five
the triwizard champions

        Firewhisky is never a good idea under any circumstance. You can justify it as much as you want—or need, but it will never be accepted by yourself, or anybody else. It's simply an excuse to ease the never ending judgement of your subconscious. Artemis doesn't even remember where the Firewhiskey came from, but somehow it was there, in her fist and poisoning her organs slowly but, intoxicating her mind first.

The poison broke her mind, shattered it into a thousand pieces of reckless decisions and juvenile mistakes that most certainly could've been avoided if previous mistakes and decisions had been dealt with differently.

        It's not that she went looking for him, or he went looking for her, they both just wanted a moment of peace without anybody else around. It just so happened they decided to locate that peace at the same location; the Astronomy Tower—a place that has seen quite the dramatics over its time, especially concerning the Malfoy family.

        A year or so ago when Astoria first fell ill, Draco opened up to his daughter more about his childhood and how he grew up too fast. He used the Astronomy Tower for solitude and serenity many times when something troubled him. Since then, Artemis has claimed the tower as a place for her own problems.

        If the Astronomy Tower could talk, it would have stories to last more than a lifetime.

        Out of all the times she's spent up here,  Artemis isn't too keen about this particular moment getting out.

        Her veins were on fire from the Firewhiskey and the burning sensation of a greedy desire that was completely uncontrollable. Her heart hammered non-stop, reminding her that this, yet again, is a terrible decision. But Artemis can't stop now. Not when she's too far ahead of herself, or when the control she thought she had had vanished entirely the moment Lysander and her started on a second bottle of the bloody drink.

        This time it's not so bad. She can't really blame herself, can she? After all, it's the alcohols fault and it's the alcohol that's forcing her to do this.

        Right?

        Lysander is a lot more careful than she is with his kisses. He doesn't rush it. He doesn't force it or make it desperate. He kisses her slowly and uncertainly, as if his subconscious is berating him quietly, but not loud enough to drone out the voice that's telling him to do it. It's nice, of course, to be kissed like this. It's nice to be kissed in general. His hands grab fistfuls of her hair, twirling the short ends around his fingers while his body pushes her up against the railing, stumbling over each other until they slide down the railing on top of each other. He leaves a careful trail of kisses down the side of her neck, his strong arms wrapping securely around her waist as Artemis pulls at his hair, trying to get him to shift his pace just a little bit—

        But Lysander doesn't take notice. Either that or he's too drunk to know what the hells going on.

        Artemis pushes him to the side and straddles him on the floor, sliding his long sleeve pyjama top over his head in a desperate mad rush. Her chest kept rising and falling, a shortness of breath overcoming her and she tilts to the side, almost falling from his lap until his hands grab hold of her, keeping her still even though he's having trouble seeing clearly, his eyes are focused to the left of her shoulder.

        It's only when Lysander struggles to get his head out from his top does Artemis come to the realisation that she doesn't want this. Not his slow and careful kisses, or even him. She doesn't want to make the same mistake again, even if she's three quarters of the way there.

        Artemis wants—no needs something a little bit more quick paced. She's frustrated. Not the sexual kind. She's frustrated about life and her skin feels itchy just thinking about it, it makes her forget how to breathe and Artemis just wants to run. Run away as fast as she can and as far away as her legs would allow. Maybe not run away forever, but she needs to do something to get rid of this constricted feeling of being claustrophobic. Even when she's bloody drunk! This feeling can't seem to ever get away from her, because deep she knows she needs to sort it out.

        "Artie. . ?" He grumbled beneath her.

        Tears welled up in her eyes. Her fists folding together, as if she's about to pummel the life out of Lysander. But that's not what she does.

        He tried calling for her again, confused at how she's blanked out and travelled into a world accessed only by herself. She slumped to the side like a heap of dirty clothes, collapsing to the ground and cradling her right hand as it suddenly began to ache.

"Artie. . ."

