Sucker Love

Chapter 7 • Hermione





Chapter 7 •
Hermione

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I stared at the plate in front of me and my stomach did that
flip-flop thing again. I seriously questioned why I was trying to force-feed
myself a piece of fried chicken when I felt like I’d throw it up anyway. I
reasoned that it was better to eat something now than be hungry at 3 o’clock in
the morning in my dorm, but that option seemed a lot more appealing than
actually consuming my lunch.

 

I wasn’t up to doing anything right now – today simply sucked
for me. I had to be honest: I wasn’t starting off on the best foot at Hogwarts.
I’d long-since gotten over my friends’ badgering me about where I’d been and
finally told them the story in a bit more detail with a boatload of patience
that I’d gathered at some unknown place inside me. That wasn’t the problem
anymore; the problem was someone who I thought had been my savior for that one
crazy moment in time.

 

It all seemed so far away now – my friends badgering me, Ron
asking me if I really had been kicked out of Hogwarts, my disbelieving face as
I informed Ron that he must’ve eaten a bad bag of Bernie Botts’ All-Flavor
Beans to actually believe that, Draco taking me to see Alahara. Malfoy was the
actual problem that I was side-stepping. I knew it – it didn’t take a genius to
figure out that he’d been my main focus since I got to Hogwarts; perhaps it was
mutual.

 

Either way, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened this
morning before this Day of Hell started getting any worse. I didn’t want to
admit it, I didn’t want to believe that her letter was all true and that I’d
been a complete fool for thinking otherwise. I couldn’t understand why this was
bothering me so much; it wasn’t as if I was interested in Draco romantically
and was disappointed in him for being such a Playboy.

 

She’d forewarned me about Draco, too. I guess I felt like a fool
for thinking that she’d owled me out of unnecessary worry. She’d taken a great
deal of energy into detailing the escapades of this new and improved Malfoy
that I’d just met. It did strike me as a bit odd at first, but it didn’t come
as a great shock to me. After all, Muggle high schools weren’t exactly pictures
of naïve perfections when it came to sex. I’d learned enough to know that most
guys just chased girls to fuck them and dump them afterwards; I’d even been a
victim of these bastards a couple of times in my day.

 

But I honestly didn’t think it was anything to worry about with
Malfoy. Honestly, with the two of us acting the way we did, I hardly thought
we’d be within a foot of each other all year. We’d had some problems beforehand
with the whole Mudblood issue and then we simply went on with our lives as a
part of our own house – him residing contently with the Slytherins while I was
perfectly happy with my Gryffindor house. I didn’t think we’d get to that point
where Malfoy’s reputation came into play; truthfully, I didn’t think we’d even
talk like civil human beings.

 

It wasn’t like I should’ve expected this big change in Malfoy
either. I wasn’t surprised at his new Playboy status; after all, he did acquire
the attitude way before he had the equipment. But this change shouldn’t have
crossed paths with me. What would he have wanted with me? We weren’t old
buddies, we didn’t date at one point and didn’t have any unresolved sexual
feelings towards each other. It didn’t make sense.

 

I guess I thought this morning should’ve cleared things up. Big
surprise – it didn’t. Perhaps Malfoy just wanted to toy with my mind, get a
kiss out of me and have me fluttering about him for the rest of the year like
his other whores begging for more. I was glad I let him know that he hadn’t a
chance in hell with me. And that was good – because I sure as hell didn’t enjoy
having him chase after me like a cat with a mouse. Didn’t enjoy it at all; not
one bit.

 

No, no enjoyment there. No flattery either. None.

 

I scrunched up my face and rolled my chicken to the opposite
side of my plate where it accidentally rolled over the edge and onto the
Pumpkin Juice-stained tablecloth.

 

Ron raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

 

“Mione, what’d you do that for?”

 

I tried to hide a smirk. That was such a Ron thing to do. He and
Harry had been involved in some Quidditch/World Cup/Lavender/Ginny discussion
during breakfast and most of lunch and neither had acknowledged me with so much
as a nod. And now I ‘wasted’ a drumstick and Ron’s attention was at its
fullest. I couldn’t hide this smirk.

 

“Accident, Ron,” I assured him soothingly. “It’ll be okay.”

