Know-It All

After the events of the Quidditch World Cup, Draco didn't know how he would return to Hogwarts unnerved. The Malfoy and Prewett tents happened to be in this same section so he kept seeing Maeve around the campgrounds but couldn’t work the courage to talk to her. He wasn’t even sure how’d he managed to avoid her so far. Actually, the reality was that Draco would duck behind his father like a child any time he saw the Prewett’s trademark red hair. The Prewetts were close friends with the Fudge family but Draco didn’t really understand their role in the Ministry. It didn’t matter. Maeve chose to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione instead of the luxury box. Draco felt extremely out of place in the box with his family and the other old Ministry members. He loathed the endless laughter from the group below him. It only got worse when he heard about what the Death Eaters had done to the event, but his father had whisked him back to the manor before everything unfolded. He wanted to warn Maeve in some capacity, he was formulating how’d he tip her off without revealing what his father had planned, but had to settle for the relief when he saw her in one piece on the Hogwarts Express.

Even worse, this year Hogwarts was hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Draco was worried about the high visibility and the increased pressure from his family. On such a smaller note, Draco suspected that Harry and Maeve were a little closer than just friends. Harry had his arm draped around her during the entire Quidditch game and was constantly whispering in her ear. Never mind that Harry also had his arm around Ron. Merlin, this was such a small issue compared to what was really at large.

To make it worse, the new Durmstrang boys were infatuated with Maeve. One of them had poached Draco’s unofficial assigned seat in Charms, a spot that he had sitting in for four years now. He spotted another Durmstrang boy plainly flirting with Maeve in the Great Hall by playing with her hair and asking about its “fiery” color. On the bright side, if there were to be one, both Draco and Maeve had been chosen as preliminary prefects and a new protocol was in place from the headmaster that a rotation of prefects from different houses were to walk the nightshift of prefect patrol. For the next week, Draco and Maeve were partnered for the nightly patrol to add extra eyes and ears during the craze of the Tournament.

The first night was mostly the two of them walking around in silence, except for the occasional grumble about the Triwizard Tournament from Maeve. She was spending entirely too much time with Hermione. He decided he could use this time to talk to Maeve without any pestering from his friends. Unfortunately, Pansy and Maeve have been also getting closer after landing detention together for a mishap in Potions that neither of them explained to him. His prefect counterpart had taken a new liking to tease Draco who let it slip during a game involving Veritaserum that he thought Maeve was the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.

“So… what do you think about Potter’s name getting pulled from the Goblet of Fire?” Draco asked as they rounded a corner in the dungeons.

“Hm? Oh, I think it’s rather cruel to make him participate. I can’t believe the Ministry won’t do anything. I even asked my father,” Maeve shrugged, taking the lead up the stairs.

“He deserves it doesn’t he? Chosen one gets chosen,” Draco retorted with a chuckle. Maeve shot him a look of disapproval.

“Like I said, cruel. He could die, you know,” Maeve sighed and pulled out a lip balm to reapply. The sound of her lips smacking reverberated off the silence of the hallways and rang in Draco’s head.

“Worried about your boyfriend, huh?” Draco jabbed, looking for some intel about the relationship.

“Harry is not my boyfriend,” Maeve smacked Draco in the arm, then folded hers in defense.

“Oh? That’s not what it looked like at the World Cup,” Draco slipped, biting his lip when he realized what he just said.

“World Cup? Were you watching us from the luxury box?” Maeve teased back. “I didn’t want to sit in some stuffy box with my father’s friends. Even though Harry was mansplaining parts of the game to me, I know it was more fun than that box. We’re just friends.”

“Good. You have questionable taste in men. Pucey, Potter… Who’s next? McLaggen?” Draco puffed, earning an exaggerated retch from Maeve that made him chuckle.

