XVII. HAGRID'S LI'L FIREBUG
It took a few days but, eventually, things started to get back to normal between me Harry Ron and Hermione(as soon as we reached them, Hermione tackled me in a hug that took Harry down with us and sent us sprawling in the aisle between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, rambling about how she was so, so, so sorry and swearing that she'd make it up to me; it was nice, knowing she cared enough to tackle me; when Ron came over, hesitant and feeling left out, I was quick to ask for a hand up just so I could break the ice by yanking him onto the floor with us-he landed on Harry with a look of dumb shock on his face, it was hilarious). It was hard for me to stop looking at them and feeling the way I'd been feeling but, after what Harry did(and seeing Malfoy mock him relentlessly for it), I was determined.
Daphne Tracey and Pansy weren't really sure about it, and I could tell they still harboured a small grudge against my Gryffindors for doing as much damage to me as they accidentally/unknowingly did, but it's not like they were about to tell me to cut my twin brother loose.
And, despite what he said about me being around constantly, Malfoy didn't seem very happy watching me run off to Gryffindor table again either.
In the end, it was Hagrid that helped the most.
Nothing brings people together like a crisis.
And it all started while we were studying in the school library.
"I'll never remember this," Ron complained, throwing down his quill as he gazed out the window longingly.
For the first time in months, the sky was a beautiful clear blue.
He wasn't the only one-Hermione had to keep stopping to force me to focus because I kept staring at the sky, daydreaming about Quidditch.
It's the first day in ages that the weather would be perfect to take my Nimbus out...but, instead, I'm stuck studying against my will in a place I'm usually happy to be. I'd leave if Hermione wouldn't just hunt me down. As happy as I am that things are slowly going back to normal with us, I couldn't help but resent it a bit too-but, then again, that's probably just the studying talking.
And the study guide Hermione gave me.
And the fact she's been harassing me to colour-code my notes.
And take notes.
"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?" I heard Ron suddenly say and, snapping out of my thoughts, I looked up quickly to see the towering wizard shuffling into view.
He was hiding something behind his back.
Harry looked up from his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
Peeking over to see he was looking up dittany, and remembering our first Potions lesson, I couldn't help but smother a snigger.
"Jus' lookin'," Hagrid said shiftily, acting outrageously suspicious. "An' what're you lot up ter?" he added, suddenly looking suspicious of us. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"
"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," Ron revealed impressively and I jerked my head to stare at him, wide-eyed. "And we know what that dog's guarding-"
"Ix-nay on the shit we aren't meant to know-ay!" I hissed, making a cut-it-out hand gesture to get him to shut up, but he continued on obliviously, apparently not hearing me.
Not even Hermione seemed bothered, seeing as it was just Hagrid.
I'm surrounded by idiots.
"-it's a Philosopher's St-"
"Shhhh!"
Hagrid looked around hastily for anyone that could've overheard that.
"Idiot," I groaned, facepalming.
"Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"
"The Gryffindor mentality," I deadpanned. "I'm convinced even close acquaintance with their house slowly saps you of all sense of self-preservation."
Hagrid rose his bushy eyebrows.
Ron rolled his eyes, hard, but otherwise kept his mouth shut.
He's been making a concentrated effort to not make snarky comments about my house around me to make up for our blow-up(which almost imploded our friendship); too bad he doesn't know I'm a mind-reader and anything he thinks can and will be used against him in a court of Jewel.
Seriously, though, I'd be an awesome judge.
-do you think they'd give me a chocolate gavel?
"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," Harry added, "about what's guarding-"
I slapped my hand over his mouth, realising where that was going.
"We have questions," I finished flatly, shooting Harry a look.
He looked confused, not understanding my reaction, and I fought the urge to bang my head repeatedly on the table in front of me.
"Yeah, about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluf-" Harry immediately continued when I cautiously removed my hand.
I instantly put it back.
"SHHHH!" Hagrid hushed frantically.
"You've lost speaking privileges," I stated. "No, you know what-Hermione, cover Ron's mouth too-"
"What? Why?" Ron demanded, arching out of his seat away from Hermione.
"Because you geniuses are shouting about classified information in the school library," I flung back with a thick undertone of sarcasm. "Why don't you just take out an ad in the Daily Prophet? 'Wanna know the deal with the third-floor corridor?'" I mocked, "'Well look no further! Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the blabbermouths of Gryffindor house, have the answer!' Idiots."
"-Shut up, Jules," Ron grumbled, his ears going pink.
Harry looked sheepish.
"And why didn't you shut them up?" I added to Hermione. "You're dropping the ball, Granger-do you just let them run their mouths when I'm not around?"
Hermione looked even more sheepish than Harry.
"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" Ron snorted loudly. "You never know when to shut up!"
"Correction," I stated sharply, "I'm blunt, rude, selectively tactless apparently-" I made a wry face, "and I ramble, especially when I'm really excited about something or super nervous-but I do know what to blab and what not to blab to save my own ass. I know we can trust Hagrid, but what about all of the people that could've overheard you prats talking about the you-know-what just then?"
Under my ire, Ron sunk slightly in his chair.
He looked sheepish too.
Satisfied, I nodded and dropped my hand from Harry's mouth.
"Thanks, Jewel," Hagrid sighed gratefully.
"Don't mention it, Chewie," I quipped, smiling dryly.
"Listen-" he went on, "come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here-" he looked pointedly at Harry and Ron at that, "students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh-"
"You know we'd never let that happen," I said seriously. "We've got your back, Hagrid-and I'm a Slytherin, if there's one thing I know how to do, it's sweet-talk myself out of trouble."
"It's true," Ron agreed, shaking his head in wonder. "It's insane that she hasn't had detention yet-but, every time she gets in trouble, she manages to wriggle out of it."
"Slytherin," I sang, pointing at myself with a proud smirk.
"Thanks, Jewel," Hagrid said again, a warm look on his face.
I returned a lazy salute and a cheeky tongue-in-teeth grin that made his beard twitch in amusement.
With a last smile in my direction, Hagrid shuffled away.
"What was he hiding behind his back?" Hermione wondered.
"Dragons," I blurted thoughtlessly.
Harry Ron and Hermione all stared at me.
Realising where that came from as the footnotes I'd gained from that brief exchange flooded my mind(including something I really bloody hope I misread-because Hagrid wouldn't be insane enough to hatch a-), I felt my chest seize but managed to remain outwardly calm.
A purple rubber band snapped.
"Bet you a Chocolate Frog it's dragons," I goaded.
