The Other Potter Book Three.

Chapter Nine

Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning. The Slytherin's and we epic Gryffindor's were halfway through double Potions. He swaggered into the dungeon; his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.

"What a Douche-bag." I muttered to Hermione. "Makes you want to hit him doesn't it?"

"Yeah..." Hermione said vaguely adding some daisy roots to her potion.

"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. I want to kill him.

DONT DO IT!

DO IT!

NO DONT!

"OKAY!" I said aloud.

"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.

"You remind me of shrimp." I said to Snape as I added my beautifully sliced daisy roots to my amazing and perfect potion.

"Shut up." Snape scowled.

I was enjoying making a new potion, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.

"This is going to be interesting." I mumbled to Hermione. I stood with her and Neville.

"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm --"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," Ron complained at Malfoy.

Malfoy smirked across the table.

"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."

"I'm scared." Hermione muttered to me as Ron seized his knife.

"DON'T DO IT!" I yelled. Everyone looked up, but I was looking down peeling my shrivelfig and no one, but Hermione, noticed it was me. Magical...hehe...its funny cause I'm magic.

"What are you talking about Willow?"called a small voice at the back of my mind.

"Lucy!" I said in my head.

"Yeah, I'm back. I went to France for a holiday, Paris is beautiful, amazing and freaking incredible."

"DAAAAAVE!" I yelled hitting my head in a retarded way.

Snape looked at me swiftly and I saw that loathing in his eyes, which turned to the look McGonagall gives me. The 'there's no hope for that one' look.

I have a repertoire of looks from teachers. It pays to be this awesome.

I suddenly tuned in when I heard my brother.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?"

"Here's a llama, there's a llama." I started singing. Harry looked at me and I shrugged. "Just trying to diffuse the tension."

"That is such a Fred and George thing to say." Hermione muttered. I realised the actual conversation was still continuing.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy in a tone of mock sorrow. "Father's not very happy about my injury --"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

¨See, he's complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this" -- he gave a huge, fake sigh -- "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"