Ten Questions (Harry Potter x Slytherin reader)

Chapter 6

"What?"

Potter immediately rises from his chair, eyes wide as he looks back and fourth between Dumbledore and I.

"Headmaster, with all due respect," he breathes, glancing at me again, "you said she was going to help me with the tournament, not to tutor me. I don't want a Slytherin..." he falters, realizing what he's about to say as he looks back at me, giving me an apologetic look.

"Glad to know you think so highly of my House, Potter." I drawl, annoyed.

"Sorry," Potter quickly says. He turns to face Dumbledore. "Professor-"

Dumbledore raises a hand, and Potter fall silent almost immediately. "The decision has already been made, Mr. Potter. Y/n Pucey is going to assist you in your school work and help you make preparations for the first task."

"Professor," I shift uncomfortably as Dumbledore turns to face me, raising his eyebrow expectantly, "why don't you just have Granger help him? She is smarter than I am, and they're actually friends with each other." I glance back at Potter, staring at him for just a moment. "I hardly know him."

"Yes, Ms. Pucey, it would appear that that would be the better option," Dumbledore agrees, smiling, "however, having a friend tutor Mr. Potter would be far too distracting."

"I'm sorry, Professor," I interject, "but do I have any choice in the matter? I feel like you're not giving me-" Potter raises an eyebrow, "-I mean, any of us a choice, really."

Dumbledore leans forward in his seat, adjusting his glasses. "My apologies, Ms. Pucey. If you do not wish to tutor Harry, I understand." He then gives an odd sort of smile as he leans back slightly. "However, if you do accept, I will award Slytherin House with one hundred house points, and you with a guaranteed position as Prefect for the next year." My eyes slightly widen at Dumbledore's words, and he arches an eyebrow in amusement. One hundred House points. Prefect. One hundred House points. Prefect. There was no downside to this, except, I hardy knew Potter. I didn't want to spend my free time teaching an idiotic Gryffindor boy who was stupid enough to put his own name in the Goblet of Fire when I could be at Hogsmeade with Blaise and Daphne, drinking butter bears and buying items from Zonko's to help Daphne scheme her next prank against the Weasley twins, who had been rivals since first year. My thoughts are interrupted by Dumbledore's voice when he speaks up. "Do you accept, Ms. Pucey?"

I open my mouth to decline, but I suddenly stop. I should decline. It's the obvious choice. I shouldn't exchange my precious time for a few house points and slight power over first year students. I want to be with Blaise and Daphne. I know Potter will do fine on his own... right?

Memories of the Quidditch World Cup flood back into my head. Me hitting the ground. Potter helping me up. Me expecting it to be Malfoy, only to learn that he abandoned me. I could've been mistaken for a muggle. My father could've unknowingly tortured me without even giving it a second thought. But Potter helped me up. Potter helped me. If Potter died during the tournament, it would be my fault. My doing.

I sigh as I stand up to shake Dumbledore's outstretched hand. Potter looks at me, his face full of betrayal as his jaw clenches. I suddenly feel the corner of my lips tug into a smirk. Maybe this won't be so bad, after all.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore says happily, clapping his hands together. "Now that we have all agreed on a decision-" (Potter made a "hmph" noise)-"we can begin lessons on Friday, after school. Now, off you go!"

Both Potter and I stand up, thank Dumbledore for whatever reason, and exit the room at the same time. It's quiet as we walk down the stairs, I glance at Potter, who looks as though he's trying his absolute best not to glance back as he stares at a point in the floor, with much difficulty. The moment the door slides behind us, Potter turns to face me.