 

He grumbled at my mock-motherly words and returned to eating
gobs of mashed potatoes and gravy while trying to debate what broom Paise
Lorkhin really rode at the forty-something’s Quidditch Country Championship or
whatnot with Harry at the same time. Harry seemed amused by the scenario as
well.

 

As this potato-filled conversation among my friends continued, I
tried to remember if it was always like this. I hadn’t always studied, had I?
Did I always bring a book with me to my meals so much so that my friends got
caught up in their own conversations and hardly even noticed I was there? Did I
isolate myself with my studies that much?

 

I fidgeted in my chair absently as I stared at that long-long
piece of chicken on my plate. No, lunch wasn’t a time for me to get all
deep-thinker-like. It wasn’t right.

 

The chicken stared at
me. It was part of the reason I knocked it off my plate. I happened to have
been convincing myself that Draco’s asshole advances weren’t welcome on my part
when the chicken started looking at me like I was lying. It was seriously
doubting my self-control – I couldn’t let it get away with that.

 

Sighing, I stood up from the table and picked up
my books and knapsack. I figured it was time to leave when I started accusing
my fried chicken of being too perceptive.

 

That’s when I accidentally glanced at my never-ending problem.
The Slytherin table had to be positioned right there with Draco sitting at
it...right there as well. What was that about? I looked over at his cool
demeanor while he discussed something lightly with another member of his House,
looking at his watch every so often – a definite sign of superiority. I
couldn’t help but feel the anger rise up in my stomach, my throat, my lungs, my
mind.

 

I felt out of control; my emotions were all over the place and
for no goddamn reason. I didn’t know why I was so upset about Draco – Malfoy –
sitting at his table and treating one of his lackeys like a piece of shit. I
shouldn’t have cared – I shouldn’t have looked; I should’ve been with my
friends, in the safety of their circle, discussing exactly what that stupid
Paise guy was riding, a Nimbus 402 or something.

 

But I wasn’t. I hated that Malfoy got this rise out me; that
even though I cleared up his intentions and got a clear look of what exactly he
wanted, I still thought about him and wondered about the smallest things he
did.

 

I wondered if he always raised his left eyebrow when he was mad
or if it just came naturally like his habit of pocketing his hands casually
when he was nervous or upset. He’d pocketed his hands twice this morning; both
times he was pissed and frustrated. I hated that I noticed these things and
found myself still staring at his platinum hair even after these thoughts
displayed themselves in my mind for the fourteenth time.

 

And why was I so into him? There was nothing – nothing romantic
there, nothing of interest for me.

 

My chicken stared disbelievingly at me again. Damn poultry.

 

“Mione,” a voice inquired. “Hellnyonnyone available here?
Hermione Granger?”

 

I blinked and realized that I was still standing
in front of the Gryffindor dinner table, my head turned – annoyingly so –
towards the Slytherin table and my knapsack dangling off my shoulder as if it
were more alive than me and I was its immobile resting place. I turned back to
my classmates and dorm mates who were now digging into the featured dessert –
cheesecake or something. Only one of them was looking at me intently with his
messy black hair twisted in wei weird part on his head and his glasses perched
dutifully on his nose.

 

“Yeah?” I answered, staring at Harry questioningly. Secretly I
was thankful for him distracting me because I was sure if someone hadn’t, I’d
still be staring at the back of Malfoy’s blonde and thinking abstractly about
his stupid mannerisms while keeping a paranoid state of mind towards my uneaten
chicken leg.

 

I was probably just insane. The chicken leg certainly thought
so.

 

“We were thinking of going to Hogsmeade this weekend,” Harry
replied, looking at me somewhat oddly. I figured that he noticed my lack of
departure after standing up from the table. He sent a brief glance towards the
Slytherin table where I’d been staring the majority of the time, then raised an
eyebrow and shook it off like he didn’t even want to know. “You know, unwind
and complain about classes starting.”

 

“Who’s going?” I asked instinctively. I didn’t know what I wanted
him to answer. Ron, him, Ginny, people?

 

Harry shrugged non-chalantly, waving his arm briefly in an oval,
indicating everyone sitting at the table. “Everyone. You in?”

