Becoming Corruption

“He’s a prick, that’s what he is,” Ginny decided vehemently, pacing past the couch again as she twisted her wand viciously between her hands.

“Remind me to never break up with you,” I told her, giving my ginger friend a wary glance as she spun around and started back across us. She shot me a less-than-amused frown. I dipped my quill back in the ink and as I moved to continue my essay, I narrowed my eyes.

Rubaboo Magpie

I rolled my head to the side, giving Fred a bemused look.

“That’s the best you can come up with?”

“What makes you think that was me?” he challenged lightly, and I rolled my eyes.

“Right. Like I walk around calling myself Rubaboo Magpie.”

“I don’t know what you do in your spare time,” he grinned, and I let out a snort; Hermione leaned over and gave the two of us a disparaging look.

“Honestly, Fred, Rose has to have this finished in an hour-“

“Why does everyone always blame me?” he almost whined, sliding down the couch a bit and slumping over onto me. I let out a huff, pretending to grimace in pain.

“Oy, get off me you lump!”

“The weight of your accusations is holding me down, Rosie,” he groaned, squirming until he was completely onto my lap. I twisted to the side and scribbled onto his arm. He gave me a mischievous grin, and before I could pull back he twisted and grabbed my hand, forcing a jagged line of ink across my knee.

“Both of you, honestly!” Hermione squealed, scrambling up onto the arm of the chair to avoid our tussle. Ginny let out a snicker of amusement, the scowl disappearing off her face for the first time since she came back from breaking up with Dean.

“If you get ink on my shirt, Weasley,” I half-scolded, mimicking Draco.

“What, your father will come here and personally scribble on me himself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Hermione will spend all night getting it out!”

“If you muss up your shirt, I am not cleaning it!” she informed me with an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah Rubaboo,” Fred cackled, drawing an intricate swirl on my cheek as I stuck my tongue out at Hermione. I let out a laugh and shoved him back, scrambling for my quill.

“I don’t even know what that is!”

“It’s a type of porridge,” Hermione informed us, and at this Fred and I both looked up at her.

“You are undoubtedly all-knowing,” I complimented, and Hermione’s cheeks tinted pink as Fred made to scribble on my forehead.

The portrait slammed open, making the chandelier shiver; the four of us jumped from surprise, and Fred toppled to the ground. I sat up in time to see Harry sprinting around the couch, his eyes wild and his shirt dripping and stained with... was that –

“Harry, you’re covered in blood!” Hermione gasped, dropping her book and coming forward.

“Ron, I need to borrow your potions book!” he bellowed, taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing into the rooms. We only had a fleeting moment to share our startled looks before Harry came tearing back down the stairs and out of the portrait hole.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron asked, looking shell-shocked as he came down to stare with us uncertainly after Harry.

“Bloody is right,” Fred mused, accepting my hand as I helped him up off the floor. “I’m starting to think he shouldn’t be left alone.”

It took several minutes for our group to settle down; when it became apparent Harry wouldn’t be bursting through the common room anytime soon, we relented into waiting. Ron settled into a game of Wizards Chess with Ginny. Hermione was kind enough to take the ink off my face and arms (pointedly leaving the spots on my shirt), and Fred actually offered help, only changing a few more words into less-than-appropriate phrases that McGonagall would definitely not approve of.

“Apparition doesn’t work like that, love,” Fred pointed out, tapping my sentence with his wand. I scowled.

“It’s just an essay on what we think it should be like,” I pointed out. “You don’t really expect me to try to apparate with a chair strapped to me, do you?”

“Well, with a name like Rubaboo, who knows?” he pointed out, and I checked my paper; he’d jinxed my name, again.

“Fred-“ I started with a laugh, only to be cut off by the portrait door swinging open again. Ginny was the first to get up, staring anxiously as Harry came around the couch. Fred scooted over, dumping me halfway onto Hermione as Harry sank into the cushions.

“Harry?” Ginny coaxed, and he lifted his eyes to her, murmuring something I didn’t understand.

“A little louder, mate,” Ron urged, and Harry turned away.

“I think I killed Malfoy.”

The entire room fell silent as I sucked in a breath; Harry's words hit me hard in the gut, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady.

