I felt unbearably self-conscious with Malfoy behind me. I hoped my robes weren't stained or my hair wasn't all screwed up in back. I searched for something to say but everything my mind generated sounded foolish. So I just stalked as fast as I could to Snape's lair. Malfoy's long legs easily caught up to me.
"So you're that good in Potions, huh?" he asked.
Flushed face. "Uhm, I guess so...I mean, I try."
'Could you sound *any* stupider?'
"Mm-hm. It's odd that Snape would even *permit* a grimy little Gryffindor tutor me, but I guess it's because I'm failing Potions." He smiled ruefully but I was feeling slightly heated up in the face -- half from his smile and half from his little comment about me being grimy.
"Here we are."
Snape was sitting expectantly in his office. "I'm glad you've granted us a visit to your own tutoring session, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "Miss Weasley and I were becoming quite worried." His voice practically sang with that loathsome, Snapeful sarcasm which would have quelled me in a second. Malfoy just shrugged his shoulders and ignored the sarcasm. "No problem."
I grudgingly admired his cool attitude.
"Shall I leave you alone to begin, then? I have no doubts Mr. Malfoy needs the most basic of basics retaught to him and this session only lasts one hour." With that, Snape swept off, leaving us in the foul-smelling office, quite alone.
Malfoy gave a sharp kick to the leg of Snape's desk and muttered a few obscenities. "Uhm, should we start?" I asked presently.
"Yes, fine, whatever."
We went out into the classroom and took paralleling seats in a couple of the desks. It was on the Slytherin side -- an invisible line had separated Gryffindors and Slytherins in Snape's Potions since I began at Hogwarts. My mind was twisting over Snape's frosty conversation with little Mr. Malfoy -- Ron had always complained that Snape made a pet of him.
My mind dredged up a very old memory from the past summer -- Harry and Ron down by the lake, dripping with water, talking in conspiring whispers.
"You're sure Lucius Malfoy was one of them?"
"Positive. I wonder if Snape knows all he's done. I mean it's been a while --"
But their talk ceased abruptly when they saw me, but I had enough brains to cipher most of the clue. Malfoy's Dad was a Death Eater.
Malfoy himself was looking at me expectantly. "Oh, uhm, so what are you having trouble with, exactly?"
Malfoy groaned deeply. "Everything."
"So you're that good in Potions, huh?" he asked.
Flushed face. "Uhm, I guess so...I mean, I try."
'Could you sound *any* stupider?'
"Mm-hm. It's odd that Snape would even *permit* a grimy little Gryffindor tutor me, but I guess it's because I'm failing Potions." He smiled ruefully but I was feeling slightly heated up in the face -- half from his smile and half from his little comment about me being grimy.
"Here we are."
Snape was sitting expectantly in his office. "I'm glad you've granted us a visit to your own tutoring session, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "Miss Weasley and I were becoming quite worried." His voice practically sang with that loathsome, Snapeful sarcasm which would have quelled me in a second. Malfoy just shrugged his shoulders and ignored the sarcasm. "No problem."
I grudgingly admired his cool attitude.
"Shall I leave you alone to begin, then? I have no doubts Mr. Malfoy needs the most basic of basics retaught to him and this session only lasts one hour." With that, Snape swept off, leaving us in the foul-smelling office, quite alone.
Malfoy gave a sharp kick to the leg of Snape's desk and muttered a few obscenities. "Uhm, should we start?" I asked presently.
"Yes, fine, whatever."
We went out into the classroom and took paralleling seats in a couple of the desks. It was on the Slytherin side -- an invisible line had separated Gryffindors and Slytherins in Snape's Potions since I began at Hogwarts. My mind was twisting over Snape's frosty conversation with little Mr. Malfoy -- Ron had always complained that Snape made a pet of him.
My mind dredged up a very old memory from the past summer -- Harry and Ron down by the lake, dripping with water, talking in conspiring whispers.
"You're sure Lucius Malfoy was one of them?"
"Positive. I wonder if Snape knows all he's done. I mean it's been a while --"
But their talk ceased abruptly when they saw me, but I had enough brains to cipher most of the clue. Malfoy's Dad was a Death Eater.
Malfoy himself was looking at me expectantly. "Oh, uhm, so what are you having trouble with, exactly?"
Malfoy groaned deeply. "Everything."