your cold hands

Chapter Eight

If there was anything more humiliating than having to be locked up in an insane asylum for three months, Harry reckoned it would have to be the fact that he could no longer participate in practical lessons, forced to sit outside the classroom like a child with a piece of parchment and a quill, with instructions to do research on a spell.

He hated it. His magic was fine now, the treatmemt really had worked! But he was forbidden from utilising his wand, had even been threatened to have it be taken away.

"What's this? Is Potter in time out?"

Harry looked up from his tiny, embarrassing desk as Blaise strolled past with his hands in his robe pockets. He scowled.

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Blaise shrugged, resting a hand on a corner of the desk and making it creak as he looked down at Harry. "I've got a free period, am I not allowed to go where I please?"

"No," Harry seethed. "Get lost."

"What's with the hostility, Potter, did they not teach you to control that in your anger management classes at the crackhouse you were in?" Blaise mocked.

The chair screeched with a wail as Harry stood up, getting out from his desk. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

He pushed Blaise until he was against the wall, and the rough stone was surely pressing into his skin through his robes.

"You're just proving my point," Blaise said lazily.

Harry was just about to punch the smug grin off his face when hands grabbed him and pulled him off the taller boy.

"What are you doing, Potter?!"

It was Draco Malfoy, looking windswept as he practically threw Harry across the corridor.

"Easy now, Mr Malfoy." Oh great, Kennedy was here, too.

"He's irritating me," Harry said breathelessly, pointing at Blaise. "Tell him to fuck off."

"Language!" Professor Kennedy chastised before looking at Blaise, disappointed. "Really, Zabini?"

Blaise laughed. "No, Professor. I was only here to tell Potter that he's going to have to make different potions with me in our study sessions now, seeing as he can't be trusted with certain... draughts."

"Oh, you've had it!" Harry charged at the dark boy once again but was held back by Malfoy, his arms tight and restricting.

"Let it go, Potter," Malfoy hissed. Harry struggled uselessly before relenting. Why was Malfoy stronger than Harry? Harry had always been the one who was better... stronger, faster, smarter....

"Go back to wherever you need to be, Zabini," Kennedy said, unimpressed. "I will speak with you later."

Blaise swaggered off, just as Hermione and Ron appeared in the doorway of the classroom.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over. "We heard screaming."

"Get off him, Malfoy," Ron said, not even waiting for the blonde boy before prying his arms away and patting Harry on the shoulder. "You alright, mate?"

Harry shrugged . "I'm fine. And Malfoy was only stopping me from ripping off Zabini's head. I suppose I should say thank you."

Malfoy looked taken aback, saying nothing as he walked back into the classroom.

Kennedy seemed almost pained by the whole encounter. "I really can't leave a practical running unsupervised for too long, Potter. I will be having a chat with you after class."