After the quidditch game, all anyone could think about were the exams. All anyone could do before the first week of June approached was cram cram cram. I didn't even have time to work on my potions anymore because there was so much to study for. I was totally unprepared for the amount of studying I had to do this year as last year I didn't have to take Arithmancy and Care for Magical Creatures on top of my other course load.
When the first week of exams finally hit, it was as if there was a zombie virus plaguing the student body. Everyone was too busy to do anything other than study (last minute, for some). The typical glee and joy that you would encounter in the hallways were overtaken by a depressing silence. The library was also always packed now, so I avoided studying there if I could, and instead, spent a lot more time in my dorm room with my roommates.
It was nice.
Pansy would be on her bed, laying on her front, her feet kicking her pillows behind her. Tracey would often join Daphne on her bed, the two crowded a textbook even though they had their own copies. Millicent would sit back on the pillows of her bed, her notebook open as she scribbled mysterious words upon its pages. I, if not joining Daphne and Tracey on Daphne's bed, would often sit by myself on my own bed, flipping through all my textbooks at once as I tried to study multiple subjects at a time.
Occasionally, we would practice some spellwork all together (except for Millicent who seemingly never studied but rather wrote in her notebook a lot), and it would be a lot of fun, most of the time. Never had I felt so close with my fellow Slytherin girls. Sure, Daphne and Tracey were already my closest friends, but somehow, Millicent and Pansy had infiltred my inner circle of friends.
It was nice — except for the part where we actually had to study, memorize information, practice spells, and try to pass our exams.
Our last evaluations were on the Monday of the second week of exams. Which, as I was informed rather against my will by Malfoy, was the day Buckbeak (Hagrid's hippogriff who slashed Malfoy) would be executed.
It was a horrid way to end my exam day, I knew that, but I felt like maybe I could say goodbye to Buckbeak before his untimely death. I wasn't close to the hippogriff (or even to Hagrid), but after hearing so many updates about Buckbeak's trial at the ministry from Hermione, it felt like the right thing to do.
"Where are you headed?" Wyatt asked as I marched towards the back of the castle. He was previously laying on a patch of grass under a tree in the courtyard, but upon seeing me, he had gotten up and followed me.
"I'm attending a funeral," I said.
"Oh. Who died?" he asked curiously with zero hint of concern in his voice.
"Buckbeak the hippogriff. He's not technically dead yet. But he's getting executed soon."
"Can I come too? I have never seen a hippogriff get butchered before — I wonder how many feathers would start flying around — do you think they'll let me keep the head? It's not like they'll be using it."
"Wyatt, that's not—"
But I halted. We had already reached the start of the paths that led to Hagrid's Hut, but there were people there.
The first people I noticed were Harry and Ron, standing behind as Hermione ran forward, her wand in hand, aiming for — Draco Malfoy. He was there with Theodore Nott (of all people) and Vincent Crabbe right by the stone hedges.
Ron yelled something about it not being worth it. But then, it happened in a flash. Hermione punched Malfoy square in the jaw with force so strong, he actually stumbled back.
I was so shocked I couldn't even move or say anything. Malfoy grumbled something about his father before storming off with his cronies towards — me.
Oh.
"You two better not tell anyone about this—" Malfoy was saying to Nott and Crabbe, until he realized I was there.
"Blackwood—" he nearly stammered, his face turning pink. Then his eyes landed on a very amused Wyatt who didn't even bother to stifle his laughter. Malfoy's face contorted in fury as he began to say, "What are you laughing at—?"
But Wyatt toughened up really quickly, crossing his arms at Malfoy who cleared his throat uncomfortably. Wyatt was taller and visibly stronger than Malfoy.
The blonde git cowered. He grunted something incoherent as he scampered away with his mates tailing after him.
Now, that was beautiful. I wanted to personally congratulate Hermione on her victorious defeat of Malfoy, but when I looked back at where she and her friends were just seconds ago, they were gone. From a distance, I could see them rushing down the stone steps of the hill, heading to Hagrid's Hut.
"D'you reckon the execution will be just as entertaining as that scene we just witnessed?" Wyatt asked.
"Wyatt, there is nothing entertaining about the fate of that hippogriff. It's a brutal and cruel punishment."
"Well, what's so special about it, then, if you care so much?"
"Well... I met that hippogriff during one of my lessons in Care of Magical Creatures, and I just happen not to be fond of it dying, so I want to say my goodbyes."
"Aren't you happy, though, that you could use its remains as potion ingredients—?"
"Wyatt!" I scolded immediately. "That's foul! I would never do that!"
