Make Me.

Book 4 - Chapter 17

One day.

It took one day, in Fred Weasley's words, "before the term really got to her." Ellie had now gone three nights in a row with no more than a ten minute nap. Tuesday and Wednesday went by, and again, no nap, no sleep. Daphne was starting to get worried again, and even Pansy tried tricking Ellie into laying down in bed with her for a rest, but Ellie denied, secretly scared of what would happen as soon as she closed her eyes.

Four Days. Five Nights. No Sleep. Ellie Dracula was back.

"Keep walking," Fred called behind himself to a group of first-years that Ellie had just barred her fangs at for looking in her direction for too long. "Nothing to see here."

"I can show them something."

"I know you could, fangs. Let's keep moving, uh?" Fred guided Ellie out the doors of the Great Hall and toward the dungeon stairs. He paused at the top of them, looking around at the crowd filling out from breakfast and parting ways in the corridors. "Right. There's Neville," he said, spotting the anxious looking Gryffindor walking in their direction. "You'll be okay?" Fred asked.

"I'll be fine."

Fred chuckled and Ellie scowled at him in response.

"Just don't kill anyone. Snape's free game though," said Fred with a wink and he handed Ellie off to Neville, though it was Ellie who was leading Neville down the dungeon stairs, not the other way around.

"How has your morning been Neville?" Ellie asked with the enthusiasm of a sixty year old man who had worked the same job for the last forty years and was going to work that job until he died.

"Oh. . . It's been okay," Neville said with a quiver in his voice as he followed Ellie into Dungeon Two. There were already some Slytherin fourth-years in there that must have skipped breakfast that morning. "My Nan told me I needed to try harder at potions this year," Neville said with a gulp as Ellie tossed her bag onto their table and she cracked down onto a stool.

"Ah," was all Ellie responded. A few silent beats passed as Ellie stared dully at the front of the classroom which was filling with more Gryffindors. Potions with Gryffindor meant Potions with Neville which meant Ellie and Neville got an entire table to themselves because she was the only one brave enough to sit with him and the only one "immune" to Snape's wrath. "You Nan tells you that every year, Neville," Ellie said at last, slowly turning to look at Neville, dark half-moons stamped under her eyes.

"Yes. She does. . ."

Somehow, how not even Ellie could tell, in their creation of Wit-Sharpening Potions for the first Potions class of fourth-year, Neville Longbottom managed to melt six cauldrons in a row. Maybe Ellie's foggy brain meant she wasn't instructing him well enough, or maybe Neville really was just that poor at potions.

Snape's level of vindictiveness grew to new heights over the summer, and after being chastised by Professor McGonagall - so much so that Neville was forced to give up on his potion and instead was made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads at the table. The task sent him into a state of nervous collapse as Trevor croaked from his pocket, and Ellie was grinding her teeth so hard in Snape's direction that she left the class with a pain in her jaw and a particularly sore right fang.

She poked at it a few times to make sure she hadn't cracked it. She didn't know what would happen then, but had the feeling that she didn't want to find out.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron across the room. He was trying to talk under his breath to Harry, but Ellie's ears picked it up as she tried teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.