“I told you, I like good Quidditch players,” Maeve joked, stretching out a big yawn. Draco checked and say that their shift was about to end and the professors would be here soon to relieve them. “I don’t know… Viktor Krum goes to Hogwarts now…”

“Ha, maybe you aren’t so different from your cousin,” Draco opened the door to the outdoor bridge after they made sure that the Ravenclaw tower was clear of students. Maeve paused outside, leaning over the bridge to take a dramatic deep breath of the cool autumn air. Maeve undid her signature bun, letting her hair fall loosely around her face. Draco stood dumbfounded at her beauty and how free she looked in the moment. He liked the moments he got to see her hair out of that blasted pin that glued her hair to her head.

“Thanks for the break. You ready to go to bed? I hate the night shift. I don’t know why they make the prefects do it. We're not even prefects yet!” Maeve rubbed her face.

“It’s whatever. You’re not terrible company,” Draco shrugged, wondering if his compliment landed. He felt his heartbeat pick up and immediately regretted it when Maeve fell silent.

“Hm, I guess you’re not that bad either. There’s worse people to be stuck with,” Maeve squeezed Draco’s arm, making him choke on his nervous gulp. “Oh, right. Sorry, I’ll stop grabbing you as much. Bad habit.”

“No big deal. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it,” Draco stepped aside by habit, getting another apology from Maeve. “Ah, don’t get sensitive about it.”

The two met Professor Snape at the Grand Staircase and he hurriedly dismissed them to bed. Maeve started heading back to the Ravenclaw tower when she stopped to call Draco’s name, stopping him in his tracks.

“Good night, Draco!”

---

Draco loved the way Maeve said his name. He felt like he was floating all the way back to his room, which caused him to almost miss the last step into the common room. To his dismay, some fifth years were up late sipping on mugs as the fireplace started to die. They definitely saw him stumble into the common room with a slight smile on his face. The conversation and laughter ceased when Draco let his curiosity get the better of him and he never felt more vulnerable.

“What are you smiling about, Draco?” Pansy raised an eyebrow, setting her mug down.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be brooding?” Theodore laughed, causing Draco’s face to scrunch into a scowl. Theodore patted the empty couch cushion next to him. “Ah, there he is. Sit down with us.”

“Okay, not for too long. Prefect patrol kicked my ass,” Draco took Nott’s offer and slinked into the seat beside him. Draco looked over to Pansy’s cup to see what the group was drinking and unfortunately, it was just tea.

“Prefect patrol with Maeve?” Pansy pressed while a chorus of “oohs” and giggles joined after. “You’re welcome for that, by the way. I have to spend the next week with Anthony Goldstein because of you, loverboy.”

“Maeve Prewett? Not bad, Malfoy,” Nott patted him on the shoulder with a laugh. Draco couldn’t hide his embarrassment or the burning in his cheeks that was starting to make his head hurt. He had no play here. If he protested that would only make things worse.

“Old news. Malfoy’s been obsessed with her since the Sorting Ceremony,” Crabbe quipped and Draco stood up, having enough.

“Alright, if I’m just here to power the rumor mill I’m going to bed,” Draco waved. He ignored the protests from the group and started to make his way towards the boys dormitories when Nott piped up with a retort that made Draco’s blood boil. At this point he was sure he was going to have a heart attack.

“Good thing Malfoy’s out of the game. I’ve been trying to get with Maeve ever since Sprout put us at the same potting station,” Nott laughed, but Draco chose to ignore it. His fists were still balled up so tightly that when he got back to his room, he realized that his fingernails had left imprints in his palms. He needed solitude after a long day and decided to write in his journal before going to bed. Draco sat down at his desk and dug for his notebook, opening it with a mutter of a spell. This was his best kept secret.

The journal was a way for Draco to compartmentalize his thoughts out of his mind. He wrote down any thoughts he didn’t want floating around in his head and hoped that penning his thoughts would allow for a clearer mind. Unfortunately, the journal was just filled with bullet points about Maeve that would make him look like a serial killer if leaked. That’s why he went the extra mile to charm the journal so nobody could open it. He actually learned the spell from Maeve, who charmed her notebooks after Draco stole one of her notes as a silly prank in their second year. He ended the day by scribbling “the way she says my name” and “hair. Always her hair.”