"But aren't hippogriff feathers hard to come by?" he reasoned.
"Well, we don't have to kill them to get their feathers. Those fall off naturally with time," I said, nearly exasperated with him.
"Can't hurt not to let it go to waste. Maybe the half-giant man will let you if you ask kindly."
"You mean, Professor Hagrid?"
"That's his name? Dunno. Never had him."
"Really? You're not taking Care for Magical Creatures?" I asked, surprised. I was always told it was the most popular complimentary course.
"I'm taking Divination and Muggle Studies."
"Muggle Studies?"
"What? I was told it was easy, so I took it."
"Don't you have Amirah for that, anyway? Why take the class?"
"I didn't know who she was until this year," he said, which should've been obvious but that detail had slipped my mind. "But thanks to her, I think I passed my OWL for that course."
"Oh, blimey. I forgot you fifth-years had to deal with that."
"It's Hell."
"So I've heard. How are the others fairing? I haven't spoken to the gang in a while."
"Well, Isaiah has been cooped up at the library for three weeks now. James refuses to leave the dormroom except for meals. And Elijah... Well, he hasn't appeared to care about studying recently."
"Elijah seems like the type of bloke not to study."
"No. I'm the type of bloke not to study."
"You both could be the type," I clarified.
"True. But I think Elijah's actually been busy snogging this girl he met at your ball."
"Ew. I don't want to hear anything about that. Let's change the subject — Oh, look, isn't that Dumbledore?"
"Wicked! The executioner is there!" Wyatt enthused. He began approaching the stone hedges at the top of the hill, gazing down at the pumpkin patch where the men were gathering next to Hagrid's Hut.
'The Minister's there too!" I pointed out. "Oh, they're going in the house, now."
"We should get closer."
I grabbed Wyatt's sleeve before he could move any more forward.
"Wait," I said, feeling my body getting sick. "I don't want to witness this — I just wanted to say my goodbyes to Buckbeak but you just kept talking to me and I got distracted—"
"Maeve, please, you would have found another way to distract yourself. Now, let's go."
"No!" I pleaded as he grabbed my wrist. He didn't pull or anything, but instead left this hand hanging over mine as he peered at me curiously. "I really don't want to see him die. We're too late, now. They're going to walk out the house any minute now."
"Just close your eyes, then — I don't want to go alone!"
"What?"
"Just close your eyes, but let's get closer."
Without thinking, I followed him down the steps. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were now climbing up the steps, but they didn't show any indication of having noticed us. My eyes were definitely not closed.
"I'm going to be sick. I can't—"
Just then, the executioner, the Minister, Dumbledore, and Hagrid went out of the hut. Wyatt immediately placed his hands over my eyes as he stood behind me.
"We can't really see anything from here. I don't even see the hippogriff."
"Why are you blocking my eyes, then?" I asked, finding his hands to be cold over my eyes.
"Because you kept whining about not wanting to see anything, or something— Oh! He's lifting his scythe! Wait, I really don't see where he's aiming at. There are trees in the way—"
"Stop describing it to me, Wyatt. I do not want to imagine it either—"
But it was too late. I heard everything: the slicing, the thump, and even the crows flying away.
"I'm going to be sick," I declared, immediately turning my body away from the scene. Since Wyatt was holding my eyes with his hands, I found myself in his arms — which was kind of awkward.
Awkward for me, at least. Wyatt didn't even seem to notice and let his hands fall on my shoulders, staring right over my head. I wasn't very fond of my close proximity to him, however, so I pulled myself away from him in two steps, keeping my back turned to the scene.
Again, no reaction from him. He was too busy looking over at whatever the scene was.
"Weird," he said.
"Don't you dare describe the state of Buckbeak's body, right now," I said vehemently.
"No. I just find it weird that the hippogriff didn't even make a noise."
"Well, the poor baby was probably too terrified."
"Maybe."
Wyatt started walking down the stone steps. I tried grabbing his arm to stop him, but he moved too fast. Unwittingly, I trailed after him.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry appeared to have gone off somewhere unknown as I couldn't see them anymore. Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid had entered the hut, while the Minister and the executioner were already making their way up the stone steps.
I was afraid we'd get in trouble for being here, but when we walked past them, they didn't say a word to us. They just both looked utterly disappointed.
"I simply do not understand how it could have just flown away like this. Vanished—" the Minister was saying as we walked past them.
I gave Wyatt a curious look. He returned my gaze with an eyebrow raise. We then hurried down the stone steps as if our life depended on it.
Buckbeak was—
Not there. The only thing that stood out in the pumpkin patch was a large pumpkin that was split in half...
