Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Four

Malfoy didn't show up in any classes until Thursday morning. We'd been halfway through double potions with the Gryffindors when he strutted in arrogantly, his arm bandaged in a sling, acting as if he were "the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle," as Harry had put it.

Pug-faced Pansy whimpered to Malfoy, asking if his arm hurt terribly, and Malfoy put on a fake grimace, saying, "Yeah," before turning to wink and Crabbe and Goyle.

"What a suck-up," I muttered to Ron and Harry, who stood at the same table as me, while Snape told Malfoy to settle down. "Can't get more two-faced than that," and Mirah snorted from the table across from me.

Malfoy set his cauldron right next to mine, seeming proud of himself. I looked up at him icily as he smirked at Ron, Harry, and me.

"It's awful, what happened to you in Hagrid's class," I said to Malfoy, trying my best to sound sincere.

"Yeah, well, if they'd chosen any teacher other than the great oaf —"

"It's too bad it wasn't as bad as you thought it was," I interrupted, glancing pointedly at Malfoy's sling before mimicking his cries; "I'm dying! It's killed me!" and Harry and Ron fought to contain their laughter with little success.

Malfoy's pale face actually turned pink, and he glared daggers at me before turning away and whining to Snape that he needed help with his daisy roots "because of his arm".

Snape told Ron to help him, and Ron cut them choppily, so that the roots ended up in different shapes and sizes. Malfoy smirked devilishly at Ron before complaining to Snape that Ron had mutilated his roots, and Snape made Ron trade with Malfoy, despite Ron's protests.

Now Malfoy had daisy roots cut to perfection, and Ron had horribly sliced roots that would surely cause him to fail if he used them.

Malfoy snickered, and then made Ron skin his shrivelfig as well, but Harry took it instead and skinned it hastily while Ron attempted to fix the damage he'd done on Malfoy's roots.

Malfoy started to jeer at Ron and Harry about Hagrid, and I glanced down at my carefully cut roots, pressing my lips together. Malfoy was an asshole; Ron shouldn't have to fail his potion because of it.

While the three of them were distracted, I slowly traded my perfectly cut roots with Ron's messed up ones. However, it didn't go unnoticed, like I'd hoped.

Malfoy's eyes flicked to my hands as I pulled Ron's roots toward me, and he looked at me with a frown, his nose wrinkled.

Ron followed Malfoy's eyes and noticed what I'd done. He started to protest, but I insisted my grades could take a zero more than his could. Ron thanked me fervently, and Malfoy stared at me, looking utterly confused and shocked behind his disgusted charade.

As Snape bullied Neville for making an orange potion instead of an acid green one, Malfoy asked under his breath, "Why would you take those?" his voice sounded honestly curious, but the sneer was still present in his tone.

I glared at him, exchanging an exasperated look with Harry. "Because, Malfoy, not all of us are selfish pricks," and Harry and Ron snorted, causing Snape to make his way over to our table and inspect our potions.

Thanks to me, Ron's turned out okay, but mine was much less than satisfactory, and Snape emptied my cauldron with a wave of his wand, giving me zero marks for the day. Malfoy pursed his lips, and said nothing to ridicule me. I assumed he was satisfied with my punishment.

I clenched my jaw; I was lying when I said my grades could take a zero; I was borderline failing potions before, but with that zero, I definitely wouldn't pass this year. It was better than seeing Ron suffer for something that wasn't entirely his fault, though, and that made me feel a little better.

At the end of potions, everyone watched as Snape fed Neville's potion (which was now the correct color) to his toad, Trevor. We waited nervously before Trevor successfully shrunk to a tadpole, which was what the effects the potion was meant to have. But Snape, as he returned Trevor back to his current state, took five points from Gryffindor anyway, saying Hermione wasn't supposed to help Neville.

I spoke openly to Harry and Ron about how that was stupid and unfair; the only way Snape would've been satisfied was if Neville had ended up poinsoning Trevor.

"No, probably not even then," Ron replied sulkily. "I doubt nothing less than all of Gryffindor's expulsion would satisfy Snape."

Snape dismissed the class then, and we all began to pack up our things.

"Locousa," Snape's cold voice said from behind me, and I turned to face him blankly. "I want a foot-long essay about why you failed your Shrinking Potion in full detail by next week," he told me, and I felt my heart sink into my stomach. "I expected so much more from you. A true Slytherin would do better," Snape emphasized the word "true" as if he knew better than I did that I didn't belong.

Feeling particularly gloomy, I took my time packing, and told Harry and Ron that I'd catch up with them.

I flung my bag over my shoulder and caught up with the crowd heading out of the classroom.

"You can praise yourself for being selfless all you want," Malfoy said to me as we hiked up the stairs. "But I would take full marks over some pointless selfless act any day."

Without looking at him, I muttered in reply, "And that's your problem, Malfoy. It's no wonder you haven't got any real friends."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his face crumple into surprise.

I turned to face him at the top of the stairs, stopping him in his tracks, suddenly outraged at him for being one of the bullies that made life difficult for people.

"If I were you, I'd hang around people you don't have to pretend for," I said coldly.

I left him standing in the corridor, staring after me in shock as I hurried to catch up with the others.