𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 ; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

year three, chapter four; something you needed to hear

9¾ ⚯ 🗲⏃ ⋆

Draco didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double potions. He swaggered into the dungeons with his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling. Callidora accompanied him through the door, looking quite embarrassed on his behalf.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

Callidora scoffed as she shoved passed Pansy and sat down on the vacant seat next to Ilse.

"Yeah," Draco said, putting on a brave sort of grimace, making both Callidora and Ilse roll their eyes. They were making a new potion today, Shrinking Solution. Callidora set her cauldron up next to Ilse, who was next to Hermione, and started chopping her daisy roots as meticulously as she could.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting these roots, because my arm – "

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape snapped back, without looking up.

Ron went brick red.

"He looks as red as his hair," Ilse observed quietly, and Callidora nodded, sniggering slightly.

Ron seized his knife and violently started chopping them up at an uneven pace, making sure they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Draco. "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached their table, stared  his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

"Swap 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."

Ron shoved his perfectly cut roots towards Draco, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this Shrivelfig skinned," said Draco, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's Shrivelfig," said Snape giving Harry a look of loathing before trudging  away. Draco took his time passing the Shrivelfig towards Harry, grinning victoriously.

"Oh,  stop being such a git, Draco," Callidora rolled her eyes, snatching the Shrivelfig from Harry and skinning it as fast as she could. Ron and Harry exchanged surprised looks, and Ilse just death-glared Draco. The blonde girl finished and flung it back at Draco, hitting his bandaged arm, which made him yelp.

"Honestly, Draco, you're such a baby," Ilse said crossly. Draco recovered from his momentary embarrassment as he ignored Ilse and Callidora and talked to Harry and Ron.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

"None of your business," Ron said like a jerk, without looking up.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Draco in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury – "

" – you can't complain to your father for everything." Ilse cut him off. Draco's face reddened.

"Oh, shut it Kaiser," he muttered, before continuing, "He's complained to a whole lot of important people. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this – " he gave a huge, fake sigh, stretching his 'injured' arm out, "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

Ilse reached for her wand. "Oh, I'll make sure --" 

Draco quickly withdrew his arm, shooting her a dirty look.