Supercilious

The Third Floor Corridor

That evening at dinnertime, I was just about to help myself to the delicious good old English trifle when I heard:
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

I held back a sigh. This cannot be good. Couldn't Draco just eat and let eat in peace? I got up and rushed to the side of the table where Potter and Weasley sat.

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Potter coldly.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Draco. I would have snorted—but, you know, sibling loyalty and all.

"Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only—no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

Wait, what? He could not be serious. A duel sounded cool, sure. But two first-years, who had just learned how to hold their wands and deeply disliked each other? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

"Of course he has," said Weasley.

"I'm his second. Who's yours?" he asked as if he had been doing duels all his life.

Of course, Draco turned and looked at Crabbe and Goyle as if sizing them up. He—he wanted one of them as his second? Really? Crabbe and Goyle? Who barely understood anything in class? I mean, Blaise is a far better option—or Daphne, or me!

Not that I wanted to duel or anything—really. I knew violence was never the answer, and we could end up hurt, there could be blood, and Mother might hear about it. But still, I am his sister, that prat.

I mean, I would have loved to decline it.

"Crabbe," Draco said decisively.

"Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

"Draco, have you lost it?" I finally found my voice.

He gave me a look of pure annoyance. Oh, he was annoyed, was he? I should be the one annoyed. From the moment we stepped on the train, he had been trying to pick a fight with Potter, who we were told to befriend—mind you, if he got caught or hurt, what would happen? What if he ended up in the hospital wing? But he didn't think about all that, did he?

"Lucille, stay out of it."

"You stay out of trouble. If Mother got to kno—"

"Look, Lucille, I really don't think I am the one who needs to worry about our parents."

He stressed the I. It hurt.

I didn't feel hungry anymore. He could do whatever the hell he wanted—for all I cared.

I didn't dignify him with a response. The look on his face told me he knew he had messed up. I pushed past him and out of the Great Hall.

It wasn't fair, it really wasn't.

Draco was impulsive and brash. If anything, he should be in Gryffindor, not me. And all right, I am in Gryffindor—it isn't like I can control it, can I?

But now my friends are pulling away—and my parents are disappointed. What am I supposed to do?

Though infuriating, Draco was right. I was the one on thin ice with my parents.

I heard the rustling of pages and realized I had walked to the library. Well, that's fine, I guess. I went and found a cozy corner. So where was I?

Right, my parents and their absolute twit of another child.

He will deal with this mess alone. If he gets caught, it will be his problem.

Then a voice said in my head, He is your brother.