PRECEDENT : Draco Malfoy II

25

It's easier to manage to be with Terry after that. At least, I don't feel like I have to come up with excuses as to why I don't want to be with him in the privacy of the boys' dormitory. He doesn't push, he never does anyway, nor does he ask. I suppose the events at Hogsmeade not have changed anything at all. We still snog in dimly lit corridors and in secret alcoves when no one is watching, but I don't go up to his dorm any longer.

At least, I don't see Malfoy either. We glimpse each other in the library, the Great Hall, and during the classes we share this year. I end up avoiding my usual spots, even the lake, because when there is always the risk he could find me there. I've caught him waiting outside the Ancient Runes room twice, and at the lake once. Now, every day I'm in the Ravenclaw Common room or my dormitory as frequently as possible.

Our defence club meets for the first time in the Room of Requirement, and we decide to call ourselves Dumbledore's Army. It seems a bit much because I am no soldier, and I would not be a good one anyway. By the end of the first lesson, I'm a bit better at the Disarming Charm but really, I'm only a bit better than the worst in our pact. Harry is a good teacher though, rotating us through different partners while dodging around from the attacks led astray.

We have our next practice after a potions class. It's getting hard to keep them straight since Harry is trying to organize them around everyone's schedule. Between Dumbledore's Army and dodging Malfoy, I haven't found the privacy nor peace of mind to work on the Sagum or my occlumency. Both are rather difficult anyway, and I feel like I've nearly stalled once again. I need something else to break up the space, or maybe I'm supposed to give up. I try to practice occlumency and banish the idea from my thoughts while making the potion. I picture the calm waters of Brighton Beach, the cold air on my face, and the setting sun. While I stir the potion, I'm there, not here.

It bursts on fire in front of me. I leap back, watching the flames roar in a straight wall of fire, so tall that it burns into the ceiling. Professor Snape swoops in and throws something into the pot, and the fire stops. I look up, the ceiling above me is charcoal black and cracking.

"And that is why we measure our ashroot carefully instead of lollygagging about fanciful ideas, Miss Turner," Professor Snape says. "Detention."

I look beside me, at the jar of ashroot I had yet to add to the cauldron. I took great careful measuring it, which is why I am a beat behind his expectations. Measure twice, cut once, as they say. It exploded on its own.

"Future Mrs. Finnegan right there," Malfoy laughs from behind me.

I turn around to look at him, and my eyes catch Seamus Finnegan's. He looks away from me, beat red. This year he has had fewer pyrotechnical outbursts than usual. Dean Thomas pats his shoulder. Then, I glare at Malfoy, who smirks at me.

"It's just a mistake on her part. Only the Irish have a knack for blowing things up," Pansy chortles from the back of the class.

Professor Snape, as always, doesn't stop the Slytherin antics. Most professors do have a soft spot for their own houses, but not like Snape does. McGonagall is actually harder on Gryffindors since she has such high expectations, Sprout is generous and kind to everyone, and Flitwick only favours us in the most discreet and quiet of ways. He lets us stay out late and he offers us extra support on research while students from other houses have to approach him. Snape, however, is openly into favouritism. Consequently, I am the one who is going to serve detention tonight and not those bullies, even though there is a DA meeting.

It is our last class of the day, so everyone files out once the potions are finished and the cauldrons are clean. I stay behind, hoping Snape will let me make it up before dinner. My request doesn't even need to be verbal for Snape's response.