Magic? || Years 1-5

All I Am: Year 2

"You're insane!" Amisty declared, pulling at her hands and trying to shove him away.

It was useless, his grip was like steel.

"And you didn't answer my question," Malfoy shot back, every word practically echoing in her mind as his proximity came closer still.

She could barely focus, his face so close she couldn't think straight.

"Not everything is about you! I was -- " And then she realized what she would be saying. "I was..."

"You were what? Spying? Eavesdropping? Doing what you do best and prying into something that isn't your business?" He asked sharply.

Her eyes widened at his words, she couldn't reply.

"Answer me, River!"

"I... I'm not some little spy! I was just trying to figure everything out. I want to know what's going on with the Chamber!" She protested, her voice far too timid.

"And you thought I had something to do with it," He stated angrily.

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. A true statement.

"Of course I did! You can't be that surprised, you're constantly complaining about Mud-" She choked on the word, closing her eyes for a second longer than a blink. "About Muggleborns, and you always seem so happy about everything going on with the Chamber -- "

"Stay out of this, it doesn't concern you," He warned, his anger lowering but still evident.

"And it doesn't concern you either but you're still taking part in it," She snapped, pointing with her chin to the newspaper clipping still in his hand.

"Because I'm a pureblood, it can't hurt me here. But you..." His voice trailed off, his grip weakening slightly.

"What? What about me?" She snarled, ripping her arms out of his hold but still proving immobile with him just above her.

Mudblood, Mudblood!

"Say it. Say that word."

"You're a Wolf Born, Amisty! Or, at least half!" He yelled, his eyes flickering with grey fire... and another emotion she couldn't decipher.

"So I guess that makes my blood dirty because my parents weren't both wizards. Because I just so happen to have a different kind of blood running through my veins. And I guess that means I'm not good enough for anyone in Slytherin, not Snape, not Pansy, not Crabbe, not Goyle, not you. That means all I am is... is a Mudblood," She could barely get the word out.

Draco went silent, shocked.

There was a lump in her throat, a fire in her belly, but not a single trace of tears in her eyes.

Why would there be? She was proud of her heritage, for the little she knew.

Draco's eyes hardened, resembling the color of charcoal as he spat, "Maybe you're right. Maybe you are just a pathetic little Mudblood."

She pretended his voice hadn't echoed in her head over and over, repeating that phrase until it was all she could hear.

She pretended that it hadn't bothered her, that her heart hadn't fallen to her shoes.

She pretended that she had hoped he would deny her claims.

She pretended.

"I want to go back to my common room," Her voice held a strong air of finality, even with the undertone of hurt.