Artemis doesn't answer. She just curls up into an unmoving ball on the floor, staring absentmindedly at nothing in particular, her throat getting drier and seizing up with every short breath. She forgets about Lysander and his presence.

Who is Artie Malfoy? Who is Artemis Malfoy? Before the summer, she'd be able to answer that question without missing a single beat. Artemis Malfoy was a girl who loved mischief. She loved the thrill of getting into lighthearted trouble—never serious trouble—and she was addicted to the feeling of belly aching laughter. Artemis Malfoy was kind to her friends, respected them and always put them before herself. She never used to be this selfish. If Blair wanted the last piece of chocolate, she'd give it to Blair. If Ty wanted Artemis to help him with his homework, she'd leave hers and help him instead. She also worshipped the ground her brother walked upon, always making sure that anybody who says different stayed clear from him, that he was left alone to grow up happily, not suffer through the torment she had to face when she first came to Hogwarts.

Artemis Malfoy wasn't exactly a teachers pet, but she always strived to be the best in the class, even if the subject made her want to hang herself from the Quidditch hoops, she'd put every ounce of effort in. She was quiet, too, amongst her peers and never drew too much attention towards herself—which was difficult considering she's a Malfoy and has an ongoing feud with James Potter—she always stayed in the shadows, she'd stay clear of any drama that went on, only voicing her opinions to Blair and Ty.

Artemis Malfoy loved Quidditch. Or any form of competition. But her one true love was Quidditch and she was so good at it. But since the summer she's not felt that desire to pick up a broom or quaffle. Even the piano. Her mother used to play it and taught Artemis a few melodies, too. There's a piano somewhere at Hogwarts, one that Professor Flitwick gave to Artemis when she had first snuck into the music room just to play it, she's not been anywhere near it or the one in her dead mothers room since.

But now? After she's lost her mother to cancer? After she selfishly betrayed her best friend and slept with her boyfriend? And after she pushed away her family, broke their hearts a little more and went against their wishes and entered the tournament?

Who is she?

Who is Artemis Malfoy now?

Because she doesn't even recognise herself. Not anymore.

It's a harsh reality that drunken Artemis is faced with. Artemis sobs even harder, knowing that if she doesn't know who she is, then what is her mother thinking? If, somehow the Muggles are right, and Astoria Malfoy is up there, watching over her, what must she be thinking about her daughter?

Disappointed? Definitely.

Annoyed? Sure.

Disgusted? Probably.

"I'm so sorry, Artemis. You don't deserve any of this to be happening to you. I'm so sorry. I should've—it's all my fault," Lysander, at some point or another, crawled across the floor towards her, his voice thick with emotion and Firewhiskey. "I should've left when you told me to. For fucks sake—you just. . . you were grieving over your mother and I'm so sorry for what I did. It was stupid. I just—I care a lot about you and I—"

Artemis still didn't move. Not even when she spoke to him. "It's not your fault, Sander. I made the first move."

"But it is!" He practically yelled, his head tilted back at the heavens as he too got emotional and tears created their path down his face. "I should've left! I should've told you no—I should've stayed with Blair. I'm such a horrible person—" then his eyes widen as if only now realising that. "Oh my fucking God—I'm a horrible person!"

"Shut up, Sander. You're a good person and even good people make mistakes."

"Not like this."

Maybe it was heartless but Artemis couldn't bare to hear him whine about his problems anymore—even though she'd been doing exactly the same, but internally.

"Good night, Scamander," Artemis said, hoping he'll take the hint and leave her to wallow in self pity, alone. She closed her eyes.

"Uh, Artemis?"

"What?"

"I think you mean, good morning—?"

Her eyes were open again and this time, she took notice of how Lysander sat in front of her with a golden glow.

The sun had started to rise and the pair were an emotional and drunken mess on a Sunday morning.

Although the sun was halfway through rising, Artemis and Lysander remained at the tower, until eventually they fell asleep.

Not together, though.

