ARGH I'm so awful ... Sorry so much about the lack of updates !!!
---
By the time I got back up to the common room, it was almost time for second period. I didn't talk to Harry and Ron much, and so they returned the favour. By the end of the day, my fury at Malfoy had still not subsided.
He had basically called Hagrid an incompetent oaf in front of the entire class, and then topped it off by calling me a mudblood. After he PROMISED he would never, ever, call me that again. Every time I thought about it I could feel my blood boiling.
By the end of the day, my dread for my detention with McGonagall was such that I was even tempted to make some excuses to try and get out of it. My good record had to be good for something.
In the end, however, I didn't try and escape the detention. I knew I deserved it, and would probably only cause more trouble for myself if I tried to get out of it. Still, that didn't make me think I would enjoy it.
"Professor?"
"Ah. Miss Granger. You're early. Please, take a seat. The others will be here shortly."
"Thank you."
I took my seat opposite McGonagall, and tried not to meet her eye. I knew that she would have many questions to ask about what had happened, a Slytherin defending a Gryffindor in any way was unheard of. I didn't feel like answering questions, for once.
It wasn't long until the other three shuffled in together. They took seats beside me, and also avoided the Professor's eyes. Finally, she cleared her throat.
"Well, you four. Before I give you your task for this evening, I would like to know exactly what happened. Such behavior is in no way tolerated in this school, and I mean to make that very clear, despite the rather, shall I say, 'unique' situation."
I swallowed. I doubted very much that Goyle and Pansy had missed the pointed look McGonagall had given Malfoy and I.
"We told you!" Pansy cried, shrilly, pointing dramatically at me. "She called Gregory a brainless git!"
"Only because you called me a mudblood!" I snapped, and McGonagall rolled her eyes.
"Well, as you two seem incapable of telling a consistent story, Mr Goyle, Mr Malfoy? Do you have anything to contribute?"
"She called me a brainless-"
"Anything other than what the girls have already said, Mr Goyle."
McGonagall turned to Malfoy, and I cringed inwardly.
"Mr Malfoy? Anything else to add?"
Malfoy looked up from the desk, which he had been staring avidly at, and blinked up at the teacher.
"No," he said, in his old sneering voice. "Nothing at all."
His tone of voice had made my heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. It sounded cold and empty, even more emotionless and cruel than it had always sounded before, back when we had been enemies. Had I really made him that mad?
"Well, then. I would like to make it very clear that if this sort of behavior continues, it shall only lead to suspension or expulsion. No, Miss Granger, I am not making idle threats."
My head had snapped up, and I was staring in horror at Professor McGonagall.
"But-"
"No buts, Miss Granger. These inter-house rivalries have been going much too far of late, and as sixth years I would expect you to set a better example."
I hung my head and stared at my shoes. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and was putting all my energy into stopping myself from bursting into tears.
"On another note, the four of you will be spending this lesson with Mr Filch, cleaning the trophies in the trophy room," she paused, rolling her eyes as Goyle grinned stupidly and pulled out his wand.
"Without wands, Mr Goyle."
---
I had been foolishly hoping that the detention would go quietly. I could scrub one side of the trophy room, and the Slytherins could do the other. Having all grown up in wizarding families, they were nowhere near as fast as I was without magic.
I was wrong. As soon as we entered the trophy room, Filch instructed Pansy and Goyle to do one wall of trophies, and send Malfoy and I to do the other. We had been working in silence for a while, before he finally spoke. His voice was low, so that the others couldn't hear him.
"I'm guessing you still hate me then, Granger."
I looked up at him. He was scrubbing one trophy so hard I was afraid he might split it in two, and he was avoiding meeting my eye. His voice was tight and angry, and I sighed heavily.
"I don't HATE you, Malfoy, I just-"
"Well, thats funny. Because you seemed pretty keen on telling me what a pathetic git I am earlier this morning."
He wasn't looking at me, instead focusing on the trophy he was cleaning. I wanted to tell him that now was not the time to have a huge argument, but I knew he wouldn't listen to me.
"I never said you were a pathetic git, and while we're on the subject of earlier this morning, I seem to remember you calling me a-"
"I said I was sorry, alright? It just slipped out. What else do you want me to say?"
He had stopped scrubbing the trophy, and was now glaring at me with his seemingly endless gray eyes. I looked away to speak.
"I don't know. I just-"
I jumped as Malfoy dropped the trophy on the floor with a crash. He looked down at it, as though he had forgotten he'd been holding it. Filch's head snapped up, and I saw Malfoy's entire body tense up. He bent down and slowly picked the trophy up, holding it up to show that it hadn't been broken. Filch snarled at him, but said nothing.
"Listen, I don't HATE you, for Gods sake. I just hate the way that things like that can still ... slip out," I hissed at Malfoy.
This was greeted with silence and, after a while, I wondered if he had even heard me. When he finally spoke to me, his voice was low and he didn't look at me.
"Like I said before, 'Mione, you hate that stuff you hate me, too. Thats just ... the way I am," he looked up at me, briefly. "I'm not going to change."
With that, he walked over to a different trophy cabinet and set to work. I stared blankly at his retreating form, and found myself unable to say anything.
