cuff

Snippet from The Wronksi Feint in ‘How To Lose A Slytherin in 10 Days’ :

Maeve tapped a fingernail against the chessboard. A slow, satisfied smile curled at the corners of her mouth as her knight swung his sword and neatly cleaved Garreth’s king clean in two. The tiny monarch let out a squeaky gasp before its crown rolled across the table and stopped neatly at Maeve’s waiting finger.

“Checkmate,” she said sweetly, like she hadn’t just gleefully executed a royal decapitation.

Garreth groaned so pathetically, you’d think her knight had taken him out instead. He flopped back in his chair, one arm slung over his face with such theatrical despair, Maeve half-expected the frog choir to appear and start up a mournful hymn.

“That’s not fair,” he whined. “You’re cheating.”

Maeve scoffed. “It’s wizard’s chess, Weasley. The pieces practically move themselves, you can’t cheat.” She gave him a shrug, just to twist the knife. “Maybe you’re just not very good.”

He lowered his arm just enough to scowl at her — or try to — before cracking and sticking his tongue out like a five-year-old who’d been told they couldn’t have Sugar Quills for dinner.

“Alright, alright, I deserve that.” With a flick of his wand, the board began to reset. Splintered pawns reassembled their heads with tiny grumbles, and one bishop shook out its robes indignantly and Maeve could have sworn it stuck its middle finger up at her before taking to its square. “We’re going again. Only this time, I start.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m watching you.”

Maeve made a lazy, ‘feel free’ gesture and watched as he pushed a very timid-looking pawn forward.

“So,” she began casually, nudging one of her own pawns ahead. The tiny piece straightened its back like it had something to prove. “I hear Leander Prewett’s got his sticky pastry-loving hands on a love potion.”

She said it lightly, like it was nothing, but her eyes flicked up, trying to catch the telltale flicker of guilt on Garreth’s face.“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that though, would you?”

Little shit didn’t even flinch. Didn’t look up. Just furrowed his brow in very serious bishop placement strategy.

“Pastry-loving?”

“Think it might have actually been a danish – stop no, don’t distract me,” she snapped, lifting her wand and that same bishop exploded into neat wooden splinters.

“Oi! That’s cheat–”

“Why’s he got a love potion, hmm?” she leaned forward and slapped her palms on the table, making the chessboard jump and her King shake his little fist at her.

Garreth conveniently stared at a portrait to her left.

“No idea what you’re on about.”

“Mm-hmm.” Maeve pushed another pawn ahead. The tiny piece marched forward with wild, hopeless confidence, puffed up like it genuinely thought it could actually take on the rest of Garreth’s army solo. Bless its deluded little soul. “Sure you don’t.”

She loved Garreth, she really did — in those ways a person loves her their favourite cousin. It had always been that way. But bless his heart, he was thick as fuck. Had zero poker face and was walking right into her trap. She already knew , she just wanted him to admit it.

“Because you’re certainly not the type,” she went on, a faint smile playing at her lips as she watched her best friend squirm, “to be whipping up some dodgy little potion right before the Yule Ball, are you?”