REQUIREMENTS | DRACO MALFOY

7 | The Triwizard Tournament

Y/N

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"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME," Hermione hissed, storming into the Great Hall.

On the morning of the third day back, neither of us expected to face the girl's wrath so early. It wasn't directed towards us, thankfully, but Harry, Ron, and I followed in pursuit, our noses burning as we filtered to our spot in the benches.

Students scattered about the hall were all delved into their conversations, some toppling over with laughter, and some already fighting over who would sit where, but the loud sounds of the crowd wasn't what was angering Hermione.

It was this:

As soon as we took a step into the crowded section of the school, the smell of Hot Chocolate and Chestnut perfume was clinging to every available space of breathable air, stinking up the entire lower level of the school with the pungent smell.

And that is why Hermione was mad.

"Word must have gotten out about what Malfoy smelled in the Amortentia potion last morning," Hermione scoffed, plopping herself down onto her bench, "now everyone seems to have gotten ahold on that perfume."

The tip of her nose was pink, presumably from the fact that she had been ranting for 15 minutes straight, and her curly hair was tangled up at the bottom.

"Hermione, it's quite alright," I said, sliding in next to her, "it's only perfume."

"I paid 12 sickles for that bottle!" She scowled, her eyes narrowed at a stain on the table, "It was meant for you, and now every single lovesick student has gotten their greedy hands on it!"

Harry and Ron, who had rounded the way to the bench across from us, sat down in obvious confusion—they weren't in potions with us.

"You said Draco was the one who liked this smell?" Harry said, scratching the bottom of his chin inquisitively, "and all of these people care about what Malfoy likes?"

Harry posed a great point.

"It's only cause' they want in on his family fortune," Ron remarked in disgust, staring at his empty plate in anticipation, "pureblood wealth or something."

I frowned, "that's shallow."

"I know...a load of rubbish, innit?"

Although Hermione seemed too annoyed to go further, the lack of attention she was getting from the red-head in front of her was a breaking point. She glanced at me in hopelessness, and then back at Ron, who was staring into the rim of his plate like it was a ceramic mirror.

"Ron will you stop staring at your plate," Hermione frowned in subtle jealousy, snatching it away harshly, "breakfast wont start until Dumbledore makes his announcement."

The boy complained, "what announcement?"

Before anyone could respond, a thunderous noise came from the front of the hall, snatching everyone's attention away.

Dumbledore had his arms outstretched in front of him, his silver robes dragging across the stairs as he walked to the podium. A square gold cap sat upon his greying hair, and he cleared his throat, silencing the crowd of students.

"Now we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement," the Headmaster boasted, "This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts has been chosen...

Before he could finish his sentence, Filch threw open the hall's doors, running up the aisle with hastened urgency.

Harry leaned over the table, a smirk on his face, "five quid he trips."

"Five quid you shut your mouth and pay attention," I grinned back, turning back towards the front, "something important is obviously happening if Filch is required to run."

Harry stifled a laugh, but turned to watch Filch cease his conversation with Dumbledore. Apparently there was something rather stressful about the announcement.

Albus cleared his throat and continued:

"So Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Triwizard Tournament," he said, sweeping his arm towards the table rows, "now for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests."

This time Hermione was the one to interrupt.

"Three schools?" She scoffed, "they better not have brought Ilvermorny here, I heard their Thunderbolts are worse than our Slytherins."

I pursed my lips, "I don't think they'd bring a school that far away..."

"I suppose we'll have to see."

"Should I be scared?"

The girl shrugged, pursing her lips as Dumbledore finally neared the end of his speech. His speeches were always so dramatic, anyways.

"For now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic," he introduced, waving his hands to open the door, "and their headmistress Madame Maxime."

On cue, a handful of girls dressed in blue dressed waltzed through the door, meringue hats adorning their perfectly curled hair. Dang, they were a gorgeous group.

They passed by our table, stopping to exhale flirtatiously at the boys next to Hermione and I. Harry almost spit out his drink, so I rolled my eyes and covered his eyes with my hands.

He snorted, "jealous, [y/n]?"

"Only if you give me a reason to be," I shot back playfully, removing my hand and ruffling it through his hair, "watch where you step, Potter."

From there, Durmstrang was introduced, leading their high master Igor Karkaroff down the aisle. They scared the hell out of me, stomping their sticks in my face like Gandalf the Grey in the Lord of The Rings (yes, the shire is real. Don't ask anymore questions).

The Great Hall was swallowed into a thrill of celebration, everyone chattering and cheering for the guests that were just introduced. Harry and Ron began to dig into their feasts, Hermione began to mutter complaints under her breath, and I turned towards the door in interest.

I expected to see Filch and his cat, a few students filing in, or a late Durmstrang student, but instead I saw someone else.

A flash of platinum blond hair dipped through the crowd, rushing towards the door with haste. The green robe, scowl, and rude shoving of people he passed made it evidently clear that it was Draco.

But then I noticed something else.

A glint of the firelight brought my attention to a small glass vial tucked neatly into the palm of the boy's hand, pressed to his side as if he didn't want anyone to see. Vials were common in a school of Wizardry, but the pink liquid inside was not.

Only one potion could make such a vibrant color:

Amortentia.