---
By the time I got back up to the common room, it was almost time for second period. I didn't talk to Harry and Ron much, and so they returned the favour. By the end of the day, my fury at Malfoy had still not subsided.
He had basically called Hagrid an incompetent oaf in front of the entire class, and then topped it off by calling me a mudblood. After he PROMISED he would never, ever, call me that again. Every time I thought about it I could feel my blood boiling.
By the end of the day, my dread for my detention with McGonagall was such that I was even tempted to make some excuses to try and get out of it. My good record had to be good for something.
In the end, however, I didn't try and escape the detention. I knew I deserved it, and would probably only cause more trouble for myself if I tried to get out of it. Still, that didn't make me think I would enjoy it.
"Professor?"
"Ah. Miss Granger. You're early. Please, take a seat. The others will be here shortly."
"Thank you."
I took my seat opposite McGonagall, and tried not to meet her eye. I knew that she would have many questions to ask about what had happened, a Slytherin defending a Gryffindor in any way was unheard of. I didn't feel like answering questions, for once.
It wasn't long until the other three shuffled in together. They took seats beside me, and also avoided the Professor's eyes. Finally, she cleared her throat.
"Well, you four. Before I give you your task for this evening, I would like to know exactly what happened. Such behavior is in no way tolerated in this school, and I mean to make that very clear, despite the rather, shall I say, 'unique' situation."
I swallowed. I doubted very much that Goyle and Pansy had missed the pointed look McGonagall had given Malfoy and I.
"We told you!" Pansy cried, shrilly, pointing dramatically at me. "She called Gregory a brainless git!"
"Only because you called me a mudblood!" I snapped, and McGonagall rolled her eyes.
"Well, as you two seem incapable of telling a consistent story, Mr Goyle, Mr Malfoy? Do you have anything to contribute?"
"She called me a brainless-"
"Anything other than what the girls have already said, Mr Goyle."
McGonagall turned to Malfoy, and I cringed inwardly.
"Mr Malfoy? Anything else to add?"
Malfoy looked up from the desk, which he had been staring avidly at, and blinked up at the teacher.
"No," he said, in his old sneering voice. "Nothing at all."
His tone of voice had made my heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. It sounded cold and empty, even more emotionless and cruel than it had always sounded before, back when we had been enemies. Had I really made him that mad?
"Well, then. I would like to make it very clear that if this sort of behavior continues, it shall only lead to suspension or expulsion. No, Miss Granger, I am not making idle threats."
My head had snapped up, and I was staring in horror at Professor McGonagall.
"But-"
"No buts, Miss Granger. These inter-house rivalries have been going much too far of late, and as sixth years I would expect you to set a better example."
I hung my head and stared at my shoes. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, and was putting all my energy into stopping myself from bursting into tears.
"On another note, the four of you will be spending this lesson with Mr Filch, cleaning the trophies in the trophy room," she paused, rolling her eyes as Goyle grinned stupidly and pulled out his wand.
"Without wands, Mr Goyle."
---
I had been foolishly hoping that the detention would go quietly. I could scrub one side of the trophy room, and the Slytherins could do the other. Having all grown up in wizarding families, they were nowhere near as fast as I was without magic.
I was wrong. As soon as we entered the trophy room, Filch instructed Pansy and Goyle to do one wall of trophies, and send Malfoy and I to do the other. We had been working in silence for a while, before he finally spoke. His voice was low, so that the others couldn't hear him.
"I'm guessing you still hate me then, Granger."
I looked up at him. He was scrubbing one trophy so hard I was afraid he might split it in two, and he was avoiding meeting my eye. His voice was tight and angry, and I sighed heavily.
"I don't HATE you, Malfoy, I just-"
"Well, thats funny. Because you seemed pretty keen on telling me what a pathetic git I am earlier this morning."
He wasn't looking at me, instead focusing on the trophy he was cleaning. I wanted to tell him that now was not the time to have a huge argument, but I knew he wouldn't listen to me.
"I never said you were a pathetic git, and while we're on the subject of earlier this morning, I seem to remember you calling me a-"
"I said I was sorry, alright? It just slipped out. What else do you want me to say?"
He had stopped scrubbing the trophy, and was now glaring at me with his seemingly endless gray eyes. I looked away to speak.
"I don't know. I just-"
I jumped as Malfoy dropped the trophy on the floor with a crash. He looked down at it, as though he had forgotten he'd been holding it. Filch's head snapped up, and I saw Malfoy's entire body tense up. He bent down and slowly picked the trophy up, holding it up to show that it hadn't been broken. Filch snarled at him, but said nothing.
"Listen, I don't HATE you, for Gods sake. I just hate the way that things like that can still ... slip out," I hissed at Malfoy.
This was greeted with silence and, after a while, I wondered if he had even heard me. When he finally spoke to me, his voice was low and he didn't look at me.
"Like I said before, 'Mione, you hate that stuff you hate me, too. Thats just ... the way I am," he looked up at me, briefly. "I'm not going to change."
With that, he walked over to a different trophy cabinet and set to work. I stared blankly at his retreating form, and found myself unable to say anything.