SLITHER IN! → S. MALFOY

ACT IV, PART I: DREAM OF HIM

C H A P T E R   T H I R T Y - O N E
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WHEN ROSE WAS ELEVEN, SHE KILLED A SPARROW. Not intentionally, — the girl cried for the whole evening after realising that the little bird huddled in her palms had stopped breathing. It's oxygen got blocked by the folds of her bright coral cashmere sweater as she pressed it to her chest, cooing and whispering secrets into it's feathers. The identity of a murderer carried itself with her through the Hogwarts corridors on her first year.

           Now, she felt the same identity crawling off of the walls and into the soul of the castle, as if Hogwarts itself had once held a dead sparrow in its stone-cold arms.
Only it was not a sparrow.
It was a student.

John Blackburn's bed was obscured by folds of onyx black curtains. Madame Pomfrey had held Rose back, explaining to the witch that they were to protect his fragile vision.

Rose tasted his breath on her lips every time she caught a glimpse of emerald, and emerald seemed to follow her around no matter where she was. Right now, it was on one of the faint lamplights next to the beds.

She pressed her ear to the folds.

"John?"

            No response came.

"John, I'm sorry."

There was an unsure shuffling of sheets, and then, the room lapsed into silence once again.

"It wasn't my fault that you were staring at me like that—"

          "Like what?" Rose's insides clenched in pain at the sound of his empty voice. She bit her lip. "If anything, you are the stranger in this situation."

"I—"

"You don't think I notice? The way you stare at Malfoy every time he's in one of our classes? Do you know how sick I am of Potions? Do you—"

"John—"

          "You left!" John hissed bitterly. Rose was glad her face was obscured by the black curtain. "You fucking left Albus and I alone in this mess. He's dangerous— Merlin, he blinded me! He fucking blinded me, Rose. With everything that's been going on, you don't even — you don't even care. You don't give a single, flying—"

              "I do!" Rose sputtered, tears springing from her eyes. "I'd never leave you, or Albus—"

      "I'm glad I won't be seeing your face anytime soon," John muttered in the sudden silence. "I wish I'd never see you again."

          Rose shot up from her chair and stalked out of the room stiffly, tears burning her cheeks like acid, marring her vision, not letting her see—

—the Slytherin she crashed into on her rapid way out.

        A painfully familiar voice drawled— "Granger! What a pleasant sur—" before Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing Rose's shoulders too quick for her to escape. "—kitten."

Rose looked away.

          "Not now," she squeezed out.

              Malfoy's rigid jaw pointed towards Madame Pomfrey's room. Rose realised that she was in the arms of a murderer. Probably. "What did Blackburn do?"

Rose didn't reply. Her gaze was focused on his impeccably ironed black shirt. Ironed. She remembered crumpling it in her fists hours before. It seemed to her days now.
She'd missed the murderous gleam in his eyes.