Chapter 8
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Rose hurried into Defense Against the Dark Arts, her essay wrapped tightly in her hand. She checked her watch and breathed a sigh of relief—she wasn't late. No thanks to the Doctor. I don't know why he thought I needed to see the statue of Patruchula the Unbearable right before class, the daft boy. There was an open seat near the back, next to a tow-headed boy—Patrick, that was it. He was chatting with an Indian boy with wide almond-shaped eyes behind him—Rajesh Singh. Rose bit her lip. She really had to do better about learning her housemates' names.
Rose smiled at Patrick. "Sorry, is this seat taken?"
He glanced at her, and his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, it is."
She blinked. "But the whole class is here."
"It's taken, all right? Now shove off."
There was a throat cleared behind them, and Rose turned to see Professor Smith standing there. She was watching Patrick with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, Mr. MacDonald. The seat is taken by a member of the class." She gestured at the bench. "Miss Tyler, if you would take your seat?"
Rose nodded and sat down, attempting to ignore Patrick and Rajesh's glares.
Professor Smith strode to the front of the class and began the lesson, and Rose pulled out her quill and parchment. She was opening her book when there was a soft snap, and she looked up to find her quill broken, the ink spilling over her bag. She stifled a soft curse and wrapped it in a tissue, grimacing as the ink bled through to stain her fingers.
"Are you paying attention, Miss Tyler?"
Rose glanced up hurriedly at Professor Smith, who had paused as she paced around the front of the room. "Just had a bit of a mishap, Professor Smith. I'm sorry, I'll have it cleaned up soon." Patrick was stifling laughter behind his hands, and Rebecca Fleming shot her a triumphant look.
Genevieve was facing the front, a slight smirk on her face. She hadn't spoken to Rose since their confrontation earlier in the month, but Rose had a feeling the side-long glances and whispers that followed her through her classes were thanks to her—moving out of the fifth-year dorm hadn't exactly endeared her to the other students in her year, and the fact that she was with the Doctor almost constantly when she was out of class didn't help either. Rose stuck the broken quill in a plastic bag and pulled out her ballpoint pen, struggling to catch up with Professor Smith's lesson.
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"Be sure to read Chapter 7 for class next week. Miss Tyler, if I could have a word?"
Rose looked up as she was packing her things, catching the smug look on Genevieve's face. She gritted her teeth and put her pen away, slinging her messy bag over her shoulder. Professor Smith was arranging her papers at the front, and she glanced up as Rose approached. The last of the students left and she leaned back against her desk, crossing her legs casually as she watched Rose.
"They're not giving you an easy time, are they?"
Rose blinked. "'M sorry?"
She smiled sadly. "The other Gryffindors. They don't seem to be all that fond of you."
Rose's jaw clenched. "Yeah, well, if they're going to be daft, that's their problem."
Professor Smith chuckled, her brown eyes sparkling. "Spoken like a true Gryffindor. You know that as your head of house, I'm here if you'd like someone to talk to?"
"I know, Professor. And thanks."
"You're quite welcome." She glanced over Rose's shoulder and her eyes widened for a split second before she smiled at Rose. "Now, I think you've got someone waiting for you."
Rose turned to see the Doctor lounging in the hallway, hands deep in his pockets. "That I do. Thanks again, Professor."
"Anytime, Miss Tyler."
Rose hurried out of the classroom to meet him, a wide smile growing on her face. "What're you doing here?"
"Well, this is your last class of the day, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I thought you were in History of Magic."
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "I was, until a mysteriously well-timed smoke bomb distracted my classmates. Then I wasn't."
She laughed incredulously. "You did what?"
"Oi, I'm not saying I did anything. I'm just laying out the facts, here."
"'Course you are." She shifted her bag, grinning, and he blinked and stared at it.
"Rose, I don't want to frighten you, but I think the Giant Squid may have attacked your bag."
"What? Oh, right." She grimaced. "It was just a mishap with a quill, that's all."
"Here, give it to me." She hesitated, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, honestly, Rose, just hand it over." She scowled at him but did as he asked, and he smirked at her. "Thank you. Tergeo." The ink ran backwards into his wand, leaving the magenta bag in pristine condition. "There you go, good as new. Well, as good as a bag that violently pink can be."
"Oh, shut it. I like it, and this way nobody else'll mistake it for theirs."
He chuckled. "You're right about that." They'd wandered down the stairs to the main hall, and the Doctor spun to talk to her, walking backwards. "So, what happened?"
Rose pursed her lips. "I told you. My quill broke, that's all."
He raised an eyebrow. "I'd believe you, except for the bit where you stole one of my Everard's Everlasting Quills last month, and you've been using it ever since." She opened her mouth to apologize and he waved her off, spinning back around to walk beside her. "No, I don't mind—I've got plenty of 'em, Donna keeps giving me hers. She claims they don't 'feel right' or some such nonsense, though I'm pretty sure she just wants to keep asking David Morgan for spares. But the point stands that your quill shouldn't have broken." Rose looked away, and he reached out to turn her face gently back to his. "Rose, what's going on?"
She sighed, frustrated. "It's nothing, really. 'S just some of those idiots don't like that I hang out with you so much." He stilled, and she turned around to face him. "What'd you stop for?"
"They've been giving you trouble?"
She lifted her chin stubbornly. "Nothin' I can't handle."
"But—"
"Doctor, leave it. If they're goin' to be wankers about it, then they'll be wankers. I don't care. Now come on, let's find that traveling courtyard you were telling me about."
He smiled tightly at her as she took his hand. It didn't reach his eyes.
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