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"How did you two do it?"
Max had been shaking all night, sat on the edge of his bed as he tried to calm his breathing. His arms and legs so unstable he couldn't manage to do anything but sit and stare at the ground as he tried to easy his anxiety.
So, when Ron's first words were to question the two boy's on how their names got put into the Goblet of Fire, Max felt nothing but annoyance.
"Never mind. Doesn't matter. Might've let your best friend know, though."
Max stood without warning, glaring at Ron as he moved toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Harry called after him.
"Away from this nonsense."
"It's almost past curfew," Neville tried to warn.
But Maxwell didn't care, the walls of their dorm room were becoming far too small. Almost as if they were closing in on him.
He stormed into the common room, hands over his face as his shoulders shook. A few of the stray Gryffindors could hear his shaky breathing, one of them rushing to the girl's dormitory to find Hermione.
"It's okay," Max whispered to himself. He loosened his tie furiously, feeling as though it was choking him.
"Max. Maxwell." Hermione rushed toward the boy, resting her hands on either side of his face just like she had seen Remus do when they were children.
"I don't feel so good," he uttered.
"You're okay, Max. I'm right here, all right?"
He nodded as he tried to focus on the coldness of Hermione's hands, taking deep breaths as he tried to focus on the girl.
"You okay?" She repeated as his breathing slowed down, getting a stiff nod in return.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled to the girl.
"Don't apologize, just get some rest."
The bright flash of the camera made Maxwell jump, squinting his eyes as he tried to recover from the light.
"What a charismatic group. Hello, I'm Rita Skeeter."
The tiny blonde lady rushed forward, shaking each of the champion's hands.
"I write for the Daily Prophet, but of course you all know that, don't you? It's you we don't know."
"I'd like to keep it that way too. Writers for the prophet are mad." Maxwell whispered to Fleur, the girl laughing quietly under her breath.
"You're the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?" Rita reached out and placed a hand on the Delacour's cheek. "What mysterious do the muscles mask?"
Max watched with narrowed eyes as the woman moved behind Cedric, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick. Me, myself, and I want to know, not to mention my rabid readers. So, who's feeling up to sharing? Shall we start with the youngest?" The woman grabbed Harry. "Lovely."
"That woman is out of her mind," Max groaned.
"No kidding," Cedric sighed. He looked at Max with furrowed eyebrows, looking at him closely. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Hardly," Max replied softly. "Ron's pissed at me. Hermione thinks I'm going to jump off the Astronomy tower."
Once again, the Prince boy tugged at his hair, taking a deep breath as he focused on the sound of his heart.
Max was never good with having all eyes on him, and now he would have to fight for his life while everyone watched. He and Harry both had enough near death experiences for a lifetime, and then they were forced into the tournament.
He couldn't help but wonder what Draco thought. If he saw Max as a cheater like the others were saying, or a liar, or maybe he was listening to one of the dozen other rumors.
"Maxwell." Rita's shrill voice made him jump, fighting back a headache as he turned to the woman. "Your turn."
Against his will, Max was dragged to a nearby room, far too small for comfort, but he supposed he had to deal.
"Maxwell tell me, what made you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"
"I didn't put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
"Sure," Rita hummed unamused. "Do you have anything to say addressing the rumors your mother was a Death Eater?"
"What?" The word fell quietly from Max's mouth, feeling his palms begin to sweat at the words.
"You haven't heard? Before her death she was said to have been seen with Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr on multiple occasions."
"My mother was terrible, but she was not a Death Eater," he hissed.
"And what do you have to say to those suggesting you might possibly die in the Triwizard Tournament?"
"What do I have to say?" Max chuckled dryly. "I say, go to hell."
Without warning, he walked out of the room. Ignoring Rita's calls as he dug his nails into his palms, trying to quickly make his way back to the dorms.
"Princey."
He ignored the calls, shaking his head as he continued his stride.
"Maxwell." Draco moved in front of the boy, grabbing him by the shoulders, his face contorted in worry. "What's a matter?"
"What's a matter?" He echoed. "Everyone thinks I'm going to die in this tournament." Max didn't mean to yell at Draco, covering his mouth as soon as the words left him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, I was-" he shook his head.
Draco scoffed lightly, taking Max's hand in his own.
"You need to calm down. Just looking at you is making me stressed out."
He nodded at the Malfoy's words, looking up to meet his eyes.
"I don't want to die, Draco."
"You won't," he reached out and rested a hand on Max's face. "You'll be perfectly fine."
"You don't know that Draco. Cedric is a genius, Krum is all muscle, Fleur is more talented than the both of them, and Harry has been fighting off dark wizards since first year."
"So have you."
"No I haven't," Max sighed out. "I'm not meant to be doing these things. I'm not like Harry."
"You're right. You're better."
Max shook his head, pulling out of Draco's grasp and continuing down the hall.
