This chapter is rated T for language.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
Like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
—Langston Hughes
Chapter 5: Dream Deferred
"Ms. Weasley, sit."
I looked up at Professor Malfoy as I walked into the Potions classroom. He was gesturing toward a table that had several cauldrons set up with a several trays of glass phials lined up in front of them.
"What—"
"The first thing you'll be doing is pouring the contents of all of these cauldrons into these phials. Then you will stopper them, label them, and reshelve them in my stores when you're finished. After that, we'll see how much time we have left."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. This was going to be the most mundane detention of all time.
I set down my bag and, with a sigh, got to work carefully pouring the potions into the phials while Malfoy sat at the front of the room. Occasionally, I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to look at him. I was trying to hate him, and it was hard when I got distracted by how good he looked.
We worked in silence for a while. I imagined he was grading essays while I filled the phials one by one. After a while, I got bored with my task so I decided to make conversation.
"What were you doing in the showers anyway?"
He glanced up at me. "Showering," he said simply before going back to his work.
"I mean, what were you doing on the pitch?"
"Some drills," he said.
"Drills? Sounds like practice."
He looked up at me and arched an eyebrow. My fingertips started to tingle. He pointed his quill at the cauldrons. "Worry about that."
"This is boring," I said. "It doesn't require any thinking."
"It's not supposed to be stimulating. It's detention," he said without looking up. A bit of silence passed.
"Why were you running drills?"
He looked up at me again. He set down his quill. My heart rate sped up. "Ms. Weasley, I was running some drills because that is how I stay in shape. It also helps me clear my head. And I enjoy Quidditch. Now if you would kindly go back to filling those phials, I would appreciate it."
"I never stopped filling them," I said under my breath.
"Ms. Weasley," he warned.
I filled up five more phials before I spoke again.
"What made you want to come back and teach at Hogwarts?"
He sighed but did not respond.
"There's no point in just sitting here in silence!" I said in exasperation.
"I'm trying to work."
"On what?" I tried.
"I'm grading some essays from the first years—"
"Oh, that's simple. They're all idiots. Give them all T's and move on."
Malfoy laughed to himself. He looked up at me slowly.
"What would you have done if Slughorn had followed that same rubric when you were a first year?" he asked with a smirk.
"I would have told my mother. I wouldn't stand for it. Neither would she."
He shook his head and went back to his work. After a few moments, he said, "I always wanted to be a professor." I frowned in confusion at first until I realized he was answering my earlier question. I tried not to smile. "I used to hold lectures for my stuffed animals when I was a kid. My father said it was because I liked to talk too much."
I looked up at him and smiled. He glanced up at me with a small smile before going back to his work.
"I want to be a musician," I said. He looked up at me and I shrugged.
"I can't imagine your parents are happy about that."
"Oh, my parents think I want to be a Healer."
Malfoy chuckled. "What do you play?"
"Well, I'm in a band with my cousin and two of our friends. I'm lead vocals and I play ukulele and violin."
He raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed." And he truly did look impressed, which for some reason made my heart swell. "What are you called?"
"Founders Four," I said. He tilted his head in question. "Each of us is from a different house. I'm Gryffindor, my cousin Albus is Slytherin, our drummer is a Ravenclaw, and our bass and keyboard player is in Hufflepuff."
"Clever," he said with a smile.
I couldn't tell if he was being snide or not, so I chose not to comment. I promised Albus that I wouldn't get into any more trouble for the next few days.
We fell into silence again. I filled what seemed like a million phials. The more I filled, the more it seemed like the number of phials left to fill multiplied exponentially. Malfoy sat in silence, his brow furrowed as he worked on grading the assignments from his first years. I noticed that he kept running his hand through his hair. At one point, it was sticking up in a few different directions, and I giggled.
He looked up. "Something the matter?" I just shook my head and went back to my task.
While I worked, I started thinking about the new song. I felt like the lyrics were close to coming together in my head. I glanced up at Malfoy for a moment so I could watch him. Just for a moment. He really was just so good looking. Then, discreetly, I pulled out a piece of spare parchment from my pocket and a pencil and began to scribble quickly. Before Malfoy could notice what I was doing, I shoved the paper and pencil into the back pocket of my jeans and continued filling.
Finally, I finished filling, and I set to labeling each one and storing them into the cabinets. I felt Malfoy's eyes on me, but I didn't react other than the slight flutter I felt in my chest. I just kept at my work. That ought to make him happy.
After what felt like an eternity, the cauldrons were empty and all of the phials were stored. Malfoy looked up at me.
"You may go, Ms. Weasley."
I turned to go and when I was almost out the door he said, "And Ms. Weasley?" I turned back. "In the future, watch your mouth." I grinned, and to my great surprise, he did, too.
As soon as I was out the door, I booked it down the hall. I ran through the castle and when I finally made it up to my dormitory and rushed into the bathroom to get ready for bed, I looked at myself in the mirror and had a shocking revelation.
I had a crush on the new professor.
The next day, Albus and I were walking to potions together as I regaled him about my detention from the previous night.
"I don't care about this," Albus interrupted me. I punched him in the arm. "Sorry!" He said, rubbing it. "I just care more about what happened when you saw him naked."
I rolled my eyes and pushed my way into the classroom, where Malfoy was already sitting there waiting. When I walked toward my table, I looked up and found that his eyes were on me. I smiled. He gave me the faintest smile in return.
As soon as everyone arrived, Malfoy launched into the lecture about the potion we would be working on this week. We were about to begin brewing when a rattling noise started to come from the area around Malfoy's desk at the front of the room. Malfoy looked over his shoulder. The rattling stopped. He frowned and looked back at us.
