Tuesday dawned dark and dreary, leaving the student body feeling rather
lethargic. This was only aided by the first class of the day, Arithmancy.
"Remember," Professor Vector said, "add forty-three to the fourth and seventh terms /before/ reciprocating the second, /then/ divide the first and fourth terms by twelve..."
Out of all the classes offered at Hogwarts, Arithmancy was, without a doubt, the most pointless and uninteresting of them all. It was simply Divination with the illusion of a base in fact. How using numbers to see what a person's birthday said about them would help anyone, I haven't the foggiest.
The only slightly amusing thing about the whole class was how excited Vector got about it. You'd think his Quidditch team had won the World Cup the way he acted. He regularly filled up all four of his blackboards with numbers and equations, all the while lecturing animatedly about the numbers of a person's name can tell what kind of person they are. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm didn't carry over to the class. Most people just talked the whole hour, completely ignoring Vector, while the rest hastily scribbled down notes, looking hopelessly lost.
"...so, using this theorem, if I was born on the second of June at eleven- oh-one exactly under a sickle moon, approximately how long will I live, disregarding outside factors?"
I was nearly smacked in the head by Granger's hand as it flew up into the air.
Much to the chagrin of the class, Vector's passion for numbers was matched by his passion for seating charts. He hadn't hesitated in splitting Draco and me up (though I /can't/ imagine why) and placing me beside Granger, who'd been doggedly pretending I didn't exist for the past ten minutes. Draco, of course, had been put beside Padma Patil, a very pretty Ravenclaw, so he wasn't complaining.
Ignoring my glare, Granger piped, "Forty-three and one-quarter years."
"Excellent, Miss Granger! Let's try another one..."
I leaned towards Granger, loath as I was to be any nearer to her, and hissed, "Will you watch where you're swinging that thing? You're going to take someone's eye out."
Granger glanced at me briefly with raised eyebrows. "Really?" she said coolly. "In your case, I think it'd be an improvement."
"Thanks for the insight, but I'd like to keep my vision, thank you very much."
Granger eyed me in a fashion strongly reminiscent of Pansy. "Then maybe you should shut up and stop distracting me."
"Oh, /please/," I said, rolling my eyes. "As if Vector has anything even remotely interesting to say, anyway."
"/I/ think he's brilliant," Granger said defiantly. "And Arithmancy is a /fascinating/ subject."
I resisted the urge to stare at her in horror. "Yeah, if you're an insufferable know-it-all."
"It's better than being a brainless cretin," Granger snapped. "Now stop bothering me."
"Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you," I said, pretending to be hurt. "Here we are, having a pleasant conversation, and all you do is push me away."
"Did you ever stop to think /why/?" Granger asked through clenched teeth.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "My guess is you're just severely antisocial."
"Or /maybe/ you're an intolerable /jerk/ who should mind his own business," Granger whispered fiercely.
I tsked quietly, unsuccessfully trying to hide my amusement. "You really should control that temper of yours, Granger. Have you considered anger management?"
Granger scowled, but apparently decided that replying wasn't worth the continued annoyance. Indeed, she refused to even look at me for the rest of the period and made a point of waving her hand dangerously close to my head whenever she wanted to answer a question, which was approximately every ten seconds.
Overall, Arithmancy left me in an unusually good mood that day. In fact, my high spirits endured all through the morning and into Double Herbology with Ravenclaw, our last class of the day, where we discovered that Professor Sprout had apparently taken a page from Hagrid's book and was trying to maim or kill off as many pupils as possible by the end of term.
"Really, now," Draco said after nearly having his hand bit off for the third time by a Giant Snapping Venusia. "Why would anyone /want/ one of these monsters, aside from a death-wish?"
"They're not /that/ bad," Ryan Schultz, a Ravenclaw who was quite friendly with us and was working on the same plant, said as he casually tossed another dead rat into the Venusia's fanged jaws. "And they're dead useful in potions if you can get some."
"You're just saying that because they haven't ripped off bits of you yet," I said lightly, dangling a rodent by the tail just beyond the homicidal plant's reach. "Besides, it'd be kind of hard to use them in a potion if you haven't got any hands left to make it with."
"Well, if you go taunting it like that, I won't be surprised if it bites you," Ryan scolded, the effect ruined by the smile tugging at his lips. "Venusias are supposed to be quite passive, usually, but--Honestly, Draco! /Toss/ the rat, don't /throw/ it!--but when provoked, they can be a bit... violent."
