Bittersweet [Hogwarts Fanfiction]

"How in the Hells did you even get this?" I asked in outrage. I wanted to touch it, but I hesitated, my fingers lingering just above the scar.

Just a few seconds ago, Jamieson Lancaster lifted his long dark hair that always hung over his left eye, revealing the scorching scar marks left by a vicious fire right at the corner of his eyebrow. It was shapeless like a blotch of paint, crimson red at the center, and its edges blended with his otherwise clear skin. His eyebrow hair was burned off in that area, and it seemed unable to grow back over the boiled-looking scar.

Now, not only did I finally understand why Jamieson Lancaster always covered part of his face with his hair, I knew exactly why he was so desperate for a burn-healing potion. I finally got the answer to my internal inquisitions regarding that boy — well, most of them, anyway.

"I can't tell you that," he said, carefully placing his hair back over his eye to hide his scar.

"It looks quite painful — are you sure it doesn't hurt?" I asked with uncertainty.

"Well, it was painful, but not anymore."

"Oh, right, er, dittany," I suddenly remembered. "As I said earlier, it has great healing properties just by itself. But... I don't exactly have any..."

"Well, where can we find it?" He had a look of urgency on his face.

"Madam Pomfrey's cupboard?" I offered with the tone of a question.

"I told you. I need something much more powerful than what she has to offer."

"I bet you haven't even tried any of her stuff. Why don't you go ask her for help?" It did seem a little odd to me that Lancaster had asked a thirteen-year-old girl to craft a healing potion for him. I mean, I was pretty amazing at potions, I reckoned, but I still had loads to learn.

"I can't," Jamieson Lancaster, the King of being vague, said.

"Why?"

"I could get in serious trouble if I did — and I'd have to tell her how I got it, and then, there'd be this whole ordeal..." he explained quickly, shaking his head. "Look, I'd rather just avoid all of that."

"And what about your parents? Are they aware...?"

"No. Same issue."

"Lord, help me," I mumbled to myself. I sounded exactly like my mum, but seriously, I should've known this lad was trouble.

"So, what now?" he said.

"Well," I glanced to the side innocently. "I was possibly thinking of perhaps, er..."

"What is it?"

"Well," I licked my lips. "Of stealing the dittany when Madam Pomfrey is not there... Maybe in the middle of the night."

"Perfect, I'm prefect, I don't care." I'm not sure why that is, but I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"You're prefect? But I've never even seen you with the badge on," I huffed in disbelief.

"Well, you haven't seen me that often," he noted. I supposed that could be true, but still.

"Right, so are you telling me that as prefect, you will allow me to wander the corridors at night?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckled and nodded, pressing his lip against each other. "Alright, so what if I go tonight?"

He shrugged and said, "Fine by me."

"Meeting adjourned, I suppose," I said, and I began to walk towards the door, but Lancaster stepped in front of me.

"Remember, you swore you wouldn't tell anyone," he kindly reminded, looking intently into my eyes. I gave him a long and understanding nod and moved away.

I had my hand on the door handle, but before I could turn it, something suddenly came to mind, and I turned to face Lancaster again.

"So... can I call you Jamieson from now on?" I asked with my eyebrows raised. It felt ridiculous to ask, and I doubted that he saw me as anything more than a mere useful acquaintance.

"No one calls me Jamieson, except for, well... nobody, really," he said. "And don't call me Jamie again," he added, obviously referencing how I had unwittingly addressed him earlier.

"So, may I call you... James?" I tried.

"Sure, if you really want to. But don't expect me to call you... Maeva or whatever." Wow. Did he seriously not know my name?

"Actually, that's my mother's name. I'm Maeve," I corrected, trying not to sound too salty about it.

"Right, well, I'll stick to Blackwood," he decided, nodding with certainty.

"Okay, er, I'll go now... James," I said, sheepishly pointing at the door behind me whilst my other hand turned the handle.

"Well, I'm not staying here," he said.

Without another word, I opened the door and stepped out. James — it felt so strange to refer to him as James instead of Lancaster — followed suit. I thought we would go our separate ways, but before we could walk any further, Draco Malfoy stopped strutting like a peacock in the hallway and peered at us with curiosity.

"What were you two doing in there?" he asked accusingly as a sneer crept on his face.

I said, "Studying," whilst James said, "None of your business."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at us, lifted his chin up dubiously, and said, "Right." And he strutted off. I rolled my eyes at him, although he couldn't see me with his back turned.

