PRECEDENT : Draco Malfoy II

03

            I try to keep to myself for as long as possible. Classes don't start up for quite some time after the Yule Ball, which actually makes it harder to avoid the others than I had anticipated. Anthony has stopped pestering me since that night, which is nice at least. Padma is always around Parvati, who continues to hound me about the night. Apparently, someone saw me storming away from the Slytherin boys during the evening, although no one overheard what I said. Lavender wants the scoop.

Eventually, it is New Year's Eve. It's a minor holiday in the Wizarding World and mostly treated as an opportunity not to work rather than the actual celebration that occurs in the muggle world. The wizarding calendar only aligns with the muggle calendar for convenience. Truly, wizards celebrate the solstices and the equinoxes in similar ways to muggle New Year's Eve.

The muggle-borns at Hogwarts who stayed for the break, just over thirty of us, are invited by Professor Charity Burbage to spend the evening together. Burbage is a half-blood, but she was raised by her muggle grandparents. Both of her parents were muggle-born too, so even if she is not technically a muggle-born, she understands us better than any of the other teachers here. At least, she does not ask us any ridiculous questions. From what I hear from the muggle-borns who do take her class, it's mostly about gimmicks and oogling at muggles rather than learning about muggle culture and history. Burbage is better than most.

Before the party, I make the journey in my cloak out to the Great Lake. It is cold, but at least it is calm out here. I tried to do research over the summer about how being near bodies of water improves the lives of those with anxiety. While I cannot find out why it helps, it does.

"You're hard to get alone," a voice behind me says.

I lower my wand down my sleeve, letting it rest at my fingertips. The voice belongs to Draco Malfoy, I turn my head just to peek at him.

"You've been looking for me," I say, smirking.

"Don't flatter yourself, mudblood," he spits.

The word would bother me more if people like him used it less often. There is something horrifying in the shock of a word, and I guess it doesn't shock me. Getting called a mudblood is awful, but not as awful as hearing Nott talking about Crabbe and Goyle getting their dicks wet in the mud. There is a different kind of horrid in hearing people talk about people like you in such a way that removes your personhood. To them, I'm not a witch or even a mudblood. I am a thing to fuck, even if it gets their cocks dirty.

"If you're going to hex me, you should've brought along your friends," I say, finally turning to look at him. "I'm sure they would enjoy the show. Telling them the story can't be as fun as letting them watch."

He glares at me. Malfoy stands half a dozen metres away, his hands at his sides. I don't see a wand in either of them. There is no doubt it is in the pocket of his cloak. We both stare at each other.

"Well, come on then," I tell him. "Aren't you curious to find out what colour I bleed? I think you'll be surprised by the results."

"You're wrong," he says.

I roll my eyes. He's not talking about the colour that I bleed, clearly.

"Okay," I say.

I turn around, to look back at the pond. Maybe it is stupid to turn my back to him, but I think that if he was going to just hex me, he already would have done so. He wants to talk. While I couldn't actually win a duel against him, I can win a battle of wits by ignoring him. Malfoy thinks he is so special, after all. The best insult is treating him like he isn't worth even insulting.