The look on Hooch's face when she opens the door is hysterical. James finds himself laughing, but he isn't sure if it's in mirth.
Fuck, his arm itches. Fucking Slytherin fangs.
-
James isn't surprised that Hooch doesn't lead them straight to the Infirmary. He also isn't surprised that Hooch drags the two of them up the flight of stairs to the Headmaster's office. He is surprised, however, to find that McGonagall and Slughorn are all ready on other side of the Headmaster's desk, having a heated conversation with the man.
Dumbledore's eyes lock with James.
Those blue eyes are sparkling. James is unnerved.
"You've found him, Rolanda!" Dumbledore announces. McGonagall and Slughorn turn.
McGonagall's hand strays to her lips.
"Where . . .?"
"The Quidditch shed," Hooch sniffs. She plants James and the Slytherin beside their respected House Head. James glances at the bloke; he's pale, save for the black eye and dried blood on his lip, and is standing stock-still. Scared shitless, he is.
"The Quidditch shed?"
"Now," Slughorn says conversationally, "What on Earth would they be doing in a place like that?"
All eyes turn to James and the Slytherin. James feels his face burn.
Fuck. This is why he fucking hates Slytherins.
James swallows. The bloke fidgets.
"Uh . . ."
"W-Well, we, uh . . ."
There's an awkward silence.
Dumbledore raises an eyebrow, but still smiles kindly.
"Perhaps if we speak to you individually . . ."
James opens his mouth.
"Potter can go first."
James eyes snap to the bloke; the Slytherin looks at the Headmaster passively, but James can sense a challenge.
-
When the bloke leaves the room with Slughorn, James cannot help but feel unbelievably alone.
When Slughorn places a hand on the bloke's shoulder, James cannot help but feel unbelievably betrayed.
Fucking Slytherins. Fucking stupid Slytherins.