Famous
November 24th; the Hogwarts grounds were swarming with life. The sky was a bleary gray curtain blocking the sun’s warm rays from reaching all the excited students hurrying around the castle. But matters of weather held no importance to anyone today. It was the first task that gripped their interests like a child clutching at a balloon for fear of losing their entertainment.
The day was like no other. Some would say the energy surrounding the school was similar to the quidditch games of previous years. Yet such excitement was rare even amongst the most exhilarating of matches. Students weren't scarfing down their breakfast to leave the great hall early in hopes of obtaining prime seats for quidditch. Teachers weren't struggling to maintain peace for a measly school quidditch match. Hell, even Filch wasn't sneaking past a hoard of students descending the hill to the quidditch pitch just to watch quidditch.
No. This was far more than just a game of quidditch. Today was the first task.
Fred and George had woken up early just to begin their nasty little money-making scheme. Ron was tapping his foot in worry for his frenemy as he fought off his sudden loss of appetite with a piece of toast. Hermione was scolding Ron for "eating at a time like this" as she bit on her thumb nervously. Harry and Cedric had already begun traversing down the hill to change into gear.
In fact, much of the castle quickly emptied out as witches and wizards realized the approaching hour and paraded out of the grand doors, down the bumpy hill.
But we seem to be missing someone of importance. Others seemed to notice it too. How could the twins be without their third stooge? How could Hermione and Ron bear to walk down the trail without their favorite troublemaker? Now we must ask, where is our protagonist?
Asleep.
Yes, Y/N L/N was sleeping in yet again.
But not to worry, Y/N would not be missing the first task, for minutes after the largest group of students finished filing into the pitch, the young lady came tumbling down the mountain. Luckily for Y/N and the student body, most students had already gone on their merry way and were out of the danger zone. Had they not, screams of terror from the rampage that was Y/N L/N would have echoed across the valley. Naturally, that was the worst case scenario.
Two hands flew wildly into the air as Y/N tried her best to fix her mop of hair to the best of her ability. All that effort was for naught as her hair was still as knotted as a dwarf's beard by the time she was nearly at the pitch.
A yelp of surprise escaped the girl's lips as she hurtled into an unknown person and lost her footing, nearly tearing a chunk of her hair in the process. A pair of sturdy hands held onto Y/N's shoulders to steady her. E/C eyes lit up with recognization once they gazed upon a scalp of vaguely familiar curls. "Oh, it's you! Uh, Xander right?"
"Yeah, we seem to be forming a habit of bumping into each other," he jested with a voice as smooth as honey. "I'm glad you remember my name."
Y/N pulled out a concerning amount of stray hairs from her scalp which she quickly tossed to the side. Maybe the Snape stress was getting to her. Hopefully, Xander hadn't seen her nearly go bald and then discard the evidence somewhere in the grass. Y/N didn't have any words to say to the Durmstrang boy. Honestly, she was surprised she even remembered the lad's name. "I-uh, well, see, well you know, I suppose we had a memorable meeting. Anyhow, I've got to go now," she said, eyes darting back between the champions' tent and the pitch.
"I hope to see you again," the pretty boy called as Y/N ran off into the distance, not caring for a word that left his mouth.
Poor Harry nearly broke every bone in his body thanks to Y/N. Everything had been as fine and dandy as possible for a group of teens being harassed by a zealous reporter. Then some mental girl just had to burst through the tent and onto Harry, quite literally stealing his breath as she enveloped him in a tight embrace.
"Brilliant! You're still here. I came as fast as I could." Finally releasing him from her boa constrictor grip, the girl gave Harry a once over as she ran her hands down his arm. To Harry, Y/N was acting as if he had already started the first task.
Somewhere to her side, a bright flash erupted out of seemingly nowhere, startling Y/N. She stopped fussing over her friend for a second to look at the source of irritation. A blonde woman wearing quite the eye-catching outfit was smiling brightly at the girl. Now Y/N wasn't anywhere near a people person, but even she felt something off about the witch. There was an indescribable air around the woman that sent a chill of uneasiness up Y/N's spine.
"And who might you be?" The lady asked, leaning towards Y/N with a notepad in hand and a wicked smile on her face.
Y/N bent backward like a cat avoiding being manhandled by its owner. Her E/C irises darted to Hermione who had been standing in the corner looking rather disgruntled. The fluffy-haired girl was mouthing something to her friend, but the message was delivered as if it were sent by Errol the owl himself- in other words, late.