I know, it's wrong to use my mind-reading insanity to win bets, shut up.
"You're on," Ron said with a grin.
A minute later, he returned with an armful of books and a stunned expression.
"Dragons!" he whispered as he slammed them on the table, staring at me incredulously, and I leant back in my seat and crossed my arms.
A small smirk played around my lips.
"Wait-what?" Harry said.
They gaped at me.
"It's Hagrid," I stated obviously, rolling my eyes. "It was either dragons or something like-zouwu's. I took a wild stab in the dark-that, knowing Hagrid, wasn't all that wild."
"'Zouwu's?'" Harry asked.
"They're magical creatures native to China," I explained quickly, eyes briefly brightening. "I read about them while I was trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't. All the dragons, phoenixes, goblins, unicorns, werewolves, vampires and us kinda spun me out a bit. Zouwu's are one of my personal favourites. They're five-coloured, look like gigantic elephant-sized cats, and have striped bodies, four fangs that curl out of their mouths, and a disproportionately long, ruffled multicoloured tail. They're incredibly powerful and fast-and capable of travelling a thousand miles in a day."
They conceded to that, like I knew they would.
Still, Hermione eyed me for a second longer.
"Lucky guess," she said.
"Wanna rub my lucky rabbit's head?" I quipped.
"Head? Don't you mean foot?" Ron said.
"You're meant to carry around the foot?" I mock gasped with an air of feigned shock. "Now-now that might explain the funny looks people were giving me and Flopsy on the Underground-"
Harry snorted.
Ron looked slightly disturbed, despite being half-confident I was kidding.
"You've been around Fred and George too much," he told me seriously, finding himself all of a sudden reminded of his older brothers.
"Or have they been around me too much?" I challenged jokingly, waggling my eyebrows. "Maybe I'm corrupting them-did you ever think about that? I'm a bad influence, you know, Ronniekins. Now when I walk the streets," I hummed under my breath suddenly, unable to help myself(and blaming George Thorogood & The Destroyers for being so damn catchy), "Kings and Queens step aside, every woman I meet, they all stay satisfied, I wanna tell ya pretty baby, well ya see I make my own, I'm here to tell ya honey, that I'm bad to the bone-bad to the bone, b-b-b-bad!"
"Oh yeah, Fred and George were choir boys before they met you," Ron agreed sarcastically, struggling to keep a straight face. "You're a real bad apple, Jules."
"You bet your freckles I am," I agreed airily as I tilted back on my seat, still humming Bad To The Bone, my fingers sinking into my thick red hair and ruffling it cockily.
Ron and Harry shared a grin.
"Anyway," Ron went on, looking back at the textbooks he'd collected. "Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."
Remembering what I thought I picked up behind the anxiousness and excitement running through Hagrid's buzzing mind, I felt my heart slowly sink.
He wouldn't, I thought waveringly, even as my apprehension rose higher and higher.
"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," Harry said, and I cringed, "he told me so the first time I ever met him."
"But it's against our laws," Ron told him. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden-anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."
Another cringe.
"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?"
"Of course there are," Ron replied. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."
"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" Hermione wondered.
I slowly slid down in my chair, wincing heavily.
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An hour later, we knocked on Hagrid's front door.
To our surprise, and my apprehension, the curtains were pulled shut despite the warm weather.
Before letting us in, Hagrid called, "Who is it?"
The second he heard it was us, he ushered us inside before hastily shutting the door.
A fire was going, making the room even hotter and stuffier with the curtains drawn and the sun beating down outside leaving me feeling sticky and hot in my uniform robes.
It was like walking into a sauna in a snowsuit.
Shrugging off my robes, I dumped them on the table and rolled up my sleeves. After a slight pause, I grabbed my thick red hair and pulled it back into a messy knot, tugging at it until it was secure and I was sure it wouldn't come loose. I even kicked off my red flats, figuring we'd be here for a while.
My toenails were painted a pretty pink, courtesy of Pansy.
"Make yerselves at home," Hagrid joked at the sight, his beard twitching.
I moved to joke back but, catching sight of the very thing I was afraid I'd see laying beneath the kettle in the flames of the fireplace, stopped dead.
Colourful swear words flooded my head.
Not noticing my preoccupation, Hagrid poured us each a cup of tea(and offered stoat sandwiches, which the others thankfully refused for me)and Harry Ron and Hermione took a seat at the table.
"Goddamnit, Jim," I muttered. "Or, to quote Donald Duck-aw bloody phooey."
"So-yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"
Deciding to let that just sort of exist until someone else inevitably brought it up, I accepted my tea from Hagrid and took a long swig, letting it burn my tongue in the hopes it would snap me out of it a bit.
In the end, it just made my tongue hurt.
My mind was still spinning.
"Yes," Harry was saying as I sat down with my hot tea and burnt tongue. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher's Stone apart from Fluffy."
"O' course I can't." Hagrid frowned, "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringott's-I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."
"Ever heard of the Scooby-Doo Gang? Well, we're like that, but worse," I looked up from my tea to quip, as if that explained everything, only to pause. "Wait-if we're the Scooby Gang, does that make Harry Fred and Ron Daphne? Hermione's easily Velma-and I'd say I'm Scooby, but I don't have a Shaggy, and I'd rather be an outside force to the group. Like a-sexy eco-goth rocker chick or something."
"Er-right," Hermione said slowly.
She Harry and Ron shared a look but, ultimately, decided to just smile and nod.
I pouted slightly.
Well, I thought my analogy was pretty on point, but whatever.
"Oh, come on, Hagrid," Hermione continued flatteringly as she turned back to Hagrid, "you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on 'round here."
Hagrid's beard twitched.
I nearly choked laugh-coughing into my tea.
Ron and Harry both aimed kicks at me beneath the table.
"We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione continued. "We wondered-" Ron let out a grunt as I nailed him in the calf in retaliation, an innocent smile on my face and eyes never leaving Hermione and Hagrid, "who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."
Hagrid swelled up like a parade balloon.
Harry and Ron were beaming at Hermione and I felt a flicker of pride.
Who would've thought back in September that little Hermione Granger would be manipulating information out of Hagrid, lying to professors, and accusing a teacher of attempted murder and theft?
-is it bad that I'm incredibly proud?
"Aw, look Scotchy-my babies all growed up," I whispered babyishly to Harry, wiping away a fake tear.
Another shut up! kick was aimed at my leg, but I moved so fast the dark-haired Gryffindor ended up kicking the leg of my chair instead and, from the looks of things, stubbing his toe.
