𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 8

Cassie barely glanced at Malfoy as he sat next to her halfway through double Potions.

"How is it, Draco?" Pansy asked worriedly, seeing the sling. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Draco, putting on a brave sort of grimace.

Cassie gave him a sharp glance, and he immediately shut up.

They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution.

Malfoy shifted his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, directly in front of Cassie, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Draco called, "Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots because of my arm—"

"Weasley, cut up Draco's roots for him," said Snape without looking up. Ron went brick red.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Draco.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots." Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes. "Professor," drawled Draco, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Cassie rolled her eyes.

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

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But, sir—!" Cassie chuckled slightly. She had seen Ron spend the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.

"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice. Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter. "Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Harry the look of loathing he always reserved just for him.

Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking.

Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever. "Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked them quietly.

"None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up.

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

"I'm gonna give him a real injury soon if he doesn't stop talking," Cassie growled to Theo, stirring her potion, which was acid green.

"—he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this—"

—he gave a huge, fake sigh—

"who knows if my arm will ever be the same again?" 

"So that's why you're putting it on," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger.  "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Malfoy, lowering his voice to a whisper, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a bright, acid green, had turned