"Y/N," she meekly replied.
"What a lovely name for a charming young girl such as yourself. I'm Rita Skeeter. I write for Witch Weekly and I know my readers would love to read all the tournament's juiciest details," the woman began at a pace so dizzying that Y/N could barely keep up. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions." A quill caught the young L/N's eye as it scribbled all over the pages of Rita's notepad. Y/N had just come to fully understand who she was dealing with: the witch that plagued Harry's reputation. "Don't mind that, I use a quick quotes quill." Rita stopped to analyze the girl. "Now, first question. Who are you to the champions?"
"That'll be enough," a familiar voice interrupted. Y/N felt a sigh of relief leave her lips as Cedric stepped protectively in between her and the journalist. She stared at the back of the Hufflepuff's head with gratitude. All the while she took this chance to admire his wavy brunette hair.
Despite having her impromptu interview cut short, Rita seemed to be satisfied. Her bright red lips morphed into a knowing grin as her quick quotes quill began to accelerate in its rapid-fire scribbling. "Very well," the woman muttered before slipping off to the corner of the tent to continue observing the champions.
"Don't worry about her, she's a bit..." Cedric began reassuringly.
"Overbearing, eccentric, a pain in the arse, ghastly, beastly, about as charming as my grandmother's ancient pomeranian who bites me every time I visit," Y/N finished quietly as she glared at the journalist from the corner of her eye.
"All of the above I suppose,” he chuckled. The sheer sound of the boy's laughter brought shivers up Y/N's spine and a bright smile across her face. Maybe it was her imagination, but the lad seemed to be as content staring into her dilated (E/C) eyes as she was into his pretty sapphire ones. An equally pleased smile was plastered dumbly across the boy's face. Just about anyone who wasn't completely clueless in the art of love could be burnt by the sparks going off between the two.
The girl only snapped out of her crush-induced trance by a bright flash. All heads snapped in the direction of the journalist and her sleazy camera-slinging accomplice who was pointing his instrument right at the two. Y/N stepped away, immediately uncomfortable, her hand rubbing up and down her other arm nervously.
"Sorry love, just testing out the camera. It wasn't quite catching all the good pictures," Skeeter said coolly though without any bit of sincerity.
Y/N's eyebrows furrowed for a split second with distrust written in every little crinkle of her face. Her bushy-haired friend took her by the arm and began to drag the girl towards the exit, but Y/N wasn't quite ready to leave just yet. The girl broke out of Hermione's grip and jumped at Harry once more. She had almost forgotten her purpose somewhere in Cedric's ocean eyes a few moments ago.
"Be careful," she warned as she vigorously shook the boy back and forth. "If you die, I'm going to bring you back to life just to murder you dead again. This is a promise, not a threat."
Yet another flash drew the girl's attention. Her eyebrow arched upwards at the woman. "Is your camera fixed yet?"
Rita Skeeter waved her hand around limply and casually. "Oh it's doing much better now dear no need to worry about me," the woman said airily.
Y/N decided that she'd had enough with the tent and one of its particular occupants. As she left, the girl stopped at Cedric, gave him a soft punch to the arm, and muttered a quiet "good luck." She swore she looked cool and casual as she left, but the second the girl was out of the tent, she was a babbling mess.
The witch lightly punched Hermione and repeated "good luck" in a whiny tone before hiding her pretty countenance in her hands. "What was that?" Y/N cried as she continued around the quidditch pitch to the entrance. "I look and sound mental. Hermione hex me now. I'm never going to live this down."
Hermione laughed a little as she walked. "Relax, that was perfectly fine."
Y/N stayed in a pouty mood until she reunited with the twins on the stands. Fred had been saving their seats whilst George was weaving in and out of the crowd collecting bets like the ever-productive entrepreneur that he was. Upon laying his eyes on Y/N, the older twin smiled mischievously.
The girl didn't find out what the cause of his grin was until George eyed her from across the stands, checked a nearby student's pocket watch, and sigh exasperatedly. The boy traversed half of the stands just to meet with his brother and friend. Once he was beside the two, he slapped a sickle onto Fred's hand begrudgingly before sulking onto his seat.
Y/N looked between the two, bewildered. "What was that?"
"George bet that you'd be in the stands at least 20 minutes before the task began. I bet you'd be here at least 5 minutes before. Guess who won- Oi!" The boy yelped as Y/N delivered an attack on his shoulder. He pointed his index finger upwards in a matter-of-fact fashion and wiggled it at the youngest of the trio. "Hey, violence is never the answer."
"I can't believe you two," Y/N huffed. "Betting on me? Without my input? What do I get?"
"Our regards?" said George before he too yelped as Y/N smacked his arm. "Hey! Why are you smacking me, I was the one who had more faith in you. Now I'm one sickle poorer because of that." He mumbled the last part under a breath which then elicited yet another smack.
"That means I know you better therefore I am more deserving of your kindness, wouldn't you think," Fred bragged.
Y/N gave the boy a stink eye, already plotting to steal that sickle out of his pocket when he wasn't looking then hurl it at him also when he wasn't looking. "Oh, I think you're deserving of something that's for sure. But never mind that. What're your profits from today?"
The boys' eyes lit up excitedly as they opened their box, displayed their earnings, and explained who voted for who. The girl's eyes flickered to the bottom of the tournament arena and cringed a bit. She didn't particularly care who won as long as Harry was safe.
~
From the start of the tournament to the end, a gnawing feeling ate at Y/N's gut. They just had to start with Cedric and end with Harry, didn't they? When Cedric emerged, looking confident, his eyes scanned the stands. They landed on a certain Gryffindor wedged between two rowdy redheads. The girl could tell instantly that Cedric was nervous. Sure he stood tall and proud, but his shifty eyes and taut lips told Y/N everything she needed to know.
Harry's emergence from the striped tent at the edge of the pitch was no better. The first few minutes were filled with winces, grimaces, and gasps from the crowd as Harry was thrown around the stage like a rag doll. Every time the boy was hurled at a jagged rock, or nearly scorched with fiery breath so heated that even Y/N could feel it on her cold fingertips, the girl gritted and ground her teeth until the twins had to remind her to calm down. Despite her friend's survival by the end of the game, Y/N just had to ask the question: Who the bloody hell would allow a fourteen-year-old to compete like this?
~
As the twins were quite the party enthusiasts, they had decided it was their solemn, fate-given duty to throw Harry the best party he had ever experienced. Of course, that was a momentous task given all the previous post-quidditch match parties the Gryffindor house seen in its time. And because Y/N was Fred and George's "greatest friend," she was forced to sit on the dusty floor of a rank old classroom on the seventh floor, painting banners with Fred whilst George raided the kitchen.
At the moment, Fred was using his wand to guide a floating paintbrush across a red banner with some old black paint nicked from one of the many supply rooms in the castle. At one point, there must have been a magical painting course at the school for such an abundance of paint to be sitting around. Either way, that class's downfall was Fred's fortune as he now used the paint to draw out, in big letters H-a-r-r-y inside the outline of a large yellow lightning bolt. Of the two twins, Y/N had come to realize the eldest was not the most subtle of the crop.
Y/N on the other hand was using her own hands to attempt to draw a dragon guarding a golden egg on a different red banner. Everyone in the room could tell the girl was not an artist in the slightest. "That's quite a nice bird you've got going on there," Fred had the nerve to say.
"At least I know how to spell Harry's name."
"What? Oh bollocks!" The ginger had been lazy with his wandwork whilst his attention was on Y/N's painting, resulting in the two "r's" smudging together to spell a whopping "Hamy". The girl smiled smugly and chuckled under her breath until Fred waved his wand, erasing his mistake.
"Hey! That's unfair," Y/N huffed.
"That's just magic darling," teased Fred as he used his wand to dollop a dot of paint on his friend's nose with a smug grin plastered on his face.
"Blah Blah Blah," Y/N whined. "Erase this then."
With barely a warning, the petty girl lunged at the tall boy armed with nothing but her sheer will and a loaded paintbrush. She wasn't very athletic, but she was trained well enough by her two nimwits to land a hefty strike across the Weasley's forehead. Y/N laughed maniacally as the boy landed on his bum with a thump whilst she used his stomach as a landing pad. "You'll be needing this then," she teased as she leaned down to add another streak on Fred's freckled skin to make a fat "L" on his forehead.
