Loyal | Tom Riddle

4: Unlikely Predictions

"Will, dear, you're supposed to be reading her palm," said Professor Trevil airily, "not Witch Weekly."

The class stifled their laughter unsuccessfully as Will Bones's face turned beet red. Ever since his second year, when he had been caught flipping through the pages of his older sister's copy of the magazine out of boredom, nobody had let Will forget the incident.

Arabella offered him a small smile, trying her best not to join in with the giggling of her classmates. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Abraxas Malfoy's pale, pointed face glaring at her.

John nudged her elbow, startling her slightly. "C'mon, tell me my future now."

Arabella let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, alright. Give me your hand."

This particular Divination exercise was always horribly awkward, since it required one person to run their fingers over the lines of the other's palm, all while checking their books for possible indications of future death or success, love or loss.

Before Arabella could begin 'reading' her boyfriend's palm, Professor Trevil hit the small gong that she kept at the front of room for gaining everybody's attention. There was a long running joke amongst Divination students about it -- the way she hit it was quite comical, with one bony elbow jerking up and down.

"Today," the frail woman began with wispy grandeur, "you shall switch partners for your palm-reading warm-up."

Chatter broke out across the room at once, which quickly fell silent when the gong was hit again, met with muffled snickers.

"And I shall be choosing your partners," said Trevil pleasantly. The snickering stopped.

"Mr. Hargreaves, you shall be paired with Miss Crestwell," she ordered. "Miss Riggins and Mr. Edmunds; Mr. Malfoy with... hm, how about Miss Travers? Ah, yes, you two will be spending a lot of time together in the coming months -- might as well start you off early, shall we now?" She laughed at something only she found funny before continuing on briskly, as if she hadn't even said anything. "Ah, Mr. Bones! You can seat yourself next to Miss Prinn."

Arabella nearly gagged, hoping desperately that it was her professor's idea of a joke. Abraxas looked equally pleased, wearing a sneer that would have sent even seventh-years running the other way.

With a clap of her hands, Trevil instructed the class to join their new partners.

"I hope your future's as bright as you are," Abraxas drawled as Arabella seated herself across from him. "Which is, you know, not very. There's a reason you're not in Ravenclaw, after all."

"It would be a shame for Slytherin to lose more points, wouldn't it?" Arabella smirked.

Malfoy glowered at her, sticking his hand out, palm-up, for her to read. "Just shut up already and make up my bloody future."

She raised an eyebrow as she gingerly took hold of his hand, as if touching it would burn her. She was surprised by how warm and soft it was, but then she chided herself for expecting something cold and unpleasant. He was a wizard, after all, not a dementor.

"I see many things in store for you, Mr. Malfoy," she said mysteriously, doing her best to impersonate their teacher. "Beware of the Gemini, my dear. Be very wary indeed."

Abraxas, however, was unamused. His face was drawn into a dark scowl.

"And choices," Arabella added ominously, staring intently at the lines of his hand. To her, they were just lines, but he didn't know how awful she was at Divination. "So many choices, I'm afraid. You will decide the path your life shall follow -- choose wisely."

"My little sister could've told me that," he spat, "and she's six. You'll have to do better than that, Travers."

Professor Trevil, who was floating from table to table to monitor progress, was completely thrilled with Arabella's bogus predictions.

"Why, my dear, you've got quite the talent! Your Inner Eye excels at Palmistry -- couldn't've done better myself! Five points to Gryffindor."

Arabella smirked triumphantly at Malfoy, who sneered as she offered him her own palm.

He coughed into his own hand deliberately before taking hers, skimming his book lazily for the cruelest suggestions, no doubt.

"You will have great luck... ahem, great misfortune..." Abraxas cursed under his breath. Arabella raised her eyebrows, trying not to smile.

"Watch out for Slytherin Bludgers," he added snidely, "and near-fatal injuries. They tend to go hand-in-hand with blood filth like you."

Arabella unexpectedly drove her heel into his toes under the table, causing him to yelp out in pain.

"Prepare for a broken heart -- no, wait -- a broken bone? This picture isn't very clear," Malfoy stumbled over the page he kept glancing at for reference. "No, I was right; broken hearts, be ready for those."

"You seem to be gifted, Malfoy," Arabella commented with a cocky grin. "Gifted with stupidity."

He jeered at her. "Well -- according to this bloody textbook, anyways -- you're going to have trouble in paradise, so I wouldn't be quite so smug, Travers. Little Johnny the Mudblood might finally come to his senses that he's dating an ugly troll like you."

It just so happened that Trevil was hovering near their table when he uttered those words. The old woman rounded on the unsuspecting Slytherin suddenly with surprising agility, her large, cloudy eyes flaming with ire.

"Abraxas Malfoy!" she screeched. "I will not tolerate such disturbances to the superconscious atmosphere in this room! The vibrations of Prophecy are off now, no thanks to you!"

His pale face contorted in anger. "But Professor, I was--"

"Not another word from your mouth, boy! I've tolerated your false predictions for two years already! Five points from Slytherin!"

"But I--"

"You will suffer a fate much worse than detention if you do not shut up right this instant!" Trevil warned. "The dark moon is not a good omen for such flagrant intolerance!"

Then she turned to Arabella, her face softening. "I'm sorry that you'll have to deal with him more this year," she said apologetically, with an awkward pat on the arm. "You'll gain an understanding between each other soon enough, my dear."

Abraxas glared daggers at the Professor's retreating form. "She's nothing but empty threats and phoney predictions, anyways."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Arabella murmured. Trevil's words still hung heavily in her mind, making her wonder what on earth she would be doing to set aside her differences with Malfoy, of all people. She was just as likely to wake up as a centaur.

The bell rang, but before anyone could leave, the Divination Professor smiled brightly at her class. "I forgot to tell you -- these will be your seats for the rest of the year, so get to know your partner very well."

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