"Ha!" Wyatt exclaimed. "I knew something was odd! They didn't actually kill him."
"But... why? I thought it was today — I mean, clearly the execution date was today—"
"Guess he escaped, somehow," Wyatt said with a shrug. He stretched his arms out and yawned. "Anyway, I could really go for a nap."
"Huh," I hummed. "I guess that's it. Quite uneventful..."
"So, let's head back to the castle, then?" he proposed. I agreed, and we promptly headed back.
When we got back, the first thing I noticed in the Great Hall was the significantly less depressing mood of my classmates. Third-year students, who were now officially done with their exams before other years, were in high spirits. I didn't see the S4 at the table, but I did see Pansy Parkinson sitting with Daphne and Tracey.
"Come on," I said to Wyatt, urging him to follow me. When he realized that I was leading him to sit with my friends, he looked uncertain, so I added, "Oh, who cares? If you get along with me, you'll get along with them."
Which was technically untrue since Pansy, Daphne, Tracey, and I weren't that similar in terms of personality, but Wyatt didn't have to know that.
He reluctantly agreed and followed me to my friends. Daphne's eyes widened in surprise and excitement when she saw who was trailing behind me. Pansy looked overall unbothered, but I did notice a micro-hint of intrigue in her eyes.
"Hey," I said. "You all know, Wyatt, right?"
Everyone nodded, but Pansy narrowed her eyes.
"You asked me to dance with you at that party in January," she said.
Wyatt glanced at me for a split-second of chastisement before saying, "I did, yes."
"Interesting," she said, leaning back on her seat as she took in the sight of him. "You're more good-looking than I remember."
Wyatt's ears turned pink, and he gave me a what-the-fuck panicky look.
"Aha, Pansy. You're so sweet," I said, grabbing Wyatt's wrist before he could run away. Without warning, I pulled him down with me so we could sit in front of my friends.
Wyatt looked at the entrance of the Great Hall, as if hoping to find an excuse to leave.
"How do you think you did on your exams, Maeve?" Tracey asked randomly.
"Oh, uh, I'm sure I passed everything. I usually do," I said with a shrug.
I let go of Wyatt's wrist, thinking it was safe now, but the moment I did, he got up from his seat and mustered a "gotta go," before hurrying off to the Great Hall's exit.
I mentally face-palmed myself before turning back to my girls.
"Awww, I didn't know Wyatt Nye was the shy type," Daphne enthused.
"Aren't all the S4 shy? I mean, they're often huddled up together and not talking to anyone else," Tracey pointed out. I would agree with her for the most part, but Wyatt wasn't usually shy.
"That is until Maeve came along," Daphne said proudly.
"How did you befriend them, anyway?" Pansy asked.
"Oh, it's a funny story, really," Daphne began, and urged me with her eyes to explain it to everyone.
"Basically Wyatt discovered that I brewed potions on my free time and has been harassing me for potions ever since," I said, not finding the story to be that funny.
"Who knew being a potion-freak could make you so popular with boys?" Pansy hummed. I knew she didn't mean it as an insult, but being referred to as a "potion-freak" was not my definition of a compliment.
"Hah. I wouldn't say so," I said, a little perplexed. I wasn't popular with anyone by any means. Wyatt just happened to be a potions-addict.
"Is Wyatt single?" Pansy asked suddenly.
Daphne's jaw dropped, and Tracey's eyes widened in my direction. Pansy was totally crushing on Wyatt. All she had to do was get a closer look at him? Really?
"Yes," Daphne said before I could muster any kind of response. I knew that Wyatt crushing on Amirah was not considered dating, but I felt like if I said he was single, it would imply that he was "ready to mingle," which I knew he wasn't, unless the person-to-be-mingled-with was Amirah — and Pansy was definitely not Amirah.
"Good," she said simply.
"Are you—?" Daphne began.
"Just considering my options," Pansy replied innocently. "I have to go."
Then she left, and when she was fully gone and out of earshot, Daphne jumped in excitement.
"It's happening!" she squealed.
"She is totally falling for him," Tracey said with a grin forming on her face.
"She will be heartbroken when he rejects her—"
"Maeve! Be optimistic," Daphne scolded.
"But I told you guys, he likes someone else. It won't work."
"Look, when Pansy likes someone, you know she doesn't give up. She won't be heartbroken. If anything, she'll take it as a challenge."
"Uh, I don't know. Are we talking about the same Pansy?" I asked Daphne. "Pansy doesn't deal with rejection well."
"Oh, well — What matters anyway is that she gets away from Malfoy, right?"
