THE EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
By: Scatterheart
"Then it begins!" (Robin of Locksley)Section Fourteen
The girl was not in class the following afternoon. In the third row, second desk from the right, only Neville stood at the tabletop cauldron, tentatively stirring and sniffing at a potion that steamed a disconcerting light pink color.
Severus made a motion to stand up from his podium and walk over; he changed his mind and sat back down. The worst that could happen would be Neville's turning (temporarily) into a pink rabbit, and that possibility did not matter enough to the Potions Master to merit his attention.
Where could she be?
Perhaps hiding in the library again, as he had so often seen her, hunched over a large, dusty volume and her eyes staring at nothing. Or perhaps scribbling down pages and pages of incomprehensible notes in a handwriting that gradually degenerated into loops and daydreamed doodles.
He noticed that he had stabbed his quill into a parchment advertising for the upcoming End of the Year Gala. Why Albus would still send these useless reminders to him, year after endless year, was anybody's guess. Sighing, he plucked out the mauled quill and tossed it into the nearest inkpot.
Did she ever go to these events, he wondered as he crumpled up the advertisement in his fist. Did she voluntarily go? He knew there was a boy several years ago, a brutely thing by the name of Victor, who had once taken her by the arm and walked with her down the Yule Ball carpet…
A black, nasty feeling that Severus was too afraid to identify made itself known in his heart, and he threw aside the advertisement with a scowl.
She was lonely. Anyone could see that. So how could that Krum fellow bear to leave her so pitilessly, after she had so willingly given him her heart, and even perhaps her body…? Ungrateful, inconsiderate bastard, that Krum. And she, too, was a damn fool for throwing her life away into books and such degenerate and uncouth men.
Stop it, Severus.
He was practically quaking in fury. His thoughts were scaring himself nowadays.
A sharp explosion made itself known in the room, and Severus focused his vision to see that, without her supervision, Neville had indeed managed to create every known side effect to every known potion that was brewed in his class. A small, sniveling pink rabbit now hopped frantically on the top of the desk, crying out for help in its tiny rabbit squeaks.
"Little bunny Foofoo!" Draco Malfoy was the first to laugh in delight, closely followed by the dimwitted guffawing of his two dunderhead friends. "I never knew Longbottom liked bunnies so much he'd be willing to turn into one!"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Severus replied. He could see the shadows of the young man's father in Malfoy's malicious blue eyes. "Shut up before I turn you into one." He swept from his podium and strode to where Neville hopped in panic on the desk. He picked up the little ball of fluff by the base of its neck and held him out, kicking, to the class. "Someone take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital ward."
There was a prolonged pause of thirty blankly staring pairs of eyes before Parvati raised her hand. "I will, Professor."
"Then hurry up, Miss Patil, before Mr. Longbottom sprouts teeth," he retorted in annoyance. Why was the class so utterly slow to do anything? If she had been here, she would have been already halfway to Pomfrey's with Neville by now; she would have saved him from the sour silence.
He remembered too clearly the way she had stood by his door, peering over her shoulder, her eyes and plump lips sparkling with a barely suppressed hope, before he had shouted at her to get out. He shoved Neville roughly into Parvati's arms and stalked back to his podium. A wisp of light brown hair had curled and rested at the base of her ear; he had touched her there as though touching a phantom from a dream, and she had not moved away. She had not even flinched.
It was impossible… and yet it wasn't.
"Next time, can't we turn him into a pig?" Draco was saying. "Then he'd truly look like himself! And then we can turn that Mudblood Hermione into a mouse and have them run after each other—"
Severus spun to face the boy. It took more self-control than he had expected to refrain from sending that Malfoy abomination into the back wall with a well-aimed punch. "Mr. Malfoy, a hundred points from Slytherin for acting like a little shit."
The point system was so juvenile, really.
--
To be continued.
Note: The image of Hermione looking over her shoulder is inspired by the painting "Girl With A Pearl Earring," by Johannes Vermeer.