𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐦 | 𝐜.𝐝 𝐟𝐟

𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙.

For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. Careful not to draw anymore attention to myself. Snow started flying and I was not ready to get attacked by snow cannon balls. I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual – he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers.

Once inside the classroom, I was filled with relief that my table was still empty. Maybe he would skip class.

Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and a box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for another four minutes, and the room still buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing. It was wishful thinking. I knew my luck was as bad as Potter's eyesight.

"Hello," said a quiet, good-natured voice.

I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was still sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was facing me this time. I kept my walls up. I can't just trust him because he said 'Hello'. His hair was still dripping wet, no doubt staying behind to join the snowball fight with his clan.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Zayra Freed."

My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He was perfectly polite now. What happened to Mr. I-want-to-kill-her? Was he waiting for my answer?

"What?" I couldn't find my words. I was looking everywhere except for his eyes. He let out a chuckle. I hated it when he used to do that without explaining what was funny.

"I think everyone here knows who you are. You and your friends have created quite a reputation here."

"Right. Okay," I wasn't convinced. Edward Cullen? What a joke. I looked away from him. I wasn't in the mood for his mind games. Mr. Banner started the class. He explained the activity we were doing today:

Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," he commanded. Who does he think he is? Thinks he can just command me around like a-

"Ladies first, partner?" Cedric asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile so beautiful, I could only stare at him like an idiot. As usual. Even undead, he was a gentleman. He was never going to change, was he?

"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously thinking if I mental, no need to read his mind for that.

"No," I said, embarrassed. "I'll go ahead."

I wasn't confident in this class. But I did took a wit-sharpening potion when I was doing my homework. I remembered everything perfectly. I studied the slide under the microscope. Fascinating things, Muggles were.

"Prophase." I declared, confidently.

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine to stop me as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly.

When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us. The pain was brief. But it still hurt.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. Was it possible that this was a curse? Was this some funny joke Voldemort played on me in his death bed?