- CHAPTER ONE -
The chattering crowd began to surge towards the Hogwarts Express as the hour grew closer to eleven. Cats wove between the legs of students and the scraping of trunks punctured the air. Rose hugged both her parents quickly, wanting to get a good seat in the Prefect's carriage. They had two carriages all to themselves, and she had been boasting about it on the drive over. Hugo was not impressed.
"Make sure you write us," her mum persisted, but Rose was already collecting her birdcage and waving them off.
"I will, I will," she promised over her shoulder.
As she began to push towards the train, she spotted Albus in the throng. He was hardly inconspicuous, with his mop of black hair sticking up in every direction. She shoved her way over to him.
"Did you hear?" she asked, by way of greeting him.
Albus glanced at her. His green eyes gave away his apprehension. "What? About the riots?"
Rose shook her head. She had not been in the least bit interested in Goblin strikes and ministry protests. It was always the same article, and the same threats issued. Her concerns were relatively normal for the average fifteen year old. "Lucy Bird broke up with David Wolten."
Albus sighed heavily. He had hoped Rose had forgotten the wager.
It just happened that Lucy Bird was passing by, surrounded by a gaggle of fifth-year girls. It was true after all; no boyfriend in sight. Rose held out her hand, almost reflexively. Albus sheepishly dug around in his pockets for the coins he owed. Their brood had been raised on a steady diet of betting. It was as integrated into their childhood as bedtime stories and tea parties. When Rose was younger, her family used to bet on who would lose their teeth first. Perhaps it had been wrong to encourage the vice—but nothing was better than a little bit of a flutter.
The two cousins exchanged the money easily. To an outsider's eye, not even a glint of gold would have been seen.
"I really thought they would last the summer," Albus said regretfully. He was not so concerned over their teenage heartbreak as he was about the eight sickles he had just lost.
"Are you going to do it now?" Rose asked, nudging Albus in the ribs.
"Are you mental? There's no way I'm speaking to her with all those girls around."
They had, thankfully, boarded the train by that stage and the prospect had passed for the time being.
"You're going to have to speak to her eventually. It was a part of the deal," Rose replied.
Betting was unique within their family. Passing money back and forth had lost its entertainment value, not to mention that money isn't worth much when you're a child. There's only so much you can spend on sweets. So, the bets had mutated in nature, gaining a flamboyancy that marked them as a part of the Weasley-Potter brood. There was a dare involved for the loser. For this particular bet, one of the conditions of losing was asking Lucy out.
Albus sighed, shoving his hands into his now emptied pockets. Rose told him to cheer up, and elbowed him when he didn't. "You're a prefect. If she doesn't want to go out with you, give her a detention."
He raised his eyebrows. "Only a Slytherin would think like that."
She rolled her eyes at the jibe.
There had been a whole series of bets on who would get prefect, although Rose and Albus had been favourites. Even their uncle George had put a Galleon on his niece and nephew. Perhaps it would have been insulting to do anything less. They, of course, had placed bets also.
"Who else got a position?"
"Imogen Abercrombie from Gryffindor. I was writing to her over the summer."
"Aren't you brave," Rose replied mockingly. She dug around in her pockets to get out some sickles. She never would have betted on Imogen Abercrombie. The girl could scare a bogart. This was likely the reason that she was chosen. "We both betted on Nathan Corner. I wonder if he got it?"
With trepidation, the two students paused outside of the Prefect's carriage. Rose rubbed her sweaty palms on her robes. The betting had been in jest, yet she was beginning to wonder how many she had picked right. The nerves stemmed from more than just the coins in their pockets. Albus opened the compartment door.
Mary Boot and Nathan Corner (just as expected).
Imogen Abercrombie.
Naomi Bones. Caleb Macmillan.
One was missing. Rose shut the door behind her.
They busied themselves with stacking their trunks away. Rose was trying to heave hers onto the racks over the seats when Caleb Macmillan jumped up.
"Oh, let me give you a hand, that looks awfully heavy."
Considering that Rose appeared to be more muscular than the helpful Hufflepuff in question, she found this terribly amusing. "No, it's fine," she reassured him, attempting to balance the trunk on her own. Still, he wouldn't let go of the other end. She was forced to concede and allowed him to help lift the trunk. The racket he caused was such a nuisance that Mary Boot looked up from her book, sending them both an irate stare.
