Ultraviolence

Chapter 8: Comfortable silence

Song: Detention - Melanie Martinez 

Y/N

I was too busy staring at the crumbs laying on Hagrid's frizzy dark beard to pay attention to whatever it was that we was rambling about.

I had never seen him this close. I didn't want to be obvious, but I couldn't help but observe his seemingly never ending hair and long figure.

"Here, Y/N, you grab onto this one" he said calmly, his deep voice making it sound as if he were grunting.

When he handed me the silver rusty shovel, its sudden weight made me lean backwards instinctively.

Once he passed a wooden discoloured bucket my way, I began to realise what we were going to be doing in the middle of the autumn forest for the next hour.

"This is ridiculous!" Moaned Malfoy, as Hagrid forcefully handed him another pair of the same old shovel, knowing he would refuse to accept it had he not done it so vigorously.

"Does Dumbledore even know you are making us pick up faeces of whatever bird you've adopted now?" Malfoy tilted his head upwards aggressively with a look of nausea on his pale and dry face. 

He glided the shovel to his right side as the fallen leaves on the ground made a crunching sound upon rubbing against each other and the shovel.

Hagrid raised both of his seemingly heavy arms while the ends of his coat jacket moved from side to side.

"As a matter of fact, it was his idea" he said, pleased with his answer. His long arms now fell back to their normal position and as they did so, the sound of them falling unto the sides of his legs filled the chilly air.

"Now on you go" said Hagrid as he began striding towards the direction in which we came from.

"I'll be back in an hour."

I stared at him as he made his way out, wishing I was in his place.

Malfoy grunted annoyingly and rolled his light blue eyes while he picked up the silver shovel and began dragging it across the soil and unto a maple tree he intended to sit on for the remaining hour.

"This school is pathetic for making us clean shit. As if we were servants or something." His strong accent more apparent than ever.

"My father will be furio-"

"Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut then." I interrupted, incapable of hearing his victim narrative for much longer.

His expression stiffened as he pushed off the roots of the maple tree and began slowly strutting my way. His silver ring filled hand rested inside of his navy pocket and his tongue smoothly ran across his upper teeth.

"Maybe you should't have gone complete psycho and injured Flint" he replied as his spit fell onto my bottom right cheek. I swept it away immediately in disgust while he turned away and began heading to his designated resting spot.

"Maybe you shouldn't have called me a whore." 

I emphasised on the last word strongly, wishing he would get a glimpse of how I felt when he used the same term against me.

Much to my irritation, he continued and whispered something inaudibly under his breath. I exhaled harshly and began tying my mahogany hair strands, hoping that picking up faeces would distract me from whatever he had said.

I picked up the shovel and slammed it against the semi wet soil before gliding it against the pile of faeces laying by a mountain of amber and orange-brown leaves.