𝕸idnight 𝕽ain / crazy but mine
chapter six ━━ Oh, oh.
( Trouble )

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

☪︎┇ DAEMON WAS AMAZED THE LILY'S FIERCE PERSONALITY. He wondered if Ambrosia will inherited those amazing
personality. In a way, the fierceness in Lady Potter's eyes look like Ambrosia's.

Ambrosia had never believed she would meet someone she hated more than you know who, but that was before she met Draco Malfoy.

"Its understable actually. His father is Lucius Malfoy. A peacock, why was he in the house of the snakes? Unknown."
Sirius rolled his eyes, his dark hair falling over his eyes.

"Probably genetic." James pointed out.

Still, first year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan.

Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and
Slytherin would be learning together.

"I am sure Ambrosia will be good at it. She did ride a dragon in our lives." Corlys stated proudly.

"Amazing," said Ambrosia darkly. "I can not wait to surpass my father!" She grinned. She had been looking forward to learning more flying techniques more than anything else.

James smiled at the sight. She wanted to
surpassed him but Merlin, she already is better than him. And he could not be any more prouder of his only child.

"You don't know that. You could make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

"He is always all talk." Callisto said, looking at his friends. He was not even offend, after all. Blood does not always make you family.

Bitter are the wars between brothers.

Draco Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick.

"He has quiet of Narcissa's look." Sirius mumbled. His cousin, he wondered if at least one of them had cared about him. If one of them had enough gutt to stop their family from going crazy. Sirius tsk,
of couse they did not.

They were too busy.

Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom.

Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their
dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game
with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Ambrosia had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

"Quidditch is the best game ever!"

Lucerys looked up curiously. He wondered how was it played. every
body wondered actually. A broom
is not the same as a dragon. What if
his older sister has gotten hurt in the
future?

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Ambrosia felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

"Poor sweet boy." Rhaenyra said softly. Yes, Neville reminded her a lot of her little Luke. Their similarities worried her.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried.

"Mini Remus!"

"Shut up, Sirius."

At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Ambrosia have been receiving a lot
of gifts from her aumt and uncle, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained.

"What is a remembral-?" Rhaena asked curiously.

"Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet,"You've forgotten something..."

"Oh." She whispered.

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy,
who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his
hand.

Baela leaned er back against the couch, a scoff escaping her lips. "Cunt." She hissed with annoyance.

"Language."

Callisto and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason
to fight Malfoy but Professor Mc- Gonagall who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. "What's going on?"

"I missed her." Jmes mumbled.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"Tsk. Imbecile." Callisto scoffed with disgusted.

Viserys could not help but see the bitterness in the boy's eyes. Its looked
so muh like Rhaenyra and Aegon's.

At three-thirty that afternoon Ambrosia, Callisto and Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Ambrosia had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to
vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked.

"Everyone stand by broomstick. Come on, hurry up." Ambrosia glanced down at her broom.

"She is probably a natural at this, I am telling you." Sirius grinned.

"Probably? You mean totally." James smirked.

Alicent found herself appreciating the figure of the man in front of her. James Potter, he looked very handsome and he was a Lord. Her eyes widened.

What nonsense were going through her head? The man was married and had that bastard child as his reincarnation child!

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the
front, "and say 'Up!"' "UP everyone shouted.

Ambrosia's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and
Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Ambrosia; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

"This is quiet entertaining." Daemon grinned, watching the scene in the front.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

Ambrosia and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three-- two --" But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"The boy!" Rhaenyra's eyes widened.

"Weakling." Aemond felt disgust. Was the boy that incapable that he could not even lean how to ride a broom? If he had to deal with a dragon then he will die without hesitation. He did not like the idea of someone like Neville near his Jacaera. She was his and she is suposed to be around people like Aemond.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a
cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet  twenty feet. Ambrosia saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp slip side ways off the broom and WHAM a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

"Ouch." Daemon mumbled.

Helaena gasped, her hand covering her lips. "Poor boy." She mumbled to herself.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Ambrosia heard her mutter.

"Someone as weak as him can not be a Wizard." Otto Hightower sneered.

"Oh, and you know how to be a wizard?" Daemon said agape. "I
am shocked."

He was not.

That made Sirius grinned.

"Come on, boy -- it's all right up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Tsk. Green suit them very well." Baela rolled her eyes. She wondered if the slytherin were jealous of Gryffindor. Did that blinde boy have insecurities? He probably does, otherwise, what other
reason could he have to make fun of others?

Spoiled brat.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"I like her." Rhaena smiled.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Lily clicked her tongue in annoyance. Whoever this girl was, she is on red light list. She may be dead but the dead can haunt.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the
grass. "It that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Ambrosia quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find, how about up a tree?"

"Beat his ass, prongslette!"

"Thats your nephew," Remus reminded Sirius.

"He is a Malfoy. He totally act like one."

"Give it here!" Ambrosia yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick
and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Ambrosia grabbed her broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger.

"Come on!" Daemon groaned.

The fun was starting.

"Madam Hooch told us not to move --
you'll get us all into trouble."

Ambrosia ignored her.

Alicent sneered, gritting her teeth. Like mother like daughter, both are attention seekers. Alicent had very strong belief that that she will be a whore like her mother, Rhaenyra. First Daemon, then Criston Cole, third Laenor then that damn woman who used to be with the Rogue Prince, she saw her eyeing their Rhaenyra.

"Let her go," Callisto looked at Hermione. "She is very stubborn so there is no way she would listen to you."

"Like James."

Blood was pounding in her ears. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared; air rushed through her hair, and his robes whipped out behind her and in a rush of fierce joy, this was wonderful. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron and a smirk was formed on Callisto's lips.

"That my daughter." Daemon frowned, and turned to look at James. "Our daughter?"

"Our daugher." James nodded.

"Thats sound so wrong." Baela laughed.

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked
stunned. "Give it here," Ambrosia called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!" "Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

Ambrosia knew, she leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Ambrosia made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping. "No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Ambrosia called.

"knock him out!" Madness filled in Baela's eyes.

"Push him off!" Lucerys cheered on.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. "Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground. Ambrosia saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall.

She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down, next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching, she stretched out his hand, a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

"Yes!"

Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relieved. As long as their little dragon was safe and sound, she did not care what happenes to others but what Ambrosia did was very admirable but alao danerous and reckless.

"AMBROSIA POTTER!"

"That Minnie." Sirius sweatdropped and shrink into the couch.

Oh. Oh. She was in trouble.

"Potter luck."

When was she not?