“What?” Hermione managed, voicing the words that stuck in my throat. I just stared uncomprehendingly at Harry as everyone looked between the two of us. “Why?”

“We – I followed him, thinking he was up to something. I cornered him in the bathroom, and we dueled. And – I remembered a spell that I saw in the Prince’s book –“

“Oh Harry,” Hermione breathed, the color draining from her face. He looked up at her, right past me, refusing to meet my gaze.

“I didn’t know! I’ve never heard of that curse! He… he was bleeding everywhere. Snape stopped it, but he wasn’t moving –“

I was on my feet so fast I nearly lost my balance.

“Where is he?” I choked out, and now Harry’s unreadable gaze turned to me.

“Why?” he challenged, and for the first time I felt a hint of hatred begin to well in my veins.

“My brother might be dead, for all I know, and you want to know why I’m asking you where he is?”

Harry stood, and my fists instinctively balled.

“So what? You can go running to him and plot revenge together?”

“Harry that’s way out of line,” Hermione scolded, getting up beside me. Harry opened his mouth to shoot back a response, but when Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, he turned away.

“I think Snape took him to the hospital wing,” he said to the ground. I pushed my essay onto Fred’s lap as I raced around the couch.

“Traitor,” Harry shot at me as I passed; I swallowed my anger and used it to fuel me as I sprinted through the corridors. I took the stairs two at a time, skidding to a stop as I rounded the corner. Just as my hand hit the door to the hospital wing, someone pulled me back.

“Visiting hours are over, Miss Malfoy,” Snape drawled; I whirled and pulled out of his grasp.

“I need to see Draco-“

“I assure you he’s perfectly fine. “

“I want to see him-“

“He is in no condition for visitors, and I’ve been given explicit orders to keep you, of all people, away from him at this time.”

“By who?” I demanded. Snape’s eyes flicked away, and I crossed my arms. When he turned back to me, I set my jaw and took a step forward, glowering up at him.

“Let. Me. In.”

“Ask one more time, and I’ll be sure to have you in detention every weekend for the rest of the year.”

We held each other’s glare for a long while, until Madame Pomphrey called for his assistance. He gave me a smirk, and I let out a snarl as he disappeared into the hospital wing, the door locking with an audible click.

“Just wait until my father hears about this,” I growled as I stormed back towards the Gryffindor common room.

ღ

When I came back, only Hermione and Fred were still in the common room. Hermione spotted me first, and gave me an apologetic smile, patting the couch between her and Fred.

“How’s Draco?” she asked sincerely, and for a moment I tensed, unsure of how she or Fred felt about me running to my brother’s side. But both of them stared up at me with genuine concern, and I relaxed again, sinking into my spot.

“Snape wouldn’t let me see him, but he said he’s doing fine. Thanks,” I added, giving my best friend a smile. She gave me a warm side-hug and then went back to her own essay.

Fred passed me my own parchment, and then resumed leaning on me, giving me less-than-helpful advice.

“We have a problem,” Ginny cut in a while later as she jogged down the stairs and dropped into the armchair across from us. I glanced up.

“What?”

“Harry was banned from the last game,” she said with a heavy sigh, and Fred and I exchanged a dreading look; our star player and irreplaceable Seeker wouldn’t be playing in our final match?

“What do we do?” I asked her, my stomach knotting up with anxiety. She sighed.

“We have backup Chasers, but none of them can do Harry’s job. Ang and I aren’t cut out for Seeker, we need Ron as our Keeper, and if we pull Fred or George from Beater, we’ll get pummeled by the bludgers for sure.”

“Only one left is you, love,” Fred pointed out, and I let out a heavy sigh.

“You’re quick on your broom, and you’ve got a really good eye,” Ginny said hopefully, but I shook my head.

“There’s no way I could do what Harry does –“

“Why not?” Hermione asked, looking up at me, and I gave her a bemused stare; she never got involved in Quidditch. “You’re nimble, and quick, like Ginny said. With a little practice, I’m sure you could handle it.”

For a long time, I stared between my friends, my mind racing. Could I really be Seeker? I mean, I had trouble finding the Quaffle sometimes; what would it be like hunting for the Snitch, all by myself?

But we didn’t have a choice. If wanted any chance at winning, we needed a Seeker. So with a heavy sigh and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I gave Ginny my best smile and nodded.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”