The Mudblood

Chapter 40 : Year 3

The next day was Saturday, and I very reluctantly trudged up to the Great Hall—mostly just because I was hungry. I chose to sit with Harry and Hermione because the Slytherins wouldn't quit mocking me for being a "Potter lover." Sitting with Harry only seemed to make the situation worse, however, since the Slytherins began to call across from room, "Sitting with your lover, Mudblood?"

"Seems like you're being mocked too, then," Harry said bitterly as I sat down next to him. Hermione was seated across from us, biting her lip.

"Yes—have they been taunting you about being my boyfriend too?" I questioned, my tone high with agitation.  

"No, but they will be taunting me about dating Hermione once they see this article," Harry grumbled as he slid a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of me. I scanned over the article on the front page, one written by a woman named Rita Skeeter who had apparently interviewed Harry.

"Do you really cry all the time, Harry?" I piped sympathetically.

"Of course not!" he fumed. "I don't cry at all—I never even said any of these things—and look—" he pointed toward the part of the article that claimed that Harry had found love at Hogwarts: Hermione. "Ron's going to hate me even more for this—"

"Why should Ron care about that?" Hermione questioned stuffily. "I think he'll be angry that you're in the paper at all. You know he's only jealous of the attention you're getting—"

"It's not good attention, Hermione," Harry insisted, snatching the newspaper and crumpling it in his hands.

"Malfoy's going to be relentless once he sees this paper," I replied hollowly.

"He's already been relentless about his notion that you fancy Harry," Hermione said. "Where'd he get that idea anyway?"

"I may have told him that I loved Harry more than Cedric..." I muttered, staring at the table shamefully. "Just as a friend, though, Harry—definitely just as a friend."

I almost thought I saw Harry's lips curve with a tinge of amusement as I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"How'd your study date with Krum go last week, Hermione?" I prompted, changing the subject.

Hermione pursed her lips, eyeing her food distastefully. "He doesn't say much, Viktor. Mostly just stares at me... I can't tell if he's dull or just nervous."

I snorted a laugh, licking my lips. "I think he's probably just nervous. He seemed very interested in you when I spoke to him. He must think he's in love with you—considering he's got loads of other girls flaunting over him."

"I—I don't know how to feel about it," she replied tautly.

"Oi! Fitz!" Fred greeted as he and George took a seat across the table. My natural instinct was to give him a coy smirk, but then I recapped on how he'd been ostentatiously flirting with that Beauxbatons girl yesterday, and my teeth gritted tightly.

"We've got loads of new pranks in the works," George went on, not even noticing the biting anger riddled on my face.

"We want your opinion—Canary Creams or Chunky Chocolate?" Fred prompted, leaning over the table eagerly.

"I don't care if you want my opinion," I replied coldly. "You can't have it."  

Holding my head high with a pinch of dignity, I got up from my seat and casually strutted away from the Gryffindor table.