Funnily enough, Macmillan didn't offer to help Albus with his trunk.
"I'm glad you've been made prefect!" he said to Rose affably, dusting his hands. "We were hoping it would be you. Wasn't I just saying that?" he said, turning to look at Naomi Bones, who only nodded placidly. "You had all the credentials for the position, really."
Albus rolled his eyes subtly and made the effort to settle beside his partner, Imogen Abercrombie. She was staring at the Hufflepuffs as if she wanted to wring their necks.
Macmillan gabbled on as they took their seats. He was pompously talking up his very short list of achievements. It didn't take long for Rose to notice his habit of rolling his eyes as he spoke, as if he was exasperated by his own portentousness. Naomi Bones smiled mildly at everything being said.
"Would you mind keeping it down?" Mary Boot snapped, glancing up from her corner. She sat by the window, her head tucked into an arithmacy book. She required absolute silence when she read. When it became evident that Caleb was not a discreet whisperer, she sighed heavily and cast a charm to block out the chatter. Rose was quite envious, wishing she could do the same. She nodded tiredly along to Caleb's incessant talk.
A shrill whistle sounded from outside. Everyone glanced out of the windows, watching as the platform began to melt away. They caught the crowd just before they disappeared around a corner, watching arms wave goodbye, but Rose could no longer spot her parents. It didn't take long for the train to pick up momentum. Nathan Corner checked his watch. "Right on time," he said. He caught Rose's eye and smile. She found herself blushing a little. He was tall and handsome and Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. She would have much preferred to be seated beside him, and not Macmillan.
After a few more minutes, the Head Boy and Head Girl entered. Everyone sat up straighter. Even Mary marked her book and placed it aside. Their superiors introduced themselves—Alastair Bristol and Rebecca Burzinski. The introduction was not really necessary, as both students had been well known at Hogwarts even prior to receiving the position. Rebecca was practically a part of every extracurricular activity available. They began on a small congratulations speech that seemed partly memorised, discussing the solemnity of their responsibilities as prefects.
"We're missing one," Albus murmured to Rose.
His tone was implicit. Rose knew exactly who he had placed his money on, and it was for more than the sake of their betting that she was praying he was wrong. As the minutes passed at an agonising pace, Rose reassured herself that it would not be Scorpius Malfoy—for one thing, he was always absurdly punctual, and the fact he wasn't yet present seemed to suggest Rose was in favour. It would be very out of character for him to appear late, especially to an official meeting. Perhaps another boy in her House received the position.
Realistically, a quick mental innovatory of the other Slytherin students made it clear that there was no other clear cut student prepared for the job. The odds were not in her favour.
So, when the screen slid open, Rose was not surprised to catch sight of his silver-blonde head and pale complexion. She was, however, disheartened.
Scorpius Malfoy snapped the screen door shut behind him. He apologised for being late, but his otherwise taciturn expression remained the same as ever.
"That's quite alright, mate. Take a seat," Alistair offered warmly. Scorpius did not return the smile, nor the kind sentiments.
The Head Girl launched into an explanation about leading the first-years to their prospective common rooms. Once she finished explaining the list of initial duties, slips of parchment including each House's prospective common room passwords were handed out. Rose began to memorise hers. Alistair added that the first duty to be performed was for the prefect's patrol of the train corridors. Snapping to attention, Rose regained some of her usual bravado. She raised her hand quicker than lightning. "Malfoy and I can go first."
"Excellent," Rebecca replied. "Rose, isn't is?"
Rose beamed and nodded.
"How about we have Hufflepuff next, then Ravenclaw and then Gryffindor."
Rose sat back smugly, as if she had won a competition by being the first to volunteer. Albus rolled his eyes. "Keen to talk to Malfoy, I see?"
She stomped on his foot, worried the boy would overhear.
It is best to describe Scorpius Malfoy now, before you build him up in your mind as some menacing foe Rose had to deal with.
He was of average height, Caucasian, blonde and male. Most distinctively, he was awkward. Just being around him would unnerve you. He seemed to miss social cues, which made him appear rude. Or perhaps he really was just rude. Rose smiled towards him uncertainly. He ignored her, refusing to make eye-contact.
