CHAPTER 5: Latinisms and smokes.
Okay. That fat chick had been the third one to glare at him, and he had not even had breakfast yet. He was actually very glad that, after the War, half the Slytherin population was gone, so he could sit as far away as he wanted from his classmates. Seven seats between him and them made him feel a little better. Blaise sighed and followed him to the end of the table, to take the seat in front of him.
-You don't have to do this, you know.
Draco took a quick glance at the other end of the table. He met several pairs of violent eyes. Only Pansy and Daphne looked away. At least Pansy looked alright. No marks were left on her face, although the ones under her eyes were pretty noticeable. Draco looked down and almost threw up at the sight of his oatmeal. Not even five minutes had passed when someone accidentally poured a jar of pumpkin juice on him.
-Oh, my God, I am SO sorry! –the girl said. He could see a smile starting to form on her lips.
Laughter followed, and then, in a very shameful act, someone threw a glass at Draco. Blaise saw it in time and casted a spell to make it stop right before it hit him. Draco held the glass and left it on the table, unemotionally. Professor McGonagall was already on her feet, screaming.
-Who did this?! Stand up!
Everyone (except the teachers and the Slytherins, who were sitting too far away) had seen Ron Weasley charm the glass so it would attack Malfoy. And the second he made the movement to stand up, everyone followed him. Minerva stared at the crowd, furious, and still unbelieving that everyone was standing up against someone who had hurt Pansy Parkinson. She knew she could never find the guilty student amongst them. They would not say a word.
-Get out of here! Everyone! –she yelled.
As people gradually exited the Great Hall, those who had remained seated (mostly Slytherins) started getting up and joining the exodus. That had never been seen before. Eventually, only Draco and Blaise were left in the Great Hall, besides of the teachers, who were still eyeing the door, incredulous of what had just happened. For once, Draco was glad he had actually met Voldemort. Because if not, this would have been the most horrible thing to happen to him.
-Did you see that bastard's face?
-It's a pity Zabini stopped the glass in time –Ron snapped his tongue.
-Well, I thought it rather adequate –Hermione Granger said-. You could have really hurt him!
-You mean like he hurt Pansy? –Harry Potter interrupted her, aggressively.
-Come on, Harry, like you ever gave a fuck about Parkinson!
-I don't like her either –Neville commented-. But I did feel sorry for her.
Luna smiled at Neville's words and Helena and Astoria crossed glances and significant smiles. Everyone kept giving their opinions on the matter. Until Ron finally said, with his chest swollen:
-Someone had to give him what he deserves.
-Oh, and throwing a glass at him when he's not looking is what he deserves? –Astoria talked for the first time, as she exhaled smoke from her chocolate flavoured cigarette.
Nobody was allowed to smoke at Hogwarts, of course, but she had had the habit for years and was not about to give up now. During the last years she had gotten detention several times because of that, but in the end, teachers had stopped trying. She was just too damn stubborn. According to her logic, scrubbing cauldrons was still worth it if it allowed her to enjoy her smokes.
-What is that supposed to mean? –Ron squinted.
-It means that just because he's a bastard it doesn't mean you're a saint.
-I never said I was.
-Shut up, Weasley –Helena cut him off-. What you did was cowardly and that's it.
-Cowardly? I'd like to see if you thought the same if he had hit you, instead of Parkinson! –Harry snapped.
-Oh, fuck the lot of you –Astoria groaned-. You self-righteous idiots.
Ron took one step forward and looked down at her, threateningly. He was several inches taller than Astoria. Nonetheless, she did not feel taken aback whatsoever. She waited for the right moment.
-You better keep your mouth shut, you Slytherin dyke! –he grinned.
Being as small as she was, Astoria had always wanted to learn a martial art. You never knew when you could need it. Her typically Slytherin parents, of course, wouldn't even hear about it, and whenever she brought up the subject she got punished during weeks. But a girl has her ways, and a couple furtive visits to a cybercafé allowed her to learn the best ways to neutralize an attack. Not that Weasley had attacked her, per se. But he was really getting on her tits. She tensed her right hand and bent only the first phalanx. She usually hit the neck with this move, but Weasley was too tall for that. So she simply sunk her hand with strength into the pit of his stomach. He grunted and fell on his knees.
-Miss Greengrass!!!!!!!!!!!! –she recognized Slughorn's voice in the distance- Double detention for you!!!
'What the hell', she thought, 'in for a penny, in for a pound'. After she kicked him in the face, Ron learnt to be very grateful that Astoria had not been able to gather the money to buy a pair of steel-toed army boots.