 

I pursed my lips in thought. I hadn’t been to Hogsmeade in a
while – a long while – and it would give me a chance to catch up with my
friends – Lavender, Ginny, Parvati; all those whom I haven’t said so much as a
hello to since I’ve been back.

 

I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds fun. But – ”

 

Harry grinned and raised his hand to stop me from continuing.
“No, we won’t force you to complain about classes. You have permission to
remain excited so long as you don’t spoil our whine-fest.”

 

I couldn’t help but break into a grin matching his and rolled my
eyes playfully. “Wow, Harry,” I exclaimed, in mock awe, “you read my mind.”

 

“Did I?” Harry played along. “Must be a gift.”

 

“Potter has another gift? To what do we owe this miracle?”

 

I knew that voice by now but I didn’t turn around. I wasn’t in
the mood – I didn’t think that was it, but it was a good enough excuse. Harry,
however, rose up to the bait and did acknowledge the author of the comment.

 

“Well, someone has to make up for the lack of,” Harry grimaced,
“gifts you have to offer.”

 

Malfoy looked like he was about to reply, then thought better of
it and turned to me suddenly. He promptly turned formal and nodded his head.
“Ms. Granger.”

 

And with that, he stalked off with his confident swagger like
there wasn’t any tension between us. And what the hell was up with that ‘Ms.
Granger’ nickname?

 

I should’ve asked the chicken leg.

 

 

.

 

 

“Ms. Granger...and Mr. Weasley, partner up,” Snape’s voice
announced boredly. It seemed like he should’ve been mad or something, but was
just bored and was angry with himself for not scolding the class enough. Maythe the entire class wasn’t the only group of humans that were utterly mummified
into the land of sleep by Potions – maybe he was as well. Although I hardly
thought it was fair to any of us to call Snape human – except for maybe the
Slytherins – and Malfoy. “Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Longbottom and Ms.
Patil...”

 

I tuned out Snape – unsurprisingly – and watched Ron fidget in
his seat amusedly. He was probably disoriented at what to do, completely
missing Snape’s lecture, and the fact that I was also zoned out didn’t help.
After all, I knew that I was the only hope for a good grade in this group; it
was hardly conceited of me – Ron would’ve agreed if asked.

 

“Mm...Mione?” the aforementioned fidget victim asked, confused.
“Did you hear what the...um...assignment was?” He looked like a guilty prisoner
on the stand pleading innocent but turning red at the same time as if he was
saying no but nodding as well.

 

I sat up – from my slouching position which included most of my
face being hidden by my forearm, lulling me to sleep – and shook my head
humorously. Even in my state of dazed sleep I managed to hear Snape’s
irritating voice cut though the classroom air like a jagged edge and announce
the Potions assignment. Clearly Ron was more talented at blocking out annoying
teachers than I was.

 

“Yes, Ron,” I said, looking at him as if he was in Kindergarten.
He didn’t seem offended in the least so I continued, “I actually listen in
class when our project is worth a third of our semester grade.” Ron’s eyes
widened followed by a big gulp and nervous whine. “We have to make an Honesty
potion so that it reacts to the Truth Crystal that’s been assigned to us.” I
waved around the transparent, jagged rock that was carelessly deposited next to
us by some Slytherin who was conned into passing them out to the class.
“Remember?”
bsp;bsp;

Ron made a face. I could tell that it was all coming back to
him.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he acknowledged. “Doesn’t that potion take three
weeks or whatever to make?”

 

He said it like it was a big shock. I merely studied the Truth
Crystal in front of my eyes as if it held all the answers to my fucking
confusing – and sometimes mediocre – life. It told nothing; damn crystal. The
chicken leg was loads more helpful.

 

“So our wonderful Professor explains,” I replied dully. I was
actually surprised at myself; never was I bored in any class. I was book chick
– master of all that was educational.
Of course this was Potions – and I was partnered with someone who
couldn’t listen to what we were supposed to do if his life depended on it.
Jesusoldeoldemort and his defeat, Ron could concentrate on; a project that
contributed to our N.E.W.T.s – a fucking obstacle for him. Unbelievable. “We’re
going to be working on this for the next two and half weeks in class,” I continued,
still studying the way the sun reflected off the Truth Crystal through the
windows of the classroom. “Then we have to finish it on our own time. Pretty
screwed plan if you ask me.”

