Infinity Times Infinity

“I thought you were headed to the dorms last night?” Asked Fred as he took a piece of bacon from your plate. You tried smacking his hand, but he was too fast and instead gave you a wink. George went and did the same, causing you to sigh. You decided to focus on your breakfast before the twins finished it for you.

You were seated between the twins again, but now it was morning the next day. Last night was, of course, all a false alarm and you didn’t need to isolate yourself but you wanted to be cautious, just in case. “I was until I came across… whatever that was last night.” 

The images of the bloody walls flashed in your mind. It was ominous that the four of you had experienced such a gruesome sight. It wasn’t terrible in hindsight, but it was still frightening for three second years to witness inside of Hogwarts nonetheless. 

“Filch was furious… nearly chewed our heads off.” Harry sighed tiredly.

“He’s bloody mental about that cat.” Ron piped up, his voice a bit muffled by the amount of bacon he was stuffing into his mouth. 

“So why did Snape take you away?” George asked, the topic now about last night’s occurrence.

Fred nodded in curious agreement with his brother. “Where did you even go?” 

Of course, the twins would ask you, they were a bit too nosey for their own good.

“Well, he is the Head of Slytherin,” you stated obviously, rolling your eyes and acting like any other Slytherin would plus a bit extra to seal the deal. “He was questioning me about my appearance at the scene, thought it was suspicious that I was there with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Nearly got detention, but I told him I was headed to the dorms when I saw the writing on the wall. Wrong place at the wrong time, all that jazz.”

“Well, we’re glad to see you’re looking better now,” George said softly. He recalled how pale and clammy you had looked before walking out of the hall last night “How’s your stomach?”

“Much better. Thank you, George.”

Fred poked your arm. “You still seem a bit sluggish, you sure you don’t need to see Madam Pomfrey?” 

You shook your head. “I’m sure. Just feeling a bit tired is all. I couldn’t get much sleep because of my stomach, but I can assure you boys that I’m feeling much better.”

The two gave each other a certain look but decided to drop it. Instead, they filled you in on a joke they were planning to do on some poor underclassmen. Some kind of magical dye that would cause their hair to flash different colors erratically and become even more violently flashy every time they washed their hair. You snorted at the idea of either annoyed or frightened kids with multi-colored hair walking down the halls.

As you ate your breakfast in peace, or however peaceful having two howling hyenas beside you could be, you felt a pair of eyes watching you from a few seats down. 

You glanced up and saw Harry’s green eyes look at you curiously before looking away bashfully, having been caught by you. Acting as natural as you could, you ignored it and went back to the twins’ conversation, smacking Fred on the shoulder for an inappropriate comment about something you didn’t quite catch. 

Mental note: talk to Harry later. You speared a piece of cantaloupe and popped it into your mouth.

“Y/N.” A confident voice said from behind you. A bed of slicked-back platinum hair was the first thing you saw before you looked up to meet grey eyes.

“Draco.” You nodded, unsure as to why he was at the Gryffindor table.

The boy looked at the abundance of red hair at the table, his lip curled into a sneer. His eyes met yours again. “What are you doing at their table?”

“Having breakfast with friends, Draco.” He made a face at the word friend, but you saw something like sadness flash in his grey eyes. “Is there something you’d like to discuss with me or are you just here to make faces at them?” 

Having remembered why he was there in the first place, he snapped out of his self-loathing trance and straightened himself. “Flint’s looking for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but before you could ask why Fred stopped mid-conversation with George and Lee and butted in at the mention of the Slytherin Quidditch Captain’s name. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, tightening slightly but you didn’t pay much attention seeing as the idea of Flint looking for you piqued your interest more. 

“Flint? What’s he want with Y/N?” Fred asked from beside you.

“None of your business, Weasley,” Draco retorted, his sneer returning once more having caught sight of his arm on you. A coy smile played on his lips soon after. “Actually, it will soon, so stay out of it till then.”

You feigned curiosity, this time with less venom than he had said it with realizing what this was about. “What does Flint want with me?”

“You should ask him that yourself. I was told to look for you is all,” he said with no bitterness in his voice. You found it endearing how he talked to you, but wished he could talk like that to everyone he met. You knew, however, that Draco would never.

Still feeling sluggish from post-transformation symptoms, you gave Draco a gentle smile. “And I don’t suppose Flint’s told you when specifically he wants me to meet with him?”

“I’m sure after breakfast.” He gave you a skeptical look. “Are you not feeling okay?”

“My stomach’s been feeling like rubbish since last night,” you said, exaggerating your symptoms, but still feeling like shit. Granted, not so much like shit seeing that it wasn’t enough to send you to Pomfrey’s. 

“Oh,” he said quietly. He stood a little straighter, looking almost diplomatic but not quite, he was twelve after all. “I can pass on the concern to Flint, tell him maybe later?”

“If you can, please. Thank you, Draco.” 

His face was painted with concern, his eyebrows slightly pinched together, but he managed to not let it pass onto his voice. He simply nodded, already making his way out of the hall. You returned to your cantaloupe, but before you could take another bite you were interrupted by a flurry of footsteps. The boy was running back towards the Gryffindor table, his black cloak billowing behind him. 

“I forgot to tell you, we’ll be at the quidditch pitch for most of the morning. If you’re feeling better by noon then maybe you’ll still be able to meet him there.” 