"Oh, silly me!," Draco said mockingly, "tossing" a rat with a bit more force than necessary at the Venusia. "I forgot how creatures get provoked when you try to keep them alive!"
"Draco--"
"Ryan, if you start with that 'they're just misunderstood' speech, I'm going to hex you," I said before the Ravenclaw could reply. "It's bad enough with Hagrid spouting that nonsense all the time without you joining in."
Ryan looked from me, who had drawn my wand to carry out my threat, to Draco, who was nursing some newly acquired scrapes on the back of his hand and glaring at the offending plant with a slightly homicidal gleam in his eye. Deciding it better to just change the subject, Ryan cleared his throat and said, "So, have you had Defense yet? I hear the new teacher is a real nutter..."
Draco and I found ourselves recounting our entire first class in detail. Ryan wasn't surprised in the least when I told him of my relation to Fae ("Well, it's pretty obvious. Zabini isn't a very common name, after all."), but was very interested when I told him she was a Slayer.
"Sounds a bit like Moody, doesn't she?" Ryan said thoughtfully. "They both work against dark creatures--well, dark wizards, in Moody's case--they're both strict and, from what you said, slightly off in the head."
"At least she doesn't try to catch us off guard all the time," Draco said. "'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'" Several people jumped as he yelled this, glancing about as though they expected Professor Moody himself to jump out at them. "Honestly, it was enough to make anyone paranoid..."
The class was relieved when the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day's classes. Despite Professor Sprout's assurances that Giant Snapping Venusias were harmless if you treated them right, several students sported cuts and scrapes of varying severity that itched and swelled as time went on. Apparently, the Venusias had a weak venom that, while nowhere near lethal, would make the site of injury extremely uncomfortable for a few days.
"If my hand is better by our next lesson, I'm going to strangle Sprout," Draco grumbled as we took our places at dinner. "How am I supposed to work like this?!" He held up his right hand, which had swelled at an alarming rate and was now looking a unsettling shade of purple.
I winced sympathetically, but teased, "That's what happens when you /throw/ instead of /toss/, Draco."
"Shut up, Zabini, or I'll toss you off the top of the Astronomy Tower," Draco growled, trying and failing to hold his fork in his injured hand. After the fourth time utensil slipped from his grasp and clattered loudly on his plate, Pansy said exasperatedly, "Why don't you just go to the Hospital Wing if it's that bad?"
Draco spared her an irritated glance, but had to admit she had a point and resignedly marched out of the Hall, ignoring the curious gazes that followed him.
"This is all your fault, Zabini," Pansy complained once Draco was out of earshot.
I blinked in surprise. "Me? How is this my fault?"
"You were his partner!" she said, looking at me like I was the vilest creature she'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. "You should've kept that-- that /thing/ from biting him!"
"What did you expect me to do, slap his hand out of the way and get bit myself?" I asked incredulously, but she glared at me in a way that said, yes, she did expect me to do that, and give up my left kidney while I was at it. "You're out of your mind, Parkinson."
"Mad, am I?" Pansy growled. "I think you'd be used to nutters by now, considering your family."
My eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you insinuating, Parkinson?"
Pansy grinned maliciously. "Nothing, Zabini, nothing at all," she purred, casting the merest of glances to the staff table, where Fae was talking quietly with Professor Snape. "I was just referring to your family's--er-- /eccentric/ history."
I became aware that my jaw was clenched painfully and I had half-drawn my wand before I could stop myself. "I suggest you don't embellish on that thought, Parkinson, if you value your appearance even in the slightest."
Pansy smirked, but wisely chose not to reply. Instead, she turned to engage Cassandra Cretian in conversation as if she hadn't spoken to me at all.
I stabbed my potatoes viciously, imagining they were Pansy's face. What the hell had I done to deserve that girl?
*******
It was well past midnight, but I was, despite my efforts, still very much awake. Pansy's scathing words were still spinning around in my head, slowly working me into an incredibly foul mood. Of all the things she could say, talking about my family like we're just a madhouse. /Ridiculous/...
Of course, those comments about my family wouldn't have had the nearly the same effect on me if they weren't at least partially true. My family was undeniably bizarre by anyone's standards, but they weren't /nutters/. So what if I'd spent much of my childhood being shuffled between relations and friends of relations because no one knew quite what to do with me? That didn't make them /crazy/.