Anyone but him and Rose would have withheld complaint. She would even have settled with Toby Fleischer. It wasn't that she despised Malfoy—she had just never found any common ground with him. He was very good at all the subjects Rose struggled with, and this never ceased to bother her. Above all, he kept to himself. He was reclusive and aloof and hard to talk to. Rose and Scorpius were very different people. They shared very little in common other than a desire to beat the other. Malfoy was a quiet achiever. Rose was the very opposite.
Working with him would be difficult.
They were the first to be dismissed. Rose walked briskly out of the compartment. Scorpius followed behind her.
They paced the corridors for the designated period. It was a tense hour. Whatever Rose was expecting, she had certainly not expected absolute silence. Not a word was exchanged. Not even when they ducked into compartments to check who was playing exploding snap. Scorpius walked with his hands buried in his pockets, as if his fingers were shy. He would swallow audibly. He hardly looked towards her.
She tried a few times. She mentioned how overcast it looked (he glanced outside a window and nodded) and how much she was looking forward to the banquet (he raised his eyebrows condescendingly). Eventually, Rose gave up on breaching the dangerous borders of small talk. He had certainly given the impression he was a dour agelast. By the end of the shift she felt resigned. "I guess I'll see you later."
He nodded in reply, and turned to make his way back towards his own compartment.
"What an arse," Rose muttered, already feeling annoyed.
She had the option of returning to the Prefect's carriage but was not enthralled by the idea of sitting beside a prattling Caleb Macmillan. Instead, Rose made her way through the train in search of some familiar faces. It hadn't been long at all when she heard Alice Lim's catcalls up the corridor.
"You don't reckon I can do it?" she was saying, in her usual jeering voice.
Alice Lim was shoving pieces of chocolate into a birdcage. She had a habit of trying to do this to Rose's owl, Volker, before he could bite her fingers. Today it was Lorcan Scamander's bird she was pestering. Indeed, the vicious barn owl was trying to nip at her thumb, screeching horribly. The boys were all egging her on, having forgotten for the moment about trading their Chocolate Frog cards.
Alice Lim and Rose Weasley shared very little other than a room and a sense of humour, but they had gotten along from the start. A bond developed based upon a mutual need—they both needed to live in an environment where a decent conversation could transpire. Slytherin would be a duller place without such a friend.
As Rose entered the train compartment, Alice lost interest in the owl.
"Alright, Rose?" she said affectionately.
"Move over, Lim," she replied, falling into the empty seat. She was already feeling wary.
The compartment was filled with a variety of their other classmates. Lysander and Lorcan Scamander had resumed trading Chocolate Frog cards with Angus Finnigan. All were familiar faces, featuring in childhood birthdays and family functions.
"Apparently," Alice drawled. "Malfoy and you are coupling up."
"Merlin, kill me now," Rose grunted.
"You can't possibly mean that," Lysander replied, sucking on the end of a Chocolate Frog.
Years of experience had taught Rose how to tell the Scamander twins apart. They were both in their Sixth Year, and they were only separated by a few minutes, but that is where the similarities ended. Lysander was weedier, with a longer nose. He had a permanently dreamy quality to his wide wonderstruck eyes. His younger brother, on the other hand, had a stocky build, broader shoulders and less height. Most notably, he had an agitated expression. "Malfoy, that wanker?" Lorcan demanded.
"Mind your language," Lysander chastised.
Lorcan ignored him. "Good luck, Rosie. I bet by week two you would've drowned yourself in the lake."
It's strange that despite being twins, Lysander and Lorcan were both so different. Different enough that they were in separate houses. Rose studied them both, bemused. Most girls fancied Lorcan over Lysander, as he was the golden Gryffindor boy. Rose had always preferred Lysander's company though, if only because he was more brain than brawns.
"I reckon you're taking it better than he would," Lorcan offered. "I can't imagine his father will be very pleased either."
To a point, Lorcan Scamander was right. Rose was taking the news much more graciously than Malfoy was, although she didn't know it.
Scorpius Malfoy had returned to his own friends by that point. Isabella Nott and André Zabini were dividing up their sweets from the trolley when Scorpius arrived. Upon seeing his expression, Isabella offered him a sugar quill without having to be asked.
"So, it was Weasley?" Zabini queried, as a passive way to rub it in.
Scorpius nodded in response, falling into a seat and sucking on the end of the sugar quill. It had begun to rain, which only added to his brooding. He watched the drizzle spatter the window.