Lysander has crawled to the railings and curled up near the edge, leaving Artemis in the centre of the tower, snoring peacefully.

Despite how peaceful they may have sounded, there was nothing peaceful about their dreams, being tormented by their inner demons.

▬▬▬▬▬

        It's now five to five. In five minutes the opening ceremony of the tournament will begin and Artemis will soon find out whether or not she'll be chosen.

        But the thing is, Artemis is late. She's only just left the dungeons after barely cleaning herself up from last nights antics. Her emerald robes weren't the problem, they'd been washed yesterday and smelt wondrously of coconut and her perfume of lavender. It was her knotted hair, dry skin and the abyss beneath her eyes that caused the problem. Her head was pounding, despite her having downed a litre of water within the last half an hour, the full effect of the hangover taking place. The pain in her head intensified whenever she caught sight of a candle or the bright sun through a window. If it wasn't for the fact that Artemis might be chosen, she wouldn't have bothered.

        Anyway.

        The corridors were completely empty by this point. Only Artemis seemed to be roaming them, everyone else too excited about the champions to even consider being late to the ceremony. Her friends, Blair and Marls, left under an hour ago, because apparently they wanted to get good spaces, but Artemis couldn't care less, she just wanted them to stop talking so her she had a slight chance at recovering in time for the ceremony. Except, she was nowhere near recovered. 

        When she walked, it was slow and steady, because if she tried to pick up her pace even a tiny bit, the churning inside her stomach would get more vigorous and bile would rise to the back of her throat, and her head would start spinning, stars swirling in front of her eyes. Then, she still had the repulsive taste of alcohol in her mouth, making it very difficult to swallow without wanting to be sick, she shut her eyes briefly whenever she did. But the worst thing of all? The purple bruise on the left side of her neck. She tried to cover it with make up, as well as doing up all the buttons of her school shirt to make sure nobody—especially Blair—could see it.

        So. Artemis is a little bit of a mess. But at this point in her life, it's kind of expected. Or at least, it's what she expects of herself now.

A minute or so later, she arrived at the Entrance Hall, staring up at the two great oak doors that were closed shut. Hesitantly she glanced at her watch, the minute hand dead straight on the twelve. She's just going to have to walk in late, with everyone's probing gazes on her, along with the disapproved looks of her teachers and concerned gaze of her fathers.

        Footsteps came from behind her and Artemis whirled around, panicked that it might be Filch and his stupid bloody cat, but she quickly regretted the movement either way, due to her stomach making a horrific noise and her eyes losing focus. It wasn't Filch, thank Salazar, but it was James Potter instead.

        He hopped down the steps with a shrunken posture, his face a scrunched up in thought. By the way his shirt was half tucked into his trousers and his Gryffindor robes fell off one shoulder, Artemis assumed it was safe to guess that he was a nervous wreck, too.

        "Hullo," he said to her, without actually looking at her. Artemis must admit it though, she was taken by surprise by his civility. A beat passed before he came to a stop beside her, head craned back as he stared up at the great big doors. "Do you think McGonagall would notice if we tried to sneak in?"

Artemis rolled her eyes, coming back to face the doorway head on. "No, but if the doors were smaller? I probably wouldn't risk it."

"Funny." Although, his tone of voice said the complete opposite, and she wondered if he was nervous. James Potter heaved in a deep breath, carefully turning his head to the side, obviously wanting to make a comment about how she was late as well, but he got distracted by horrific she looked. "Bloody hell—you look like shit."

"Thanks," she muttered, her stomach continuing to churn. "I do try."

"No, seriously. You look fucking terrible."

Artemis was so hungover she didn't have the strength to glare at him, which was obviously saying something. "I'm not bloody stupid! This is what you call, a hangover, dipshit."

"Its fucking five o'clock. Are you an alcoholic now?"

        "If you hated yourself as much as I do, you'd be an alcoholic too."