"Right," I replied dubiously. Then, I suddenly remembered something really important. "OH MY GODS, HERMIONE PUNCHED MALFOY."
"What?" Daphne and Tracey said at the same time.
"I forgot to tell you guys, but just an hour ago, I witnessed the funniest scene in my life — Hermione Granger actually punched Draco Malfoy in the face, and he ran away with Nott and Crabbe like a coward, begging them not to tell anyone."
"Are you serious?" Tracey beamed.
"I am so serious, right now," I told them both, and they covered their mouths as they laughed.
In the midst of our giggling fit, Malfoy arrived at the Slytherin table, settling down further away from us. We tried to stifle our laughter, but it got worse when he glanced at us.
He frowned at me. My eyes widened, and I looked away from him, hiding my face in my sleeve. Merlin, I was bad at this. He definitely could tell that we were laughing at him.
"Well, I'm going to go before Malfoy kills me," I said, getting up from my seat.
Daphne's eyes darted to where Malfoy was seated, and she said, "stay safe out there."
I tried to not look at Malfoy on my way out, but it was hard not to, especially considering that he was staring right at me. Afraid that he would follow me, I ran out of the Great Hall.
When I finally reached the Slytherin dungeons, I slowed down and looked behind me. Coast was clear. I was safe. For now.
And who knew? Maybe Malfoy would not confront me, afterall. Maybe he could not, in fact, tell that me and the girls were laughing at him.
When I finally reached my dormitory, I realized that I could fully relax, now. Exams were finally over. I could actually focus on making potions.
Although... I would not have enough time to make something that took longer than a week since we were due to take the Hogwarts Express back to London in exactly nine days. Either way, I grabbed my ingredients book and rummaged through it for inspiration.
"You told them, didn't you?"
Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe of my dormitory. He did not have his typical smug look on his face. Rather, he had a mixture of emotions in his expression: disdain with a touch of shame and disappointment.
"Tell who what?" I asked innocently from my bed.
"You know what, Blackwood. You told them about it, didn't you? That's why you were all laughing," he said decidedly. His ears were pink, but he had a determined look on his face. He was clearly upset with me, but it looked like something was stopping him from actually killing me.
"Okay, well, maybe I did. Why do you care?"
Malfoy's contemptuous expression faltered slightly, but only for a split-second. He was...hurt.
He shook his head and said, "Why can't you just keep your mouth shut, Blackwood? Is your aim in life really to just incessantly embarass me?"
"You're telling me that you're... embarassed? About getting punched by a muggleborn or by a girl?"
He didn't find that funny. Malfoy rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
"I'm sorry," I said, raising my hands up in surrender. "You know, getting hit by a girl is not an insult to your manhood. Plently of girls can beat up guys — I could easily beat you in a fist fight, for instance."
He found that amusing. A smile tugged at his lips.
"No, you could not. We all know that men are stronger than women," he said as-matter-as-factly.
"You want to bet? Haven't I tackled you to the ground before? I bet I could do it again — easily," I added with a presumptious smirk.
"I don't hit women," he said simply.
"Gods, don't refer to me as a woman, that's just weird to hear. And aren't we still kids, anyway? I'm still a girl," I said.
"Well, you're on your way to becoming a woman. It counts," Malfoy said. Something about that statement made me feel like gagging. It made me feel very strange. I was just fourteen years old, therefore, I was still a girl, wasn't I?
"Whatever, Malfoy. You're just scared that I could beat you in a fist fight," I said, wishing to change the subject. I did not need to hear Malfoy refer to me as a woman ever again.
"You're welcomed to try," he said tauntingly.
"You sure? You seemed pretty embarassed about Hermione punching you. Don't want to be beat by two girls in one day, do you?"
"I'm not embarassed about it. I'm, well, I'm —"
"Embarassed?" I offered when he couldn't find another word.
"Shut it, Blackwood."
His ears turned pink, and I giggled. It was quite refreshing to be in the presence of a flustered Malfoy. Usually, when faced with anything embarassing, he would act all angry and mean. I didn't really know what changed. Maybe it was the new wisdom he gained from having turned fourteen not too long ago? Didn't make sense, but what else could it be?
"Oh, happy late birthday, by the way," I said, all of a sudden.
"So, you did remember," he said. He walked into my dormitory and approached my bed where I was sitting, legs over the edge.
"Well, yeah. I was just too busy with exams to think about it — I'm surprised you even remembered your own birthday what with all the studying we had to do," I said.
He laughed. "Good one, Blackwood."
