Bedknobs and Broomsticks [HP fanfic; BNB Book 1]

Petty Revenge

Emilie glanced up as Severus dropped himself into the seat beside her. Before she could so much as open her mouth to say hello, he fixed her with a pointed look. "What's this I hear about you and Mansfield the Mudwallower?"

Her brow creased for a moment as she worked out what he was saying, but then her expression cleared and she rolled her eyes. "If it's Evan that's been telling stories, don't believe a word of it. I found him and his buddies about to snap Mansfield's wand in half in the corridor behind the Goblin Rebellion tapestry on the third floor."

"Well, God forbid that should happen. What do you care what happens to Mansfield or his wand?"

A loud slam behind them prompted Emilie to swivel around to see that Geoffrey had dropped his bag down on the desk. "Yes, Emilie, why do you care? Or do you just make a habit out of sticking your nose in other people's business?"

She pressed her lips together, but turned away without another word to him. "Come on, Sev, if you saw Evan ganging up on someone, what would you have done?"

"If I may borrow a phrase from Mansfield, I would have kept my nose out of their business."

"That'd be hard to do," Geoffrey chimed in from behind them. "It's a bit large, you know."

Emilie saw Severus's knuckles turn white as he clenched his fists on the desktop. She opened her mouth to say something to try and calm her fellow Slytherin before the tension could escalate into another all-out brawl during the practical application of the day's lesson, but was interrupted as McGonagall appeared at the front of the classroom and silenced everyone with one of her stern looks.

To most everyone's dismay (and to Emilie's immense relief), there was no practical application of the lesson that day after McGonagall's typical lecture, although a lengthy essay on the properties of troll hair was assigned to be handed in the following week. There was quite a bit of grumbling at this, as the Quidditch match that weekend and the subsequent celebrations would take up a good portion of essay-writing time, but McGonagall wouldn't hear of any protests and shooed them all from the classroom without further discussion.

As soon as Emilie had finished packing up her things, she looked up to see that Severus had already disappeared into the throng of students out in the corridor, and that Geoff was quickly making his way toward the door as well. "Mansfield," she called, hurrying to catch up to him.

He half-turned, slowing his pace, one eyebrow cocked.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded. "The other day you were asking if we could be friends, and now you're telling me to keep my nose out of your business? And here I thought Gryffindors were supposed to have a sense of honor."

"You made it clear that you don't want to be friends, so why does it matter?" he asked, shouldering his way past a group of second-year Ravenclaws.

"If you want to be friends, you could at least try to be nice."

"Fine. I'm sorry. Happy now?"

"No -- wait -- come back here!"

He ignored her and continued striding resolutely up one corridor and down another, Emilie following all the while, calling for him to wait up.

After nearly a quarter of an hour of leading her through corridors and secret passages, Geoff finally stopped and rewarded her persistence with an exasperated look. "Okay, fine, I give up. I'm stopping. You can quit shouting at me. Now what in Christ's name do you want, Delacroix?"

"I want you to go to Slughorn's party with me."

Of all the things Geoffrey Mansfield had imagined Emilie Delacroix would say, that was perhaps the most unexpected. He foundered for a moment, then managed to choke out, "Why in God's name--?"

"You want to be friends, don't you? Friends do things together, like go to Slughorn's party."

"You said we couldn't be friends."

"It can't hurt to try, right?" She gave him an almost apologetic grin. "You said you wanted to give it a shot, so why not?"

Geoff's eyes narrowed. "Give me one good reason."

"I'll give you three. Rosier, Mulciber, Avery," she said, holding up a finger for each name. "Just think how angry they'd be to see us there together. It's petty, but it could be fun."

She waited for a moment as he considered. "Why do you want them angry?" he asked at last. "I thought they were your friends."

"They were. Since the other day, though, they've hardly bothered to look at me, let alone talk to me. And if I can get you to go to Slughorn's party, that's my little, spiteful revenge, and who knows? Maybe we'll actually end up being friends. We both win."

Geoffrey looked doubtful as he glanced down at her offered hand. Haltingly, he grasped it and shook it. "Fine, you have a deal," he said. "I'll go to Slughorn's party with you."

She beamed at him, gave his hand a final, fond squeeze, and flounced away down the corridor. She couldn't wait to see the look on Rosier's face.