And before you could respond, he had run back out of the hall — for real this time. You gave a soft huff of air from out of your nose and decided not to dwell on him. Somehow, that was the first time you saw him act like a kid his age. 

Now back to the question at hand. Was Flint looking for you to confirm your spots on the Slytherin quidditch team? If it weren’t, then Draco would’ve looked more somber. Instead, it looked like good news… perhaps you and Adrian had done a spectacular run-through at try-outs. You were indeed curious, but you didn’t let it show to the others. 

Once you were facing the table again, you continued with your bowl of cantaloupe. “Yes?”

Everyone’s eyes were on you, seemingly interested in what Malfoy was doing around the lot. The fact that Flint was looking for you was weird to them as well and they were looking for answers.

Hermione, now no longer focusing on her book, was looking at you. “You don’t think Flint is going to—” 

“Ask you out or something?” Ron asked. You saw him and Harry shiver at the thought.  

You choked on a piece of cantaloupe, smacking your chest to get the juices out of your air pipe so you could breathe. You were not expecting that at all. You were still coughing when you felt something fall onto your lap. Fred’s hand had fallen to rest onto your knee as he patted your back, rather roughly may you add, in an attempt to help you. George, on the other hand, was laughing his ass off and on the verge of falling off of the bench.

“W-what?” You croaked out, still taken aback by Ron’s insinuation. 

Lee struck his fork down on the table, a look of disgust written all over his face. “Not while I’m around he won’t. I won’t let him touch a single hair on you. Slimy git—”

“I’m sure that’s not the case, Ron,” Angelina said before teasingly adding, “you won’t be working that job alone, Lee.”

George wiped a tear away from his eye, his laughter still pouring out of him in loud bursts. “If Flint really is going to do that, tough luck for him. You’re way out of his league.”

Your face grew warm. Whether it was from the fact that you were choking from the fruit or from George’s comment, you were unsure. 

Fred joined in, nodding. “I second that, dear brother.”

-----

The quidditch pitch was no stranger when it came to you. Flying was one of your favorite things to do, even if the use of a broom was needed. Nonetheless, it was one of the best pastimes. Quidditch was something you enjoyed playing, but not something you would ensue as an extracurricular. The twins were already playing for the Gryffindor team and thought it best to leave it to them, but now you were presented with the opportunity, and — well — it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot.

“You think Flint’s going to tell us that we didn’t make it on?” Adrian asked from beside you. He looked hopeful, but there was something in his voice that made him sound unsure. 

“Perhaps the opposite?” You inquired. “Not too many people have good hand-eye coordination like the two of us. I can slug you a bludger from across the field and you’d be able to hit it back with your eyes closed.”

You saw his face redden. “Same goes for you. I have no clue how you can hit a bludger that hard — I mean, it’s like you have super strength or something!”

Trying your best not to somehow give yourself away, you smacked his arm playfully and laughed it off by telling a joke; something along the lines of having to drag the twins out of sticky situations one too many times; it improved arm strength.

Once you were close enough, a few players noticed you and Adrian and alerted Flint of your presence. He swooped down from his post and hovered lowly on his broom before getting off of it. 

“Lupin! Pucey!”

“How’s it going, Flint?” You asked as the dark-haired Slytherin quidditch captain approached you and shook your hand firmly. Holy cow — he was strong. 

“You managed to join us,” he said with a hint of surprise, “Draco told us you were feeling under the weather today.”

“Yeah, probably just something I ate,” you said, patting your stomach, “feeling much better already.”

“I hope so, we have to start quidditch practice soon if we want to beat Gryffindors and win back the cup,” he said with a grin, “talking about that, I have good news for the two of you.”

Both you and Adrian quickly glanced at each other. Was this it?

“After much review, a few members of the team and I thought it best to give you two the beater positions on the team. I’m impressed — I’ve never seen two players work so diligently — the two of you mirror and complement each other perfectly.”

You gave Adrian a high five before turning your attention back on Flint who seemed like he had something else to say.

He grinned. “You know, for having cleansweeps, the two of you zip by pretty fast.”

You scoffed playfully. “Do not underestimate the player by the broom. That’s how you get your arse left in the dust.”

Adrian nodded and bumped your fist. True, cleansweeps were regarded as less than because of the highly regarded Nimbus line, but they worked perfectly nonetheless. It was something you saved up for the past few years, seeing as you nor your father could afford anything better, but you never fathomed the idea of having anything better. 

“Well, I’m glad to see a player with such vigor, Lupin. However, I meant no offense by saying so. See, Draco’s father gave the Slytherin team a little welcoming gift for accepting Draco into the team and only thought it fair to include our two newest members.” He whistled and in came a student holding two long, elegantly wrapped boxes. 

He handed one to you and the other to Adrian, beckoning the two for you to open them. You pulled the smooth ribbon away from the casing and tried your best not to drop it. Once opened, you stood in shock. The sleek black handle of the Nimbus 2001 shimmered in the afternoon sun. Beside you, Adrian gasped and carefully pulled the broom out of the box to examine the ombre of the tail.

Adrian’s jaw nearly dropped, if it hadn’t already. “You’re not being serious—” 

“Oh, but I am,” he chuckled, “only for the best am I right?”

You look at Adrian, eyes widening in excitement. He couldn’t believe it either. Flint was neutral for the most part but enjoyed seeing how excited the two of you looked. He mounted his broom and motioned for the two of you to get ready for practice. 

“Welcome to the team.”