Chapter 8: Norman

Why did everyone hate the Potions Master? Gwen thought.

It was ten minutes before classes begun, and the only pupils here was herself and a blond Slytherin in the corner. Instinctively Gwen felt a kinship with him; he had the aura of someone struggling to keep up an image of something he-very clearly-wasn't.

"Pity about the last minute decision, hmm?"

She turned to face him again. He'd known that she was watching her and had mistaken it for a looking-over. At first the tone seemed arrogant, but his eyes suggested something else altogether. Weariness.

Lust.

Shit, I don't need this, she thought. Weakly, she smiled.

"That hasn't happened before, has it?"

"No. You must be special. Draco Malfoy," He walked over and extended his hand. "And Gwenaëlle, if I'm not mistaken?" His pronunciation of her name was the most flawless she'd heard since leaving France.

"Gwen," The smile was a little more genuine this time as she shook the strong hands.

"Still, the Hat obviously thought you worthy of Slytherin. Sit with me?"

Before she nodded he'd picked her books up and carried them to the other side of the room.

"M'lady?" He grinned as he extended an elbow. "Thou speakest the tongue of the Bard, fair one?"

Shakespeare.

Inwardly, she sighed. Why was it that nobody at Beauxbatons spoke like this, but the first two guys to talk- no, flirt- knew instantly what made her knees wobble?

Instantly, her opinion of Draco increased tenfold.

"Aye, my lord."

Of course Ron Weasley walked in just as she took his arm.

Ron's eyes widened. Vixen, he thought, only half-joking. Flirting a storm with me yesterday and arm-in-arm with a mortal enemy the next.

It took all of his self control to pretend not to notice. As the students began to trickle in (just before class began; nobody wanted to stay in Snape's classroom any longer than was humanly possible), Ron chose a seat, motioning to Harry and Hermione.

That's interesting, Ron thought. It's only the first class of the day, and the seat is warm. Did Gwen-?

"Class." Snape's voice, as always, was dismissive and monotonous as he took roll, then stopped at Gwen's name.

"Miss Wood?"

"Yes, sir?" Her voice made Ron melt. Life isn't fair, he thought, allowing himself a glance at the Slytherin side of the room. Not fucking fair.

"Combien de Wolfsbane devez-vous prota vous-m' contre les mal actions de l'Ali mille?" Snape speaks French? Ron, as well as half the class, was looking at the Professor dumfoundedly.

"Aucun, monsieur, Wolfsbane n'augmente seulement l'effet."

"Pour quoi est-ce que je pourrais utiliser les pales moulus d'un noir me suis lev?"

"Un breuvage magique d'amour, professeur, ou peut- ne une mal action obligatoire."

"Very good, Miss Wood, I see you do not need today's lesson. And, as you are in obvious need of a tour around the castle-?"

For once he ignored Malfoy's hand as it shot up. Nor did he call on Ron, who for the first time was enthusiastically raising his hand in Snape's class.

"Miss Granger, you have often made it obvious that you do not need my lessons. Please give Miss Wood a tour for the entire period. You may take your things. Miss Wood-?"

"Professor?"

"Je vous sugge montre dehors pour M. Malfoy et M. Weasley. Il est out ait dent qu'ils veuillent entrer dans votre pantalon. Juste un avertissement. Ah ! Et aussi, venez par mon bureau aprole J'ai quelque chose discuter avec vous."

"Je me rappellerai les deux choses, professeur. Merci!"

Ron's heart sank as she left the room.

"Who knew Snape spoke French?" Hermione giggled as they left the room. "Remind me to thank you, by the way, it's the first time he's excused me from lessons."

"Thank me." Gwen ran a hand through her hair. "Where do we begin?"

"Right here. As you can see, this is the dungeons area- somewhere you wouldn't want to be- and rather close to the Slytherin quarters."

"Hmm," Hermione could see Gwen was only half-listening. "I won't bother you with the tour information, just take you through the grounds. Oh- and could I ask you a question?"

"Shoot." She can imitate an American cowboy accent rather well. Hermione grinned.

"What the hell was Snape saying?"

"Oh, um-" Gwen blushed. "He asked me a few potions questions, and told me to avoid Ron and Draco."

"Oh?" At least she's honest, Hermione thought. If she knew me well, she'd know about the summers in France. Does anybody go to a country yearly and not learn the language?

"Yeah. So are these bathrooms?" Gwen pointed down the hall, obviously flustered.

If I wasn't a witch, I would SO be a psychiatrist.

"Hey, Ron!" Hermione called cheerily as she entered the common room.

"Herm," Harry pushed the glasses up from the bridge of his nose, blushing. "Ron's in his room. Sulking, if I'm not mistaken."

"Right." As she passed him she ruffled his hair, something she knew he liked. You are the moron of the universe, she thought. If you don't know how I feel about you.

"Oi!" He called after her as she waltzed toward the boy's dorms.

Hermione bounded up the stairs by twos. "Ronniekins!" she knocked on the door. "It's Herm."

"Yeah, come in."

Harry was right. Ron's very tone indicated that the arrow was pointed directly at "Sulk".

"So I toured Gwen during Potions," She sat on the soft bed. "Wanna hear about it?"

"I don't care." He buried his face in the pillow, trying for all the world to show neutrality.

And failing miserably.

"Well, she's adopted actually," Ron didn't bother telling her he already knew this. "And you probably know her family already, so I won't tell you about that. But-something you didn't- she knows Fleur's little sister, Adrienne. They're best friends. Her boyfriend, Norman-"

"Boyfriend?" Ron sat up. That fucking bitch. First Malfoy, now this…

"Yeah, he's a Prefect there, a seventh year. She was a prefect too-Ron, are you all right?"

"Fine. Herm, I just realized that I'd forgotten completely about a Charms essay. So…another time, maybe?"

"Maybe." There was no Charms essay. We had a reading passage! Ron, you're such a bad liar…

Oh, Herm, just let it slide. The take-it-easy-voice (which always sounded suspiciously like Ron) spoke up.

And for now, it won.