"You know, she's not that awful." Isabella turned to Zabini as if expecting support. When none was offered, she ploughed on. "I've lived with her since first year. She's really very friendly. And she's not lazy either."
Scorpius directed his grey eyes towards her. "She's insufferable."
"She thinks the same of you," Isabella said under her breath.
"I refuse to work with someone so…so exhibitionistic," he said coldly. "You should've seen the way in which she volunteered to patrol."
He bit into the end of the Sugar Quill savagely.
They decided not to broach the subject again.
The rain was coming down hard when they arrived at Hogsmeade. This caused the usual rush to find carriages to become much more frantic. Girls squealed, quickly pulling their robes over their hair. The low brontide seemed to give the storm more ominous origins, so Rose and her company scampered for the nearest carriage without even having to consult one another.
Never had Rose been gladder to reach the enormous mahogany doorway of Hogwarts. As they surged into the entrance hall beyond, the students began to dawdle. Several took out their wands to dry their robes. Out of the wet and cold climate, the atmosphere began to cheer.
Alice linked her arm through Rose's and together they entered the Great Hall. Hundreds of candles bobbed above their heads, suspended beneath the illusion of a stormy night sky. They chose their seats at the Slytherin table and settled in for the formalities. Alice looked longingly up the table, regarding the empty golden plates and goblets with a look of enmity. "I'm starving," she complained. "If only they would hurry up with the Sorting."
The Sorting Hat was perched upon its stool, bedraggled and limp. It was so patch-worked and burnt that it was a wonder it had yet to fall apart.
Professor Longbottom led the trail of trembling first-years to the front of the hall. The Sorting was always made grand in that it was anticipated by all. Unless you knew someone who was being sorted, the entire experience was actually very tedious. The only thing to look forward to was the Sorting Hat's song.
It began with a flourish, as a tear in the Hat's brim widened to form its words.
"I may not seem fashionable,
Or suit the current trends,
But no other hat in the land
can tell between foes and friends.
Soon you will begin your classes,
And learn about those who fought.
But year after year passes,
And still no lessons are taught.
So, listen closely!
And mark me here.
When strife befalls you,
You must not fear.
Remember Slytherin and Gryffindor,
What a bond they once did share!
And Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,
There was never a closer pair.
No matter which House you belong,
You are four parts of one.
Where there are many witches and wizards,
Many things can be done."
Rose frowned towards the hat, hardly impressed by what it had to offer. Little attention could be given to the riddle, for the Sorting truly had begun. Professor Longbottom had already called the first name.
A boy walked up, his face as fresh as snow. He sat nervously on the stool, and the Hat was placed over his head. It slipped down, covering his eyes completely.
"RAVENCLAW!" It roared.
For the first time, the rashness of it hit Rose. The Hat had just judged a boy's entire mind, what he valued at the age of eleven, shifted through his unexperienced endeavours, triumphs and failures and very hastily decided he was a Ravenclaw. It happened in less than five seconds.
What if the Hat was wrong?
The thought had not once occurred to Rose since the day of her very own Sorting.
That first first of September, that first train ride, that first glimpse of Hogwarts above the twinkling lake have always been spoilt in Rose's mind due to the experience of her Sorting.
The day begun with many slanderous comments made about Slytherin, and the possibility that Albus would end up there. James did not let up on the teasing. Even with his parent's stern warnings, he continued to work his younger brother up, and soon it had made Rose nervous too. Before she had even arrived at Hogwarts, it was made clear that your house was where you would belong. People with similar values tended to be sorted into the same house. Your bravery, ambition, loyalty or wit would link you and your house mates together. Hermione had teased Ron on the car ride to the station, telling him to prepare for his little Rose to be a Ravenclaw, to which he let out a string of favoured profanities. Despite it all being in jest, these playful comments only accumulated her anxiety. Both Albus and Rose were worried, but once they were lining up outside the Great Hall with Professor Longbottom telling them not to be so noisy, she realised everyonewas worried.
Albus was placed in Gryffindor with little to no hesitation. The relief on his face somewhat placated Rose.
Before the hat came down on her head, before her hopes shattered, Rose had sought out James Potter's excited, freckled face, because Albus was too short to see. She was waiting for him to burst into a wide grin. She was waiting for the table's cheers when Gryffindor was called.