"I don't fancy him," I found myself saying suddenly to James.

"I didn't ask," he said simply.

"I mean, we aren't even friends anymore. And he reckons we're enemies now — which is honestly so ridiculous. I don't understand why we can't just be classmates."

"You didn't need to explain yourself," he said, perhaps irritated with me by now. I bit my bottom lip uncomfortably, feeling that I barely had any rational control over my tongue sometimes.

"I dunno — I just — I don't want you to think that I—"

"I honestly couldn't care less about a thirteen-year-old's love life... or lack thereof." And with that, he went off.

His dark hair bounced a little as he headed to the boys' dorms. As always, he walked with such poise and confidence, but not in a pretentious or stuck-up manner like Malfoy does; it was humble and careful. Like there was a well-mannered sense of casualty to his stroll.

So, what if he didn't care about my love life? I mean, I wasn't trying to say anything about my love life. It was just that... so many people assumed Malfoy was my boyfriend or that he used to be in the past. And all of that was so far from the truth. I just wanted to clear up any doubts.

Ugh, why did I care that James didn't care? I mean, it was ridiculous even to mention it. He probably thought I was so childish. Maybe I was like an annoying little sister to him. Merlin, why did I care?

Whatever, I decided to skip my obligations for tonight and do it tomorrow. I was too tired to be thinking straight tonight, anyway. Stealing some dittany essence wasn't doable when one was tired and irrational.

The following day was quidditch tryouts. I rolled out of bed at around 6:30 in the morning and sluggishly put on my quidditch gear. I was never a part of the quidditch team before, but I did have a go-to athletic attire. Once that was done, I skidded to the Great Hall, avoiding speaking to anyone. I kept my breakfast short and sweet and simply ate some marmalade on toast. I wanted to avoid feeling queasy or sick during tryouts by eating too much.

Honestly, I was unsure that Flint would accept me as a seeker. Flint seemed to go for build rather than skill, and I felt that this year, he would keep this tryout short and go with whoever was taller and strongest. Last year, I wanted to try out for seeker, but Royal Princess Malfoy had Daddy pay for his acceptance.

The fact that I didn't even get the chance to show off my skills really had set me off back then... And I may or may not have gotten into a one-sided fistfight with Malfoy. That happened way before I officially unfriended him, too. I supposed Malfoy always had ticked me off, only I never really saw it that way before because I considered him a friend. And whatever trivial fights we had would get resolved very quickly, if not by us, by our mothers, or by Aiden through natural obligation and due to the incessant demands of our mothers.

Well, regardless, this open position was for a reserve seeker. I didn't understand how Flint didn't even bother trying to get a reserve seeker last year, too, in case Malfoy got injured. But no, the blond pratt actually had to get hurt for Flint to look for reserve seekers. Didn't this bloke realize the whole point of a reserve seeker? Ugh. I hoped he wouldn't repeat his year again, so we could get Adrianne Pucey as captain next year. She was the most skilled player on the team, and she had been chaser since her second year. Surely, Snape would see the many reasons to appoint her.

I arrived on the quidditch pitch fifteen minutes before eight o'clock with my Nimbus 1700. Flint wasn't even there yet, but Malfoy was, and he was sneering at the small group of Slytherin Students there for tryouts. He was wearing his quidditch uniform, and his arm was still bandaged. I supposed he wasn't too keen on the idea of being replaced. But seeing as we had our first quidditch game in a month or so, it was better to be safe than sorry. I was impressed with Flint for having this tryout so early. I would expect someone like him to do this sort of thing at the last minute.

"Where's Flint?" I asked Malfoy, although I would have preferred to ignore him. He seemed a bit too pleased to see me.

"Ah, I see you're trying out for my position, Blackwood," he remarked. "Well, too bad for you; I'm the one who's choosing my replacement seeker."

Ah. That made

a lot more sense. I thought it was weird that Flint would organize something like this. He was merely acting as the messenger whilst Malfoy would lead the tryout.

"So, Flint isn't coming?" I asked, ignoring the fact that he basically told me he was going to be biased and not pick me on purpose.

"Of course he is," Malfoy said. "It's not eight yet."

"I do hope you pick your reserve seeker solely on their skills," I added.

"Scared you won't make the cut?" he teased, scoffing with amusement. "Should have thought of that before blacklisting me."

"Blacklisting you?" I repeated in disbelief. "I did no such thing. I told you I'm not trying to be your enemy. I just — I would much rather we stayed mere acquaintances."