 

Ron raised an eyebrow – probably at my unwholesome-like language
– and was about to comment on it when Snape’s voice invaded our blessed noisy
classroom once again. Hey, at least with the students being the loudmouths that
they were, Snape could take a break from shouting at the class.

 

“The next person that opens their trap when I’m talking will get
forty points t fro from their house,” the Potions Master threatened, fire in
his eyes.

 

Or not.

 

“Now,” Snape continued, disgust evident in his voice as he
scanned all the demanding eyes that landed on him effectively after his threat,
“there seems to be a problem that has occurred with the group formation.” His
eyes strayed to Malfoy and Pansy, one of them looking utterly annoyed while the
other kept up her angelic visage. I raised an eyebrow – another Malfoy tribute
from our dearest Professor of Slytherin? I couldn’t wait. Really. “Due to Ms.
Parkinson’s duties as Head Girl interfering with our class schedule,” he
announced a bit sourly, “there will need to be a group of three – with Mr.
Malfoy – for the duration of this project.”

 

I could feel Ron shuffling uncomfortably – and somewhat angrily
– beside me.

 

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, and I turned to him at the sight of
a better distraction than to listen to Snape’s voice. “Don’t I feel sorry for
who gets stuck with that prat in their group.”

 

Now, even I – someone who wouldn’t believe in anything remotely
superficial anymore due to meeting the Professor by the name of Trelawney –
knew that the situation would inevitably end up with –

 

“Volunteers already, I see.” Snape’s voice was like ice,
sounding from behind Ron and making him pale slightly. I guess Snape had lost
some of his fright on us over the past years because we were used to his shit;
I mean Ron didn’t full out pale this time or go as red as an enhanced version
of his hair. Luckily for our Professor, however, there was still some fright he
instilled upon us from his words. Now that was skill, man. “Well, Mr. Malfoy,
don’t dawdle now. If there are fans of yours voicing their desire to have you
in their group already, I see no problem in choosing one for you.”

 

Stretching back to his full height from his bent position behind
Ron, he delivered one of his menacing smiles towards the Gryffindors – me and
Ron in particular – before making sure that Malfoy was actually moving his ass
over to our group. Then, he walked over to his desk, muttering something about
little joys of life and barking at the class to shut up once more.

 

Ah, Potions.

 

“So,” Malfoy’s voice sounded in front of the Gryffindor portion
of our group – namely in front of Ron and I. He seemed to be looking pointedly
at me for some reason – as if I interested him somehow and didn’t tell just
tell off his ass earlier this morning. Strangely enough, the blonde didn’t say
anything further to me or to Ron while setting his backpack next to the table
and taking out some parchment before pulling up a chair that Neville had been
sitting on and straddled it backwards.

 

“So?” I inquired with an annoyed raise of an eyebrow. “That’s
all you’re going to say?”

 

Malfoy just smirked and looked down at his piece of parchment as
he began to scribble something quickly. He probably loved my reaction; stupid
of me to give him that satisfaction. “As soon as I think of something else your
ears are worthy of hearing me say, I’ll be sure to recite it to you promptly.”
His sarcasm gave way for a little humor, but I chose to ignore as I glared at
his currently bowed head. “Now, for this potion, we’re going to need some
Cornroot and Chipped Morsleginger – two grams of each.”

 

He continued scribbling as Ron’s face kept gaining an angry, red
color and mine kept twisting into a more ferocious glare to send towards the
blonde. He was just such a fuc –

 

“Oh, and Granger, while I get those, go ask Snape where
the...uh...” Draco said, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember the right
ingredient to send me to retrieve, “Essence of Firefly is.” He turned to leave
promptly and I opened my mouth to give the screw boyieceiece of mind, when he
suddenly turned around – as if in slow motion – his deep, green robes whirling
around him like a cloud of recognition and he flashed me the warmest smile I’d
ever seen him issue. His teeth sparkled and his reflective, blue eyes twinkled
as he reached his arm towards me and said, “Please?”

 

I felt my resolve melt even though I heard a frustrated Ron
snort in the background. He was being nice – asshole-ish but genuine. I felt my
anger melt away as well as my head nodded towards him of its own accord.
Turning on my heel, I felt all his niceness filter into me and registered with
what he just did.