But the cheers came from a different part of the room. And James' face looked horrified. Never had Rose seen her cousin more shocked. She made her way towards the Slytherin table as "Wolten, David," was called up to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Her father's exact words, teasing but true, came back to her from earlier that day, on platform nine and three-quarters. "If you're not in Gryffindor, we'll disinherit you. But no pressure."
Slytherin—cunning, devious, evil. That's what she knew Slytherin as, and she knew that even at the age of eleven. There was stigma there.
The responses from her parent's owls were the worst. Her father was outraged, blaming everyone from Salazar Slytherin to the Sorting Hat. Her mother had written in her letter (which was separate. Rose assumed her father wrote his in secret.) "Never mind that, it's the mark that counts not the crest." Not that it mattered. Because the green snake on her robes was the least of it.
As Rose began to make her way through her third and fourth years, she began to accept that she belonged to the house of the misfits.
Rose was a Slytherin. Her ambition, her cleverness and her self-preservation were some of her defining traits. But, was she like that as a child, or did she just have the potential to be? She couldn't help but wonder if the Sorting begins a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Rose's blue eyes found Scorpius. A once buried memory was exhumed—she remembered something he once said, aged eleven, very lofty. "Being in Slytherin is in my blood." He had said it proudly and it sounded like a mantra. Indoctrination. Being in Slytherin wasn't in Rose's blood at all, yet they had ended up there together. They were so different, yet in the very same house. With a posture that was as crooked as a question mark, he sat hunched in his seat between André Zabini and Isabella Nott. His grey eyes followed a girl, her thick hair tied with a yellow bow, as she took her seat at Slytherin. She looked thoroughly confused.
The Sorting was over quickly, and to transition the tradition into the festivities, the food appeared on golden platters to steal everyone's attention. The candles above the student's heads bobbed to the rhythm of the warm conversation below. They ate, they drank and they celebrated the start of a new term. But even as dinner moved on to dessert, Rose couldn't help but ponder and pontificate the Sorting Hat's song.
"What do you think that meant, 'can tell between foes and friends'?" Rose asked as she ate her pudding.
Alice shrugged, thinking it over. "I don't know. It's all about unifying as witches and wizards, isn't it?"
"When strife befalls you…" Rose recalled, letting the words sit in her mouth. She couldn't help but wonder where the Sorting Hat plucked its wisdom from. It seemed obscure to believe it was naturally ingrained with divination powers. More than likely, it heard what was happening in the Headmaster's office and pieced together what was to come. It was not a stupid hat, after all.
Professor Drummond stood to make his speech. Cutlery hit plates. Forks and knives tinkered into inactivity. The bald man in the midnight blue robes had the ability to command a room. "I would like to once again welcome everyone to Hogwarts. I must begin with some announcements. Mr. Duff, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include any muggle electronical devices, including mobile phones, computers and, er, iPods and other such items. Electrical appliances will not function on the grounds. The full list consists of four hundred and ninety six items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Duff's office. I would like to remind you all that the Forest is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to anyone below their third year. Quidditch trials will begin for those teams which feel it is suited. Further notices will be posted in the Common Rooms. Now I suggest you all go off to bed to be rested for the start of the term. Goodnight."
Both Malfoy and Rose stood, almost synchronised. They shepherded the first-years from their table into one group and led them out into the Entrance Hall. The other prefects were steering their groups off towards their prospective common rooms. People pushed and shoved, evidently eager to shower and change into warmer clothes. The two students waited a moment for the chaos to subside before providing introductions. The group of first-years stood before them nervously.
"Welcome to Slytherin," Rose began. Her welcome was either received as sarcastic or menacing, as most of the first-years backed away.
Rose Weasley had never been very good at first impressions. She generally came across as too loud, or too abrupt. She cleared her throat, feeling anxious. "I'm Rose and this is…" She waited for Scorpius to introduce himself but he didn't. Through a clenched jaw, she added, "This is Scorpius. We'll be looking after you."
Again, this didn't seem to reassure the group. Malfoy sighed. Rose responded with a glare, already having grown tired of him. "What? Are you mute?" She demanded in an undertone.
Ironically, there was still no reply.
Rose clasped her hands together to create a sense of finality. "Alright. We'll take you to our common room. It's located in the Dungeons."
