Ember. It means fire. Ember was never safe. Even before she was born she was coverted. Hunted. She's the last of her kind. Once there were many. Once there were four. Four families. One for each element. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Every other family e...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. Ember and Harry both rolled their eyes at each other and glared at Malfoy.
"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"
Hermione and Ember mimed throwing up into their cauldrons.
"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.
Harry and Ron scowled at each other. Snape wouldn't have said 'settle down' if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes. Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others. Ember was the only Gryffindor that Snape didn't go put of his way to bully, but that didn't mean Snape favoured her, more like just ignores her exsistance.
They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. Hermione and Ember shared a look of suspicion.
Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm -"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.
Ron went brick red.
"Ah that explains it." Ember muttered to Hermione as she glared at Malfoy.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But, sir -!"
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.
"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
