Chapter Text
There was going to be a ball. If Hadara hadn’t been a champion, she would’ve been excited about it. As a child she had sometimes thought of herself as Cinderella - a fairy tale she had read in the library at her elementary school. She was just as hated and had to work just as hard as Cinderella. Maybe her own fairy godmother would someday come and whisk her away to meet her prince.
Real life wasn’t a fairy tale though. Yes, she had been whisked away to world full of wonder and magic, but there were no princes - only dark lords, an escaped convict as godfather (only he was never convicted) and dragons.
Ever since the Yule Ball had been announced, people had been clamouring for her attention. While most of them still thought she cheated to get into the tournament, they all wanted the prestige of being a champion’s date. They didn’t care about Hadara, all they cared about was the Girl-Who-Lived, the Fourth Champion. It was exhausting, infuriating and made her cry herself to sleep more than once.
There was also the issue of her not really knowing how to dance. The Weasley twins had been teaching her, but it was slow going. It wasn’t easy for her just to let someone else lead, to give up an ounce of control.
There were literal days left until the ball and at this point she was close to just say yes to next person who asked her. That was until Draco Malfoy came up to her because please don’t let him ask me, please don’t make him change as well. She may hate Malfoy, but he had always been one thing for her - consistent. For him to be swayed by this, it made her want to vomit, to curl up in her bed and never come out.
He asked her and Hadara felt the world grind to a halt. She was caught between wanting to hex him and bursting into tears. “Get lost, Malfoy,” a gruff voice suddenly sounded from behind her piercing through the haze in her head. She looked over her shoulder to see someone she didn’t expect - Marcus Flint.
Even several feet away he seemed to tower over her and Malfoy. Well, he towered over everyone who wasn’t at least six feet tall. Hadara’s mind raced as Flint stared down Malfoy who turned tail and ran after a few seconds. At least some things would never change.
The older Slytherin stepped up to her, his size dwarfing her, but for some reason she didn’t feel scared. He took a hold of her hand, callouses dragging over her soft skin and dropped something into her open palm. When he let go, she looked at the object in her hand.
It was a miniature crystal sunflower obviously painstakingly transfigured by the amount of detail. Sunflowers were her favourite flowers which very few people knew about. Most assumed it was lilies because of her mother.
“Hadara.” Shivering from the way his baritone voice caressed her name, she looked up cradling the delicate flower sculpture protectively in her palm. He watched her with what could be considered a half-smile.
“Go to the ball with me.” It wasn’t even a question, but a statement. She could think of nothing else to say other than, “okay.”