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Aurora Areli
MALFOY DIDN'T REAPPEAR IN classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages I was sure he didn't actually need and bound up in a sling, acting as though he was the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
"How is it, Draco?" Pansy simpered. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," Malfoy replied, putting on a brave sort of grimace, but I saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said idly.
Harry, Ron and I scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said "settle down" if we'd walked in late, he'd have given us detention. Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes, the biased git.
We were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. I frowned in confusion when Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to me in Hermione's usual spot, and across from Harry and Ron, so that we were preparing our ingredients on the same table.
I scowled and scooted my stool further away from him, shooting Hermione an apologetic look.
"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm —"
So that's what he was doing, the little prat.
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said, without even looking up.
Ron went brick red.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots."
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots towards him and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," Malfoy drawled, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape approached our table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
I grimaced. Had he ever heard of soap?
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But sir —!"
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.
"Now," Snape said in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
"And, sir, I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned," Malfoy said, his voice full of malicious laughter.
