Lumos

5| Slug Club

"So," Hermione said, catching up to me in the long corridor, "did you find anything? So far, all I've found is a female Quidditch player named Prince. Now it can't be Malfoy-"

"Who I know was your number one suspicion," I put in, tightening my hold around the books.

"Right." We took a turn, entering another hallway. "Don't you have someplace to be?"

"Uh, History of Magic," she said, "but that doesn't start for another ten minutes. Do you have class right now?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," I replied coldly, trying to out-walk her around the next turn. I climbed up the stairs, almost skipping steps.

"Slow down, Elvira," Hermione said breathlessly. "We might have a clue to who it is. Don't you want to know?" I stopped in my tracks, the know-it-all slamming into my back. "Ow."

I turned. "Who is it?"

"Well, we don't know yet, but we always end up figuring it out, right?"

"Ugh." I continued running up the stairs, only to find out they had moved and now I was standing on a different section. "Where am I?" I mumbled, scratching the side of my head.

"Fourth floor. Defense Against the Dark Arts is on the third floor. Will you be seeing Malfoy?" She pestered.

"Maybe," I said, heading back down the stairs. "Why are you following me?"

"You're invited to the Slug Club party, I heard?" she continued, as if she hadn't heard a word I said. Finally, I was here.

"It's been more than ten minutes. You're late," I said, facing her. "You're late for History of Magic."

"Professor Binns is probably fast asleep right now," she said with a groan. "It's the most boring subject ever that has ever existed in this world."

"Believe me, I know."

"Could you, perhaps, ask Malfoy if he knows anything about half-bloods? I mean," she pulled on a strand of her hair, "you all are probably close, right?"

"When I mentioned the term 'half-blood' to that daddy's boy he nearly bit my head off."

"So he said no?"

"And called me annoying, bratty, and worse than a Hufflepuff multiple times."

An apologetic smile worked on her face. "I guess Slytherins don't get along well, even with each other?"

"Oh, no," I laughed. "They do. Believe it or not, Malfoy has many friends, some of which include Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and his old goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Sometimes, he even gets a bit friendly with my friend, Tracey Davis. He just despises my existence in particular."

ϟ ϟ ϟ

I bit back a scream.

"My Transfiguration paper . . . where is it?" I shuffled through my bag, dread filling my stomach. "I can't not have it. I'll fail this class!" After five minutes of looking, I slumped back in my chair, defeated. Suddenly, I remembered, sitting up. "Tracey," I growled. "You little-"

"Davis wanted me to pass this on," Malfoy drawled, slamming sheets of parchment down on my desk and pulling back a seat. "She's down with some sort of a flu. Of course, some of your points were a bit attractive so I snuck a couple of them onto my copy." He pulled out his own essay, styled similarly to mine.

"Malfoy, no." I reached forward to grab the papers, and he tutted, a cold smirk playing on his lips.

"Malfoy, no," he mocked. "Now, one of us may get caught for this and it's not going to be me, I assure you."