 

“That little fuck – ” I began, and stopped myself as I neared
Snape’s horrid existence. His desk was merely inches away from me and I knew
better than to give Snape a few extra reasons to take points from Gryffindor –
supposing I had a bit of decency and cared – or give me detention. I tried to
keep my anger at Draco – no, Malfoy – hidden beneath many layers as I
approached the Potions teacher but couldn’t make it go down to quite a simmer.

 

That little ass was trying to play me – again. I knew that it
would take a complete moron – something I wasn’t campaigning for – to fall for
the sudden nice act that Malfoy was displaying for me. Sure, it was the type of
nice that meant utter kindness to him and was just above decent in normal,
h ter terms, but he was still trying – trying to get something he’d been after
the year I was gone, too: an easy piece of ass. I couldn’t believe it; perhaps
I was reading too much into his actions, but at that moment I didn’t give a
damn. I just knew Malfoy was up to something.

 

“Ms. Granger, will you please stop fluttering about my desk and
state what you want promptly?” Snape’s irritated voice broke me out of my
equally annoying thoughts as I stood there, half-fuming, half-pacing in front
of his desk just as he’d said. I managed a sheepish smile.

 

“Sorry, Professor,” I issued sweetly. “I was wondering where the
Essence of Firefly was – since it isn’t...um...out anywhere.” I waited for
Snape to say something but all he did was return to the book that was open on
his desk while he shook his head.

 

“Of course it isn’t out anywhere,” he said, his head still down
but his hand rummaging for something in a drawer while his eyes continued to
read. “Essence of Firefly is extremely hard to harvest and with excelling
students like Longbottom in the class, I wouldn’t let it sit out on a flat
surface for more than five, strategically-planned seconds before confiscating
it again.” He finally looked up and his hand stopped rummaging in the drawer as
he pulled it out, revealing a small, fragile-looking vile with some fine,
bluish powder inside it.

 

Snape studied me for a good minute before he carefully placed
the vile on the desk, closer to me than it was to him and waved his hand at me
to take it.

 

I quickly grasped the vile, feeling like I’d just taken Snape’s
most valued treasure from him and somehow thought it’d be safer with me or
something. I was just about to return to my group – whom I hoped had evaporated
along with the cauldron steam – when Snape’s voice reached me again.

 

“That vile is in your care, Ms. Granger,” he said. That was all he uttered before
going bto hto his book. Colorful fellow.

 

I nodded, as if he could see me and shook my head as I returned
to my table. I rolled my eyes as I heard the argument from across the room
develop and get louder as I neared the heard of wild animals that were causing
the noise.

 

“…it’s not dissolving right with the Cornroot, Weasley, don’t
you see? You were supposed to mix in the water and the Morsleginger first.”
Malfoy’s voice was so impatient I thought he’d clock Ron over the head any
second now. Ron, himself, wasn’t doing so much better in the tempter control
department.

 

“I did mix the water and the Morsle stuff first! Then, you said
to dump in the Cornroot – which I did,” he retorted angrily, pointing less than
delicately at the potion with his finger, almost knocking over the cauldron.
Malfoy rolled his eyes.

 

“I said wait for Granger to get back with the Essence of Firefly
before you dump in the Cornroot,” he clarified impatiently. “Besides, if you
mixed the Morsleginger with the water first like you were supposed to, it
wouldn’t turn that damn green color.”

 

Ron was about to say something else – which I would have wagered
wouldn’t have helped his case too much – but saw me approaching and grabbed my
arm, pulling me closer so I could see the contents of our cauldron. I had to be
truthful – it looked totally gross; repulsive even. I knew that the puke-green
goop we had now wouldn’t do any kinds of good for the Truth Crystal. With our
luck, it would probably make it lie or some crap like that.

 

“Come on, Mione, you know this,” Ron stated, directing me
towards the green goop he’d apparently been responsible for, “this isn’t wrong.
I mean, if it’s anyone’s fault it’s the stupid ferret’s.”

 

Malfoy – at the mention of his alleged nickname – looked at me
questioningly, not a bit angry all of a sudden. Just questioning, almost
asking, ‘Are you going to lie and agree with him?’ At least that’s what I felt
he was asking. His icy blue eyes bore into mine while Ron tugged on my arm as
if that would make me respond faster. I closed my eyes.

