Hermione
Arista is leaning over her cauldron, wrinkling her nose.
I can't help but grin at her expression. Her face is blurred and purplish through the stream of smoke rising from her potion. I'm guessing that she left out the belladonna pulp. Or mashed it with the wrong side of the knife. Either way, she's done something... well, I hate to say it, but wrong.
Just as I'm about to inform Slughorn that I'm done, I hear a fit of high-pitched giggles explode behind me. Lavender's giggles. As much as I don't want to, I can't resist a small peek back.
Lavender and Ron are completely absorbed in each other, limbs intwined like Devil's Snare. Their two cauldrons are bubbling desolately, as the owners are too busy kissing each other. It almost looks like Ron is eating Lavender's face. It's disgusting. Furious and sick to my stomach, I turn back around to flag down Slughorn, hoping that he'll see those two while he's checking my potion. If only Snape was still here. Then, they'd get their stupid arses kicked.
Arista
Hurriedly, I flip through my potions book, looking for something on Veritaserum. Harry, of all people, has it perfect. I don't know how he does it these days. The Harry I know is the absolute worst at potions. Wait, was that the p--
There's a loud slam at the back of the room. Eyebrows raised, I casually tilt my head, observing the scene through my peripheral vision. Hermione, I see, does the same thing. We have a lot in common.
Draco Malfoy is standing in the doorway, looking deeply flustered. He hasn't perfectly combed his hair like he usually does, and his clothes look as if he put them on in five seconds flat. (Wow.)
Quickly, nervously, I turn away, looking at anything but him. Instinctively, my eyes come to a rest on the ever-present clock in the corner. 7:09. So that's why he isn't perfectly groomed. He's ten minutes late. In spite of myself, I can't help but feel slightly triumphant.
"Morning, Draco," Slughorn says coolly.
"Good morning, sir."
Gripping his bag tightly, Malfoy sits down stiffly in the back, his usual spot these days. Slowly, as if his joints are sticky, he takes out his books and cauldron, slamming them on the table. Someone's having problems. Although... what problems, I'm not sure.
Snail-speed, the time inches toward nine 'o clock. As soon as the curved clock hand brushes the figure nine, everyone jumps up and makes a frantic life-bolt for the door. Except for Harry, Hermione and I. And, for some reason, Malfoy.
Harry
Malfoy is in the corner, methodically placing his books directly on top of each other. It seems as if he's waiting for something.
He's waiting for us to leave.
Seemingly casual, I do the exact same thing he does. Don't call me paranoid, but I think he's up to something. Finally, it seems that I can't go any slower. I pack up my stuff and inch towards the door.
Hermione's waiting impatiently and Ris is already outside, yelling at me to 'hurry my butt up.' Ron, well, he's with Lavender.
"Hey Potter," a silky voice drawls. "Why don't you go a little faster? Looks like your multiple girlies are waiting."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snarls. "I could just as well call you and your cronies gay."
Malfoy's eyes flash. "I never asked for your opinion, Mudblood," he hisses at her. "You'd better just hope that you're still alive when the Death Eaters are through."
Calmly, I take out my wand and hold it to his throat. "Get out."
Furious, he stalks away down the corridor, disappearing around a turn.
Draco
Sunlight is, fair to say, blinding.
Luckily, it's just the moon out, and a few stars. We kind of co-exist in each other. It's always there when I'm working on that stupid wardrobe.
Oh, and, I think I'm becoming nocturnal.
Carefully, I dust off the cabinet and lock it up for tonight. Ignoring the fact that I still have a castle's worth of homework to do, I slip out into the corridor and head for the grounds.
Like always, the lake is beautiful. I bet even the Giant Squid knows it. The crunch of wet pebbles under my feet is painfully loud, irritating in the silence.
Finally, I manage to wander my way over to the old fishing dock. It creaks under my feet, even though I try not to make any sound. The rustic wooden structure is like an old, retired veteran, just floating there to enjoy itself. Careful not to fall in, I lower myself onto the edge of the platform, my legs hanging just above the water.
