Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Three

Throughout the rest of that day and into the next, I couldn't help but notice that more and more often, I would catch Malfoy staring at me with this bewildered scrutiny, as if he was trying to figure me out from afar.

Every time I caught him looking, however, he would shoot me a nasty smirk or a disgusted once-over before looking away. Still, I knew that was just a cover up. He wouldn't be caught dead staring at me, so he pretended to be mocking me from a distance.

I wondered why he wouldn't just speak whatever was clearly on his mind. Predictably, he was too much of a coward to be seen looking at me, let alone speaking to me — given my reputation and all. Though, honestly, I preferred it that way. Life was better when Malfoy kept his distance.

But inevitably, it seemed, we were brought together again that afternoon in our first Care of Magical Creatures class. 

Hagrid surprised us with a Hippogriff, a creature with the body of a horse and the wings and head of an eagle. The lesson began with Hagrid telling us to open our Monster Book of Monsters.

"Exactly how do we do that?" Malfoy asked, the usual scornful tone to his voice.

"Just stroke the spine, o'course!" Hagrid replied as if that much were obvious.

I looked down at my book, which I had tightly bound with an old pair of leggings. I carefully unwound it enough to touch it, but made sure it was still tied together so it wouldn't attack me again (I still had a bruise around my hand from where it had bitten me the first time).

I ran my fingers down the spine, and the Monster Book of Monsters purred, falling still and silent. Raising my eyebrows at the simplicity, I hurried to catch up with Hermione and Mirah, who stood beside Ron and Harry near the front of the class.

"I think they're funny," Hermione said, but she wore no smile. I could tell she was trying to stick up for Hagrid.

"Oh, yeah, terribly funny. Really witty," Malfoy's voice said snidely from the back of the crowd. "God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait till my father hears that Dumbledore's got this oaf teaching classes," he muttered, seeming to find joy in speaking ill of our new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. 

Crabbe and Goyle snickered, and Hermione made a disgruntled noise at the back of her throat.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry spat, and I turned to look at him with my lips pursed against his stupidity. Why couldn't he just leave it be? Malfoy only continued to bully and poke fun because he wanted attention.

Malfoy and his goons "ooed" as they laughed, sounding particularly like owls, seeming impressed that Harry had talked back.

Malfoy dropped his bag into Crabbe's hands, sauntering up to Harry slowly, looking him up and down. I stared at him, surprised that I was unable to think for a moment.

I shook myself as Malfoy glanced past Harry's shoulder, and horror flashed over his face. 

"DEMENTOR! DEMENTOR!" he shouted, and everyone whirled around to look for a dementor, including myself. But nothing was there, it was only the trees, swaying gently in the breeze.

Malfoy's little clan laughed, and they pulled their hoods up over their heads, waving their arms before them and wiggling their fingers as they wailed like ghosts jeeringly.

Hermione pulled Harry away from Malfoy, making a face.

"Give it a rest, Malfoy!" I exclaimed over their howling, and the three of them snickered. Malfoy gave me a pointed look, and I realized he was trying to prove that he wasn't pretending to be anything; he was proving that he was just plain mean. And I believed him.