Sherlock lied on the sofa in Slytherin common room. It was late; everyone else was asleep, but Sherlock rarely slept. His mind was far too active to allow him to fall asleep, especially with what had just happened. He hadn't meant it...really, he hadn't. It just slipped out. The unforgiveable word. Mudblood.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not interested."
"I'm sorry!"
"Save your breath."
It was nighttime. John, who was wearing pyjamas, stood with his arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.
"I only came out because Molly told me you were threatening to sleep here."
"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just - "
"Slipped out?" There was no pity in John's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends - you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"
He opened his mouth but closed it without speaking.
"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."
"No - listen, I didn't mean - "
" - to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone else of my birth Mudblood, Sherlock. Why should I be any different?"
Sherlock struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look, John turned and climbed back through the portrait hole.
Sherlock looked up when he heard the door open again. Draco, Theodore and Blaise walked into the common room.
"Heard you called Watson a mudblood," said Blaise. Theodore looked pleased.
"About damn time you stopped hanging around that filth," said Draco. "You're a pureblood. Can't be seen with the wrong sorts of people."
Sherlock nodded, sighing softly. Maybe Draco was right. His parents would likely disown him if they found out he'd been friends with a muggle-born.
The three boys went upstairs to the dormitories, leaving Sherlock alone on the sofa.
Sherlock sat with Malfoy's clique the next morning at breakfast. His eyes kept wandering across the hall to his best friend - that filth, sitting at Gryffindor table. Sherlock forced his eyes to look down at his empty plate. He hardly heard the rest of the group talking, all just buzzing through his ears in a different tongue, his brain too tired to translate it to Sherlock-language. Draco gave him a slight nudge when everyone else started leaving.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine.."
Draco bit his lip, but didn't ask anything more. They walked silently to Charms together, which Sherlock was thankful he didn't have with John. Slytherin and Ravenclaw shared this class. Draco and Sherlock sat together behind Luna Lovegood and Anthea. On the other side of the room, Pansy was talking to Sally Donovan, a Ravenclaw. She was too stupid to be in Ravenclaw, though apparently she was good enough for Pansy and her friends, probably because her father worked at the Ministry of Magic and she was a pureblood. Sherlock didn't like her - she was nasty and called him a freak for hanging out with Mudblood John.
After Charms was Potions, a class shared by Slytherin and Gryffindor. Sherlock glanced over at John, which was met by a slight nudge from Sherlock. Mudblood. Sherlock couldn't associate with him anymore.
Just ignore him, said Draco's grey eyes. Sherlock looked down at his textbook and opened it up to page 233 as Professor Snape instructed. Mandrake Restorative Draught.
Sherlock's textbook was marked with notes in his scrawled handwriting. Bits of instructions were changed and additional notes added in the margins.
Draco and Sherlock were the first to finish brewing the potion, getting it correctly on their first attempt. Sherlock, of course, always knew what he was doing, but Draco was quite intelligent himself (albeit, not as clever as Sherlock). As much as he always complained about it, Sherlock sort of missed having to help John, who was much better on a quidditch pitch than he was in Potions class.
Professor Snape came over and examined their potion, seeming pleased with it. Sherlock was his best student, even better than Granger, so it was no surprise to anyone that the professor was pleased with their results.
On the other side of the room, John and Harry's potion exploded, leaving them both covered in a sticky green liquid, while Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to help Ron with their potion, though Hermione seemed to be doing all the work. Probably for the best, thought Sherlock, thinking of how badly Ron's potions ended when they weren't allowed to work in pairs.
Draco put their ingredients away in the cupboard; Sherlock could tell he did it deliberately so that Sherlock wouldn't run into John.
Draco just wanted what was best for Sherlock.
Draco understood what Sherlock's parents would do if they found out he'd been friends with dirty-blooded John Watson.
Draco was Sherlock's friend now, not John.
Draco was better than John, purer, cleverer..more worthy of being friends with Sherlock.
Sherlock didn't need John anymore.