 

“Ron, stop it. The potion’s not supposed to look like...that,
it’s for sure,” I began, walking around the cauldron as the boys backed off
long enough for me to inspect it from all sides. Malfoy still had that
questioning, yet amused look on his face. That look made me want to punch his
lights out; a lot. “But we only have a certain amount of ingredients and there
isn’t enough left for a second batch, so...we’ll have to made do with what ve gve got and add the Essence of Firefly.” I wrinkled my brow, suddenly
realizing something wrong with the situation; something that I should’ve
realized from the beginning. “What’s it for anyway? It wasn’t in our supplies
list for the potion.”

 

Malfoy just shrugged as he removed the vile from my hands and
started to uncork the top. “It’s a shortcut for the Truth potion,” he explained
shortly, easing out the cork so that the vile wouldn’t lose any powder during
the process, “I know Snape wouldn’t mind letting me use it.” He looked brie
pa
pausing his de-corking movements to flash me a smirk. “Feel honored you’re with
me.”

 

It was my turn to roll my eyes – again.

 

“Completely and utterly honored,” I assured him sarcastically
before removing the vile suddenly from his hands. He looked up at me again with
irritated eyes.

 

“Hey, I was about to add that,” he announced.

 

“I know,” I informed him, “but do you even know how much? What
if you’re adding way more than you should or not enough?”

 

Malfoy looked at me briefly, his eyes penetrating me for a
second before his hands reclaimed the vile from mine promptly. “Because I’ve
done this before – how would I know about the shortcut? And why would Snape let
me use it then?”

 

I looked at him bewildered and took the vile right before he
tipped it over the cauldron again.

 

“Guys,” I could hear Ron muttering, but I didn’t respond and
instead glared at the ass that wouldn’t leave my mind all day.

 

“I don’t know how you’d know! That’s exactly it – why should I
trust you? You haven’t told me anything,” I reminded him, my voice rising as I
spoke each word, my face inching closer to his. Pausing, I covered the top of
the vile with my thumb to preserve the contents then crossed my arms over my
chest. “How do I know you’re not up to something?”

 

Malfoy’s eyes widened in bewilderment, much like my own as he
snatched the vile back from me. “Up to what? This is my grade, too!” He shook
his head and tipped the vile over the potion, before suddenly changing his mind
and drawing it back to him. “Where did you get the idea that I was up to
anything at all?”

 

“You’re Draco Malfoy, king of all that is crap-filled disaster
at Hogwarts. I could get that idea if I just met you this morning!”

 

“Did you really just get that idea this morning?” Malfoy
inquired, this time holding on firmly as I tried to regain control of the
Firefly vile. I tugged harder.

 

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

He tugged back, regaining control of it and pulling it higher
above his head, out of my reach. Bastard.

 

“It means you didn’t have any ideas until this morning, did
you?” he demanded. “What made you think that I didn’t care about the grade at
all?”

 

I narrowed my eyes, still trying to grab the vile; I brushed the
bottom of it. “Perhaps the way that you cared about all the rest of your grades
gave me a little clue.”

 

Draco raised an eyebrow, still holding the vile just out of my
reach. His icy eyes were dancing, almost vibrating but he maintained his voice
at an even tone. “How did you know about my other grades, hm? You weren’t even
there when I received them.”

 

“Doesn’t mean that other people weren’t there,” I retorted, “to
see how much you really cared about those grades. Maybe even the grades
themselves!”

 

I knew was beginning to sound hysterical. Malfoy was losing his
cool as well. I was also nearly losing my balance.

 

“Which ones? Perhaps if you told me which grades who thought I
didn’t care about, I could at least go back and prove to you – to the grades –
that I did!”

 

“Right, like if you cared about her at all, you’d have – ”

 

My mouth dropped open as I realized that neither I nor Malfoy
were holding the Essence of Firefly vile. In fact, the vile itself sailing
through the air gave me the confirmation that I needed. Malfoy – still ruffled
about the argument – was about to make a retort towards my unfinished when he,
too, noticed that neither of us were in position of the vile.

