The Mudblood

Chapter 107 : Year 5

This amazing drawing of the Slytherin Six throughout their five years was made by https://www.quotev.com/Daryldixonlover ! I love it so much! (: It's easier to see on a phone or tablet than a computer screen...and it's also on her DeviantArt profile ( https://titania0323.deviantart.com/art/Through-the-Years-637896625 )

"Two times the narwidth equals a tumbertar...no...a lumbertar..." I muttered as I crossed out the symbol I'd just drawn on my parchment. There was a group of young Gryffindor girls across the room, cooing over a cute seventh year Hufflepuff boy that had been injured in a potions accident a few days ago, and their obnoxious giggling was distracting me from my Arithmancy homework. I sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the hospital wing with my textbook in my lap, staring down at the paper that was covered with scratched out words and scribbles. Though I'd spent the entirety of this Sunday morning working on my Arithmancy assignment in the hospital wing, I was barely halfway done, and I doubted I'd finish before the sunlight disappeared and was replaced by lanterns.

As I stared down at the obscure symbol that I'd just jotted down, I realized that lumbertar was probably incorrect, so I crossed that out as well. "Maybe it's...bumbertar?"

"It's vaberlength," a voice moaned, and I dropped my quill and nearly fell out of my chair at the sound of it. Turning to my right, I was unsurprised to see Draco Malfoy lying in the hospital bed, because that was why I was here in the first place, but I was shocked at his awareness. He hadn't been conscious since the unfortunate events in the bathroom the previous evening. "Bumbertar isn't even a thing."

"Oh—oh, right," I stammered, bending down to pick up my quill and avoiding his eyes as I corrected the equation on my parchment. Even though I'd saved him from death and his skin had held no scars, he still looked cadaverous: his skin was paler than ever, his white-blond hair was flat and lusterless, and his grey eyes were dark and droopy.

"Why am I here?" he asked as he struggled to sit up. "Why are you here?"

"You got into a bit of an accident last night," I informed him vaguely as I copied down the next problem. I'd stared at him for hours while he'd been unconscious, but now that he was awake I couldn't force my eyes in his direction. He would see right through me if I did; he would know, somehow, that something had changed between us. For me, something had, anyway.

"I remember dueling Potter." I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was wincing. "He cursed me, didn't he?"

I nodded, staring endlessly at an Arithmancy symbol but unable to decipher its meaning.

"Well," he huffed, shuffling awkwardly in his bed, "that still doesn't explain why you're here."

"We're partners in crime," I reminded him as I scribbled some nonsense onto my page. "If you died I'd be done for, so..."

His glare was strong, but I refused to meet it. "You know all of your equations are wrong, don't you?"

"I'm aware that I'm trash at Arithmancy, thanks for reminding me."

"Let me help you," he urged as he reached his hand over to grab my quill.

"No, no, you don't help me," I insisted as I scooted my chair away. "You're not a helper, okay? I can do this by myself."

"What's wrong with your nose?" he questioned, not accusatorily but curiously. "It's crooked."

"Oh," I hiccoughed as I turned my head farther away from him. "Um...Quidditch yesterday, you know..."

"I don't know," he replied wryly. "Care to explain?"

One of the Gryffindor girls erupted into laughter on the other side of the room. Malfoy's gaze was burning my face. I swallowed.