SABAISM | H. POTTER

SEVEN. | A PUSH OVERBOARD

"WHAT A PIECE OF SHITE," GEMINI HISSED; SCOWLING AT HER PRETENTIOUS RELATIVE. - Malfoy had reappeared, behindhand, in the post meridian of Thursday's timetable; just as the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. The platinum-haired boy swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm painted in various bandages...even enclosed in the eyesore of a sling. The stride he demonstrated comparing itself to that of a heroic surviver of some dreadful battle, and the alternative Black descendent wished to give him a proper excuse to require such medical equipment. Gemini fumed at his entrance; the mangled shrivelfig situated before her making that emotion perfectly clear. There went the possibility of a successful Shrinking Solution. - "Gem," Hermione hissed; watching out for her fiendish friend, "Watch your language! There is only so much trouble one can cause within the first week of classes without expulsion as the consequence; are you attempting to break that record...see how much it truly takes?" An undignified snort tumbled past sneering lips, "Pardon me. I simply meant, Draco Malfoy is the definition of ordure...does that sound eloquent enough?"

The boy in question, cockily, slid onto the vacant seat adjacent from Ron and Harry; setting up his cauldron on their chock-full workspace. Gemini's eyebrow furrowed in tumult; why position himself there when Parkinson, noticeably, preserved him a stool alongside his Slytherin acquaintances? "Sir," Malfoy intoned the resident dungeon bat, "Sir, I'll need help in cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm -." Oh, that's why that particular seat was chosen. Of course. - Without a glance spared in the area of vociferation; Snape instructed, "Weasley, cut Malfoy's roots for him." Burgundy instantly flared across Ron's freckled exterior; desiring not to aid Draco Malfoy in anyway. "There is nothing wrong with your arm," Gemini spit; angered for her, uncomfortable, ginger friend. Though, Malfoy ingenuously smirked in her direction; giddy that they'd finally caught on. "Weasley," he loudly drawled to the unmoving Gryffindor, "You heard Professor Snape...cut up these roots." Snape then awarded the resident Weasley with a sharp look. Having no choice; Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots towards himself, and began to roughly chop...resulting in the weeds ending up in divergent lengths. "Professor, Weasley is mutilating my roots," Malfoy tattled; a joyful glint in pale blue eyes. At his chirpy elucidation; Gemini could no longer hold in the already existent irritability, "Are you joking me? Why is nothing ever good enough for you, Princess? Is your head so-." Lamentably; the greasy-haired educator, who now loomed over the evidence of Ron's carelessness, silenced her denouncement. "Miss. Black, you will extinguish your unnecessary commentary at once! One more word and the loss of fifty house points will hang over your shoulders," then twisting to the disturbance beforehand; he demanded, "Switch roots with Malfoy, Weasley. Now." Begrudgingly, Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across to the Slytherin. "And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," added Malfoy; voice full of malicious laughter. "Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," versed the Professor; awarding Harry the look of loathing that seemed reserved solely for him. Harry seized Draco's ingredient; all the while Ron had a crack at salvaging the damaged roots he now had. The Boy-Who-Lived removed the outer covering of the shrivelfig as fast as he could; pettily flinging it back across the table at his arch-enemy. - Gemini, who had been observing their exchange, tried to shake away the floaty feeling she felt from Harry's display of dander. Merlin, what was happening? Why did she feel sick lately when her best-friend's face came into view? A mental note was made to check with Hermione about it postliminary.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?," Draco quietly questioned the two boys. "None of your business," replied Ron jerkily; refusing to glance at the haughty blonde. "I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," the Slytherin expressed; tone drenched in mock sorrow, "Father's not very happy about my injury. He's complained to the school governors and to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. Taking into account a lasting injury like this...I mean, who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?" Brandishing a dull blade; Ron snarled, "Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury! Merlin, what does my brother even see in you?" Harry, inspecting Draco's furrowing eyebrows, quickly intervened; asking, "So that's why you're putting it on, all to try and get Hagrid fired?" The blonde indignantly sniffed, "Well. Partly, Potter...but there are other benefits too. - Weasley, I'll have you know that my mouth isn't only useful in constantly berating others. Though, it is assured your brother admires me for many other qualities, I do assume it to be why he favors me so. Now, slice my caterpillars for me." Despite the situation, a large smile spread across Gemini's face. This was the first time Draco hadn't denied his connection to Fred Weasley...she couldn't help but feel proud.