"Alright, folks! Gather 'round!" a voice boomed nearby before Malfoy could spit back a response. Marcus Flint had arrived at the quidditch pitch, wearing his full Slytherin quidditch gear and holding a quaffle tightly in his hand. Another Slytherin quidditch student, whom I recognized as Graham Montague, Slytherin chaser, also in full quidditch gear, was standing behind Flint.

The Slytherins around us congregated around Flint. There were roughly half a dozen students; some were second-years, and others were much older. Malfoy nudged me forward, looming behind me as we all looked at the quidditch captain and awaited his explanations. "Right, well, Malfoy's picking the seeker. As for me, I'm just here to practice with Montague. Don't bother me. Bother Malfoy."

And with that, Marcus Flint climbed onto his Nimbus 2001 and flew up into the air, Montague following suit. Flint ignored the confused look on people's faces as he went on to do what he said he would; practice playing. You'd think a quidditch captain would be involved with the member-picking for his own quidditch team, but apparently not with this quidditch captain, or I supposed with this specific tryout.

"You heard him. I'm the one leading tryouts today," Malfoy announced proudly, now holding his Nimbus 2001 in his non-bandaged hand. "Before you all came here, I released the golden snitch into the air. The rules are fairly simple. You find the snitch, and you get the spot on the team."

Without listening to any more of Malfoy's explanations or waiting for his cue, the Slytherin students around me hastily climbed onto their brooms and zoomed into the air. Malfoy was unfazed by that and flew up into the air too, his good hand holding onto his broom whilst his other hand lay immobile in its sling.

Feeling slightly dazed, I placed my Nimbus 1700 between my legs and darted upwards. I was glad I had tied my big curly hair into a messy bun before coming here. My broom wasn't as fast as Malfoy's, but I flew slightly faster than the other students who were less fortunate than me with their Comet 260s and Cleansweep sixes. One second-year student even had what looked like a Bluebottle, which everyone knew was more of a safe, family-friendly travel broom than a speedy and impressive quidditch broom.

I wasn't entirely daft in the sense that I didn't know how to catch a snitch (unlike Mr. I-Ask-Daddy-To-Buy-Everyone-A-Nimbus-2001-So-That-I-Can-Get-A-Spot-On-The-Team-Without-Having-Any-Actual-Talent), but I did feel a little awkward and clueless as I haphazardly flew around the quidditch pitch. No tiny flying golden ball in sight — not that they were so easy to see.

I thought I saw something whiz past me for a moment there, so I rapidly spun my broom around, hoping to find a snitch, but oddly enough, it was just a ball-shaped bird buzzing around peacefully. I heard someone laughing above me. Malfoy was snickering.

"Well, if you mistake birds for snitches, Blackwood—"

And at that moment, I felt like the universe loved the living hell out of me. The golden snitch was flying right next to Malfoy's ear — a reoccurring theme, apparently — Without listening to any more of Malfoy's taunting, I zoomed toward him with my fist lifted up.

"What the—?" Malfoy looked like he thought I was going to punch him (just as I hoped he'd think), but instead of hitting his face (as much as I would have loved to do that), I opened up my hand and snatched the snitch. Its wings kept buzzing on either side of my grasp as I exclaimed a scream of excitement.

"I CAUGHT THE SNITCH!" I squealed happily, laughing.

"BLACKWOOD!" Malfoy barked furiously. I stopped flying forward, spinning my broom around as I heard him flying towards me.

"I know. I'm pretty amazing, aren't I?" I said tauntingly, beaming. Malfoy's face was contorted into a nasty glare.

"You cheated!" he said madly. I raised an eyebrow at him, keeping my cool.

"No, Malfoy, not everything revolves around cheating when you don't get what you want. Now, admit it. I won the spot fair and square."

"Who caught the snitch?" Flint had stopped throwing the quaffle into hoops and had flown over towards Malfoy and me. Montague ignored the whole thing and kept practicing on his own instead. "That was quick."

"I did it," I said, waving the snitch around. Flint smirked in satisfaction.

"Perfect, welcome to the team, Blackwood."

"NO," Malfoy interjected. "She cheated. So, we're doing a re-match."

"Oh, I did not cheat. You're just intimidated by the idea of having a girl who's more skilled than you on the team," I said, rolling my eyes. Malfoy looked indignant.

"Hey, I'm not against having a girl on the team — especially in the changing rooms," Flint added, snickering. I frowned in disgust.

"Ew — what?"