Harry let out a quiet hiss, and I smirked smugly.
I blew him a mocking kiss and he scowled without any real heat, rubbing his foot beneath the table.
"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that...let's see...he borrowed Fluffy from me...then some o' the teachers did enchantments...Professor Sprout-Professor Flitwick-Professor McGonagall-Professor Quirrell-" my lips thinned, stomach twisting, and Harry Ron and Hermione glanced at me sideways, "an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh, yeah, Professor Snape."
"Snape?"
Seeing the way my jaw tensed, Harry had the look of someone who knew he was treading thin ice.
Hermione and Ron avoided my gaze.
"Yeah-" Hagrid looked at them, suddenly exasperated, and I adored him all the more for it, "yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about to steal it."
All they could think about was how, if he helped protect the Stone, it must've been easy for Professor Snape to find out how the other professors had guarded it(and how he 'probably knew everything-except, it seems, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy'). None of them saw how convenient a suspect the Potions Master had become, or how easy it was to pile evidence on his lap because of his demeanour(then again, I doubt anybody's ever accused Severus Snape of being convenient). Quirrell is so obviously using the professor's skulking as a smokescreen.
If anybody got suspicious, who would they suspect?
Professor Snape, or the man that no one looks twice at because of his little act?
A red rubber band snapped.
I was stony-faced, fingers gripping my teacup hard.
"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" Harry pressed anxiously and, to my taken aback, when he glanced at me, he thought about Quirrell too-and how, whether he agreed with me or not, I'd probably want to make sure he doesn't know about Fluffy either. My expression softened slightly and there was a touch of warmth in my chest that wasn't there a moment ago. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"
"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," Hagrid proudly replied.
To my relief, as far as he knew, he was telling the truth.
One of the handiest things about my invasive brand insanity, I figured, was being able to sense a person's intentions-and whether or not they're lying their asses off. The problem is, if they don't think or realise they're lying(or if they believe their own lie), I won't pick up on it. It's why I have to remind myself to not take everything I 'hear' at face value without having something concrete to back it up; it's very easy to misinterpret something, only catch the tail-end of a thought, or for everything to be coloured or painted in a certain light because of that specific person's opinions and perspective.
"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to me, Ron and Hermione. "Hagrid," he added, "can we have a window open? I'm boiling."
Realising where this was going, I downed the rest of my tea like a shot.
"Can't, Harry, sorry."
Hagrid glanced at the fire, and Harry followed his eyes.
"Hagrid-what's that?"
When Harry's eyes landed on the huge, black dragon egg sitting almost mockingly in the fireplace I let out a small sigh of relief I didn't realise I'd been holding in.
"Oh, good, you see it too," I said casually, placing my empty cup on the table.
Harry blinked at me, nonplussed.
Okay, so maybe I still think I might be a bit mad; it's still a vast improvement, and at least I'm not tearing apart the library anymore, fingers crossed for a curable state of psychosis.
"Ah," Hagrid said as he fiddled nervously with his beard, "That's er..."
"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" Ron asked in astonishment as he got up quickly, making his way over to the fireplace and crouching to get a good look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."
I was going to make a joke about the wizarding black market...until I realised it's probably an actual thing and found myself wondering what one could get on the seedy magical underground.
"Won it," Hagrid said and, as I looked back at him curiously, I found myself suddenly struck with the image of a man in a cloak and Hagrid himself pounding back drinks that, I was apprehensive to note, the stranger paid for. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it."
The unlikeliness of the entire situation slowly sinking in(a stranger, who just so happened to be in possession of a dragon egg-of which Hagrid had always wanted, buying the gamekeeper drink after drink and betting the illegal item in a card game?), and feeling uneasy knowing this 'stranger' kept his cloak hood up the entire time(not an unusual thing in the bar in Hogsmeade village that Hagrid had been frequenting last night, The Hog's Head Inn, which is why the wizard didn't think much of it), I had to fight the urge to bash my head against a nearby wall.
A pink rubber band snapped, twice.
"I'm too old for this shit," I groaned, massaging my temples.
Hagrid's eyebrows flew up.
Harry Ron and Hermione stared at me oddly.
"Jewel, you're eleven," Ron pointed out.
"And you're freckly and awkward-looking," I shot back offhandedly.
Ron didn't seem to know if he should be offended by that or not.
"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" Hermione asked Hagrid, quickly moving on before I could shove the conversation further off track.
A bit of a talent of mine.
"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," Hagrid explained, pulling out a large book from beneath his pillow on his bed in the far corner. "Got this outta the library-Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit-it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here-how ter recognize diff'rent eggs-what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."
Seeing how pleased he was, Hermione shot him an exasperated look.
Skimming Hagrid's thoughts, I knew it wouldn't do any good.
I doubt a missile strike could get through to the gamekeeper at this point.
A blue rubber band snapped.
"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she attempted-but, from the way he just started to stoke the fire, humming to himself, it was clear Hagrid's mental phone was no longer in service.
"Don't mind her," I couldn't help but quip, both referencing the Wizard of Oz and quoting Beetlejuice. "She's still upset that somebody dropped a house on her sister."
Despite himself, Harry had to cough hastily to cover up a laugh.
Ron just looked confused, the joke completely lost on his Pureblooded self.
"Jewel!" Hermione hissed, "Don't encourage this!"
In response, I dramatically slammed my hands down on the table.
"Look, I'm a doctor, not an escalator!"
"-what-?"
"I'm not encouraging this," I went on casually, valiantly fighting the urge to grin at their stunned faces, "I'm just trying to lighten the mood before Hagrid's dragon hatches and burns his wooden house down."
"Jewel!"
"You're mad when I make light, you're mad when I bluntly state the obvious-I can't win with you people."
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron summed up nicely.
As if all of the additional homework wasn't enough(and Hermione's study schedules, which are driving Ron Harry and I nuts; at least, in the safety of the Slytherin common room, I get a reprieve), we now had to worry about someone finding out that Hagrid's keeping an illegal dragon in his hut.
But, then again, after it burns his house down and gets big enough to fit him in its mouth he might have bigger problems.
Like I said, as bad as this situation had the capacity to get, and as stressful as it already felt(and the dragon hasn't even bloody hatched yet), there was an upside; we were all so focused on Hagrid's illegal dragon that any lingering awkwardness between us went up in smoke.
Ever since we made up, there's been a bit of a distance between me and the others that we hadn't entirely been able to break.
They'd also been very careful around me, especially when the Philosopher's Stone subject and Professor Snape came up, and no amount of inappropriate jokes seemed able to snap them out of it.
Then, on my end, I was still struggling with those damn feelings I wish I could've just gotten over but was unable to.
In the face of Hagrid going off his rocker,it was like we were all back in sync with each other again, and it was a relief for all of us-especially me and Harry.
Still, I don't think the reality of the situation really sank in for any of us until we were sitting at Gryffindor table one morning, staring blankly at the note Hedwig had brought Harry from the gamekeeper himself.
It's Hatching.
Ron was quick to suggest we ditch class, and I seconded that.
Hermione was just as quick to shut us down.
"Hermione," Ron argued, "how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"
"And besides," I added slyly, "with a good lie Sprout and McGonagall will be none the wiser-and we've read so far ahead that one missed lesson won't make a difference."
To our disappointment, she didn't bite.
"We've got lessons," she said, "we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing-"
"Shut up!" Harry hissed.
I looked over, prepared to make a sarcastic remark about knowing him well-but spotting Malfoy standing a few feet away, the blonde having stopped dead to eavesdrop on us, froze with sharp understanding.
Once again, colourful swear words flooded my head.
With my 'ability', I could tell he'd only heard from my "with a good lie Sprout and McGonagall will be none the wiser" comment but, knowing Malfoy, that's all he needed to hear-and then there's Hermione, obliviously going on about Hagrid and the trouble he'll be in "when someone finds out what he's doing".
An orange rubber band snapped.
-we are so, so screwed.
The look on Malfoy's face was enough to make dread settle in all of our stomachs.
"So, are you going to tell me what breakfast was about," Malfoy remarked quietly about twenty or so minutes into McGonagall's lecture, leaning too close for comfort in the seat behind me, "or do I have to find out myself?"
I immediately stiffened.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I shot back under my breath.
Malfoy nodded to himself.
"I thought so," he sighed. "You never do like to make things easy for me, do you, Potter?"
"I live to make your life difficult," I agreed snarkily. "It's my only real purpose on this earth."
"Sometimes, I wonder," he muttered wryly.
Rolling my eyes, I looked back at him over my shoulder.
"Sometimes, I wonder how it must feel," I retorted snidely, being careful to keep my voice low so no one would overhear, "being so entitled that you think the entire world revolves around you."
"I don't think the entire world revolves around me!" Malfoy argued, offended.
"Please," I scoffed.
"I don't," he repeated.
"Well, you sure as hell act like it," I snorted, resting my arm on the back of my seat and leaning forward, "strutting about the corridors like you own the place-"
"If anything, you're the one that struts about like you own the whole bloody castle-running your fingers through your hair with that stupid smirk of yours-"
I turned around sharply.
I'm not entirely sure Malfoy was fully in his seat anymore-there's no way we'd be as close as we were if he was, even if I had mindlessly put my right knee on my own chair(which I was half out of, leaning forwards with my hands gripping the back).
"Me? Unlike you, Malfoy, I'm not an arrogant tosspot-"
"No, you're just a cocky-"
"Potter! Malfoy!" McGonagall barked and we snapped around, jarred by the sudden interruption. "Something to share with the class?" she added sarcastically.
"Malfoy's an arrogant tosspot that thinks the world revolves around him," I said instantly, startling McGonagall's mouth shut with my shamelessly forthright answer, "and I'm cocky and, apparently, strut about like I own the whole bloody castle, running my fingers through my hair with my-what was it again?"
I glanced back at Malfoy mockingly.
"Stupid smirk," he supplied, to my surprise.
He almost looked entertained.
"I can be cocky," I conceded, "but in a loveable cheeky kind of way, not an arrogant one-the hair thing is an involuntary nervous tick I can't control-I've been doing it for so long, I don't even notice anymore-and, as far as I'm concerned, I'm not the one that struts out of the two of us. I think my observations of Malfoy are pretty sound, but I doubt he agrees-your thoughts?"
McGonagall looked fed up.
"Five points from Slytherin, for each of you," she said strictly. "If I catch you bickering again, I'll send you out."
"Oh, thank god," Daphne muttered in relief beside me.
When they saw Malfoy sit behind me, Tracey Pansy and Bulstrode immediately grabbed their bags and rushed to sit as far away from us as humanly possible(Pansy avoiding being near Malfoy; says a lot, doesn't it?).
Not noticing the blonde until it was too late, Daphne wasn't as lucky.
"You wouldn't do that-" I told the professor with that stupid smirk Malfoy mentioned earlier, "you'd miss me too much."
McGonagall rose her eyebrows.
"I think I'll survive," she said dryly.
Clutching my chest dramatically, I jokingly leant back in my seat.
"Woe my beating heart!" I cried, "is our love so fickle that you could so easily cast me away as if it's nothing?"
Scattered laughter rang out across the classroom.
"Potter-"
"My love?"
I fluttered my eyelashes, and McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose.
"If you don't cut it out, and be quiet,I'll have you serve detent-"
"No bars-no shackles can hold me!" I announced, jumping to my feet and miming brandishing a sword. "No prison can keep me from you or our love! I'll slay monsters, battle my way through the depths of hell-!"
"Detention, Potter!"
Really? Damn, took someone long enough.
Instantly, I dropped back into my seat with a lazy grin.
"Sorry, Professor," I deadpanned, "you just get me so worked up that I can hardly contain my passion."
McGonagall's lips thinned.
Malfoy badly stifled a snigger behind me.
Daphne dropped her head on our desk, lifted it slightly, then dropped it again.
"Why are you like this?" she groaned.
"According to my therapist, an attachment disorder as a result of my dead parents and shitty upbringing-" I said bluntly, "among other things."
Daphne jerked up, dark eyes wide.
There was an awkward silence.
"I mean, I'm just spit-balling here," I coughed wryly in an effort to mask how uncomfortable I suddenly felt at the reaction my classmates had to what was supposed to be dark humour.
-since when did people take the things I say seriously?!
On the upside, McGonagall's irritation dropped in the face of my statement-and how on the mark it probably was.
Not to give Ms Dodds that much credit.
She also thinks I'm 'socially impaired' and 'combative' and that I 'use unhealthy coping mechanisms to avoid dealing with my issues', so.
"Miss Potter," she said, voice not as sharp as it usually would've been, "if you are going to insist on interfering with the rest of the class's learning, then take your textbook and read chapters fifteen through seventeen in the hall."
Glad to get away from the discomfort I'd unintentionally caused(not to mention Malfoy, who would likely try to question me about what Hagrid's up to if I stay), I grabbed my textbook and hopped up.
"Parting is such sweet sorrow," I quipped, winking at McGonagall.
She pointed at the door.
"Out, Potter."
"I'll count the minutes."
"As long as you do it quietly, count as many minutes as you'd like."
"Ah, I love it when you're mean to me. It's hot."
"Potter!"
"See you, baby."
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
At the end of the lesson(which was about fifteen/twenty or so minutes after I was sent out), Malfoy was the first to find me sitting in the hall, making paper aeroplanes out of my sorry half-assed attempts at class notes and randomly plating bits of my messy red hair.
I probably looked like a disorganised crazy person.
"Really?" he said.
"What?" I defended, throwing a paper aeroplane and sniggering when it hit a passing Hufflepuff who jumped comically and jerked around. "I finished my reading in the first, like, five minutes." Not to mention the fact I've already read my Transfigurations textbook back to front. "After that, I got so bored."
"Then why didn't you just come back to class?" the blonde pointed out.
"Because distance makes the heart grow fonder, and all that," I informed him carelessly.
"You're an idiot," was all he said before he turned around and walked away.
"See? I feel fonder of you already!" I hollered after him.
I probably imagined it, but I thought I saw Malfoy's shoulders shake slightly in laughter.
After McGonagall came out to deal with me, giving me the usual stern talking to for playing up in class, I quickly gathered up my paper aeroplane ammo and took off for Hagrid's(I decided to head over during morning break and assumed the others would too).
I won't say I forgot...but, yeah, I kinda forgot.
To my relief, when I banged on the door(almost causing a flushed and excited-looking Hagrid to jump out of his skin at the abrupt interruption-I didn't doubt that the only reason he answered at all was because Harry's scar reacted to my presence), the egg was still in the process of hatching.
Harry Ron and Hermione were already gathered around it at the table.
Not even bothering to grab a seat, I just raced over to stand by Harry, my hand on his shoulder for balance as I observed the shaking dragon egg in wide-eyed fascination.
It had deep cracks running along its shell.
Something inside of it was making odd clicking noises as it moved about.
(I've never even seen a bird egg hatch-outside of a really disturbing nature documentary a teacher at my most recent old school made us watch that pretty much scarred us all for life).
Suddenly, with a loud scraping noise, the egg cracked open and a baby dragon flopped out.
Jet-black and a tad crumpled, its spiny wings were huge when compared to its skinny body. It had a long snout with wide nostrils, stubs I'm assuming were its horns, and huge orange eyes. I couldn't help but think that it looked like it had started out in that gawky, awkward, 'too big for my ears' phase most teenagers have-but, despite that, it was a little cute. Then it sneezed sparks and shot back across the table, and I amended my 'a little cute' to 'downright wicked'.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid said in a murmur as he stared at the dragon, awed.
He reached out to stroke its head only to have it snap at his fingers, pointed fangs flashing.
"Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!"
I stared at him blankly.
"I-I don't even know how to respond to that-"
Harry Ron and I shared a wide-eyed look.
"Hagrid," Hermione cut in, ever the voice of reason, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"
Before he could answer, Hagrid spotted something that made the colour drain from his face-and caused him to leap to his feet and sprint over to the window.
"What's the matter?"
"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains-it's a kid-he's runnin' back up ter the school."
Looking at each other, Harry and I bolted to the door.
I'd recognize that distinctive platinum blonde hair from Jupiter.
"Well, it's been a nice life," I sighed only to pause. "Oh, wait, no it hasn't-bloody Malfoy."
Over the next week, Malfoy was somehow even more of a pain in the ass than usual-and, being the only Slytherin in our rag-tag Scooby Gang, I copped it worst than anyone. He kept making these sly offhand comments about Hagrid, what he's up to and how bad it'd be if someone like Filch just happened to decide to up and pay him a surprise visit, his very flammable home, and how nice Azkaban, a wizarding prison, probably was this time of year.
"And you say there's something seriously wrong with me."
"Because there is."
"Says the boy discussing the weather at a high-security wizard prison!"
"Says the girl that had a casual discussion about murdering me and rolling my dead body in the lake."
"Of course I'd roll you in the lake-it's the best option if I don't want it to be discovered. There's all sorts of dangerous magical creatures living in there-Grindylows, merpeople, the giant squid...if I get you in the lake, they'll take care of the rest, no problem."
"-You hear how psychotic that sounds, don't you?"
"Yep."
"So, you're doing it on purpose because of all the comments I've been making about that oaf Hagrid-"
"Yep."
"And, as soon as it's over, you're going to make me pay, aren't you?"
"Already am."
"...It's still worth it."
"Is it?"
"-Shut up, Potter."
Even without the smug taunting remarks, the you are so screwed smile on Malfoy's face was enough to leave the lot of us in a constant state of anxiety.
Suffice to say, we unanimously decided that the dragon had to go.
We spent most of our time trying to persuade/plead with Hagrid to see how bad of an idea this whole thing was(I'd love to have my own dragon as a pet, but Hagrid lives in a wooden hut-and, with Malfoy knowing, it's only a matter of time before it gets him a one-way ticket to a fortress in the middle of the North Sea; a.k.a., Azkaban prison), but he wouldn't listen. He had even been shirking his gamekeeper duties in order to look after his dragon. It's only a matter of time before he's found out by someone not Malfoy who'll skip lording it over us and go straight to Dumbledore and the professors-or, worse, the authorities.
"Just let him go," Harry urged during our latest visit. "Set him free."
"Like a bird-let him soar!" I quipped, unable to help myself(and bored as hell after sitting here for the past Merlin-knows-how-long), making a butterfly fluttering motion with my thumbs interlocked.
Ron Hermione and Harry all attempted to kick me under the table(I was too quick for them, having seen it coming), and I took that as my cue to stop 'helping'.
From the look on Hagrid's face, it wasn't getting through his thick skull anyway.
"I can't," he said. "He's too little. He'd die."
We all turned to the little dragon.
It had grown at least three times in length in just the last week, smoke left its nostrils at regular intervals, and there were chicken feathers and empty brandy bottles littering the floor.
I'm...not even gonna bring that up.
"I've decided to call him Norbert," Hagrid went on, his eyes misty as he looked over at the dragon. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"
"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered to me and Harry.
"That feels like a hilarious understatement-" I mumbled dryly in reply.
"Hagrid," Harry said, raising his voice to get the marble-less wizard's attention, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."
Hagrid bit his lip.
"Malfoy's been making these nasty little comments all week," I added. "It's only a matter of time. The only reason he hasn't gone running to the staff yet is because he's having too much fun sending us out of our skins."
"I-I know I can't keep him forever," Hagrid said, "but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."
At his earnest statement, I looked at him blankly for a moment, struggling to comprehend the idea as someone who was "just dumped"-so many times, and so often, that I couldn't of kept count if I'd wanted to.
"Why not?" I found myself wondering.
"Jewel!" Hermione scolded, shocked at my insensitivity.
But, seeing my expression and realising where this was coming from, Hagrid's eyes softened.
Harry just went really quiet.
"It wouldn' be right," Hagrid finally said, looking me in the eye to make it clear he didn't think it was right for the Dursleys to dump me either-or all those other people who didn't understand my accidental magic, and all of the strange things that happened around me, and sent me away time and time again. "He's too little. He needs me. I can' jus' turn my back on him."
My throat felt suddenly tight and, after a tense moment, I reached over and slipped my smaller hand into his much larger one.
"You're a...very good person, Hagrid," I told him softly, startling Hermione and Ron. "Norbert is lucky to have someone like you."
Misty-eyed again, he squeezed my hand.
Hermione and Ron turned to Harry questioningly, confused by what just happened, but he just shook his head without looking away from me with a sad smile on his face.
They traded a look, struck with the feeling that they'd missed something, and were suddenly on the outside of our conversation, but not understanding what or why.
That's when a blazing lightbulb suddenly smashed over Harry's head.
"Charlie," he realised, turning to Ron, wide-eyed.
My head shot up and I jerked around, green eyes brightening.
"Charlie!" I exclaimed. "Brilliant!"
Harry's face went pink at my praise and he looked slightly proud.
Ron stared at us like we'd gone mad.
"You're both losing it, too. I'm Ron, remember?"
"No, we don't remember," I deadpanned, "who am I? How did I get here? And why am I at a table with a Wookiee, Pippi Longstocking, Lisa Simpson, and Luke Skywalker? And why do I have the sudden urge to pound back some Tennessee Whiskey and remind you all that I'm a doctor, not a coal miner?"
"No-Charlie-your brother, Charlie," Harry said, spelling it out for everybody else. "In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"
"Brilliant! How about it, Hagrid?"
After a while, Hagrid's hand gripping mine for emotional support I readily offered, the pseudo-Wookiee eventually agreed to let us send an owl to Charlie to ask if he'd be willing to take Norbert.
The next week went by sluggishly.
Ironically, as mental as it drove me, I kind of enjoyed Malfoy's taunting-anything, at this point, would've come as a welcome distraction from the mind-numbing homework piling up in my bag.
It wasn't until Thursday that we heard back from Charlie.
Well, Wednesday night at around midnight for the others, Thursday at breakfast for me.
Ron had been at Hagrid's, using the Invisibility Cloak to sneak down and help him feed Norbert(who was now eating dead rats by the crateful), and Hermione and Harry waited up for him.
Norbert bit him, and Hagrid told Ron off for frightening him.
When the redhead left, his bloody hand wrapped in a hanky, Hagrid was singing Norbert a lullaby.
That's about when Hedwig arrived with Charlie's reply-which they were quick to show me the next morning, pretty much abducting me from the Entrance Hall and dragging me to Gryffindor table before I was able to fully comprehend what had happened(but, then again, I wasn't really awake enough to comprehend much of anything).
It took me two reads before I realised what the letter they shoved in my face was.
Abruptly, all of the sleep cleared from my mind.
Dear Ron,
How are you? Thanks for the letter-I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark.
Send me an answer as soon as possible.
Love,
Charlie
"Midnight on Saturday?" I repeated, discouraged.
"Yeah," Harry said eagerly, not noticing my tone or the way my face dropped. "We can use the Invisibility Cloak. I reckon it's big enough to cover two of us and Norbert, so we can-"
"You and Ron, you mean," I corrected sourly.
Harry looked surprised.
"I thought you'd want to go," he said.
"I have detention that night," I grumbled in defeat. "McGonagall has me sorting books for Pince in the library-she figured that might be something I might actually be able to help with. I was looking forward to it, because I love books and Pince adores me-somewhere deep down in her twisted harpy heart, but now..."
"That's this Saturday?" Hermione realised.
"A momentous occasion," I replied wryly. "My first detention. At Hogwarts. I've obviously had many, many detentions before this. My therapist says I have behavioural issues."
"'Therapist?'" Ron interjected to ask.
"It was a joke, mate," I lied smoothly(well, sidestepped smoothly; the whole 'my therapist says' thing is a running dark humour joke of mine)-only to stop short.
My eyes widened as I got a good look at the redhead, and his hand, for the first time.
They mentioned the bite, but they were so excited to show me the letter that I didn't get a good look at it.
Overnight, his entire hand had swollen twice its usual size.
"Or, you know, Hermione can go," I said blankly.
"It isn't that bad," Ron insisted.
"Oh, Ronniekins," I said mock morosely, "I knew you well. When you die," I added bluntly, "can I have your stuff?"
Hermione whacked me on the shoulder.
"I am not going to die!"
"Keep telling yourself that."
"I'm not!"
"Optimistic to the very end-I'll remember that for your eulogy."
Despite me joking about his imminent demise for the rest of breakfast, Ron refused to go to the hospital wing, worried Madam Pomfrey would recognise what bit him just when we'd finally found a way to get rid of Norbert.
-humanely, that is.
By the afternoon, however, he didn't have much of a choice-what with the bite mark on his swollen hand turning a nasty shade of green.
Evidently, Norbert is poisonous.
After classes, sure Harry and Hermione would too, I said see you to Daphne Pansy and Tracey and made my way to the hospital wing.
And because why not? I started to absentmindedly sing Supertramps the Logical Song to myself.
"When I was young," I hummed, "it seemed that life was so wonderful, a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical, and all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so happily, oh joyfully, oh playfully watching me, but then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible, logical, oh responsible, practical, and then they showed me a world where I could be so dependable, oh clinical, oh intellectual, cynical-
"There are times when all the world's asleep, the questions run too deep, for such a simple man, won't you please, please tell me what we've learned, I know it sounds absurd, please tell me who I am.
"I said, watch what you say-" I clapped my hands twice, ignoring the weird looks random passersbys' sent me and continuing on unfalteringly, "or they'll be calling you a radical, a liberal, oh fanatical, criminal, won't you sign up your name, we'd like to feel you're acceptable, respectable, oh presentable, a vegetable, oh take, take, take it, yeah-"
"Oh, bravo, Miss Potter!" a familiar voice squeaked.
I stopped in my tracks, startled, and looked down quickly to see Flitwick in my path.
"I didn't know you sang!" he said brightly.
"Er-I guess?" I replied unsurely, running my fingers through my hair.
"You have a very pretty voice-" he added, "mezzo-soprano, if I'm not mistaken-have you considered signing up for the Frog Choir?"
"Frog what now?" I blurted.
I had the sudden mental image of frogs ribbiting A-ha's Take On Me.
"Frog Choir," he explained proudly, "it's the school choir. I myself am the conductor."
"And you want...me to join?" I said slowly, pointing at myself blankly. "Me? Jewel Potter? What, just because I was singing Supertramp in the corridor like a lunatic?"
"Because you enjoy singing enough to sing Supertramp in the corridor like a lunatic," he agreed jokingly with a good-natured grin, "but also because you have a lovely singing voice."
"-Mind if I get a raincheck on that?" I asked, baffled by the out-of-the-blue offer. "I'm actually on my way to check on Ron-he got a bad bite of a-" I fought the urge to grimace, "wild dog and had a pretty serious reaction. He's alright, but there's some swelling, so Poppy's confined him to a bed in the hospital wing."
"Say no more, Miss Potter," Flitwick said with a kind smile. "Send Mr Weasley my best."
"Will do."
The second he was gone, I shook my head in bewilderment.
"Wizard madness," I concluded.
Then, after another moment's pause, I shrugged and continued on.
"Oh, she's a little runaway," I distractedly started to sing Bon Jovi,skipping down the hall, "daddy's girl learned fast, all those things he couldn't say, ooh, she's a little runaway-"
When I finally reached the hospital wing(humming Supertramp's Bloody Well Right to myself), because screw my life, I almost ran headfirst into Malfoy who was walking out the door sniggering.
For some reason, he had a random textbook tucked under his arm.
"Hey!" he snapped when I hastily backtracked, "watch where you're-"
Malfoy stopped short when he realised it was me.
Suddenly, he was smirking.
"Ah, dammit," I sighed in resignation.
"Potter," he greeted tauntingly.
"Stuck-up," I retorted.
"Here to see Weasley?" he sneered.
"No, I'm here for the ambience," I retorted sarcastically.
Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Do you idiots really think Pomfrey buys that a dog did that to Weasley's hand?" he scoffed.
"First of all-"
I stuck out my tongue childishly.
"And secondly, I think that it was the stupidest lie Ron could've blurted out when I offered to help him over here. I also think he should've just let me do all the talking like I told him to. Regardless, she does buy it-but only because I lied and said it was a prank gone wrong I took full responsibility for. Wasn't hard, all I had to do was act really guilty and freaked out and say; 'I have no idea where that dog came from, I think it was wild, but it ate this weird goo I ordered from this obscure, shady-looking prank store-they ran an add in the Daily Prophet a couple weeks ago, and I was curious, so I ordered a catalogue and the goo stuff looked like it could be fun-I think it had some kind of poison extract in it that was supposed to make people's skin turn green, which explains why the warning label said not to ingest it or have it touch any open wounds-it was supposed to be a joke-I didn't mean for the dog to eat it, or react the way it did-it just bit Ron out of nowhere-he's not going to die,is he-?!'"
I pulled an appropriately horrified look that quickly dropped.
"'Oh, he'll be fine? Thank god! I won't get in trouble, will I? I promise it was an accident, and I swear I didn't feed it to the dog-the bloody thing came out of nowhere, and I dropped it, and it just scooped it up in its mouth-I guess it didn't like the taste of it, because it just freaked out, and when Ron tried to calm it down it reared up, bit him, and took off-of course, I won't be ordering from that place ever again, mam-I'll get all my prank products from reputable stores from now on-what did the dog look like? Well, I don't know the breed, but it was kinda skinny, male, greyish-or blonde but really dirty with dark eyes, and its fur was unkempt and knotted-you don't think it had any diseases or anything, do you?-
"'Oh, we found it near the forest-no, we weren't trying to sneak in, we were walking by the edge-we'd been visiting Hagrid, you see, we're super close and he likes it when we pop in for tea-if you need any more information, Hagrid saw it too, I'm sure he'll be happy to back us up-he could see us from his porch, but it was getting pretty dark and we'd wandered a bit away so I don't know how well he saw the dog-it'd of been hard to miss it trying to bite Ron's arm off, though-we went back to his place after to check out the bite mark and, as far as we could tell, it was fine...well, until it, you know, got all swollen and green and stuff-'"
Malfoy rose his eyebrows, impressed against his will.
"That's...really comprehensive. Asking if she thought the dog was diseased was a nice touch," he added with a snort. "And the 'untraceable mystery goo'. If she realises the poison is from a dragon, you can just act really surprised that some obscure, nameless prank business is selling products with poisonous dragon saliva in them and say that it ought to be reported. Never mind name-dropping Hagrid. Having support from a staff member, even if it is the gamekeeper, makes your story more believable. Considering you're covering for him in the first place, the least he can do is back you up. And if anyone tries to follow up, he can just say he found the dog but that it'd died from eating the poisonous goo and he'd taken care of it."
"Not bad for a terrible liar, huh?"
I ruffled my hair smugly.
"I never said you were terrible-" Malfoy corrected dryly, "just not as good as you seem to think you are."
Once again, I childishly stuck out my tongue.
Malfoy just smirked.
"Ron owes me big time for saving his ass," I went on seriously. "He's lucky Poppy didn't get me detention on top of the one I'm already serving after my scene in Transfigurations. Or report me to Dumbledore or something for, I dunno, 'irresponsible use of questionable, dubiously legal prank products'?"
"And that's this Saturday, isn't it?" he said mockingly.
"Oh, shove off, you-stuck-up dingbat," I grumbled.
Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows, immediately suspicious of my change in attitude.
"Wait, weren't you all excitedfor your-" he added sarcastic air quotes and pitched up his voice, "'first Hogwarts detention!-'" his voice dropped back to normal, "yesterday?"
Instead of panicking, I sarcastically shook invisible pom-poms.
"Detention, hooray!" I cheered in a deadpan voice that would do Professor Snape proud.
I threw the pom-poms up half-heartedly.
Malfoy snorted.
"Whatever," he said with an eye-roll, acting like he didn't really care what was up with me(but, mind-reader, I could tell his interest was piqued-and that he was already coming up with theories that all tied back to Norbert; if it wasn't Malfoy, and Hagrid wasn't at stake, I would've been impressed by how quickly he put that together).
"Now, if you don't mind me," I quipped, "I'ma go check to see if Ronnie's diedyet-"
"'Ronnie?'" Malfoy snorted loudly.
"Would you prefer Ronniekins?" I shot back only to pause, "...Okay, so you probably would-"
"'Ronniekins?-'" the blonde choked out with a laugh, proving my point.
"It's a nickname I got off Freddie and Georgie," I informed him with a roguish smirk. "Hermione's just 'Mione, or 'Mines,and Harry's Scotch tape, Scotchy-and, now, Scotch tape Skywalker."
"'Scotch tape Skywalker?'"
"Scotch tape, because of his glasses," I said obviously, "and Skywalker from Star Wars."
"-Right," he said, having long given up asking what the hell I'm talking about when I make pop-culture references he wouldn't recognise(being raised away from Muggles who are, of course, 'beneath him').
"Wait-did you say you were going to check to see if Weasley's died?" the blonde realised with a snigger.
"I almost showed up dressed like the Grim Reaper, just to screw with him," I admitted, "but I don't have a scythe."
Malfoy let out a snort of laughter.
I grinned slightly.
"I even asked him this morning if, when he died, I could have his stuff-"
"Trust me, you don't want it," he said scornfully.
"I kinda do," I told him impishly. "Finnegan told me he has Chocolate Frogs."
Malfoy snorted again.
"For the first and last time," he admitted, "I actually wish I'd sat with you at breakfast."
"Oh, you would've loved it," I assured him with a growing mischievous smirk. "I spent the whole meal alternating between eating and arguing with Ron about whether or not he was gonna kick the bucket. I even made a rough draft for his funeral. We settled on white chrysanthemums and a mahogany casket."
Malfoy bit back a grin.
"You know," he said dryly, "it's nice knowing you plan out their murders, too."
"I bet," I snorted. "But this isn't murder," I added, "it's just-something that'll be pinned on me if he dies because I stupidly put the blame for his bloody hand on my own head."
I grimaced to myself.
"Having friends sucks," I huffed. "You get this stupid urge to cover for them and have their stupid backs at your own expense-it's ridiculous. And exhausting. You were smart to avoid it."
It took Malfoy a second to realise what I said.
His head snapped up.
"I have friends," he argued.
"Sure you do, buddy," I quipped, mockingly patting him on the shoulder with a big sarcastic smile and smoothly stepping around him in the same motion.
"I have friends!" he repeated sharply, face going slightly pink and pale eyes narrowing.
"I know, I'm agreeing with you-I'm sure your friends are very real and-friend-like-"
"Stop that!" Malfoy snapped. "I have friends. Like-Crabbe and Goyle-"
"The pinnacles of friendship," I quipped wryly. "You couldn't do better."
I emphasised you to make it clear that I meant he, specifically, couldn't do better than Crabbe and Goyle.
Malfoy scowled at me.
"Oh, like you can talk," he flung back, "at least I don't have to hang out with my brother."
"Tell that to Daphne Pansy and Tracey," I said smugly.
"You latching onto your dormmates," the blonde countered snidely, "and your brother and his friends, doesn't mean you have friends."
"I'll have you know, even without them, I have the twins," I retorted tauntingly, "Pucey, Harry's dormmates, who love me-a little bit too much, in Finnegan's case-I'm on surprisingly good terms with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown-and Zabini likes me, and he doesn't like anybody but himself, and so does Nott, I think. In a, 'I don't mind your existence', kind of way. I've literally never been this popular. I even have a flourishing romance with McGonagall, who loves me so much it translates as annoyance. But, you know, enjoy Crabbe and Goyle."
With a last smug smile at the scowling/offended grey-eyed Slytherin, I skipped into the hospital wing before he had the chance to retort-because, if he did, we would've ended up standing there all night.
To my surprise, despite looking awful, Ron was in a silent fit of laughter.
"'-Enjoy Crabbe and Goyle'-brilliant-" he sniggered loudly as soon as he saw me.
Realising he'd overheard the end of mine and Malfoy's sniping conversation, I mock bowed and grinned proudly.
"It's what I do."
Harry and Hermione arrived about ten minutes after Malfoy left to find I'd shoved Ron aside and was lounging on his bed, my hands behind my head and a smirk playing around my lips.
Ron and I were just having a playful back and forth about professional Quidditch teams(he barracks for a team called the Chudley Cannons, which I've been reliably informed sucks, while I'd decided to settle on the Foulmouth Falcons purely because of their motto: "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads"; I like the Holyhead Harpies too, which is apparently his sister Ginny's favourite team-Gwenog Jones is a new hero of mine, and their team captain and Beater)when they practically fell through the door.
Like Madam Pomfrey before her, Hermione quickly gave up trying to get me off Ron's hospital bed.
"It's not just my hand," Ron whispered, looking even more miserable now that the conversation had turned away from Quidditch, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me-I told her it was a dog-"
"And I told her it was a wild dog," I added wryly, "and a prank gone wrong. I'll fill you in properly later, but just know it was crazy impressive and detailed for thinking on the spot. She seemed to find my explanation more believable-but, if Ron dies, I'll need you guys to vouch for me to keep me out of prison."
Ron grumbled under his breath about how he wasn't going to die.
"Sure," Harry agreed like that was a perfectly normal request.
Then again-the first time we met, I did tell him I'd always wanted someone to bail me out of jail.
"I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match," Ron said mopily, "that's why he's doing this."
We were all quick to try to cheer him up.
"No, he's doing this because he's a prick who enjoys watching other people suffer," was my blunt contribution.
"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," Hermione said reassuringly.
Ron suddenly shot upright and started to sweat.
No, nope, don't say it-
"Midnight on Saturday!" He sounded hoarse, "Oh no oh no-I've just remembered-Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."
"Of course it was," I sighed, just done with it all. "Of course the bloody letter was in the book Malfoy took-because we can't just catch a bloody break, can we? We seriously might be cursed-"
Before Harry and Hermione had the chance to react to the alarming news, Madam Pomfrey bustled over and kicked us out so Ron could sleep.
"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry decided, ignoring me as I ranted to nobody under my breath about Malfoy, the stupid letter, and how we're all bloomin' cursed. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."
Why do I have a really, really horrible feeling about this?
-bloody Malfoy.