Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions.
He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Celeste's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"
Celeste rolled her eyes at her voice, it just bugged her like no other.
"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But she saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.
Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said 'settle down' if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been able to get away with anything in Snape's classes; Snape was head of Slytherin House, and generally favored his own students above all others.
They were making a new potion today, 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.
Celeste was currently laughing and chatting with a few of the Gryffindor's at the table next to them. Draco's voice cut her from her antics.
"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.
Ron went brick red.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But, sir —!"
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.
"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
"What a bastard." Celeste mumbled.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, his voice full of malicious laughter.
"Solatto, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving Celeste a look of loathing.
"I think the fuck not." She replied. Snape swiftly turned to look at her and before he even got to reply again she spoke, "He's perfectly capable of skinning his on shrivelfig. He did well do skin his arm on his own." Speaking about how it's his fault he's in a sling in the first place.
"Detention, Solatto." She looked at him with a menacing glare, "For your use of language against a professor."
"I can hardly wait." She replied through her teeth with a fake smile.
"Skin the shrivelfig Potter." And with that he turned around and walked away. Harry took Malfoy's shrivelfig as Ron began trying to repair the damage to the roots he now had to use. Harry skinned the shrivelfig as fast as he could and flung it back across the table at Malfoy without speaking. Malfoy was smirking more broadly than ever.
YOU ARE READING
Anchor~ Harry James Potter
Fanfiction-- A girl who was born on the eight month to the house of black and Solatto, the month after the boy who lived, should their prophecy's align into an even bigger catastrophe? Celeste Solatto was just a girl, Harry Potter was just a boy. The two cl...
