OUR CONNECTION - hp

𝐯. the portrait

[ when all else fades - sam eber ]

❥

On Thursday, while the Gryffindors and Slytherins had double Potions, Malfoy finally reappeared. He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

Parkinson was asking how he is over and over again, and he was basking in the attention, looking like he was in the utmost pain.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said. Y/N knew that if it was anyone from the Gryffindors he won't just let it past without giving them detention.

Malfoy sat his cauldron on the same table as Harry and Ron's for a reason they would come to realize in his next statement.

"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.

Ron went brick red, Y/N, Daphne and some others looked up.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he 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."

"Merlin, at least he's helping you, you moron," Daphne said.

"Detention, Ms. Greengrass," Snape said.

Snape approached their 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 own roots into exactly equal pieces.

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

Ron stared at Malfoy seemingly having a hundred and one scenarios of murdering Malfoy for a good minute and shoved his own perfectly cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.