Blood Status

Chapter Six:

Chapter six:

 

Sunday came way too quickly. Elizabeth spent Saturday in her room ‘studying’. Mostly her nose was in a book, but it wasn’t for school. It was a book on Salazar Slytherin. History, behavior, last known sightings, family, descendants. It had become relevant that Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin, amongst everyone who kept up with Potter and his ridiculous shenanigans. But his portrait was the interesting thing. It was summoned by her, and not by Hermione, which kind of clued her that it had to do with Slytherin students only. She wanted to figure out exactly what made it tick. Did he only sense her, or did it realize Hermione was there. No matter what she did, she wanted to figure out why it could tell she was a mudblood without even knowing her.

 

Elizabeth looked up from her book, scratching her hand for the fifth time as she felt like all she had done was flipping the page and sit in her room.

 

It was time to stretch her legs, to get away.

 

As she clambered down the stairs in her jeans and her flats, her light green blouse filled with air as she halted to a screeching halt, her cloak slapped her ankles as she did.. The common room was bare except for him. Draco turned, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes directed at her.

 

“Where is everyone?”

 

“Out.” He answered.

 

“How polite of you, to demand the entire house of Slytherin to leave just so you could terrorize little ol’ me.” Elizabeth sneered. Draco was on his feet, and like a predator, he stepped up close. Her heart stammered in her chest as she saw the anger, the hurt, in his eyes. Then he turned from her and started up his side of the stairs. When she watched but didn’t follow, his body went rigid.

 

“I won’t be controlled like a doll, Draco.” She whispered. “And if you turn and tell me you weren’t trying to manipulate me to not be angry at you, then you need to stop lying to me too.” Her voice was curt and short as she turned from the stairs and walked towards the portrait. The sound of his steps as he stormed up the steps fell on her ears as she stood at the portrait door. Turn, she begged, go see him, comfort him.

 

He wasn’t ready to talk. He wasn’t ready to reach out, he hadn’t eaten himself enough. A stressed snake was obvious, he was not stressed enough yet. He would never confess like she wanted him to, he wouldn’t apologize, he wouldn’t beg for her forgiveness, not just yet. Elizabeth pushed the portrait open and left the piece of notebook paper sticky charmed to the back of it as she stepped out and headed for the stairs. The note that had only a few words on it, that she knew when he read, would put him at the edge she needed him at.

 

Knight to C-3.

 

Elizabeth pulled her arms up and above her head as she walked down the hall.

 

“Looking for fresh air, Miss Marshall?” Elizabeth halted in front of Snape’s open door as the dark haired professor stepped out. His tone said answer wisely, his cocked brow was a challenge. He wasn’t asking if she was just about to stroll outside, it was a demand that she walk with him outside as if a teacher would instruct a student on a hard task, but he intended to scold her for something. Most likely, her actions the other day. How she knew those would bite her in the ass later on.