BROKEN PIECES & GOLDEN SEAMS

XI

21. the slytherins struggle the most in this one

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Theodore Nott and his idea of revenge showed itself on Friday morning in the Great Hall. Revenge that was uncalled for and would fail miserably.

The bundle of newspaper is unceremoniously slapped on the long table. A show of—something? Percy lacked the interest and clarity to interpret the theatric genius that was the Slytherin in front of her. She was still blinking away the iron shackles in red skies and sleep clinging to her eyes.

Theo grins at her, all sparkling teeth and pink gums. "Perseus Jackson,"

She doesn't flinch. She doesn't have the energy for it. She drinks her soup.

"Perseus," his impatience drives into her skull in the way of his knuckles rapping at the table.

She lifts her gaze from the bowl to stare at his hand. If looks could kill, his hand would have disintegrated by her firmly set face.

He stops. Blaise rolls his eyes heavenwards beside him, reminding himself that this was a temporary arrangement. He couldn't wait to have a certain blond friend back.

"It's Percy," she corrects, robotic. Theo performs a nod but she doesn't wait for him to finish. "What?"

He leans in from the other side of the table, preening under the attention that the unusual scene was gathering. "A certain someone told me that you seemed familiar,"

She doesn't give him the satisfaction of being hooked onto his words at the proclamation. She sips on her soup, listening to the rhythmic tapping of Daphne Greengrass behind him.

"And," Theo drags the syllable, annoyed at her reaction or the lack of it. "he remembered seeing you in the newspaper so," he cuts himself off with a smirk, pointing to the bundle he had placed earlier.

"So you searched the library for the particular newspapers mentioning me?" Percy's words remain slow to come as expected but the speed she had put things together with Hermione's unasked information about the library surprises herself. At this time of the day? No way! Celebration for the occasion was postponed for the concern she felt at the moment. "Don't you have anything else better to do?"

The collective surprise at the question allowed Crabbe to contribute to the conversation, having awaited his turn with Goyle at the back of the group. "You're a terrorist!"

Daphne regains her composure as well. "Yeah, what do you have to say for that?"

"I'm not."

The tomato soup is to die for. Flawless consistency that had Percy finishing the bowl. The elves were really helping with her pitiful appetite that was the result of her trip to hell. It was a huge inconvenience for her since her body tended to oscillate between the large appetite that her Achilles curse had demanded and the smaller one where she had to survive on scraps of sphinx meat.

There is a loud sound of a fist banging the table that jerks her back to reality. She looks up to realise that she had missed Theo's possible speech while thinking about herself and food.

He fumes above her, the paltry few inches that he's able to gain from her seated position allows him to pretend that he has the higher ground.

"That's all you have to say?" Blaise sounds like he's amused. Maybe even suppressing laughter.

"Yeah," she shrugs.

Theo is not done. He unfurls the newspapers. "Look!" His exclamation is emphasised with a jab to the picture depicted in between the print. "That's you!"