The potions classroom was dimly lit and dank, and I briefly wondered how many of our ingredients were harvested from moldy corners. Our professor, a "Professor Snape" as he drawled, was pale and greasy. I was certain he'd never been kissed. Any woman would have been scared of that hook nose taking out an eye.
Or man. But he didn't seem the type.
It was Friday. Double Potions. Two hours spent in the dark with that blonde idiot's – ahem. Draco Malfoy's – house. I far preferred the environment to the company.
There was, of course, a roll call. Snape scanned the list, face expressionless. A flicker of amusement, however, did flicker over his face when he came to my name.
"Ah, yes, Emberley. Your last name seems not to be listed here. Care to explain?"
I scowled. "Really not."
"Really not what, Emberley?"
"Really not, Sir," I said, an all-too familiar edge creeping into my voice. It was the one I usually got when I knew that I was about to get into trouble, and didn't particularly care. Not really a good habit, and probably part of the reason that I had been chucked from one home to the next during my time in the foster system. The professor tsked, but moved along.
Why? He sure gave Potter hell for a small amount of, possibly unintentional, sass. Why not me? There was something odd about this, something familiar about the slight mocking tone to his voice. I didn't like it. It sent shivers through my spine. I didn't know what memories I had that were associated with this man, but most of my vague memories regarding people and places were decidedly unpleasant. The feeling I got whenever he looked at me, like a thousand beetles crawling over my flesh, only made me even more sure of that.
We, contrary to my earlier guess, were given an assignment, despite it being our first class, which jolted me out of my disturbed thoughts. In fact, we'd had assignments in almost every one of our classes so far. I didn't mind. It was a simple assignment, really, just an antidote to boils. Well, it would have been simple, and I wouldn't have minded, if it hadn't been a pair exercise. Malfoy had insisted on working with me, and, as he was obviously Snape's favourite, he got his wish. I also had the sneaking suspicion that Snape was also doing it partially to spite me.
"Git," I muttered, as Malfoy focused on weighing dried nettles. I couldn't ignore his ability, though, how precise his movements and measurements were. He definitely had an opportunity for a future in the subject, if he felt so inclined. It wouldn't surprise me. I could just imagine him, brewing up poisons, malodorous draughts, love potions to-
"So," he said quietly to me as I vented my pent-up frustration on the snake fangs I was crushing. "Gryffindor, eh?" I ignored him. Instead, I looked with mild curiosity at the pudgy boy cautiously lifting a bundle of porcupine quills.
"Thought you would've been in Slytherin."
No, take it off the fire first. Off, you idiot, off the bloody-
"You know, considering your mother and all."
I whipped around to face him. "What-" I broke off, coughing, as acrid green steam filled the air, and the pudgy boy collapsed.
Draco stepped quickly between me and the steadily oozing flood of potion. The pudgy boy made horrendous sounds of pain, soaked in the noxious substance. Malfoy grabbed my shoulder and began steering me towards the door. "Perhaps we ought to find somewhere else to have this discussion…"
I grabbed his arm and twisted it violently behind his back. "Don't you ever touch me again!" I hissed. "And if you dare mention my mother, I'll-"
"You'll what, Lestrange?" he said, almost sounding bored. "Go crying to your daddy? Oh… wait… he's-"
"Shut the hell up!"
"Look," he said, throwing me off easily and grabbing my hand in a vice-like grip. "I'm the only student who knows about your dirty little secret. That is, for now. But if you, hmm… upset me, that could change very, very quickly."
"That's-"
"Blackmail? Yes. I know. Why bother pointing it out? It's horribly clichéd." He slowly released my hand, letting his fingers linger far too long on the backs of mine. I stepped back, turned, and made my way quickly towards the classroom's exit. Somewhere behind me, I could hear the professor berating Potter, but the words slipped past my ears, lost in a haze of panic.
That could change… That could change…
No. No, it couldn't. Wouldn't.
I would not let that happen.
Not again.
A/N
Again, nothing against Draco. I just thought that it would be interesting to delve more into the more manipulative side of him. Also, I found it a bit odd that he never really had a long-term romantic interest in the series until the epilogue (though I could be wrong about that).