Sure, Fae was a little... off-balance at times, but she really was quite brilliant. She knew a dozen ways to kill a man without using a weapon, which may qualify as a bit strange, but it was bloody useful... Mother had been prone to breakdowns at the most inopportune times, but that wasn't really her fault. /That/ blame rested, in my eyes, squarely on my father's shoulders. Of course, Fae always tried to convince me otherwise--that was her duty, being his sister and all--but I couldn't stand to listen to her turn him into this great person when I /knew/ he was the biggest idiot ever to grace the planet. In fact, I liked to pretend my father was dead instead of just in prison; it made it so much easier to think about him in the past tense.
Oddly enough, it was my grandfather, the Muggle, that was probably the most normal member of my family, and the closest thing to an actual father I'd ever known. Gran came in a close second on the normalcy list, but her strange obsession with doilies and opera put Gramp on top. So my family wasn't /completely/ crazy.
With that resolved, I thought my mind would be put more at ease, but it actually did very little, if anything. In fact, I ran the same monologue over in my head a half dozen times before I decided I had better things to do with my time than argue with myself and crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Athena. Digging out a few of my textbooks, I crept out of the pitch dark dorm and up the uneven stairs to the Common Room. The fire had died long before my arrival, leaving a damp chill that seeped into my bones and made me wish, quite suddenly, that I was back in my warm bed.
I wasn't a wizard for nothing, though, so I flicked my wand at the empty grate, curled up on the chair nearest to the dancing flames, and allowed myself to become lost in my Transfiguration book. I was so engrossed in it, it took me a few moments to notice the footsteps echoing up the stairs from the dorms an hour later. I glanced up to see Draco emerge through the arch at the peak of the stairway, yawning. He didn't seem at all surprised to see me; he simply threw himself into the chair next to mine and muttered, "Morning, Blaise."
"Good morning to you too, Draco," I said cheerfully, scribbling a bit on a piece of parchment.
Draco made a valiant attempt to pry his eyes open enough to look at me incredulously, but was unsuccessful. "What are you so happy about, Blaise?"
"I just realized why Conjuring things is so much harder than Vanishing them," I said, brandishing the parchment in front of Draco's face.
Draco took hold of the parchment and squinted at it. "Blaise, I must be going crazy because this looks suspiciously like an Arithmancy problem written here."
"Actually, it's algebra, but they're closely related so it doesn't really matter," I said, smiling indulgently. "Anyway, it all has to do with how much has been Vanished beforehand and whether there's enough of that to make whatever you're Conjuring. You can't make something out of nothing, after all, that's why you can only Conjure smaller things, usually. Then there are proximity issues, I haven't quite worked that part out yet..."
Draco yawned widely. "Blaise, we don't learn about Conjuring until next term. What's the point of working on it now?"
"Well, there's no harm in being prepared, is there?"
"There is when it's at four in the morning," Draco said, stifling another yawn.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "If you're that tired you should go back to bed before you pass out."
"I can't," he replied, sounding very sorry about it indeed. "This stupid thing..." he held up his now heavily bandaged hand, which was slowly returning to its natural color, "it has these weird shots of pain, usually right before I get to sleep, too." He sighed despairingly. "It's /hopeless/."
I frowned slightly. "Will your hand be useable tomorrow?"
"I think so," Draco said, shrugging. "Madam Pomfrey wants to check up on it tomorrow morning, though. This morning. Whatever."
"As long as it's functioning for Potions. I don't think we can rely on Goyle to put a decent potion together on his own."
Draco scowled. Ever since first year, we had been strictly forbidden by Snape to let Crabbe and Goyle work together because, quite frankly, they were too stupid to not blow up half the Potions class, so Draco and I usually ended up as their baby-sitters. "Maybe I should just pretend it still isn't well, then maybe I can work with you and dump Goyle on Millicent."
"That's not a half-bad idea," I mused. "It'd be nice to work with someone who actually knows what's going on."
"Hear, hear," Draco said, raising an imaginary glass in a toast.
"... but still, you'd be /lying/, Draco," I said with mock concern. "I don't know if I could stand that on my conscience..."
"Blaise, I'm serious. Shut. Up."
