More Slytherins

~~~~~

"Hey, squib!"

Not again.

I turn around, automatically weighing this up. I'm in a little used corridor somewhere between my Potions room and the Great Hall. There are five older Slytherins, boys and girls, facing me. Advancing slowly.

I'm in trouble. It's just before lunch so Dobby is busy. This corridor isn't widely known, so besides the five who followed me here I can't hope that anyone else will pass by.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask the biggest Slytherin.

He sniggers, "You could leave the school."

"I'm afraid that's impossible." Since when was there a wall behind me?

"In that case - " His fist slams up under my ribcage. I double over, gasping for air. My bag falls and I hear tinkling noises as bottles of ink shatter. Again and again fists collide. I fall to the ground despite trying to fight back, then they kick and the broken glass all over the floor cuts me - and that's not red ink I can see.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

Snape. Good heavens, I never thought I'd welcome the sound of his voice. I try to get my breath back as he yells at the students, sentencing them all to detentions. I can't help but notice the point deduction is minimal.

When they're gone he approaches me. "Are you alright Malfoy?"

I crawl to my knees, "I'm fine sir - " but I can't stifle a cough, and pain pricks through my chest.

"Broken ribs," he snarls. One hand snatches my bag from the ground and the other takes my elbow, gently. "Come on."

~~~~~

I'm in the hospital wing. I'd hoped to avoid this place for a least a full term.

Why is it all medicine has to taste so foul? Madam Pomfrey frowns as I struggle not to cough up the blue 'Abrasi-off'. According to her it will speed the healing of my many cuts from the broken glass.

I hope I don't get visitors. It seems an awful cliché that I should be reduced to having friends sit by my bedside and tend to me. Ugh. It's only a few broken ribs after all, and I will be better by tomorrow.

~~~~~

"I heard about it." Draco invites himself into my room and sits down at my desk. "Bumblebore was furious. He wrote letters home to the Slytherins himself."

"Hush brother. My head hurts."

"I know. Mine does too, remember?"

"I'm sorry."

He sighs heavily. "It's okay. I just wish I could take a break or something. Get away for a day. All this with Father, these stupid racist 'housemates' of ours - "

"Racist? You're not the only one."

"Me?"

"Don't play innocent Draco, it doesn't become you. I know what you think of Granger."

"The mudblood? Oh yes, her. Well what else can I ridicule her about? She obviously doesn't care about her appearance - "

"Why do you have to ridicule her at all?"

"I'm a Slytherin, she's a Gryffindor - "

I make a disgusted noise and throw a pillow at him. "I didn't think you'd 'buy into' all of that. Just because Gryffindors are Gryffindors doesn't mean you have to hate them all."

"Are you sure you're my sister?" he throws the pillow back. "Anyone would think you're a Harry Potter groupie."

"What's a groupie?"

"Never mind."

"I don't see why you hate him."

"I don't see why you don't."

"He's nice, friendly, funny, clever, we have a disturbing number of things in common - "

"Oh no," Draco cringes. "This sounds like 'star crossed lovers' shit."

"Don't swear. And Harry and I are friends, nothing more."

"You admit to being friends with Potter?"

"Yes."

"That's it. What have you done with my sister, imposter?"

I sit up, balling a fist. "Do you want me to prove who I am?"

He waves the threat away, toying with one of my quills. "So, you sit with him and the Weasel in Divination, you've been seen watching him at Quidditch practice, talking in the halls between classes - "

"How many spies do you have?"

"Lots. So how close are you and the Holy Trinity?"

"Hermione's on and off but Harry, Ron and I are friends. I get sideways looks from the rest of them, but they're okay."

"Ye gods. A Slytherin who's chummy with all of Gryffindor house. Salazar must be coiling in his grave."

I sigh and roll over on my bed, turning by back to him. "Shut it Draco."

"Sorry Leila." That word never seems to come easily from his mouth. I roll over again.

"Why do you hate Harry?"

"It's become a habit," he shrugs. "It's kind of corny really. Some stupid comment he made wounded my pride and I - with all my eleven years of wisdom - decided I hated him. But now," he makes a helpless gesture, "It's just a bad habit."

"What about Ron and Hermione?"

"Still poor and stupid, still too smart for her own good with awful hair. I'm not that fickle with my enemies to like them too."

"So if you see Harry will you be civil to him?"

"Why should this bother you?"

"It doesn't, it's just easier for me if you aren't at each other's throats. You're very alike actually."

Draco makes a gagging sound.

"Believe it or not, you are. You're both proud, stubborn, obstinate fools, and if you were friends it would make this school an easier place to live in. Now get lost, I'm tired."

"Goodnight Leila."

"Goodnight Draco."

~~~~~

I've realised that Leila and Draco don't really sound like they're fifteen. Ah well, I blame it on their father.