Forbidden [d.m.] || rewritten

chapter 9

Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of the very few classes I could actually learn in this year. Professor Lupin found that we were all pretty far behind for third-years after having lousy little Lockhart who did nothing but flaunt his so-called achievements all year. Nonetheless, I was eager to learn from him. We had spoken a couple of times throughout the year and he told me a lot about my mother and father. More than I learned in twelve years with the Dursley's.

It seemed the four of them were the dearest of friends. It reminded me much of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. Lupin even told me this one story of when he and Sirius set my Mum and Dad up on their first date. Dad was apparently crazy about her when they were at school, and he got Sirius and Lupin to convince her to agree to a date.

I was startled out of my gaze when the classroom doors were slammed shut behind us and Professor Snape came waltzing in, rather than Professor Lupin. Harry and I were sat together in a pair of desks between Hermione and Ron and Malfoy and Crabbe. At the arrival of Mr. Dark and Brooding, the chatter died down and the lights dimmed.

Snape was very particular about the conditions in his classroom when he taught. He always made sure every single window in the room was locked, letting minimal daylight in for any of us. That also kept any outside noise from seeping in. The only light left in the room was that of the projector.

He turned to face us once he reached the front of the room with a pale, stiff expression on his face. "Turn to page 394." He muttered in a monotone, silkily voice.

Malfoy blew a piece of parchment over to me in the shape of a paper bird. I knew Snape saw the note gliding towards me, but he decided to shrug it off considering it was his precious one that blew it over. He turned away from anything that Malfoy did wrong. Stupid bigotry.

I carefully opened up the piece of notebook paper, hoping it wasn't jinxed to blow up in my face or make my eyes burn. Harry turned his attention toward me and peeked over my shoulder to see what it said.

I peered down at an animation of a dementor hovering over to what I assumed was a drawing of little me, and sucking out my soul. My eyes roamed down to the bottom of the paper that read:

𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝, 𝙿𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙻𝚎𝚝'𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝.

How charming of him. Wasn't he just at my bloody bedside after curfew to make sure that I was safe from a serial killer?

I felt a finger prodding at my robe from behind me and turned to be faced with two Slytherin boys that I knew were in Malfoy's little gang. "Hey, Potter. Can I see that?" Asked the kind voice of Blaise Zabini. I never had a conversation with Blaise, but he carried himself much more respectfully than many other Slytherins did.

I handed the note to him and watched as he crumpled it up into a ball and tossed it back at the blonde-haired bloke. "Malfoy, book some drawing lessons. Your stick figures look like a dying goblin," Blaise spoke.

"Quiet." Professor Snape hissed from beside Harry.

I looked over at Malfoy with irritation evident on my face as he chortled with that pathetic moron, Crabbe. Scoffing under my breath, I decided to turn my attention back to the grease-ball in the front of the room.

"Excuse me, sir. But, where's Professor Lupin?" I heard Hermione ask from her desk.

Snape turned to the curly-haired girl and leaned forward over her desk with an ugly, leering face. "Your professor finds himself... incapable of teaching... at this particular moment." He drew out his sentences where there was really no need to. "Turn to page 394."

I sat with my head in my hands, wishing it were any other professor in front of us than the one with something against me. I yearned for the minutes to go by faster. That hand on the clock seemed to fasten a bit when an argument broke out on why we were currently learning the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf when we had no business learning this yet.

When Snape went off on another tangence, Malfoy blew another note towards Harry and I, though, this time it landed in front of Harry on his desk. He unraveled the note, reveling an animation of him getting struck by lightening on his broom during a Quidditch match.

'Malfoy, piss off," I spat from my seat. "You're despicable."

Despicable was the perfect word to describe how he acted for the next two hours of class. It seemed like we were in Snape's dark, lifeless classroom for a bloody decade. Harry and I walked side by side, giggling as we heard Ron and Hermione bicker behind us about the importance of the Ancient Runes class.

A shoulder grazed past me aggressively, nearly knocking me to the floor and I looked to my right to see Malfoy cackling with Crabbe and Goyle. Was he that juvenile to shove me over in the hallway? The corridor was practically empty with the exemption of him and his friends and me with a few fellow Gryffindors.

I came to an abrupt stop and sent him an evil glare. Before I could even reach into my robe for my wand, Harry trudged past me with force and pushed Malfoy into the stone wall behind him with one hand. "Did you just put your disgusting hands on my sister, Malfoy?" The tone in Harry's voice was one I had never heard before. "Don't touch her again."

"Oh, please. What are you going to do about it, four-eyes?" He laughed.

Hermione and Ron nervously tried to get Harry and I's attention by tugging at our robes. At the state my brother was in, there was no way he would budge. Hermione sent me the lets-get-out-of-here face. Malfoy's laughter died down at the sight of Harry pulling his wand out of his pocket and fixating it right at the blonde's neck.

The Slytherin boy peered down shakily at his neck. "Put your hands on my sister again and I'll hex them off, understand?"

I stepped towards the two boys. "Harry, it's fine. I really don't ned you to—"

"Sage, back off." Harry seethed, with veins protruding from his neck in anger. "Keep those filthy hands to yourself, Daddy's boy. I won't say it again."

I bit back a grin at Harry's incredible impulsivity and found myself growing proud at him standing up to Malfoy for me. He had an overprotective aura to him that could be sensed around the whole corridor. His words reminded me of when Harry and I were in our first few years in primary school at about six or seven years old. Given that everyone at that school thought we were freaks, anytime someone gave me a hard time, Harry came out storming at an instant at my defense.

He lowered his wand placed it back in his robe. Malfoy's lips tilted upwards into an arrogant grin as Harry turned away and once his back was to him, he let out laughter under his breath. Crabbe and Goyle joined in, too. I started to walk away from the scene with Hermione, but I had a lot less self control than Harry did.

With utmost force behind it, I took my right hand and slapped it across Malfoy's face, turning it from a pale shade to one more red. His mouth dropped open in disbelief as he put a hand up to his cheek.

"Stay away from me, Malfoy. Cause next time, I'll give Harry the okay to hex every hair off or your head." I sneered and marched away with Hermione.

I didn't bother to look back to see if the boy was ridiculing or mocking me. I simply strolled about the corridors and put him right where he should be: in the back of my mind. If he thought he could act all warm-hearted one day and then do this the next, he had another thing coming.