SLITHER IN! → S. MALFOY

ACT II, SCENE IV: KNOW ME

C H A P T E R  F O U R T E E N

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"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN again?" Albus hissed as Rose settled behind him in History of Magic. Her absence explained by sudden stomach pains, she was now granted time to think over everything that had happened just before the class had begun.

                 She looked over at him tentatively now, - what Moaning Myrtle had confessed was fresher than ever in her curious mind. Rose looked for signs of anything - lack of sleep, worry.. remorse, even. The only thing about him which caught her eye was his dishevelled hair - inherited from his father, surely. She looked outside - and, to her utter shock, realised that little flakes of snow began filling the Hogwarts grounds.

    But it's only November, She thought, confused, her attention quickly torn away from Albus Potter. She decided to ask him herself, after the lesson was over.

                She didn't have to wait long - thanks to Malfoy, Rose had missed more than two-thirds of the lesson. Once students began speeding out of the classroom to get to Potions, she grabbed Albus by his forearm and motioned him to wait.

"I need to speak to you."

Confused and a little curious, Albus raised an eyebrow.

"Continue."

                "I.." Rose struggled to find the right words, staring blankly as Albus huffed patiently. "Do you.. cry.. often?"

"What?" Albus' eyebrows were now both raised, in justifiable confusion. "Why would I?"

Rose felt her cheeks heat up.

         "Because when I was in the girls' bathroom, Moaning Myrtle told me that she saw you cry and-"

Albus interrupted her with a choked back laugh. He was either a really good actor or Rose had gotten it all wrong.

                "Rose, there is nothing I should ever cry about." Albus grabbed her shoulder gently. "If there is anything, I will tell you. You're my best friend."

"Then who was it?"

Albus shrugged his shoulders. "Somebody who looks like me. They must be smoking hot, I presume-"

Rose hit his forearm, biting back a laugh.

"Let's go to Potions," She finally breathed. 'We'll be late."

              Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. Despite it being only late November, the atmosphere seemed to call for Christmas trees and fireplaces and stockings.

John Blackburn wrapped the Gryffindor scarf tighter around his neck, exhaling a cloud of condensed warm air into the blizzarding snow. His hair was already white from the snowflakes, same as Albus', who, too, forgot to wear a hat.

                 Rose, with her hands inside the pockets of her coat, hummed an unfamiliar tune as they walked down the village streets. Everywhere she could look were windows with warm, welcoming light and thousands of people, hurrying to get mellow.

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," Albus suggested, hiding his neck in the collar of his coat and, seeing the two of his companions nod, hurried into the village.