After Eight

After Eight

Angelina cursed her stupid conscience that brought her to the stairs leading to the Hospital Wing, missing her dinner and carrying a box of After Eight Thin Mints, her favourite, because it was not polite to visit someone in the hospital without bringing a present, not even if that someone was your worst enemy.

The bastard would probably throw them away anyway, but since they hadn't been to Hogsmeade yet, it was either a box of After Eights or the chocolate hearts Lee gave her for her birthday.

"That boy is hard to discourage," Angelina thought with a fond smile on her lips.

How did she get herself into this messy situation anyway? Oh, yes, her damn temper got the best of her.

***

The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin started with a bone crushing handshake and a death glare, nothing unusual there. Fourteen players mounted their brooms and with a whistle from Madam Hooch pushed of the ground. Angelina caught the Quaffle and flew towards Slytherin goal hoops. She dodged a Bludger from Goyle, but saw Montague coming her way. She barely had time to pass the Quaffle to Katie before Montague slammed into her. Katie scored, and Angelina almost didn't hear Montague's snide remark over Lee Jordan's enthusiastic, "Gryffindor score!" Looking back, she wished she hadn't because Montague's words, "You should be under me and not on a broom, Johnson," made her blood boil.

She could only stare after his retreating form for few seconds before Lee's voice brought her out of her reverie:

"- and Pucey is in the possession, he dodges Alicia Spinnet and passes to Warrington. Warrington is heading for goal and - another brilliant save from Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley!"

"Alicia Spinnet has the Quaffle, she's passed Montague, watch it Alicia - oh no, she didn't see that Bludger coming. Warrington is in the possession but Katie Bell is after him, get him Katie! He throws to Montague, Johnson intervenes, and she's got the Quaffle. She's heading to the Slytherin Keeper, that boy's face colour matches his uniform, she shoots - Gryffindor score! It's twenty-nil to Gryffindor."

Angelina swerved only to find herself close to Montague again. She tried to get around him but he wouldn't let her. He tried to push her out of the way, but she kept her broom steady.

"I have a broom you can mount anytime you want, Johnson." He elbowed her and sped after Pucey. Red flashed in front of her eyes; blood ran through her ears deafening her, the only other colour Angelina could see was green of Montague's Quidditch robes as she furiously flew after him.

"Pucey passes to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, he's headed for Gryffindor's hoops."

In that moment Angelina slammed into Montague's back, the Quaffle flew out of his outstretched hand, and she could only watch it fall nearer to the ground with, to her horror, Montague closely behind.

"Oh no!" Lee's words were lost between screams coming from Slytherin stands.

Angelina froze in midair, not hearing the screams, watching professors as they rushed to unconscious Montague.

The rest of the game passed in a blur for her, she was barely aware that Harry caught the Snitch and that they won.

***

Angelina entered the infirmary looking for Madame Pomfrey but then she remembered that she was probably at dinner. The infirmary was silent with only one occupied bed. Angelina passed the long row of white beds and got to the last one where Montague lay.

He seemed to be sound asleep, his bandage wrapped chest rising slowly. She sighed in relief; she would leave him the After Eights with a note "Get well soon. Angelina Johnson" and get the hell out of there.

Angelina dared to study his face only for a brief moment. He almost looked harmless, almost. She put the chocolates on the cupboard next to his bed and turned to leave when Montague grabbed her wrist and pulled her around to face him. Angelina lost her balance and fell on his chest.

"Omph," Angelina said.

"Ick!" came from Montague.

He pushed her away from him so hard she nearly fell on her bottom.

"What are you doing here?" Montague growled through clenched teeth.

"I came to see how you are feeling," she said, rubbing her wrist.

"Feeling guilty?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

"No," Angelina said, not quite meeting his eyes.

"So these are poisoned then?" he asked, waving at the After Eights on the cupboard.

"Does Madame Pomfrey know that you have a concussion?" she asked. "Because last time I heard I was sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin."

"It is always the same with your bloody lot, isn't it? Everything is black and white with you, Merlin forbid that something would be grey. All Slytherins are evil scheming bastards, or even murderers not worthy to be associated with honourable and righteous Gryffindors." Montague's outburst finally ended.

"How dare you?" Angelina yelled at him. "All you Slytherins are prejudiced and biased bastards who treat Muggleborns like they are some kind of filth on your expensive robes."

"Oh, is that so?" he asked with a mocking seriousness in his voice. "Tell me then, what would you say to a Death Eater's son who is in love with a Mudblood?"

"That he is a fool," she said and fled the room.

AN: This is the end my friend. This is supposed to be one-shot, but I'm willing to reconsider my decision. But be warned this was just a random plot bunny. I don't know where it came from so I don't have any idea (for now) how to continue this fic (if I would decide to continue it).