Peppermint; Draco Malfoy [2]

SIX

ALEXIS' P.O.V.

Lunchtime was definitely a mouthful—pun intended.

Lasagña was on the table, but no one was hungry. Harry's omen was still on our minds, even after our other classes.

I sat with him at the Gryffindor table, much to Theo's disappointment, but I need to make sure that Harry is okay. This is a lot of pressure for him... and I don't want to sit anywhere near Malfoy.

Hermione is the first to speak, breaking the silence that had accumulated until now.

"This whole Grim nonsense is completely false. Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. Professor McGonagall said so herself."

"Well I don't agree," says Thea, her face twisted in fear. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards! My mother knew of a man who saw the Grim and in less than 24 hours... he died!"

"Well that says it all," says Hermione in a superior tone. "They saw the Grim and died of terror. It's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still here because he's not foolish enough to see a Grim and think, oh right then, I'll just keel over and die! This whole thing is ridiculous."

"There was nothing ridiculous about the Grim in that cup!" says Ron hotly.

"Says the person that told Harry it was a sheep," replies Hermione coolly.

I put my fork down and put my head in my hands. This needs to stop.

Thea leans forwards and makes sure Hermione looks at her when she speaks. "But you didn't even get a reading Hermione, did you? Wonder if you'd feel so strongly if you saw what was in your cup."

Hermione squints her eyes and clenches her fists.

"You just don't like being bad at something for a change!" declares Ron.

"If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a clump of tea leaves, I'm glad I'm not good at it then because it's pathetic!"

I can't take this anymore. I slam my hands down on the table.

"ENOUGH!"

My outburst causes the enchanted ceiling to rumble with thunder, the pale clouds above us gathering and darkening, a storm brewing.

It draws the attention of everyone in the Great Hall, which silences immediately.

"Harry is not going to die!" I whisper harshly, "and I don't give a rat's arse what those tea leaves say. As long as I'm around, nothing is happening to anyone. Now you can either sit here and bicker about some poxy tea leaves, or you can let it go and focus on what's important. The choice is yours."

I snatch my bag and storm out of the Hall, fed up and ready to quit. This is honestly too much for our first day of class.

I descend into the dungeons, go to our common room and change my books over, grabbing the brown book of monsters for Care of Magical Creatures with caution.

On the way back, I take note of how fast I'm walking, so caught up in my head, and I slow down, giving myself a moment to breathe. The last thing I need is to lose control.

Although it's a clear sign that I haven't lost my powers completely. So there's that.

But everything is happening so fast and I cannot bear it when people fight. It hurts my head because I have to try so hard not to lose it and create a scene.

Outside, I make my way to Hagrid's hut. The grass is damp and springy under my feet and it smells freshly cut. A comforting sensation floods through me as I walk the sloping lawns and I revel in it, clearing my mind of all bad thoughts.