I frowned. Why was he saying all that? Why was he acting all friendly, all of a sudden? Shouldn't he be upset with me because I made fun of him for getting punched by Hermione? Or was this his way of manipulating me into getting along with him so that I do not tell anyone else? What in the Hells was going on? Wasn't I supposed to hate him? He literally was the reason why Buckbeak got executed — well, was supposed to get executed. The hippogriff had escaped, somehow — but if Buckbeak hadn't escaped, he would be dead by now, and it would all have been Malfoy's fault. And yet, I was allowing him to sit on my bed next to me—
"What are you doing?" I asked, suddenly realizing that he was sitting on my bed.
He took off his shoes and lay back onto my pillow.
"Relaxing," he said. "Long day."
"Oh, you know that Buckbeak escaped, right?" I said suddenly.
"Who?"
He rested his head on my pillow, his arms crossed, and his eyes fluttering closed.
"The hippogriff you tried to get killed — hey, don't sleep on my bed."
His eyes snapped open.
"He escaped? The oaf's bloody chicken escaped?" he repeated in near outrage, although there was something about his tone of voice that gave off insincerity, but I couldn't tell why. "What in Salazar's name are you talking about, Blackwood?"
"He flew away, or something. So, he didn't get executed — which you should be grateful for because if he were, I would be so upset with you, right now."
"What? Maeve, the beast attacked me! It tried to kill me — we can't have it wander around like that."
"Admit it. You don't care for his execution as much as you father does," I said. His eyebrows raised at that, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It made too much sense. Of course, he was upset that the hippogriff striked him, but deep down, he knew that he had asked for it, (I mean, he bloody insulted the poor creature), and deep down, he knew that he was just going along with whatever his overprotective father was saying. Not to mention that his mother probably fussed over him about it. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that she was the one who insisted that her husband got the hippogriff executed.
"Well, of course, I care," he said, but he did not explain or elaborate. His eyes wandered around my room.
Something about this moment felt so familiar.
Back before we became "sworn enemies," we used to hangout like this all the time. Maybe not at Hogwarts as much as at home, but we'd lay on each other's beds and just talk about whatever we felt like talking about. I did miss those moments I used to spend with him, but a part of me felt like I was betraying all those Gryffindors I was friends with.
Maybe I could be friends with Malfoy again, just not publicly.
"What are you working on?" he asked, pointing at my lap with his chin. I looked down to see my ingredients book open, the one Isaiah and Amirah gave me for my birthday.
"Oh, I was just looking over some, er, ingredients..." I trailed off, my eyes narrowing as they landed on him. The last time Malfoy knew that I was brewing potions in secret, he told Snape, and I got into so much bloody trouble. I couldn't trust him again, could I? I mean, he already knew I had been trying to brew Felix Felicis recently and hadn't told anyone, so maybe he was trustworthy.
"I already know you've been brewing potions all year, Blackwood," he said, as if reading my mind. "You were bloody obvious about it too."
I laughed awkwardly. "Okay, well, what's stopping you from blackmailing me, this time?"
"I won't gain anything from it. Besides, I already told you, I don't seek to make you my enemy."
"Really?" I drawled dubiously.
"Yes, really. You're the one who's so set on making me hate you," he said with a sigh. I couldn't even deny it because it was true. I didn't know exactly where I stood anymore when it came to my relationship with Malfoy, but I did know this: I did not want to be enemies with him — although, I could never give up on teasing him whenever I could because that was just too much fun.
"You know, I've thought about it more, recently, and maybe you've noticed this too, but, uhm..." I braced myself for what I was going to admit. "I sort of miss being... friends with you."
He smirked.
"Of course you do. You can't get enough of me, can you?"
That's when I remembered we had this running gag where he thinks I fancy him and I think he fancies me. I felt my cheeks burn.
"I — Hey, look, I'm being serious," I said. He looked at me intently, as if hanging onto my every word. "I shouldn't have given you such a hard time, this year."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You fancy me," he said, as if it were obvious.
"No, Malfoy, I'm being serious."
"So am I."
"No, listen. I want to be friends with you, again..." I told him. He raised an eyebrow at me, as if waiting for the punchline. "But I don't want people to know."
He remained quiet, scrutinizing me.
"Is this some sort of love confession?" he suddenly said, smirking.
"No, Malfoy. I mean it in a friendship way."
He chuckled and started getting up from my bed, ignoring every word I was saying.
"I knew it, Blackwood. You have the hots for me."
"Malfoy, that's not what I said—"
"You know, I am flattered, but I can't say I feel the same way," he said. He then began making his way to the door, sniggering.
"Hey! You know what I meant!"
But he was gone, his snickers following him behind, and leaving me to mentally punch myself in the throat.