-So it was Weasley.
-Yes.
-I heard you kicked him in the face.
Draco scrubbed and scrubbed the bottom of a cauldron unsuccessfully. His nails hurt. Judging by the degree of corruption that the pot had suffered, he guessed it had been Longbottom's practicing recipient.
-That I did.
-Thank you for that.
-Not like I did it for you –she snorted, rolling her sleeves up.
They worked for a while in silence, until Draco broke a nail. He cursed and dropped the cauldron he had been scrubbing. It made a loud sound against the stone floor and echoed through the dungeons. Astoria stopped scrubbing to look at him as he fixed his broken nail with a spell.
-I hate doing this shit –he whispered, more to himself than to her.
-Dura lex, sed lex. (A.N: the law is tough, but it's the law).
Astoria loved using Latin expressions. She found that, sometimes, they had a much more accurate meaning than anything else she could say. Draco looked at her with a sudden interest and his lips slightly curved into what could be considered a very feeble smile.
-Yeah, well… Summum ius, summa inuria. (A.N: supreme justice, supreme injustice).
Astoria laughed as she turned around and faced her cauldron again. She shook her head, surprised. That was the last thing she had expected. Minutes went by very slowly, and the pile of pots and cauldrons to scrub never really seemed to reduce. Astoria wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked sideways at Draco. She thought it was weird that he had his sleeves rolled down, because his white shirt was getting soaked as he washed and rinsed and scrubbed harder. He noticed she was staring and felt utterly uncomfortable.
-Sorry, I did not remember about… -she nodded towards his arm.
-I really don't want to show it.
-But everyone knows it's there. What's the difference?
-Could we talk about something else, Astoria? –he begged.
She was actually a little shocked that he asked so nicely. She had to admit, a part of her was just trying to bother a rattlesnake to see what it did. Now that she had him standing right next to her, she noticed he was not so menacing with his elbows deep in soap.
-You can always cover it with a tattoo –she suggested.
Draco snorted and opened his mouth to reply, but what could he possibly say? No, thanks, inking my body seems much more repulsive than having it marked by the worst being who ever existed? Instead, he noticed Astoria's left forearm also had a mark on it. Quite different from the one he had, though. It was a phrase. She smirked and extended her arm so he could read it okay. In thin, artistic letters, it read: Memento mori.(A.N: Remember you're going to die).
-I guess you thought Carpe Diem was too worn out?
-Exactly. All fucking cults are using it now.
-What's a cult? –Draco frowned.
-You ought to know –she said, sarcastically.
He did not ask again, for she did not seem the type of person who gives further explanations. When he checked the time he realized they still had half an hour left of scrubbing. Astoria saw it and also checked the time, only to curse after. She had better things to do. She dried her hands on her skinny black jeans and sat down on one of the tables. Draco watched her, wondering why she had stopped working. She searched in her back pocket and pulled out her cigarettes and lighter. He observed as she lit one and inhaled deep, closing her eyes in total ecstasy. When she opened her eyes, she saw he was looking at her and offered him one. He hesitated. How ridiculous it was that he would be afraid to try a cigarette after everything he had done. He smelled the air. It smelt kind of acrid, but there was also a sweet scent to it. Like chocolate. He took one of the small black cylinders and put it between his lips. As Astoria lit it up for him, he savoured the filter and found out it not only smelled like chocolate, but also tasted of it. She laughed at his surprised face.
-They're much nicer than normal ones –she licked her lips.
Just when he was beginning to agree with her, Draco swallowed the smoke, since he had never smoked before. Five minutes after he was still red, with tears in his eyes.
-How the fuck can you possibly like this?! –he said.
-It's an acquired taste, I guess –she cracked up.
-That was the most disgusting thing I've ever tasted –he stuck his nose up.
-That is quite impressing considering you've fucked both Pansy and my sister.
-You know what, Daphne was actually right. It's hard to believe you're sisters.
-Deo gratias (A.N: Thank God) –she grinned-. Come on, we still have a good twenty minutes to scrub.
Draco groaned but followed her to the sink. His throat still itched from the cigarette, but he felt, if not relieved, a little bit calmer than he had before. It was actually pleasant to spend time with a female that was not trying to seduce him. He was actually happy when she said she would also be there the following night. Obviously, scrubbing cauldrons still sucked, but it did allow him to think and be on his own for a little while every day. Which was something he had actually learnt to appreciate in the two first days of school.