SLITHER IN! → S. MALFOY

ACT I, SCENE II: HATE ME

C H A P T E R T W O
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     "WANT ANYTHING?" The Trolley witch smiled warmly as Albus and John began spilling Knuts, silver Sickles and Galleons out of their pockets and onto the polished wood of the train table.

Rose sunk deeper into the plush chair of the cabin.

"A few Pumpkin Pasties, they're fresh, right?—, three, no, uh, five Cauldron Cakes, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, as well, please, one pack—"

"—don't forget the Chocolate Frogs, Albus—"

   "And for you, dear?" The witch turned to Rose.

     Rose almost choked on her toffee. The taste melted pleasantly in her mouth, though all she could feel were the fingers of the one who placed it onto her tongue.

"Nothing, thank you," she muttered, oblivious to the looks the two boys exchanged. The Trolley witches face fell slightly.

Then, as if remembering something, Rose shook her head all of a sudden, and, deciding that the occurrence with the boy she loathed even more wasn't going to mar her last journey to Hogwarts, spilled,

"No, wait! I'll have everything they're having."

       THE CARD THAT FELL out and onto the floor from the Chocolate Frog packet was well known to Rose and her friends.

       Professor Thadderus Branche, the school director, was staring at her from the card.

      His long sliver beard gleamed as he smiled and winked at Rose.

       Oblivious to the state of their friend, the two boys leaned to pick it up, their foreheads colliding with one another's, and, laughing, placed the card back onto the table. They then sunk into a heated discussion on whether the cards were a conspiracy of the Ministry to watch over their collectors. Rose watched as the window clouded over with almost invisible frost.

The landscape outside the window was mesmerizingly beautiful in the upcoming twilight. The train passed along the forest now, and, though the abandoned woodlands gleamed only with the creeping fog, Rose wondered whether there were creatures lurking beneath the milky shadows it cast.

The witches urge to discover anything new, her father used to say, was a trait of his; Rose's mother preferred quiet evenings by the fireplace.

The stories told at their reunions with the Potters were always the most atmospheric, regardless of whether they were told at the Granger-Weasley's or at the Potters; the evenings were filled with mugs of steaming chocolate, which Teddy used to get all over his shirt and cheeks, and of tales not less intriguing than Beedle the Bard's; Rose's favourite was the story of Umbridge, whose ultimate downfall served to her as a confirmation of the saying 'Truth conquers all.'

Albus' was, of course, the story of how Draco Malfoy was turned into a ferret: Harry Potter himself took great pleasure in describing every detail of the story if asked, and asked he was often, indeed.

       Reminiscing, Rose watched as the darkness outside crept over the landscapes, and felt the taste of burnt sugar dissipate on her tongue.

S C O R P I U S

    SCORPIUS DIDN'T MIND IT when a girl sat on his lap during a train ride.

       ( usually. )

He had gotten lap dances before, and this one was particularly shit. His hand itched to hex her with a silencio spell, yet he thought against it.