"What?" a little boy exclaimed, fear in his high voice. "Aren't the dungeons supposed to be haunted?"
It was a perpetuated myth that the Slytherin Dungeons were haunted. Both Rose and Scorpius had once believed it also. The Dungeons never sounded promising to begin with, and Rose was certain that the Bloody Baron wailed purposely on the start of each school year to frighten the first-years. It added to the atmosphere of the house. Scorpius mused for a moment before speaking in a low voice. "The dungeons aren't haunted…anymore."
The terrified eyes of the students swung towards his face.
"So they were?" one girl prompted, the girl with the yellow ribbon.
"Yes. There was once a terrible ghost that lived in the Slytherin Common Room."
"Malfoy," Rose muttered, annoyed.
"It's fine, though," he reassured them all. "Rose scared him off."
A few of them didn't grasp the joke, but one boy laughed appreciatively and offered his tiny hand for a high-five, which Scorpius smugly received. A small part of Rose itched to hit him with a curse, but she ignored the petty jibe. "The dungeons are not haunted. This way, everyone."
They began their descent. The subdued first-years studied the moving paintings and creaking suits of armour as they walked through the castle corridors, issuing sounds of awe. Thunderbolts lit up the corridor in brief shocks. Malfoy ignored Rose completely, coolly staring ahead. It was making her blood boil. She turned to glower at him. "That was not very nice."
"No, I probably shouldn't have scared the children," he replied in his droll tone.
They didn't speak for about a minute as they walked down the hallway. Rose decided she preferred it when he didn't speak, so she was happy to prolong the silence this time. However, after a while, he broke into a dry chuckle. "They all looked at you like you were going to eat them. Except that one kid, he has a sense of humour."
If he was attempting to start a conversation, it wasn't a very good one. "I didn't find it at all amusing."
He shrugged. They walked down a set of stairs, and several of the children commented on the tapestries.
"Perhaps if you weren't so keen to make an impression—" he drawled.
"What do you mean? I was just introducing us."
"If you had just kept your mouth shut, Weasley, they'd probably all be misguided into believing you're somewhat pleasant."
"Sod off, Malfoy."
His eyes fluttered towards her, as if he was genuinely surprised. "Now, now. That isn't the sort of language a prefect should use."
"Right, because you've set a brilliant example. No doubt your daddy just paid off Professor Drummond so you could get the position."
"At least I didn't get here because of my family connections."
The thunder rumbled portentously.
"I'm sorry?" Rose stopped in her tracks, forcing the first-years to grind to a halt. Exasperation had got the better of her.
"Bribing takes some effort," he humoured her. "But I've never been privy to the perks of nepotism."
In a second, Rose had lost her temper, and with it her reason. She had drawn her wand, ten jinxes running through her mind. She wondered how his pointed little face would look covered in boils. Malfoy had always been weak with wandwork, and so he was caught surprised and empty handed. They both heard the shocked, collective gasp of the first-years. He slowly reached up to pinch her right hand, lowering it in the way one handles dangerous beasts. "Now, now. Don't you go setting a bad example."
"You're an arrogant pig," she hissed.
"Calm down, Weasley."
"I'll calm down when you shut up." But she pocketed her wand nonetheless. It was beginning to dawn on her that an audience had been present for her little outburst. The group of First-years stood as still as stone, all agog by the display. The portraits were muttering judgementally. Rose hoped that this incident wouldn't be passed along to the Headmaster.
Scorpius sighed and continued to lead the group. Rose kept quiet.
They arrived at the hidden door and demonstrated how to deliver the password. As the first-years crossed the threshold, exploring the murky darkness beyond, Rose grabbed Scorpius' arm ("Ow, Weasley! Be a lady, please.") and shoved him back into the corridor.
"Whatwas that?" she demanded.
"It was called a threat, you're very adept at delivering them."
"How dare you embarrass me in front of them like that!"
He smirked towards the ceiling, still deeply amused at her expense. He shook his head slightly, as if to himself, and turned towards the hidden door. Rose grabbed his arm roughly, pulling him back around to face her. "How dare you accuse me of nepotism!"
"Drop it, Weasley. I was just trying to push your buttons a bit. Evidently, it worked." He shrugged coolly, wiggling out of her grip. "Next time I suggest you control your temper and take the joke. You just made yourself look foolish."
He delivered the password and left her alone in the corridor.