The Only Spell That Works
A week-long fight, one smug McLaggen, and Draco on the brink of snapping. But all it takes is Ramona, one whisper against his ear,and the golden boy of Slytherin forgets the game, the team, and the sky itself.
1,940 words
It had all started with the stupidest fight of the year. McLaggen had leaned a little too close to Ramona during Charms, and Draco had completely lost it. He called her “provocative,” she told him he was being paranoid, and that word, paranoid, only made him more furious.
They spent the entire week fighting. Snide comments in public, sharp silence in private. And when McLaggen had the audacity to slide his arm around her shoulders in the courtyard, Ramona had closed her eyes. Not just from the disgust of being touched by him, but because she knew she’d have to apologize to Draco, and it annoyed her even more.
But in the end, she did it.
That, and hexed McLaggen for good measure.
Now, the wind was cutting against their cheeks, carrying the scent of damp grass and scorched broomsticks at the Quidditch field.
Next to her, Pansy Parkinson was lazily watching Travers, the new sixth-year Chaser, pass the Quaffle to Avery in a decent arc, decent enough, at least, for someone still learning. Eyes half-lidded, chin resting on her palm, she looked like she was analyzing the game… or simply killing time in the least boring way possible.
After all, with half the school pretending to be interested in “technical observation,” everyone knew it was just an excuse to ogle the sculpted physiques of a few Slytherins in flight.
Behind them sat Melanie Griffin, a fifth-year Slytherin, perched one step up.
When Draco shouted orders toward the new Chasers, Pansy sighed quietly, suddenly remembering.
“So? Did he really break up with you last night?”
Ramona made a vague wave with her hand, eyes still on the pitch. “Yeah. For about forty-five seconds.”
Pansy chuckled, tapping a manicured nail against her lip. “Then he changed his mind?” “Mmh.” A sound. Maybe agreement. A few seconds later, Ramona added, with the same calm tone one might use to comment on the weather: “...Maybe I should try being a bit more docile. And listen, sometimes...”
Pansy smirked. “You can say it out loud, Ray.” Then she turned slightly, expecting a sarcastic look, a smirk, something.
But Ramona’s face was blank. Her eyes still locked on Draco, cutting through the air like he’d been born to own the sky.
Behind them, Melanie sighed in dreamy defeat. “Oh… I wish I had a boyfriend too.”
Pansy whipped around, smirk already sharpening. “Yeah, maybe don’t say that while drooling over Ramona’s.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean... I mean, sure, he’s handsome, but…”
Pansy turned back to Ramona. Still no reaction. No scowl. No glare. Nothing. Weird.
“Grimsby?” she muttered, brow raised. “You feeling alright?”
Ramona gave a small nod, eyes still up. Then, absentmindedly licking her teeth, she blinked slowly. “When he lands, I swear I won’t even let him reach the showers.”
Pansy laughed out loud, clutching her cloak tighter. “Merlin, you’re hopeless.”
Ramona bit the corner of her lip, legs still crossed, hair tousled by the wind. She didn’t care. Her eyes tracked Draco mid-turn, flawless on his Nimbus.
“We’ve been fighting for a full week…” she added, voice calm as if talking about lunch options.
“Thought you slept in his bed last night?”
“I did. But the moment my head hit the pillow I passed out. Three hours of detention with McGonagall will do that to you.”
Pansy raised a brow. “What’d she make you do this time?”
“Scrubbed every first-year cauldron. By hand. No wand. I’ve smelled like burnt mint and brass polish all day.”
Pansy chuckled, nudging Ramona’s ribs. “So you’ve got some… repressed frustration, huh?”
Behind them, Melanie giggled. “Bet you can’t wait to sneak into the locker room once practice is over…” she said, a little too pleased with herself. Then added, smiling wider: “And if you need company, I wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of Avery shirtless.”
Only then did Ramona turn to her. Slowly. “Draco doesn’t want anyone in the locker room unless they’re on the team.”
She said it coldly, like quoting house law.
Ramona shot Pansy a look, the kind that said: Why exactly did we bring her again? Pansy gave a half-smile.
“Melanie’s working on a… project” Pansy explained. “A little Slytherin archive. Something to pass down. To remind future students what standards mean.”
Ramona’s eyes followed Draco again. “I doubt my sex life qualifies for your historical record” she said flatly.
But Melanie wasn’t phased. She lifted her chin, clearly pleased with herself. “Actually, I think it’s perfect. Who better to represent Slytherin pride than the royal couple?”
Ramona raised a brow, uninterested. But Pansy knew her too well. There were few things Ramona loved more than talking about herself and Draco Malfoy.
“So what kind of questions are you asking?” she asked, gaze still fixed on the pitch.
Melanie sat up straighter, about to launch into a monologue, but Pansy cut in first. “She made a list. ‘Interview Questions for the Slytherin Elite – Seventh Years.’ Stuff like: ‘When did you get your first tailored cloak?’ ‘What’s your morning routine in the dorms?’ ‘How do you uphold your bloodline’s social standard at Hogwarts?’”
Ramona made a face.
“And who’s starring in that tragedy?” Ramona ignored her, eyes still on Draco’s perfect arc.
“Obviously you, me, and Daphne” Pansy replied flatly. “Unless Melanie wants to preserve Millicent Bulstrode’s legacy for future generations.”
Ramona gave her a small smirk.
Just as she did, Melanie froze.
The screech of an incoming Bludger cut the air. Then a hard kick. A blast of wind. A silver Nimbus streaked by, still humming with power. The Bludger slammed into the boundary barrier with a crack that shook the whole stand.
Ramona looked up calmly, locking eyes with Draco, who was anything but calm. Cloak whipping around his ankles like a warning.
“You’re distracted, Grimsby” he said, voice sharp like a reprimand.
Ramona sighed, and waved lazily toward the field. “Still much yelling to do, captain?”
Draco clenched his jaw. “At least another hour. We can’t show up to the match like this. The new ones need to get it together.”
He swerved effortlessly, dodging the two Chasers trailing the Quaffle. Ramona stood with bored elegance, brushing off her skirt. “Well, then I’m leaving before I catch another Bludger to the face. .”
Draco opened his mouth, to protest, maybe, or make a snide remark ,but his eyes slid to Melanie, still staring at him like she was trying to burn his face into memory.
“And who the hell is she?” he barked.
“Melanie Griffin” Pansy said quickly, before Melanie could squeak. “She’s writing a masterpiece on Slytherin House. A reportage, apparently. For posterity.”
Draco raised a brow, unimpressed. But before he could reply, Ramona leaned in, brushing her lips to his ear.
She whispered something. Something Pansy and Melanie couldn’t hear but...it landed.
Draco froze. His eyes darted to the pitch. Then to Ramona. Then back again.
He turned to the team in a sharp snap. “Practice is over! Everyone down. If you haven’t figured out how to fly after an hour and a half, you’re not going to today.”
“But Malfoy...” “Now. Or I’ll knock you off myself.”
The players scattered instantly.
Ramona smirked, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “See?” she said lightly, her voice like velvet laced with steel.
“He may be furious with me, but he still listens...to the right words.”
Melanie exhaled like she’d forgotten to breathe. “He just...he stopped everything. For you.”
Ramona shrugged, utterly unbothered. “He does that.”
And as she walked away, hair catching the wind, Pansy nudged Melanie with an arched brow. “Take notes, sweetheart ...That’s the royal court.”
