Celestia Eleanor Young is the newest generation of the Pure-blood Young family of Singapore. The Young Clan has the power of a monarchy and the wealth of a first-world country.
Not only does she have to prove herself to her family that she's capable...
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"Tia, which team are you cheering for?" Daphne asks me during the breakfast before the first Quidditch match of the season: Slytherin versus Gryffindor.
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "Why would I ever cheer for Gyffindor?"
"Tia, Cara, your brother happens to be on the opposing team," Blaise reminds, "In case you might've forgotten."
I blankly stare at him for a quick moment before cracking a grin. "I did really forget for a moment." I chuckle. "How silly of me. Thanks for the reminder."
"So, which team?" Daphne circles back to her question.
"Obviously ours," Draco replies for me, certainty in his tone.
"You seem very sure of yourself." I arch an eyebrow at the boy sitting across fro me.
"Well yes, I am." He shrugs. "I'm on the team, after all."
"You know, I would prefer you to think before you talk," I scoff, "After all, you did manage to tackle me to a ground of concrete and plague me with your sweat. It was revolting, I hope you know that." I shudder at the memory of being drenched and feeling as if I was melting into the ground. Not even hours in the bath could wash away the memory.
"If you don't cheer for me, I'll kiss you in sweat next time." He smirks and threatens.
"Charming." I match his smirk. "Then it wouldn't be from Quidditch that you would end up hospitalised in the infirmary for months."
"Are you two done flirting?" Blaise interrupts, his cheek resting on his hand. "May I remind you that there are wee lads and lasses like ourselves still present at the table?" Blaise gestures with his finger to us then to the first years sitting at the Slytherin table not far away from us.
"Right." Daphne nods, seemingly slightly disgusted with us. "I've even lost my appetite becuase of you two. And that's saying something because that almost never happens."
I snort at their remarks. "If you call us flirting, what do you call what they're doing?" I nod my head to Adrien Pucey at the far end snogging an older Slytherin girl seated on top of the table. The surface of the table was smeared with spilled pumpkin juice from the cups they accidentally knocked over. At least have the modesty to preserve the innocence of the children first before attempting to make your own.
Daphne scoffs, shaking her head in disapproval. Vince and Greg took one glance, wrinkled their noses in disgust, then continues on with their eating. Blaise uses Greg's frame to shield himself from the sickening sight.
Draco clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Vandalism."
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I knock on the thick door of the boys' Slytherins' Changing Rooms. The others have secured a great spot on the stands, so I hav no worries for a good view of the match.