        The words were out of her mouth before Artemis could even comprehend what he'd said, never mind what she wanted to say. It's not like she was an alcoholic anyway, last night—or this morning was her first touch of alcohol since. . . what? Last school year? Artemis never had much control over her tongue, she'd always bite first and ask questions later, which was very much similar to her recent behaviour of; act irrational first, think rationally after.

        But James, a supposed elite athlete, only ever touches alcohol during celebratory parties after games Gryffindor has won. Not even his birthday party would he drink, especially if there was an important game coming up. So, naturally, like any other day, he judged Artemis massively. Out of her peripheral, she needn't look him dead in the eye, she saw how his mouth turned twisted and his brows creased together as if he was confused. "I—" she waited for him to judge her, or say something insulting. "—I honestly don't have a response for that."

        Thank Merlin for that. The boy was finally rendered speechless, allowing Artemis to massage her temples, take in deep breaths and think of how to sneak into the Great Hall without getting a row.

         The longer they stood outside, the least likely it even seemed.

        "We could try using the back door," Artemis suggested, more so to herself, yet she also welcomed any bright—perhaps not so bright, ideas from James. "But then we'd walk straight into the teachers table."

        James cleared his throat, as if only now recovering from her previous statement. "I reckon we wait out here until we hear some applause and then we go in." 

        Hmm. That idea didn't seem so bad.

        Taking her silence as an accord, James took a reluctant step towards the doors, arm outstretched.

        "Wait—" Artemis grabbed the back of his robe and yanked him back, her stomach doing all sorts of nauseating movements alongside the spinning of her head. There's no maybe about it. Artemis is going to be sick. She can feel it. The cold lump settled in the back of her throat at the same time she broke out into a chilled sweat, her hands shaking. Her eyelids fell shut, her teeth clamped together in a sickening crunch.

        "Don't you dare—" James warned her, ripping away from her hold.

        "I—" Artemis physically couldn't speak. If she did, her guts would be all over the floor and James Potter.

        Then, something to make matters further worse happened. The doors opened.

It wasn't clear how they opened. Whether James has gently pushed them, or someone from the inside opened them, but they did. And when the doors opened, Artemis felt even more sick. Her grip tightened around James's robe, the cloth knitted beneath her fist.

However, whilst the doors opened, in a slowly agonising way, nobody had yet noticed the two late students. Including Professor McGonagall, who stood before the Goblet of Fire, with six students from the international schools lined up behind her. Had they really missed that much of the ceremony? "Has anyone seen Artemis Malfoy and James Potter? Does anyone know where—"

All heads turned towards them, after the doors made a loud bang. The doorway was much like a gaping mouth of a monster, preparing to swallow them up whole—and in such a circumstance, Artemis wanted a monster to swallow her up whole. She could feel the judgemental gazes on her, the disapproving looks of her teachers, and worst of all, the disappointed glare of her father, whose scintillating silvery orbs burned holes of fury into her, even from the distance that she stood. She didn't need to be face to face with him to know the look he gave her.

Shyly, Artemis took a small step behind him, using him as shield from all the scrutiny being sent their way. James, shocked just as much as she was—also forgot about her almost throwing up on him—couldn't quite bare the metaphorical spotlight that shone on them. "Did we just get chosen?" He whispered to her, as quietly as he could, which wasn't too difficult due to a number of students conversed quietly amongst themselves, most likely about the current situation.

There wasn't a chance for Artemis to conjure a response. Her stomach knotted once more, her hand flying towards her mouth because she knew. This is it. The most embarrassing moment of her life.

"Are you two going to just stand there?" McGonagall called impatiently. "You both have been selected as Hogwarts—"

Too late. Artemis couldn't hold it anymore, she couldn't force back down as much as she tried her hardest too. It was bound to happen at some point, just not in the way she wanted.

Much to the displeasure, disgust and embarrassment of James Sirius Potter, Artemis Malfoy emptied the contents of her stomach all over the back of his freshly washed school clothes. Perhaps one day she'll look back on this and laugh. Perhaps if it had been any other day, where the prying eyes of students weren't fixated on her or James, she would've laughed about it now. But no. Artemis threw up on James in front of, not just her school, but three other international schools.

