Slytherin Princess | ✓

thirteen

Madam Pomfrey quickly fixed my scratch and lightly scolded Hagrid on the dangerous animal, but Draco took it to town and back. He spread a nasty rumour that I almost had to get my arm replaced and needed a sling. I needed no such thing, just a bandage to keep the area dry as it continued to heal like the matron had instructed.

Draco even made an ordeal in Potions about it. My friends were worried over my arm, but I gave them sheepish smiles and told them I'd be okay. But Draco egged Harry and Weasley on.

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

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

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

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you an injury worse than hers," snarled Weasley.

"– 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 sighed deeply, gesturing to my almost healed elbow — "who knows if her arm'll ever be the same again?"

"Draco, I'm fine," I rolled my eyes. "Look—" I moved my arm and he shot me a warning look.

"So that's why you've spread that rumour," said Harry, accidentally beheading a dead caterpillar because his hand was shaking in anger, "To try to get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Draco, leaning over me towards the two boys, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits, too."

"You three are unbelievable," I scoffed. "I wonder why I keep your company sometimes, Draco," I sighed dramatically.

Weasley sniggered at my comment and I shot him a look, "can it, Weasley, or I'll use the rumour to my benefit and have you cut my catepillars and chop my daisy roots."

The conversation fizzled out and I continued brewing my Shrinking Solution, but my partner seemed more than distracted at Harry's conversation with his friends.

"What, Malfoy?" Weasley suddenly said, causing me to jump at the sudden noise.

Looking over, I groaned internally at Draco's malevolent look as he leaned across me.

"Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry offhandedly.

Draco's mouth was curving in a mean smile.

"Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" said Weasley roughly.

"Don't you know, Potter?" breathed Draco, his pale eyes narrowed.

"Draco, knock it off," I snapped.

"Know what?"

Draco let out a low, sneering laugh.

"Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck," he said. "Want to leave it to the Dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"What are you talking about? Adelaide, what do you know?" said Harry angrily, but at that moment Snape called, "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

The new Professor Lupin wasn't there when we arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. We all sat down, took out our books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. He smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk.