Better Be Slytherin
IV
Playing Cards
It was Wednesday night in the Slytherin common room and a couple of second years sat comfortablysunk-down in the armchairs by the fireplace, with big books in front of them. They had had a long school-day but where despite that forced to study – they had already gotten three homework-assignments and they were only a couple of days in on the term. One of them, a pale brown-haired boy with slanting eyes, gave a big yawn. The common room was fairly deserted, only a few other students were present. The fire was crackling and the green lights gave the whole room an unnatural glow.
BANG! The entrance to the common room, a big portrait of which they could only see the back, blew open and revealed an enormous boy with a shaved head and a malicious face-expression. He roughly made his way through and was followed by another boy just as big with arms full of pink cupcakes that looked tiny compared to himself. The two marched right up to the armchairs by the fireplace and scared away the younger students. The one with slanted eyes groaned irritably and had to quickly grab his books, before Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle threw themselves down in the armchairs, Vincent with his feet on the table and Gregory with sprinkly cupcakes all over his lap.
Vincent gave a loud nasty laugh when he saw the little boys hurrying away with their schoolbooks, casting angry looks over their shoulders. The little bastards should learn to respect those older than you – Vincent was firm on that, just as his dad was at home.
"Mate, you dropped one," said Vincent, who just discovered this. He nodded towards a cupcake on the floor. Of course Greg, the stupid troll, picks it up... Gregory returned to his chair while munching it, a pleased and happy expression on his face. Vincent knew how much Greg loved cupcakes – his favourite time of the day was after dinner when he and Vincent went down to the kitchen and persuaded the House-elves to provide them with chocolate cakes and those sweet little cupcakes with pink icing and loads of sprinkles (well, Vincent did the persuading, naturally).
Although, Vincent reckoned, it had gone too far when he had to witness his best friend laying stiff and sleepless in his bed at night, listening to the other boys' snores, with only one thing in his head – cupcakes, looking positively bothered. And it had most definitely gone too far when he thereafter crept, trying to not wake anyone, out of the dorm, up through the dungeons to the dark Entrance Hall, and down the stairs towards the kitchens in only his pair of pyjamas, waking the House-Elves to demand they give him a few of the lovely pastries. Yet later when he would be tucked into his bed once more, munching his muffins, then he would look like it was completely worth it – well-pleased and with pink cupcakes all over his chest, sighing blissfully.
This day had passed by in a haze of tiredness for the other Slytherins, who had been up studying into late hours the previous night. Their amount of homework after only a couple of days back in school was shocking. Everyone besides Vincent, Gregory, Zabini and Nott spent this afternoon sleeping. Zabini had thrown together his essay in about 15 minutes, and had then run off. Vincent had no idea to where – he always lurked in deserted corridors doing Merlin knows what. And Nott wasn't tired because he was used to studying loads so he wasn't quite as dramatical as Malfoy and Pansy and the rest, and Vincent reckoned he was clever too; that he worked quickly. The reason as to why Vincent and Gregory weren't tired was that they hadn't studied at all.
When would the knowledge of stuff you learn in History ever come to use in his life? The Dark Lord wouldn't care if you had written that essay or not.
Vincent saw his future quite plainly planned out.
"Le's do some'in fun," said Greg while some crumbs fell out of his mouth.
An hour later, they were bored again. Bullying younger students in some random deserted corridor and taking their sweets was only fun for so long.
They returned to the common room, unsure of what to do. Malfoy was at prefects' rounds with Parkinson, so he wasn't around to guide them. Vincent would convince himself that he did not follow Malfoy around like a smitten puppy, like Greg did – but at times like these, when Malfoy's presence was absent, he realised he didn't know what to do.
