It's already mid-day and the occurrences of last night still repeat in my head, even while I'm supposed to be focusing on my green bean soup in front of me. Everyone around me munches upon their dipped buttered bread conversing normally, while I find myself straying off to the left of me where Malfoy is. He's not looking at me right now as he's indulged in conversation with his fellow Slytherin. Fellow being Pansy and the other girls who are pretty obviously crushing hard on the arsehole. Why? Just why? He's rich but no amount of money could ever be worth the hell you'll be living in with his antics.
What do they see in him anyway? His blond fluffy hair is as common a hairstyle as it gets, his silver eyes are as dull as the remarks he comes up with. Seriously, who taught this boy how to talk? And that voice of his, smooth as a snake's skin from one side and jagged from the other. I wouldn't trust a word out of his mouth, all this big talk is a cover up from the little cowardly boy beneath. Man, and that laugh of his, it comes from the diaphragm the way he belts out those evil cackles. I don't believe he's ever laughed because he genuinely thinks something is funny, I don't think the boy's enjoyed a day in his life. His sneers are demeaning and spiteful.
Am I worried, no. No, I'm not... Finally, after quite some time analyzing him with my thoughts racing, his eyes find mine almost by mistake. No way either of us saw that look in our eyes coming--in time, the bell rings for the end of lunch break.
It's Wednesday, 2:46pm. Muggle Studies, great. What a way to change the subject.
One of my least favorite classes to take especially with a lot of snobs, Slytherins really despise muggles for they are not gifted with magic. At least, that's one of many reasons they can't stand anybody but pureblood witches and wizards. God help me they find something out about me before I do. I mean, at this rate I'd love to know so badly I almost wish someone would so that they could tell me where I come from. That's a level of desperation I will need to battle.
"Ms. Harris?"
I blink out of my funk to face a concerned Professor Charity Burbage.
"Yes..?" I say in a whisper.
"Would you care to explain why wizards were not allowed or now it is more frowned upon to, well--associate with muggles?" Professor Burbage repeats.
I'm sure everyone knows this by now at this school, as do I. But I still end up biting my tongue as though I have forgotten... My family, myself, I'd know the struggles of a life between both worlds. I was never a part of either, just stuck in the middle. Battling my instincts with my intent... My mind has only wandered deeper into the questions I've been asking all my life about my true heritage.
I meet Professor Burbages' eyes and feel a sense of sorrow form as a lump in my throat when I speak.
"Because there is no equity left in either witches or muggles, we're too different for each other to understand. That's the basic answer to your question, Professor."
Professor Burbage narrowed her eyes at my little shape, watching as my spine lengthened and my mouth prepared a speech that could rattle the classroom. She is intrigued. I'm humbled, but I feel the confidence I've been missing slowly coming back to me.
"And the better answer?" She hushes.
I feel my tongue moving into place when I suddenly remember just where I am. Slytherin has every reason to be suspicious of me right now, wouldn't what I have to say, the depth of my words, the relations behind the scenarios make them even more inquisitive? I don't want their worry to get to the point where I'm cornered by my own house, outcasted, or even... Hurt. I'm no idiot when it comes to knowing Slytherins capabilities, their scheming nature is one I'd rather not wish to become familiar with.
