In Between Two Worlds (HP/PJO Crossover)

Chapter 83: The Boggart In The Wardrobe.

Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning when we were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But I saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away. I knew that he was healed. He was trying to get out of work.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.

Snape wouldn't have said 'settle down' if any Gryffindor has walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes.

We were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Ron and me so that we were preparing our ingredients on the same table.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm --"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," I hissed at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots. "

Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly so that they were all different sizes.

"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape approached our table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley. "

"But, sir --!"

Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his roots into exactly equal pieces.

"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.

Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.

"Gray, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving me the look of loathing he always reserved just for me and Harry.

I took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. I skinned the shrivelfig as fast as I could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?" he asked us quietly.

"None of your business," said Ron jerkily, without looking up.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury --"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," I snarled.

"¨C he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" -- he gave a huge, fake sigh -- "who knows if my arm will ever be the same again?"

"So that's why you're putting it on," I said, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because my hand was shaking in anger, "To try to get Hagrid fired. "