For quite some time, I just sit there, thinking about my Vanishing Cabinet, trying to devise better plans. Normally, I would have been paranoid, jumpy at the least, by sitting out on the open lake with a giant squid floating around somewhere underneath me. But for some reason, today I'm not. My mental sanity is just taking a short lunch hour, that's all.
I got a letter from my mum last week. She said that she went to see my father in prison, that's he's not doing so well. I'll get Potter for this, I swear.
There's a faint splash in the water. Heart pounding, I lean a little farther over the edge, watching intently.
Suddenly, a pair of white, ghostly hands leaps out of the water, gripping the edge of the wooden planks.
Shell-shocked and panicking, I yelp and jump to my feet, stumbling backwards. Something, however, makes me stop. Gathering my wits, I peer at the hands. They're small and for some reason, look quite familiar.
Out of the blue, there's another splash and a dark, sputtering head pops up.
She turns to look at me peculiarly.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Almost accusing.
I raise my eyebrows, trying to act calm. "Funny that you're asking me that. What are you doing in the lake? It's freezing--"
I take a closer look at her and my height of incredulity rises. "--and in your school robes, I might add."
Grace looks, well, almost offended. "I'm swimming," she replies, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. "Don't you swim? Or is that below spoiled-rotten, vain, pure-blood blondie-boy morons like you?"
I don't know what to say. Her eyes are glimmering with malice. "I... uh... that's not... I do... swim... uh, need to go now," I mumble. Why do I always crack when she's there? Staring at my shoes, I do a very low-profile turn on the heel and start on my way back.
"Hey! Where are you going? Get back here! Malfoy, get back here now!"
For some reason, her voice makes me stop. So, I comply and turn back around, shuffling towards her soaked figure.
"So," she says casually. "What are you doing out here?"
I can feel my insides freeze up. I can hardly say that I was working on a project that will allow the Death Eaters to come to Hogwarts and help me murder Dumbledore, can I? So, I give her half the truth.
"I was, uh, just... you know, thinking about some stuff."
There's an almost concerned expression on her face, although she is hiding it spectacularly well. Making barely a sound--
Arista
--I pull myself out of the water to sit beside him, wringing my hair.
"That's why I'm here, too," I tell him, pressing my palms into my knees. "I've got a this cousin, and he's kind of, uh, not doing so well."
Draco Malfoy turns away from me, suddenly stiff. "My dad's in Azkaban," he says quietly.
And I don't know what to say to him. Of course I already knew, but I wasn't expecting him to tell me anything. I would never have. No one would. So, out of words, I place my hand lightly on his, just so he knows that I would say something, if I knew what to say.
We're parked on our behinds for a while, staring at the lake's placid, satin surface. It looks like an Arabian filly's glossy coat, shimmering wherever light touches it.
Suddenly, Malfoy starts to laugh. At first, it's just a few muffled snorts, then loud, hysterical hoots. His face is turning inelegantly red and he's rocking back and forth, clutching his palms to his temples.
"You look--" He's coughing the words out, trying not to laugh. "-- like such-- ha-- an idiot-- sitting out here with-- me-- and soaking wet-- to boot--"
"Shut up," I snap, shoving my elbow none-to-lightly into his ribs. My classic move. But I can hardly keep from laughing myself; the smile on his face is just too big to miss-- from a couple thousand miles in the air. We're both laughing, clutching our joy-sore sides, shaking.
Finally, I swallow up the last few giggles, wringing my hands to clear my head. Grinning ear-to-ear, I link my arm through Malfoy's, giving him a squeeze.
"You're so stupid," I say dryly, glaring into his charcoal grey eyes. He snorts ironically.
"Like you're not."
I roll my eyes. Still shaking slightly with held-in laughter, I stand up, then grab Malfoy's collar and pull him up next to me. He's looking a little surprised at such 'disrespectful' treatment from a Gryffindor, but complies anyway. Smiling to myself, I grasp his sleeve and start off back towards to castle.