The Mudblood

Chapter 87 : Year 4

My body regained consciousness to the sound of Madam Pomfrey barking orders, the taste of acidic blood in my mouth, the smell of expensive cologne, and the sight of the boy who wore the expensive cologne: Draco Malfoy.

"Finally, Fitzroy," he droned from the seat he sat in beside my white hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey, who was on the opposite side of the room tending to a young Hufflepuff boy, didn't notice my head perk up from its pillow.

I blinked a few times as my vision settled onto his face, which was sour with displeasure, as usual.

"I can't believe it took you that bloody long to recover from a simple Stunning Spell," Malfoy went on in an impatient tone. "You shouldn't have even fainted—"

"You were trying to kill me with that spell," I insisted emphatically, glaring at him in a way that should have hurt my brain but didn't. The only part of my body that truly felt an ache was my left hand, which was again covered in gauze.

"I wasn't trying—I didn't mean to hit you," he stammered in frustration, his eyes avoiding mine as he pretended to study something on the far wall.

"Yeah, but you meant to hit Fred, which is worse—"

"He tried to—he tried to disarm me!" Malfoy seethed through his teeth.

"Yeah, he tried to disarm you and you tried to stun him after you tried to blast him with a Blasting Curse," I reminded him heatedly. His face twitched irascibly as he evaded my stern gaze. "How long have I been here anyway? Days? Weeks?"

"One night," he grumbled, his words nearly inaudible.

"You're complaining because I've been in here for one night?"

"My room's gotten messy, you know, since you're the one who's supposed to clean it," he said in a louder tone, finally scowling over at me with indignant eyes. "You've been lounging around in here—"

"I've been injured because of you," I corrected incredulously. "I think you'll need to make an exception to our deal when you disable me from carrying out my part. I'll—I'll clean your stupid room tonight—if Madam Pomfrey lets me go."

His posture stiffened as he projected a demeanor of sophistication. "Good."

"And why are you even here, may I ask? If you're so salty about my extended stay here, why would you—" I paused when my brain answered my own question. "She made you stay, didn't she? Because I heal faster?"

Malfoy glowered over at Madam Pomfrey before finally turning his eyes to me and saying, "Of course she made me stay. You think I'd just sit around here watching you sleep for no ruddy reason? You're just lucky no one I know has been in here. If they knew I was hanging around with a dumb Mudblood—"

"What is that—that thing on your robes?" I interrupted, squinting at the small silver "I" that was pinned next to his Prefect's badge.

A crafty smirk ran across his lips as he forgot about his previous complaints. "Oh, this? This is my Inquisitorial Squad badge."

"What the bloody hell is an Inquisitorial Squad?"

"It's a group of elite students that have the ability to dock House points and hand out punishments to anyone," he explained in a braggy tone.

"So...basically what you can do as a Prefect except now you've got a second badge? Congratulations, Malfoy," I mused, clapping my hands in a mocking manner.

"This is—different," he insisted hotly. "Umbridge named me the leader since I'm the one who caught Potter last night. She's the one who formed the group—after she became Headmistress."