"You better fucking sleep with one eye open, Malfoy, I swear to fucking Merlin I'll throttle you."

        I swear to Salazar, Artemis thought grimly, her cheeks heating up as she wiped her mouth and came to a stand, I'm never touching a drop of alcohol again. Ever.

▬▬▬▬▬

        The Trophy Room was filled with rows upon rows of glass cases, protecting various trophies from over the thousands of years Hogwarts has run. It was a lot like a mirror maze, if you weren't paying attention to where you walked, you'd most definitely knock into one of the tall cases. Aside from the valuable trophies that littered the room, eight students from four schools occupied the room also, both excited and nervous about what's next to come.

        For Artemis and James however, the pair feared for their lives.

        That look they received from not just McGonagall, but Draco too, sent shivers running down their spines. They knew, all the teachers knew that Artemis and James didn't have permission to enter, so when their names were called out, naturally the teachers frowned upon them—McGonagall and Draco most certainly did—yet one Professor, who teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts, looked as if this was the most exciting thing to happen to him in years. Which, Artemis came to the conclusion herself, was mostly because she threw up on James Potter. All teachers found that aspect rather amusing.

        "I can't believe what just happened." For the last few minutes, give or take, James Potter has taken to nattering to her every so often, as if his nerves were on the very edge of life itself and he was about to explode. Every time a competitor would glance in their direction, James would shit his trousers and say to Artemis, this guy just looked at me as if I'm going to be his breakfast! In all honesty, it's pretty funny to see James so. . . messy, although she thinks it's mostly because he's absolutely bricking it for when his short fused grandmother finds out. Although Artemis can't exactly talk either, because as much as she's enjoying watching him panic, she's doing plenty for the both of them. Her Dad and Scorpius will kill her.

Artemis sighed. "What can't you believe, Potter? Us getting chosen, or me throwing up on you?"

"Both," he said, "I can still smell it."

"I told you I'm sorry. I was hungover, it wasn't my fault."

"Why," James quickly asked, becoming interested immediately. As if she'd reminded him to pester her for an answer. "Are you hungover?"

        "None of your business," she answered with attitude. Artemis really wanted him to drop it. There's only so much interrogation she can take before blurting out the truth to get him off her back.

        "Oh come on, Malfoy. We're teammates now. We should at least try to—hey, what's that on your neck?" Considering their close proximity, there's no doubt that James has spotted the purple bruising on her neck. Her collar must've slipped, or the makeup smudged. But his breath fanned against her skin, her body heating up with worry that he'll piece the jigsaw together and blurt everything he knows to Blair, all because he loves to see Artemis in trouble. "Is that a love bite?"

        Before James could even reach for her collar, Artemis elbowed him in the gut. "I said it's none of your business, Potter. Now do everyone a favour and shut up."

        Surprisingly, he backed off, arms raised in surrender. Artemis ignored him. "Alright. Whatever, Malfoy. You're an alcoholic. Cool."

Artemis miraculously restrained herself from biting and settled for an eye roll instead, but unfortunately her gaze landed upon the Ilvermorny boys who'd been chosen, too. The blonde one—Kowalski, watched Artemis and James with interest, even his friend seemed to be amused by them. It's so strange. She couldn't understand why they kept staring at them. At her.

        To avoid eye contact with Kowalski for any longer than necessary, her gaze shifted to glance around the room and inspect the other competitors. This was when she noticed how put together they all seemed, as if they'd been preparing and training for the tournament and expected this outcome. Whereas James and Artemis has not expected this, nor trained for it at all. They were a scrambled mess compared to the others, which were composed of; a boy and girl from Durmstrang; two boys from Ilvermorny and; two girls from Beauxbatons, even though Artemis had seen a lot more French boys than girls roam around the corridors of Hogwarts.

