SLITHER IN! → S. MALFOY

ACT III, SCENE VII: EXPLORE ME

[CHAPTER READING PREFERENCES]

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C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S E V E N

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THE SLYTHERIN COMMON ROOM welcomed Rose with the scent of damp stone and aristocracy. The inside, toned by greenish hues from the lakewater surrounding the dungeons, gave the room an almost imperceptible aura of otherworldliness. Rose has never been in the room alone - she thought briefly that no Gryffindor student probably has been - and the realisation of what she was doing dawned on her.

Then, she remembered Malfoy and the fact that the school held almost twice as much mud-bloods as it had at the times of the Basilisk's second escape.

The fire cackled angrily as she walked by. Rose shuddered as her gaze traced over several animalistic skulls lined up on the fireplace in size order. She had a feeling that it was Malfoy's own sort of sick joke, - turning this room into everything a normal wizard would fear.

The lake howled through the windows, and she was drawn out of her trance. She needed to find Malfoy's room. Rose remembered distinctly how he'd boasted about having his own room, apart from all the other Slytherins, and wondered whether she'd be needing a password. Knowing Malfoy, she probably would.

There was a faint darkness oozing out of the far corner of the elongated room, and Rose realised, as she approached it, that it was not darkness at all - it was a silver-toned lacquered black door. No key. No doorknob.

She took out her wand with trembling fingers, and whispered,

"Alohomora."

Nothing happened, - only the fire cackled ever more fiendishly.

Rose pressed her forehead to the door in fatigue, a tired moan escaping her lips. All for nothing - how could she possibly know how the door opened? She couldn't even risk kicking it - who knew what went through Malfoy's head as he placed protection charms over his bedroom. Perhaps, it wasn't even his bedroom at all. It was probably some old door that lead to the Common Room lavatories.

That thought made Rose take a cautious step back - and then one forward, for there was a faint neon green glow from where she'd leaned her forehead onto the door. Rose pressed onto the lacquered surface with her fingertip. Beneath it, it seemed as though a drop of green ink was spreading on wet paper. She drew a line with the tip of her trembling finger, and the glow followed her like a serpent. Unsure of whether what she was doing was right, Rose spelled out O P E N.

Nothing happened. The letters seeped into the surface.

Taking out her wand, Rose pressed it's tip to the door, and spelled out in cursive, carefully and slowly, O P E N.

The letters disappeared once again. Rose was about to cuss out loud, something she never did, when the door slid into the other wall, revealing a total black bedroom.

The witch stood there, her mouth agape, her wand poised at nothing.

The room was ornamented in black (at first sight - it had an emerald sheen to it, Rose realised, as she looked closer) luxurious furniture. A fur carpet sprung underneath the witches school shoes as she walked over the spacious bedroom.