 

The sound of breaking glass – as unnoticeably quite as it was –
stirred the attention of the remaining groups in the classroom – and Snape. His
black, encompassing eyes landed on the dusty blue powder that now rested on the
dirty, scuffed up floor of the dungeon-like classroom, disturbed and exiled
from its glass home.

 

Holy fucking shit.

 

I realized, at that moment, that I was probably going to get
detention for the rest of the month – two months, maybe, if I read Snape’s
stillness correctly. The Potions Master wasn’t one to act calm about anything,
so whe did did, I knew it was a red flMalfMalfoy, too, seemed a bit worried
about the outcome of all this – although I didn’t know why.

 

I began to recall that amidst our little argument – which went
deeper than I ever thought it’d go in the first place – Malfoy’s hand began
subtly losing height as the retorts got more heated, giving me the person
opening to snatch the vile. That stupid Firefly vile and emptying it out in our
cauldron hardly seemed important now as I remember knocking it out of Draco’s
outstretched hand accidentally, instead of collecting in my own palm as
planned.

 

Looking as the discarded blue powder on the floor, I could only
bite my lip nervously. My nervousness grew as Snape calmly stood up from his
desk and walked over to stand in front of the Essence of Firefly.

 

“Return to your work,” he ordered, raising palmpalm halfway in
the air, “all of you.” He waited until everyone settled uneasily back to work
on their potions before announcing in a clipped voice, “Ms. Granger. Come here
– now.”

 

I looked at Ron – who looked back at me sympathetically, before
looking down at the floor – and began my trek to Snape. I didn’t even spare a
glance at Malfoy.

 

Snape was very silent when I reached him and I began to wonder
just how special that Essence of Firefly was; it couldn’t have been that valuable
if Snape let students use it. Could it have been?

 

“Ms. Granger,” Snape began sourly, looking down at me as soon as
he removed his gaze from the blue dust on the floor, “I assigned you a simple
task – to make sure that the vile I lent you was not to be damaged. I felt that
I expressed the importance and rarity of this particular ingredient to you when
we spoke and yet here we are,” he paused, motioning to the broken vile on the
ground, “with the exact situation you were in charge of preventing.” Snape
paused again, this time pacing around the vile slowly, always turning around
when he neared me and moving the other way. “What to do, what to do...”

 

“Professor...I just...I know I was supposed to look after it but
– ”

 

“Perhaps a detention would be a suitable punishment for such a
transgression,” Snape mused, continuing as if I’d never spoken. “But one would
hardly be enough to understand the pricelessness of the Ese ofe of Firefly –
no, at least a month would do you some good, Ms. Granger.”

 

“But, Professor, I didn’t do it. I mean I – ”

 

“I did it, Professor.”

 

I whirled around to see Malfoy waltzing up behind me, then past
me and stopping in front of Professor Snape as he looked him in the eye.

 

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Malfoy? This is none of your concern – ”

 

“I believe it is, Professor,” he insisted and I wondered if
Malfoy had gone insane in such a short period of time to have enough guts to
cut off Snape then contradict him smartly. “I accidentally knocked the vile out
of Granger’s hand and didn’t see what happened until it was too late. I’d no
idea that the Essence of Firefly was so rare.”

 

Snape looked from Malfoy, to me, then back to Malfoy, probably
trying to decide what the hell kind of mind game we were up to. I wished more
than anything that I knew what the hell Malfoy was doing and briefly wondered
if he started using hair gel again and the stuff seeped into his brain.
Anything was possible.

 

“Both of you,” Snape finally said in a disgusted tone as he
looked at us through a curtain of black, greasy hair, “have detention for a
month starting Thursday.” He waited a beat for it all to sink before waving his
hand at us dismissively, “Now clean this up promptly and get to work on your
potion.”

 

As he walked back to his desk, both Malfoy and I kneeled down to
remove the dust from the floor where it landed. I kept my head down for a good
minute before I finally asked one of the only clear thoughts that were running
through my mind.

 

“Why did you try to take the fall for me?”

 

At this, Malfoy stopped gathering all the dust from the floor
and looked up, staring me straight in the eye. “It was both our faults,” he
answered truthfully, dropping his eyes before looking back up again and smiling
the second most genuine smile I’d ever seen him issue. “Besides, I told you I
cared about this grade.”