Without further ado, their silence was interrupted by the slam of a door, multiple hurried footsteps and the unmistakably furious voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Professor McGonagall, you cannot let them compete, they—"

"How many times Draco, must I tell you to call me Minerva?"

"Professor McGonagall, I did not give permission for my daughter to enter. You cannot allow—"

"This isn't the nineties, Draco."

"Professor—"

"For Godric's sake, Draco! Minerva—"

"Professor McGonagall, I beg you—"

"Enough, Draco." The pair rounded the corner, coming face to face with eight students staring at them. Those six other competitors wore blank faces, their poker faces already in use, while the other two competitors—the Hogwarts ones, squirmed beneath the gazed of their teachers. They knew full well that they were about to endure a long lecture of being irresponsible, shortly followed by a long list of punishments. "Congratulations to all of you for being selected to represent your school at this years Triwizard Tournament comeback."

        All throughout McGonagall's speech Artemis lost concentration, a dull throbbing pain took over her skull as she struggled to even stand up straight, the after effects of the throwing up hitting her full force. She slouched, her shoulder collapsing, backwards into a trophy case—which kept her standing, and felt her stomach begin to swirl again. Yet her attention got caught by her father, who stood beside McGonagall with a face of fury unlike any she'd seen before. As if that wasn't enough to make her feel physically sick, he shook his head at her, tousled hair swaying as he did so, his eyes fell shut—he squeezed them shut almost desperately like, I can't believe this is happening. Immediately Artemis felt incredibly guilty for causing her father so much distress, but he doesn't understand why she entered. He won't ever understand it, because he won't let himself believe it.

        A person from the Ministry stepped out from behind a trophy case. Artemis recognised the woman without a doubt. She'd seen her face plastered across the Daily Prophet—from what Marlene had shown her—whenever the Falmouth Falcons won big, and then when she married one of the Keepers from Puddlemere United, which stirred a lot of vicious drama between the two teams until she got offered the job at the Ministry. She's now the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. Artemis thinks she's an absolute legend, regarding what she did for Quidditch, but mostly because she's met this woman before and has firsthand witnessed the mischief she gets up to, even in her adult life.

        The triplets get a lot of their tricks and stubborn personality from her.

"As the Head of Magical Games and Sport, it is my job to regulate the tournament and ensure that all rules are abided by for the safety of the competitors and others. The first task will take place on the twelfth of November at thirteen-hundred precisely." Montgomery Wood turned sharply to face Artemis and James, almost looking gutted. "As the two of you broke the rules, you've been deducted seventy-five points already and will be the first champions to complete the first task." Although the punishment would surely make the rest of the school hate them for making Hogwarts in the negative numbers before the tournament could even begin, Artemis was expecting a much greater punishment from McGonagall and her father. "Congratulations again, all of you. I will see you shortly. Good luck and may the best school win."

        The triplets mother disappeared, McGonagall and Draco following her quickly out of the room.

▬▬▬▬▬

a/n I AM SO SORRY FOR THE VERY LATE CHAPTER!!!

it's been a long couple of weeks and by the end of this chapter i hit a wall and didn't know how to make it flow to where i wanted it to go to without making a part two.

next chapter will probably be a part two anyway with more james x artemis stuff and artemis and her father.

i apologise for how awful this chapter is and no it hasn't been edited so any mistakes. . . i'm so sorry 😂

ALSO THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR 1K READS!!!! i never thought my story would get this far let alone with so many of you reading it!! so thank you thank you thank you💖

don't be afraid to leave comments i adore reading them.

this chapter is dedicated to inkbleed , who is so supportive and leaves brilliant comments for me to read💖

ONE MORE THING; if you recognised montgomery fletcher, or would like to know who she is, then you could add my Oliver Wood fic to your libraries! called ERIS and the prologue will be out by tonight!! so go give it a read if you fancy!!

see you soon with chapter six xD (or with the prologue of ERIS 😉)

love, glesni x