Merely Misunderstood

Chapter Eight

The weeks flew by in a blur, and the first Hogsmeade trip grew nearer. I was studying once to twice a week with Draco, and my grades actually started to look up. We normally studied in the common room, but whenever Draco heard footsteps approaching, he would jump up and lead me out of the common room, and we would study in the library instead; Slytherins hardly visited the library.

"Embarrassed to be seen with me, Malfoy?" I asked teasingly, and Draco smirked.

"I'm still nothing more than a selfish prick, Locousa. I assure you, I will worry about my reputation before even considering your grades."

He would often make these rash comments, but I noticed how carefully he read over my progress, or how he explained everything in full detail so it made sense to me.

But even though he was a great tutor, he was still Malfoy. He called me Locust one day on our way to the library, and I angrily told him for what seemed like the hundredth time not to call me that.

"I'll call you whatever I want, Locust," he said, and I looked away, mildly hurt. I could feel his eyes on me as he examined my expression, the triumphant smirk still on his face.

But a few days passed, and the nickname mysteriously stopped; even the older Slytherins didn't call me "Locust" anymore. Draco never admitted to being the cause of that, but I had my suspicions. Who else would it be? Mirah had been trying to get the nickname to stop for years to no avail.

However, "Turncoat" and "house-traitor" were still rather popular, but they weren't nearly as bad as "Locust" had been.

It was two weeks before Halloween, and Draco and I were halfway through an extra-credit essay that he had managed to get Snape to assign to me.

I finished my fifth paragraph, stating every use of Billywig Sting.

Draco leaned toward my shoulder to read it, and I could feel his warmth through my cloak, he was so close.

"Yeah, that looks great," he said, nodding. "But you forgot something."

I stared down at the paragraph, reading it slowly. I frowned, unable to spot what I'd missed.

Draco smiled, slowly saying, "It's rumored to be used in...." he trailed off, waiting for me to finish the sentence for him. I narrowed my eyes in thought, and then gasped when it came to me.

"Fizzing Whisbees!" I exclaimed, causing Madam Pince, the librarian, to shush me loudly.

Draco held back a smile as I quickly jotted that bit of information down, and I dotted the period dramatically, proud of myself for writing one foot out of the three I'd been assigned.

Draco read what I'd written, nodding. "Nice," he said, grinning. "Just two more feet of parchment to go, and you'll be acing your exams."

I grinned, too, excited. "I'd say this is a cause for celebration!"

Draco's eyes spiked with interest, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his stomach as he looked at me, asking, "What do you have in mind?"

"Brianna!" I heard a familiar voice whisper. "Thought it was you! What're you —"

Ron cut off suddenly, his eyes landing on Malfoy.

Hermione appeared beside Ron, followed closely by Harry.

The three of them stared between me and Draco, each wearing a mix of confusion, shock, and accusation.

I glanced nervously at Draco, who smirked tauntingly at them.

I stood quickly, seizing Ron's arm to keep him from hurling himself at Malfoy, and led the three of them out of the library. As soon as we were far enough not to be heard by anyone inside the library, they all freaked out, shouting at the same time, saying things like, "What're you thinking?!" and "Malfoy?! But you hate him!" and "What else are you keeping from us? Soon we'll find out you're going out with Goyle!"

"Would you shut up so I can explain?" I shouted, and while Hermione and Harry fell silent, Ron burst out, "Well there's nothing more to explain, is there? We both know what's happening!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, concerned at the bright red that his face was steadily turning.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're becoming one of his lot!" he bellowed, his blue eyes glaring into mine. "You're becoming a Slytherin!"

"I've always been a Slytherin, Ron!" I shouted to shut him up, and he stopped, stuttering.

I sighed, suddenly aware of the many eyes on us. "I was failing Potions. Don't you remember that essay I had to write on Shrinking Solutions after I used your messed up roots?"

Ron's face went more pink than red, and he muttered, "You said your grades could take a zero."

"Yeah, well, I lied," I answered guiltily, but Ron looked more guilty than I felt.

I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "Malfoy may be a jerk —"

"More than a jerk!" Ron interrupted, and I acted like I didn't hear him.

"But he's got full marks in Potions!" I exclaimed, my tone exasperated. "And Lord knows how much help I need with it!"

"You're using him for his knowledge!" Hermione suddenly concluded, her face pale, looking both taken aback and impressed. I could tell she was wondering why I didn't just ask her to tutor me, and I realized I honestly hadn't thought of asking her.

I nodded, relieved that Ron had stopped shouting. "Yes, I'm using him to get a good grade," I said, my voice returning to its normal volume. "But I promise you, as soon as I get a passing grade, I will drop him like the snake he is."

"Low blow," a horribly familiar voice suddenly said from behind me.