A surprised shriek left the girl's mouth just as a determined grunt left Fred's as he threw Y/N off his stomach, rolled over, and sat right on her. A sweaty struggle ensued as Y/N attempted to wrestle herself free and Fred attempted to hold the girl down. But alas, the beater was the winner, a surprise to no one. His left hand pinned Y/N's hands together above her head as he used his right hand to grab the fallen paintbrush.
"I apologize! You know what a great friend I am right? Great friends deserve forgiveness! Please please!"
The ginger simply continued gazing down at Y/N with a mischievous grin on his face. With one look at Fred's face, Y/N knew she had lost. Her arms finally relaxed and yet Fred's grip on her remained. His long fingers, already intertwined with hers, snaked tighter around her hands. Curse his knowledge of the troublemaker's underhanded ways. Gone were Y/N's glory days of feigning defeat to relax her attacker's defenses.
And thus, the winner of their little wrestling match claimed his prize as he began to smear paint onto Y/N's face with his spoils of war: her very own paintbrush. The girl tried her best to remain defiant by displaying an annoyed, scrunched expression across her countenance, but she found focusing on anything but Fred extremely difficult.
"Glad you've come to see things my way." Fred's deep voice seemed to come out huskier than usual, breathless and unconfident.
It was suddenly burning hot for a November afternoon. Despite the cool stone floor pressing against her back, Y/N could only seem to feel the warmth radiating between her and the Weasley sitting on top of her. And yet, the paint across her cheek felt icy cold, bringing her back to her senses but also drawing her attention upwards. First, her gaze drew itself to his mouth, watching the way hot breaths escaped his parted lips. Y/N couldn't help but think about how warm everything still was. Their hands, their breaths, their bodies.
Next, her gaze traveled to his nose. She found herself thinking of all the times she had nearly broken it: a boxing match, flying a broom into his window while he stood next to it, unexpectedly dropping books off a shelf and expecting him to catch it, opening doors into his face, sliding down railings and piling on top of each other on the floor at the end, laughing so hard they smacked noggins into one another. Y/N wondered if his large freckled nose could also smell the earthy iris roots from which the paint was made.
Paint seemed to be the only thing Fred could smell. The sharp scent of paint seemed to float around Fred, wafting around him till he was dizzy and confused. There was paint everywhere. Their faces, their fingertips, their clothes. All this mess for such little reward.
At last, Y/N's eyes connected with Fred's, and something burned in the air. Her skin, their hands, her arms, the air, her face. Everything was searing hot the moment her eyes met his. It was almost as if his firey red hair alone were setting the classroom ablaze. The very hair that hung around his face, falling towards hers like the branches of a willow tree. His eyes seemed to be calling hers, begging her for something she didn't know of. They were scared, hopeful, longing.
He was very close, she had come to realize. She'd always been used to the twins' proximity. They were just always nearby like that. Close. Dependable. Though sometimes she wondered if they would ever be closer, something else.
No! That could absolutely never happen! Y/N just about forgot the precarious situation that she was in and sat right up, knocking into Fred's nose and forehead. A yelp of pain escaped his lips as Fred fell backward onto the stony floor.
"What was that for?!"
"I-You! You drew a willy on my face didn't you!" She accused.
"I did not. Do you really think so little of me Y/N? A trouser snake? Never."
"Yes!"
"Merlin's beard Y/N! That's quite the big one you'd got on your face," George's voice echoed from the door. How long he had been there, she did not know. The door was one of the few in the castle that didn't squeak after all.
"So you did!"
"Did not."
The girl huffed. Her fingers began to swipe at the paint on her face only to have the undried color smudge even further.
"Careful, that's not how you get rid of an ol pork sword," Fred laughed before rubbing Y/N's cheeks with his own hands as if that would help any more than her own attempt. His calloused fingers felt oddly soft on her cheeks despite the rough scraping motion.
"Like that's any help brother." George approached the two and whipped out his trusty wand.
"Oh so you're blowing me up as punishment. Quite the brilliant idea isn't it George," Fred joked.
"Very witty Fred." George muttered sarcastically. "Tergeo!" And just like that, the paint seemed to float off of Y/N's skin and disappear into the air. It was quite the useful spell it seemed. "Let's get back to business," he insisted.
Y/N had never seen George in such a mood and she couldn't seem to figure out why he seemed so irritated. It was a good thing that the girl was dense at times, or else she would have noticed the jealously shimmering in George's eyes as Fred handed Y/N the very paintbrush he used to vandalize her face with.
~
All was well in the end Y/N supposed. George was in a better mood by the time Harry shuffled into the common room carrying a large golden egg. Whatever his previous dilemma happened to be evaporated as he and his twin hauled their champion onto their shoulders and erupted into shouts and applause.
Harry seemed fine enough to Y/N. There were no broken bones that couldn't be fixed by Madame Pomfrey after all. Aside from some nasty looking gashes, the emerald-eyed boy was in decent shape. Appearing at gatherings and celebrations was a rarity for the girl, but she supposed she could find a little of her time to celebrate her friend's mighty victory.
She cheered with the rest of her fellow Gryffindors until she thought her voice would go hoarse and urged Harry to reveal his golden prize along with them. Unfortunately, the party dispersed quickly with the arrival of a horrible piercing screech and an unexpected apology from none other than Ron. Like the nosy girl that she was, Y/N naturally stayed behind in the common room with Hermione to witness the most half-assed, awkward reconciliation of her life. Boys.
The next morning was not nearly as fun. As usual, the Gryffindor awoke from her slumber as an unruly mess. Bits of dried drool stuck to her cheek and her eyelids were glued together by the mere power of sleep. Not to mention the little crusties that encircled her eyes. To put it short, Y/N was an ugly sleeper when she’s had the best sleep of her life.
The girl was just glad Hermione had finally given up her contrived dream of getting Y/N out for breakfast on time and looking presentable. Despite Hermione's lack of presence that morning, Y/N still managed to follow their usual rushed routine to a T. First came the hair which was to be thrown into a ponytail to hide the several knots that she couldn't quite untangle. Then came the uniform which was to be given as little care as possible. If Y/N was feeling a little adventurous, she'd just close her robe and hope no one noticed she'd buttoned her shirt unevenly and forgotten how to tie her tie for the umpteenth time.
Though, Y/N's choice of wardrobe may not have been the best idea. As soon she stepped into the Great Hall, all conversation seemed to stop and all eyes seemed to aim at her. The only witches or wizards that weren't particularly interested in the girl were the teachers, but then again they hardly took a deep interest in student gossip.
The girl scurried over to her usual seat as she ran her fingers clumsily through her hair to truly untangle her knots, her E/C eyes quickly surveying the scene before her. Hermione was tapping her short nails so rough against the table that Y/N thought she would split it right in half. The fluffy-haired girl wouldn't stop muttering "ridiculous" under her breath and staring at some pamphlet Ron was holding.
When the event that was her arrival finally lost its interest among the student body, Y/N finally found the courage to utter an urgent whisper, "What's happened?"
Hermione gave the little star of the morning that pitied look that Y/N hated seeing. It was the look she gave Harry when his name was picked out of the goblet of fire, or when that nuisance of a witch Rita Skeeter published that horrid article about Harry. Y/N wondered what she had done to receive such a look. Last she checked, she hadn't done anything to become a social pariah quite yet.
Unconsciously, the girl clenched her jaw, fearing for the worst. And it was indeed the worst. Ron gave Y/N his usual awkward sympathetic look before laying a ridiculously pink magazine on the table in front of the toast rack.
There, right in the center of the page, framed by a large heart, was a picture of Hermione hugging Harry, presumably before Y/N had entered the tent. For a second, Y/N's shoulders slumped in relief and she felt like everything was okay again. Of course not for Hermione, but at least it wasn't her. "I don't see the issue."
"Turn it over," Ginny said from across the table.
Thinking there was something else on the back, Y/N began to flip to the other side of the magazine before stopping in her tracks. Before her eyes, the image of Hermione and Harry shimmered and morphed into a picture of Harry and herself in a tight embrace like those cheesy lenticular cards she used to see on valentines day. And that gaudy heart frame certainly wasn't helping its case at the moment.
Y/N's heart got caught in her throat and she suddenly felt like hurling her nonexistent breakfast. Her hands seemed much clammier than five minutes ago. What was Y/N feeling right now? She had no clue. The best way she could have possibly described what was buzzing through her mind was simply pure chaos. Was is fear? Anger? Self-consciousness? Why couldn't the girl just be straightforward with her feelings the way Hermione was? Hermione was decidedly mad, but Y/N was nothing short of confused.
