Huffily Puffily || Golden Trio

Kindness Kills? Nah. || xii

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The next day at breakfast, Lucy looked about as dead inside as she felt.

Dark, sunken bags hung below her eyes and her cheeks seemed hollow. She thought last night's adventure was splendid, but the young girl needed her beauty sleep. Without it, she looked like she'd been getting the life sucked out of her for a decade.

While she had fun, she still felt like she had a debt to settle. It wasn't that Malfoy had accidentally almost killed them, but he had set them up. It was the principle of the thing! 

With a cup of coffee in her hands, she headed over to the Slytherin table. She walked behind Malfoy and slapped him upside the head with a stolen copy of The Daily Prophet. She sat down beside him,  to the absolute horror of Pansy Parkinson. 

"You, Draco Malfoy, are a giant git," she grumbled.

"You, Lucille Rochester, are greatly gullible," Malfoy mimicked her tone earning an obnoxious laugh from Pansy. 

Lucy held up a hand, silencing her. "Parkinson, you're lovely but if I have to listen to that fake laugh so early in the morning, Snape will have to call the Aurors on me."

For once, Pansy didn't have a retort, probably due to the fact that Lucy had called her lovely rather than insulting her. Kindness may not kill people, but it sure as hell worked to keep them quiet. 

Lucy turned back to face Malfoy. "Anyway, you're a giant git and that's all I wanted to tell you." With that, she flounced off the bench and went over to the Gryffindor table. Malfoy and the other Slytherins snickered after her, but she didn't care. She sat down beside Ron and noticed a parcel they were all staring at. She picked up the note and scanned it over; McGonagall had evidently taken it upon herself to purchase a broomstick for Harry.

"If she didn't want everyone knowing you had a broomstick then why would she send it to you in the Great Hall, and on top of that wrap it in a shape that is clearly a broomstick?" Lucy asked aloud. She thought it was a perfectly sound question but apparently, Ron and Harry wanted no part in her inquiries as Ron held up a hand to wave her off.

"Shhhh, don't question the broom-giver, just drink your coffee," Ron said, staring at the Nimbus Two Thousand in awe. "Come on, Harry, let's put it upstairs!"

They only made it part way through the entrance hall before Malfoy ambushed them. That's right, Malfoy literally had Crabbe and Goyle block the entrance, and he grabbed the package out of Harry's hands.

"Talk about stalkers," Lucy sighed and took a long drink of her coffee.

"That's a broomstick," Malfoy observed jealously, "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed to have them."

"It's not any old broomstick," Ron boasted, "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty? Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"Story of Malfoy's life right there," Lucy coughed, then looked around as though wondering who said that. Malfoy shot her a glare before turning back to Ron.

"What would you know about it anyway, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle! I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig," Malfoy shot back.

"Oooh, you're rich, how cool," Lucy said sarcastically. "Shove off, Malfoy." 

Ron was ready to strangle the Slytherin, but luckily for him, Professor Flitwick walked over, looking between the first years sternly. "Not arguing, I hope, boys?"

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy complained.

Flitwick smiled proudly. "Yes, yes, that's right! Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," Harry said smugly. He looked over at Malfoy with a mischievous grin. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."

With that, Lucy rolled her eyes and started walking away. She had never liked sports and probably never would— the only appealing part of Quidditch was the flying on a broomstick part, but unfortunately for her, the chances of ever having enough to money to pay for one were very slim. 

She thought of a promise she had made to Madam Hooch at flying lessons. She promised she would make the Hufflepuff team next year. At this thought, the girl groaned to herself. 

Hopefully, Madam Hooch would forgive her for breaking her word. She was not going to play Quidditch. Ever.

* * * * *

The days at Hogwarts passed by quickly, despite all the detention Snape was dishing out to her. It seemed that for every class she attended with him, she walked out with at least one detention, something that Lucy didn't mind in the slightest. All her detentions were transferred over to Madam Hooch— she suspected at the coach's request— and they were never unpleasant. 

"I don't suppose you're actually learning your lesson in these detentions, are you, girl?" Madam Hooch asked sharply as Lucy reported to her tenth detention in the span of two months. It was Halloween, but that didn't stop Snape from forcing her to miss the entire morning to polish the broomsticks. "I suppose I can't complain. Even these ancient broomsticks are beginning to look good as new."

Lucy would hope so, with the amount of effort she'd put into polishing them. 

"Well Snape hates me quite a lot, Ma'am, so I'd count on having Nimbus-performance brooms by the end of the year," Lucy grinned.

"Yes, maybe," Madam Hooch said dismissively, but the smirk pulling at her lips indicated that she didn't like Professor Snape very much either. "You might as well put that polish away. These brooms haven't been ridden in ages; there's no point in recoating them yet. What I've been meaning to do for a long time, however, is to test out which brooms are deemed unsafe. Of course, this is a dangerous task and out of good moral conscience... and legal matters... I cannot consent to a student testing them out." 

Lucy's eyes glittered. "You can't consent, ma'am? What sort of matters can't you consent to?"

"Well, I'm glad you asked." Madam Hooch pulled out a long crate filled with brooms, all tagged with different dates. "According to that manual there on the desk, all brooms can get up to a certain speed, and if they don't meet those requirements, they are sent in to get re-enchanted. Of course, I could never allow a first year to determine these tasks, especially while I am going to be busy chaperoning the decorations of the Great Hall. Can I trust you here, by yourself, without any supervision, to not do any of that?"

"Oh, absolutely, ma'am," Lucy nodded fiercely. "I would never dream of letting you down!"

Madam Hooch smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, girl. Very glad, indeed."

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