*******
A/N: First off, I'd just like to say that J.K. Rowling is absolutely the most brilliant writer I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Is it just me, or was OotP fabulous? I want to strangle Bellatrix, though... grrrrr... Second, I'd like to apologize for saying things would be in this chapter that weren't. See, I'd already written this when I updated last, but then I was bullied into changing it by my plot bunny.
Next chapter: Almost everything I originally said was in this chapter.
Faxton: I'm glad I'm not the only one completely psyched about HP5 finally coming out. Course, my best friend and I spent quite a bit of time gushing about it and we hadn't even read it yet. Anyway, I'm glad you like Fae, though that might not last long. She's... well, you'll see, I suppose. *reads a bit further and gasps* You're putting me on your favorites list?! Omigosh, I feel so loved... Of course I'll take time to update! Actually, the past three days have been split between reading HP and writing this, so I haven't forgotten you. Fear not, loyal reviewer, for I shall not abandon you! *cough* Yeah, anyway...
stubbornarse: Well, lasooing may be the wrong word. Hog-tying is more what I'm going for. I'd like to update twice a week, believe me, I would. But some chapters refuse to go the way I want, so I rewrite them half a dozen times before my characters stop screaming at me ("What the /hell/ is this? You don't really expect me to /do/ that, do you?"). So I apologize if once a week isn't fast enough, but it's either that or I may be slaughtered by my own brain-children.
JeanB: Hope I didn't update too fast for you ;). I just finished OotP last night and I almost cried... Poor Harry... But anyway, I know I promised a few Gryffindors this chapter and I didn't really do it (except Hermione, but I don't know if that counts). I'm sorry, really, I am. My plot bunny insisted on putting this stuff first.
Gkey: I'm sorry for calling you a 'he', but I guessed. I'm just a really, really bad guesser, you see. But I do have a Ravenclaw nerd just for you. *beams* I hope you like him.
Porphyrophobic Grape: I know what you mean. I stayed up till three in the morning, slept for five hours, then went right back to reading (I love having days off, it's grand). I felt so bad for Harry, especially during that thing with the mirror and Nick... it was just so /sad/! I'm glad you still want to read this, though, even if you have the goodness of J.K. Rowling.
Thanks for reviewing, everyone! You're so awesome, you can't even imagine.
"Remember," Professor Vector said, "add forty-three to the fourth and seventh terms /before/ reciprocating the second, /then/ divide the first and fourth terms by twelve..."
Out of all the classes offered at Hogwarts, Arithmancy was, without a doubt, the most pointless and uninteresting of them all. It was simply Divination with the illusion of a base in fact. How using numbers to see what a person's birthday said about them would help anyone, I haven't the foggiest.
The only slightly amusing thing about the whole class was how excited Vector got about it. You'd think his Quidditch team had won the World Cup the way he acted. He regularly filled up all four of his blackboards with numbers and equations, all the while lecturing animatedly about the numbers of a person's name can tell what kind of person they are. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm didn't carry over to the class. Most people just talked the whole hour, completely ignoring Vector, while the rest hastily scribbled down notes, looking hopelessly lost.
"...so, using this theorem, if I was born on the second of June at eleven- oh-one exactly under a sickle moon, approximately how long will I live, disregarding outside factors?"
I was nearly smacked in the head by Granger's hand as it flew up into the air.
Much to the chagrin of the class, Vector's passion for numbers was matched by his passion for seating charts. He hadn't hesitated in splitting Draco and me up (though I /can't/ imagine why) and placing me beside Granger, who'd been doggedly pretending I didn't exist for the past ten minutes. Draco, of course, had been put beside Padma Patil, a very pretty Ravenclaw, so he wasn't complaining.
Ignoring my glare, Granger piped, "Forty-three and one-quarter years."
"Excellent, Miss Granger! Let's try another one..."
I leaned towards Granger, loath as I was to be any nearer to her, and hissed, "Will you watch where you're swinging that thing? You're going to take someone's eye out."
Granger glanced at me briefly with raised eyebrows. "Really?" she said coolly. "In your case, I think it'd be an improvement."
"Thanks for the insight, but I'd like to keep my vision, thank you very much."
Granger eyed me in a fashion strongly reminiscent of Pansy. "Then maybe you should shut up and stop distracting me."
"Oh, /please/," I said, rolling my eyes. "As if Vector has anything even remotely interesting to say, anyway."