"I've seen enough," Y/N announced before throwing the paper down and standing up. The room quieted once again. Too scared to take another glance about the hall, the girl made a beeline for the large doors.
A hand caught the girl's wrinkled robes just as she was about to exit the hall. "Y/N," the voice of no other than Cedric Diggory called.
Y/N allowed herself a single glance back into the room and at Cedric's concerned face. Harry was staring at his cereal with a frown, Hermione was still fuming and on the edge of tearing the pages apart if not for Ron's whining about his magazine, and the twins were shooting Y/N weird glances from the table. Lastly, Cedric was staring at her with furrowed eyebrows and taut lips. Now that was quite the look of concern.
"Are you alright?"
The girl looked upon the Hufflepuff with eyebrows so furrowed that they rivaled his. It must've been national eyebrow furrowing day. Y/N couldn't understand. Cedric was quite the caring lad, but what did this have to do with him? "It's nothing. Now if you'll excuse me."
As Y/N was a creature of habit, her legs carried her right into the library, down the main walkway, and past an army of books. But the forces that be seemed to despise the Gryffindor today because it planted a Slytherin right in her hidey hole.
"Leave."
"Well, that's quite a warm welcome. I'd expect you Gryffindors to be in a better mood after your precious Potter didn't go up in flames yesterday," Malfoy jeered. His feet had been propped on the old wooden desk with a clear lack of respect for the furniture. It was just enough to earn a good ol pummeling. Though that meant the pink magazine in his pale fingers was enough for a good ol cruciatis curse. Kidding...Mostly.
But then again, the front cover of the booklet was well deserving of the killing curse itself. Instead of the images from earlier, the cover now showed a very intimate photo of Y/N staring up into Cedric's very gorgeous crystal blue eyes. Curse the camera's quality for picking up the Hufflepuff's handsome features so clearly.
"Bloody hell," the girl whispered.
The Slytherin struck his stupid little smirk and leaned back on his chair. "Brilliant isn't it?" He mused as he swiveled the magazine around in his hands. Unfortunately, the magic in that book truly was brilliant. Tilting it side to side would reveal Y/N, Harry, and Hermione, but tilting it up and down would depict Y/N with Cedric and Hermione with Krum-another event the girl must've missed before entering the champions' tent. "You're quite famous now. Who would have ever thought, plain little Y/N. Would you like to hear what they're saying about you?”
Y/N didn't speak. Now she was downright annoyed but more exasperated if anything. The Gryffindor let out a sigh before taking a seat and looking out the window, completely ignoring Malfoy. The boy frowned, disliking the lack of attention. After all, what was Draco Malfoy without the attention he was used to receiving all his life?
"Why are you here?" Y/N asked, still not taking her eyes off the frosted, dusty windows.
It was silent. Draco didn't want to respond. He'd soon forgotten his little victory parade. Apparently bullying Y/N wasn't nearly as amusing when she wasn't retaliating. He could of course begin to ignore her again. The blonde couldn't find any of the mean words he was hoping to spew. Without his haughty attitude and insults, who was Draco Malfoy? Not an honest man, that was certain. Or maybe he could find it in himself to be honest for once.
"They're being annoying out there. I don't very well care for the chatter and gossip," He finally answered.
'Not when it's about how Harry's getting far more lovers than you are,' Y/N finished in her head.
Draco seemed to have a habit of coming to her spot when he needed silence, and Y/N couldn't blame him. But did he really have to be annoying about it? Y/N hoped for his and her sanity that this arrangement would not last long. At the very least, he was not entirely insufferable to be around when his mouth was shut. The girl almost forgot about Draco the more she stared past the windows. It was almost peaceful in a way that lulled her to sleep.
Her last waking thoughts were of the blonde boy in front of her who was also staring into the window. Mostly of how bad an idea it was to fall asleep in front of the supposed enemy. But really, how bad was he compared to Rita at the moment?
When Y/N came to, she was alone and with a sore neck from her choice of bedding. She didn't remember falling asleep on the table, but rather with her chin on her hands. At some point, she must've fallen to the table, but for some strange reason, the girl felt no pain in her head, which surely must've been hit when she switched to sleeping on the desk.
There could've been far worse consequences of course. Falling asleep in front of the enemy was a fool's game that she had just played. The only thing off about the room seemed to be the torn magazine on the floor. If only she'd gotten to tear it apart page by page first. Draco seemed to have beaten her to it.