"Re-match, everyone!" Malfoy announced suddenly. "NO cheating this time!"

"WHO CHEATED?!" someone bellowed from across the quidditch pitch.

"BLACKWOOD!" Malfoy yelled back.

"WE SHOULDN'T LET HER TRY OUT AGAIN! IT'S NOT FAIR FOR THE REST OF US!" the boy yelled back. I wondered why he didn't just fly over here instead of screaming his lungs out, but then I recalled the types of brooms that the other students had.

"Well, that's an excellent idea," Malfoy said calmly, raising an eyebrow at me with satisfaction.

"No! I did not cheat!" I insisted hotly. "Flint! Listen, you're the captain. You decide."

"Well, I dunno, I don't think I want a cheater in my team..." he said, a hand on his chin, seemingly thinking. This was absolutely ridiculous. As much as they hated to admit it, Slytherins always cheated in quidditch matches. I did not endorse cheating at all, but ironically, I might be refrained from making the team for that sort of behaviour — which I obviously did not partake in.

"Well then, look at my broom! I've got a much better broom model than all the other contestants — and Malfoy only thought I cheated because I'm so good — and besides, even if I did cheat, that does lead to winning, doesn't it? And you don't want people calling you sexist or racist for not letting me on the team, right?" I was grasping for excuses and felt immensely pathetic for it.

"Enough said," Flint said, his face indicating that he had made a decision. I sighed, expecting a shunning of some kind. "Everyone!" he called out. The other Slytherins had reached us by that point and were awaiting instructions. "Blackwood is our new seeker. You may all leave now!"

I couldn't believe my ears. And apparently, so couldn't Malfoy. He looked like he was holding something large and bulbous in his mouth as his eyes lit with flames. I was beaming.

I never expected to make the team so quickly. I didn't know what time it was, but I reckoned it was probably still eight o'clock. I had the whole day ahead of me, and I was the freaking new reserve seeker!

I mean, sure, it was just reserve. But c'mon! No one could replace Malfoy because he had money and Daddy on his side, but I did earn this spot. And maybe, if I could impress everyone else on the quidditch team — and I was sure Adrianne would side with me on this if she became captain next year (and I was pretty sure she would be captain) — everyone could vote to have Malfoy and me switch spots. I could de-throne Malfoy next year! Besides, Malfoy was still injured, which meant that, for now, I was playing as a seeker in our next match.

For obvious reasons, I was particularly cheerful when I skipped through the hallway on my way to the Slytherin common room. I didn't have any plans for the day, so I was hoping to spend the day relaxing on one of those couches near the large window that peered into the Great Lake. Hopefully, I would find Daphne or Tracey, and we'd chat as the giant squid swam around the darkness of the water and the little fishies darted away from it in unnecessary fear.

I didn't see Daphne or Tracey anywhere, but I did find my brother, Aiden, seated with his closest friends, Adrianne Pucey and Miles Bletchley. They were occupying one of those tables in the corner of the common that was often used for studying — I never understood how people could study here instead of in those study rooms. I mean, yes, Slytherins didn't tend to be loud and annoying, but there were so many people just wandering in and out of here, so anything could be cause for distraction — their books sprawled open and their quills dipped in ink bottles, but they were chatting instead of working.

"Hey," I said, marching towards them. All three of them casually waved and nodded at me.

"Hey, you seem cheerful," Adrianne pointed out with unspoken curiosity.

"Yeah — I just got reserve seeker," I informed them all. Aiden didn't seem to care, but Miles and Adri smiled brightly.

"Oi, that's great! You're on the team with us!" Miles raised his hand up for a high five, and I slapped his hand, laughing.

"Yeah, Flint wanted us to use today for quidditch practice, but we had O.W.L.s to review. I still suppose most people came, though?" Adrianne said.

"Just Malfoy and Montague," I said, shrugging.

"Really?" she seemed surprised. "Not even Derrick? Or Bole? They're just sixth years — oh, well, nevermind. I suppose they might have advanced classes of some sort to deal with."

"Well, I'll leave you all to your reviewing," I said. "Er — good luck with all of that."

We waved goodbye to each other, and I walked over to some empty couches by the large window. Just as I had installed myself happily, taking a gander out the window in hopes of seeing the giant squid — not there, yet — I remembered something I had to do. I still had to steal that Essence of Dittany from Madam Pomfrey.

Well, alright, but that was tonight. For now, I wanted to spend this merry day alone, not worrying or thinking about anything else.