"/I/ think he's brilliant," Granger said defiantly. "And Arithmancy is a /fascinating/ subject."
I resisted the urge to stare at her in horror. "Yeah, if you're an insufferable know-it-all."
"It's better than being a brainless cretin," Granger snapped. "Now stop bothering me."
"Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you," I said, pretending to be hurt. "Here we are, having a pleasant conversation, and all you do is push me away."
"Did you ever stop to think /why/?" Granger asked through clenched teeth.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "My guess is you're just severely antisocial."
"Or /maybe/ you're an intolerable /jerk/ who should mind his own business," Granger whispered fiercely.
I tsked quietly, unsuccessfully trying to hide my amusement. "You really should control that temper of yours, Granger. Have you considered anger management?"
Granger scowled, but apparently decided that replying wasn't worth the continued annoyance. Indeed, she refused to even look at me for the rest of the period and made a point of waving her hand dangerously close to my head whenever she wanted to answer a question, which was approximately every ten seconds.
Overall, Arithmancy left me in an unusually good mood that day. In fact, my high spirits endured all through the morning and into Double Herbology with Ravenclaw, our last class of the day, where we discovered that Professor Sprout had apparently taken a page from Hagrid's book and was trying to maim or kill off as many pupils as possible by the end of term.
"Really, now," Draco said after nearly having his hand bit off for the third time by a Giant Snapping Venusia. "Why would anyone /want/ one of these monsters, aside from a death-wish?"
"They're not /that/ bad," Ryan Schultz, a Ravenclaw who was quite friendly with us and was working on the same plant, said as he casually tossed another dead rat into the Venusia's fanged jaws. "And they're dead useful in potions if you can get some."
"You're just saying that because they haven't ripped off bits of you yet," I said lightly, dangling a rodent by the tail just beyond the homicidal plant's reach. "Besides, it'd be kind of hard to use them in a potion if you haven't got any hands left to make it with."
"Well, if you go taunting it like that, I won't be surprised if it bites you," Ryan scolded, the effect ruined by the smile tugging at his lips. "Venusias are supposed to be quite passive, usually, but--Honestly, Draco! /Toss/ the rat, don't /throw/ it!--but when provoked, they can be a bit... violent."
"Oh, silly me!," Draco said mockingly, "tossing" a rat with a bit more force than necessary at the Venusia. "I forgot how creatures get provoked when you try to keep them alive!"
"Draco--"
"Ryan, if you start with that 'they're just misunderstood' speech, I'm going to hex you," I said before the Ravenclaw could reply. "It's bad enough with Hagrid spouting that nonsense all the time without you joining in."
Ryan looked from me, who had drawn my wand to carry out my threat, to Draco, who was nursing some newly acquired scrapes on the back of his hand and glaring at the offending plant with a slightly homicidal gleam in his eye. Deciding it better to just change the subject, Ryan cleared his throat and said, "So, have you had Defense yet? I hear the new teacher is a real nutter..."
Draco and I found ourselves recounting our entire first class in detail. Ryan wasn't surprised in the least when I told him of my relation to Fae ("Well, it's pretty obvious. Zabini isn't a very common name, after all."), but was very interested when I told him she was a Slayer.
"Sounds a bit like Moody, doesn't she?" Ryan said thoughtfully. "They both work against dark creatures--well, dark wizards, in Moody's case--they're both strict and, from what you said, slightly off in the head."
"At least she doesn't try to catch us off guard all the time," Draco said. "'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'" Several people jumped as he yelled this, glancing about as though they expected Professor Moody himself to jump out at them. "Honestly, it was enough to make anyone paranoid..."
The class was relieved when the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day's classes. Despite Professor Sprout's assurances that Giant Snapping Venusias were harmless if you treated them right, several students sported cuts and scrapes of varying severity that itched and swelled as time went on. Apparently, the Venusias had a weak venom that, while nowhere near lethal, would make the site of injury extremely uncomfortable for a few days.
"If my hand is better by our next lesson, I'm going to strangle Sprout," Draco grumbled as we took our places at dinner. "How am I supposed to work like this?!" He held up his right hand, which had swelled at an alarming rate and was now looking a unsettling shade of purple.
I winced sympathetically, but teased, "That's what happens when you /throw/ instead of /toss/, Draco."
"Shut up, Zabini, or I'll toss you off the top of the Astronomy Tower," Draco growled, trying and failing to hold his fork in his injured hand. After the fourth time utensil slipped from his grasp and clattered loudly on his plate, Pansy said exasperatedly, "Why don't you just go to the Hospital Wing if it's that bad?"
Draco spared her an irritated glance, but had to admit she had a point and resignedly marched out of the Hall, ignoring the curious gazes that followed him.
"This is all your fault, Zabini," Pansy complained once Draco was out of earshot.
I blinked in surprise. "Me? How is this my fault?"
"You were his partner!" she said, looking at me like I was the vilest creature she'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. "You should've kept that-- that /thing/ from biting him!"
"What did you expect me to do, slap his hand out of the way and get bit myself?" I asked incredulously, but she glared at me in a way that said, yes, she did expect me to do that, and give up my left kidney while I was at it. "You're out of your mind, Parkinson."
"Mad, am I?" Pansy growled. "I think you'd be used to nutters by now, considering your family."
My eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you insinuating, Parkinson?"
Pansy grinned maliciously. "Nothing, Zabini, nothing at all," she purred, casting the merest of glances to the staff table, where Fae was talking quietly with Professor Snape. "I was just referring to your family's--er-- /eccentric/ history."
I became aware that my jaw was clenched painfully and I had half-drawn my wand before I could stop myself. "I suggest you don't embellish on that thought, Parkinson, if you value your appearance even in the slightest."
Pansy smirked, but wisely chose not to reply. Instead, she turned to engage Cassandra Cretian in conversation as if she hadn't spoken to me at all.
I stabbed my potatoes viciously, imagining they were Pansy's face. What the hell had I done to deserve that girl?
*******
It was well past midnight, but I was, despite my efforts, still very much awake. Pansy's scathing words were still spinning around in my head, slowly working me into an incredibly foul mood. Of all the things she could say, talking about my family like we're just a madhouse. /Ridiculous/...
Of course, those comments about my family wouldn't have had the nearly the same effect on me if they weren't at least partially true. My family was undeniably bizarre by anyone's standards, but they weren't /nutters/. So what if I'd spent much of my childhood being shuffled between relations and friends of relations because no one knew quite what to do with me? That didn't make them /crazy/.
Sure, Fae was a little... off-balance at times, but she really was quite brilliant. She knew a dozen ways to kill a man without using a weapon, which may qualify as a bit strange, but it was bloody useful... Mother had been prone to breakdowns at the most inopportune times, but that wasn't really her fault. /That/ blame rested, in my eyes, squarely on my father's shoulders. Of course, Fae always tried to convince me otherwise--that was her duty, being his sister and all--but I couldn't stand to listen to her turn him into this great person when I /knew/ he was the biggest idiot ever to grace the planet. In fact, I liked to pretend my father was dead instead of just in prison; it made it so much easier to think about him in the past tense.
Oddly enough, it was my grandfather, the Muggle, that was probably the most normal member of my family, and the closest thing to an actual father I'd ever known. Gran came in a close second on the normalcy list, but her strange obsession with doilies and opera put Gramp on top. So my family wasn't /completely/ crazy.
With that resolved, I thought my mind would be put more at ease, but it actually did very little, if anything. In fact, I ran the same monologue over in my head a half dozen times before I decided I had better things to do with my time than argue with myself and crawled out of bed, careful not to disturb Athena. Digging out a few of my textbooks, I crept out of the pitch dark dorm and up the uneven stairs to the Common Room. The fire had died long before my arrival, leaving a damp chill that seeped into my bones and made me wish, quite suddenly, that I was back in my warm bed.
I wasn't a wizard for nothing, though, so I flicked my wand at the empty grate, curled up on the chair nearest to the dancing flames, and allowed myself to become lost in my Transfiguration book. I was so engrossed in it, it took me a few moments to notice the footsteps echoing up the stairs from the dorms an hour later. I glanced up to see Draco emerge through the arch at the peak of the stairway, yawning. He didn't seem at all surprised to see me; he simply threw himself into the chair next to mine and muttered, "Morning, Blaise."
"Good morning to you too, Draco," I said cheerfully, scribbling a bit on a piece of parchment.
Draco made a valiant attempt to pry his eyes open enough to look at me incredulously, but was unsuccessful. "What are you so happy about, Blaise?"
"I just realized why Conjuring things is so much harder than Vanishing them," I said, brandishing the parchment in front of Draco's face.
Draco took hold of the parchment and squinted at it. "Blaise, I must be going crazy because this looks suspiciously like an Arithmancy problem written here."
"Actually, it's algebra, but they're closely related so it doesn't really matter," I said, smiling indulgently. "Anyway, it all has to do with how much has been Vanished beforehand and whether there's enough of that to make whatever you're Conjuring. You can't make something out of nothing, after all, that's why you can only Conjure smaller things, usually. Then there are proximity issues, I haven't quite worked that part out yet..."
Draco yawned widely. "Blaise, we don't learn about Conjuring until next term. What's the point of working on it now?"
"Well, there's no harm in being prepared, is there?"
"There is when it's at four in the morning," Draco said, stifling another yawn.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "If you're that tired you should go back to bed before you pass out."
"I can't," he replied, sounding very sorry about it indeed. "This stupid thing..." he held up his now heavily bandaged hand, which was slowly returning to its natural color, "it has these weird shots of pain, usually right before I get to sleep, too." He sighed despairingly. "It's /hopeless/."
I frowned slightly. "Will your hand be useable tomorrow?"
"I think so," Draco said, shrugging. "Madam Pomfrey wants to check up on it tomorrow morning, though. This morning. Whatever."
"As long as it's functioning for Potions. I don't think we can rely on Goyle to put a decent potion together on his own."
Draco scowled. Ever since first year, we had been strictly forbidden by Snape to let Crabbe and Goyle work together because, quite frankly, they were too stupid to not blow up half the Potions class, so Draco and I usually ended up as their baby-sitters. "Maybe I should just pretend it still isn't well, then maybe I can work with you and dump Goyle on Millicent."
"That's not a half-bad idea," I mused. "It'd be nice to work with someone who actually knows what's going on."
"Hear, hear," Draco said, raising an imaginary glass in a toast.
"... but still, you'd be /lying/, Draco," I said with mock concern. "I don't know if I could stand that on my conscience..."
"Blaise, I'm serious. Shut. Up."
*******
A/N: First off, I'd just like to say that J.K. Rowling is absolutely the most brilliant writer I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Is it just me, or was OotP fabulous? I want to strangle Bellatrix, though... grrrrr... Second, I'd like to apologize for saying things would be in this chapter that weren't. See, I'd already written this when I updated last, but then I was bullied into changing it by my plot bunny.
Next chapter: Almost everything I originally said was in this chapter.
Faxton: I'm glad I'm not the only one completely psyched about HP5 finally coming out. Course, my best friend and I spent quite a bit of time gushing about it and we hadn't even read it yet. Anyway, I'm glad you like Fae, though that might not last long. She's... well, you'll see, I suppose. *reads a bit further and gasps* You're putting me on your favorites list?! Omigosh, I feel so loved... Of course I'll take time to update! Actually, the past three days have been split between reading HP and writing this, so I haven't forgotten you. Fear not, loyal reviewer, for I shall not abandon you! *cough* Yeah, anyway...
stubbornarse: Well, lasooing may be the wrong word. Hog-tying is more what I'm going for. I'd like to update twice a week, believe me, I would. But some chapters refuse to go the way I want, so I rewrite them half a dozen times before my characters stop screaming at me ("What the /hell/ is this? You don't really expect me to /do/ that, do you?"). So I apologize if once a week isn't fast enough, but it's either that or I may be slaughtered by my own brain-children.
JeanB: Hope I didn't update too fast for you ;). I just finished OotP last night and I almost cried... Poor Harry... But anyway, I know I promised a few Gryffindors this chapter and I didn't really do it (except Hermione, but I don't know if that counts). I'm sorry, really, I am. My plot bunny insisted on putting this stuff first.
Gkey: I'm sorry for calling you a 'he', but I guessed. I'm just a really, really bad guesser, you see. But I do have a Ravenclaw nerd just for you. *beams* I hope you like him.
Porphyrophobic Grape: I know what you mean. I stayed up till three in the morning, slept for five hours, then went right back to reading (I love having days off, it's grand). I felt so bad for Harry, especially during that thing with the mirror and Nick... it was just so /sad/! I'm glad you still want to read this, though, even if you have the goodness of J.K. Rowling.
Thanks for reviewing, everyone! You're so awesome, you can't even imagine.