playing weather like this, mate."

            "Yeah, but I'll do it anyway," Flint snapped, looking at Draco as though he had gone mad. "This isn't the first time there's been a storm during a match, I don't get it. Just suck it up, come on. We're having the match, end of story."

            "Fine," Draco seethed, grabbing my arm and turning for the exit. I glanced over my shoulder as he hurried me out of the common room, seeing Flint looking between the two of us curiously.

            When we exited the portrait entrance, Draco let go of my arm and started for the stairs, leaving me to hurry after him. "What was that about?" I asked, having to jog every few seconds just to keep up with his long strides.

            "I'm trying to get Flint to call off the match," Draco sighed angrily, running one hand through his hair. "It's shit weather outside, but he's being a dick and won't listen to me."

            "But I don't understand," I began carefully. "People play Quidditch when the weather's bad all the time."

            "Yeah, and I usually don't care," Draco said, keeping his gaze fixed ahead as he stalked down the hallway towards the Great Hall. "It's different this time. Fuck, I don't get why he won't just—"

            "Why is it different this time?" I interrupted blankly, but I knew what it was when he pressed his mouth into a thin line and didn't say anything. "Wait, this isn't because I'm playing, is it?"

            When Draco still didn't say anything, I grabbed his arm and forced him to stop walking. I made him finally face me and said, "Draco, you know I've played in the rain before, right?"

            He rolled his eyes, saying, "I know you have. But it's storming really bad, and I don't want you to—"

            "I'll be fine," I told him firmly, crossing my arms as he finally made eye contact with me. "It's not like this is my first match. I do know what I'm doing, you know."