"WHAT A PIECE OF SHITE," GEMINI hissed, scowling at her pretentious relative. The dungeons of Hogwarts had never felt quite so oppressive, nor had the air been thick with such palpable tension as it was on that Thursday afternoon. Malfoy had reappeared, strutting into the Potions classroom like a peacock in full display, right in the middle of their double lesson. His platinum-blonde hair gleamed under the flickering torchlight, while his right arm was swathed in an array of bandages, encased within the garish confines of a makeshift sling. Each step he took resembled that of a heroic survivor emerging from the wreckage of a great battle, and yet, all Gemini could feel boiling within her was a rabid desire to give him a reason for his ridiculous display of self-pity.
Every student in the room felt the unmistakable tension rise, as if they were on the precipice of something monumental. Gemini's eyes fixated on the mangled shrivelfig in front of her, the dark green vegetable now a vivid representation of her internal rage. The prospect of successfully crafting a Shrinking Solution diminished rapidly as her irritation intensified. "Gem," Hermione whispered urgently, her eyes darting toward their once-vibrant friend, "Watch your language! We've just started the semester; you'll be expelled before you even get past the first week! Is that really the record you're trying to break? You know it'd be quite a feat..."
An undignified snort tumbled from Gemini's sneering lips. "Pardon me. I simply meant that Draco Malfoy is the definition of ordure...does that sound eloquent enough for your delicate sensibilities?" Her voice dripped with disdain, the sarcasm hanging in the air like toxic fumes.
The boy in question, Malfoy, cast a cocky glance over his shoulder as he slid into the empty seat beside Ron and Harry, making an extravagant show of arranging his cauldron and ingredients. Gemini's brow furrowed in confused tumult; why seat himself here when Pansy Parkinson had obviously reserved a spot for him among his Slytherin cohort? "Sir," Malfoy intoned, his voice dripping with an infuriating blend of faux innocence and condescension as he called out to Snape, "Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots because of my arm—"
Oh, that explained his choice of seating! Without sparing a glance for the drama that was unraveling behind him, Snape coldly instructed Ron, "Weasley, cut Malfoy's roots for him." Like a flame kindled by a gust of wind, Ron's face flared a deep burgundy, the freckles dotting his skin making him look all the more like a furious tomato. How he wished he could refuse! But the weight of Snape's imprisonment loomed too heavily upon him, and gritting his teeth, Ron picked up his knife, pulling the daisy roots toward his side.
"Professor, Weasley is mutilating my roots!" Malfoy proclaimed joyfully, a wicked glint dancing in his icy blue eyes, clearly enjoying the spectacle of Ron struggling with his misguided task. The irritated tension that crackled between them exploded, and Gemini couldn't restrain the fury rising within her. "Are you joking me? Why is nothing ever good enough for you, Princess? Is your head so—"
Before she could finish, Snape swooped down upon them like a dark cloud, silencing her with an icy glare. "Miss Lupin-Black, you will extinguish your unnecessary commentary at once! One more word and the loss of fifty house points will hang over your shoulders like an unwanted shroud." Then, turning his dark gaze to Ron, he snapped, "Switch roots with Malfoy, Weasley. Now." With a begrudging grumble, Ron shoved his perfectly chopped roots toward Malfoy, who merely sat there, basking in the chaos of it all.
"And, sir," the Slytherin drawled, "I'll need this shrivelfig skinned." The hostility in the air felt thick enough to slice, and as Harry complied, he flung the outer covering back at Malfoy in a petty fit of rebellion. Watching this play unfold brought a strange sense of exhilaration to Gemini, an odd glow settling in her chest as she felt a thrill from their antics. What was happening to her? Why did she feel uncomfortably flustered at the sight of her best friend standing up to Malfoy?
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SABAISM | H. POTTER
FanfictionSABAISM (noun) : The worship of stars. For centuries, people have looked up to the stars and became instantaneously bewitched due to the pinpricks of light. Such an enigma they are, burning bright in the darkest of atmospheres. Never snuffed by the...