"Okay. Now. Let's all—"
The rattling started again. Malfoy looked out at all of us and then went to his desk. He examined it before he pulled open the top drawer. He then pulled out the offending item. The moment Albus and I saw it, we looked at each other frantically—both of us recognizing it.
"Professor—" I tried to warn him but it was too late.
Malfoy was stumbling backward, clutching his eye, as he dropped the telescope that had just punched him in the face. When he moved his hand, a dark purple circle was already beginning to form. I couldn't help it. I giggled.
"Ms. Weasley," Malfoy snapped. I looked at him and he glared at me. "Detention, this Saturday night at 8 o'clock."
Albus grabbed my leg and Lysander whipped his head around, looking terrified.
"Professor, I didn't—the concert is this weekend."
"Looks like you'll be missing it then. Now all of you, get to work!" he shouted before sweeping out of the room and into his office.
"Rose…" Albus whispered.
"You have to do something, Rose."
"I know."
After a moment, I stood up, steeled myself, walked to Malfoy's office door, and knocked.
It hadn't worked.
No matter what I said, Malfoy wouldn't hear it. He had recognized the punching telescope as a Weasley product, and he was convinced that I had put it there last night before or after my detention. He wouldn't see reason.
"How—" I urged. "How could I have put it in there?"
But he didn't listen.
Now, I was sitting in McGonagall's office where I was begging her to make Malfoy reconsider. I'd serve detention any other night. Any night but Saturday night.
"Professor—"
"I don't know what I can do, Weasley."
"Please," I begged. "Just talk to him. I didn't put that telescope there. I swear."
"I can't—"
"Professor, you know me. You know that if I had put that there, I would own up to it. When you accuse me of something, do I ever deny it? You know I don't. I'll serve detention any other night—even though I didn't do this, I will serve detention. But just not Saturday. It's the concert, Professor. Our band is opening. Please."
She frowned, considering me.
"All right, Ms. Weasley," she said with a sigh. "I'll talk to him."
"Thank you—thank you—"
"But if he says he won't change it, that's the end of it. I respect the authority of my teachers."
"I know. Thank you."
I was almost catatonic.
I was lying on my back in front of the lake, listening to the giant squid and wishing that class today had been a dream.
This was all I had wanted. All the years of my life after I discovered Quidditch and magic, dragons and werewolves, I still just wanted music above all else. I wanted to be a musician, but Ron and Hermione didn't know. If I could, I would drop out of school, convince the guys to follow suit, and we would hit the road—living out of our suitcases and touring the country. It was my dream. My one, solid, constant dream.
During my darkest days after the break up with Hadley, playing with the band had been the one thing that always got me through. It gave me joy like almost nothing else could.
I remembered that first time I had played after the break up. I'd been a recluse for almost two weeks—hardly going to class, not speaking to anyone, not doing anything—not living. But one day, Albus had managed to drag me into the Room of Requirement where Nate and Lysander were waiting for us, and without saying a word, they started to play. For a while, I had just sagged against the door, listening, but not participating, not wanting to be a part of anything ever again. But then… Something had just clicked. Albus had looked at me, something had clicked, and I walked over and started singing. That was when I knew that this band was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
And now it was all in jeopardy.
Malfoy would see—wouldn't he? He had to see that I couldn't be the only person who could have put the Weasley product into his drawer. Weasley products—although technically banned—were very popular at school. He was the new professor; it was only natural that people would want to haze him. It was harmless. Even if I had done it, I would be annoyed to be getting detention, but I hadn't. Albus and I had had something else in mind entirely for the newbie. It had been dumb. We were just going to post pictures of him in his old Slytherin Quidditch uniform around the school. Something silly and harmless.
Now I wished I had put that fucking telescope in his desk.
You know, actually, I wished that it had been my fist punching him in the eye.
I sighed and sat up, staring out at the lake, bending my knees and wrapping my arms around them. I rested my chin on my knee as I watched the giant squid. That stupid fucking squid. So light—so carefree—nothing in the world to concern him except for playing in that stupid lake and harassing those monstrous mermaids.
After a while of watching the squid and trying to clear my head and not think of the worst, I felt an eerie sensation. It started at the base of my spine and tingled its way all the way to the back of my neck. It was a familiar sensation. Like someone was watching me. I turned my head to look over my shoulder, but there was no one around. I frowned and turned back to occupying my focus on the squid.
I never noticed the tall, lean figure with a shock of white blond hair standing a ways off, watching me from a window high up in the castle.
A few hours later, I was sitting in the Great Hall at the Slytherin table with Albus while we ate dinner together like we often did.
I was quietly singing the tune of my new song to Albus—I'd finished it the night before after my detention—when a voice spoke behind us.
"Ms. Weasley."
"Hi, professor," I said to McGonagall.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Weasley—"
"Professor—"
"You will serve your detention with Professor Malfoy this Saturday in his office at 8 o'clock."
"Professor, please—"
"I tried, Ms. Weasley." I could see the pity in her eyes. I clenched my jaw and felt anger course through me.
I glanced up at the staff table. Malfoy was there, but I could tell he was avoiding my gaze.
"Ms. Weasley," McGongall said before she left. "Consider this a lesson. You've been cruel to everyone around you for over a year." I looked up at her, appalled that she was saying this. "Just consider this a lesson."
As she walked away, I gaped at her.
I could hear Albus saying something to me, but I wasn't listening.
They didn't get it. McGonagall and Malfoy—they didn't understand what they had just done.
They had just taken my one shot—the band's one shot—away.
They had stolen my dream.
Next chapter:
"My eyes fluttered down to his mouth, and unconsciously, I licked my lips."