Malfoy Amongst The Chaos

Tempers Running Short

<12>

Wanda

Even though I was expecting it, Slughorn's unbearable enthusiasm is grating on me.

I walked in late – and he congratulated me. I took out my equipment, dumped it on my empty desk – and he applauded, remarking on how wonderful it is to have me back. I've actually done nothing but stare blankly at my half-hearted notes all lesson, and yet, Hermione is right – I am asked to stay behind with the already existing Slug Club members at the end of the lesson.

As the scrape of chairs and clatter of things being cleared away echoes through the room, Slughorn stretches onto his tiptoes and glances around, stopping Harry, Hermione and Zabini from leaving. When his eyes leap over to me, I make an attempt to stash last lesson's notes into my bag along with my other equipment and leave before he can stop me, but of course, he catches me just in time.

"Ah- Miss Maximoff! You stay behind, too-" calls a loud, excited voice and I bite into my lip.

"Yes, sir." I respond begrudgingly.

I receive several dirty glares from Slytherins around the room as they shove their things into their bags, but I glare right back, struggling to keep a hold on the reigns. I'm still furious from my encounter with Malfoy, who didn't even bother showing up today, and the very last thing I need is any other Slytherin spiking my temper.

Stamping down hard on the unreasonably angry magic, I force my eyes to find Ron, intent on giving him an apologetic grimace, but he is already stropping out of the room by himself, looking at no one.

"... me again ..." his voice snarls in my head, "... just boring old Ronald Weasley."

My stomach twists with guilt and I hesitate by the end of my desk, wondering what on earth I did to deserve this, why I should be revered by anyone for being the most dangerous student in the school.

That's the thing about the newspapers, they hurt me so much because most of the words are true. I am dangerous. I am unpredictable. And I'm hiding. My magic is concealing something from me – something I don't how to access, nor am I even sure if it's a good idea to access at all. It's acting under a command of its own, a command that isn't mine – and that alone scares me enough to keep my anger towards the media at bay. 

"Ah, very good!" Slughorn cries happily, as I reluctantly join Harry and Hermione, clenching my fists as Zabini cuts me a vicious glare. "Thank you all for stopping behind – I won't keep you too long, I know you're hungry-" his droopy eyes dart about the four of us and finally land on me, his grin widening, "Wanda, it is a true pleasure to see you standing there, dear girl. And of course, a person with your talent and incredible power deserves a reward like the rest of the clever students here!"

I can't think of any appropriate response to that and so I remain quiet, Dumbledore's warning ringing in my head. Hermione's warm hand finds mine and she squeezes it gently, I glance at her, smiling gratefully before I return to meet Slughorn's excited gaze.

"I'd like you all to come to my Christmas Party," he continues, "It's just a little get together – I will of course have some old students there – some important guests – but it's really just a bit of fun for you all, a relief from the pressures of N.E.W.Ts. What do you say?" he asks, beaming.

"I – er – it sounds great, sir," Harry begins awkwardly, filling the silence that neither me, nor Zabini choose to fill, and Hermione nods along, "But, I'm – er – quite busy, I've got quidditch and extra les-"

He's interrupted by Slughorn's raucous laugh, a sound that echoes unpleasantly in my eardrums and adds to the uncomfortable tingle in my veins. "Oh, Harry m'boy!" he exclaims, humongous belly bouncing and straining at the seams of his waistcoat, "You must have a holiday! I want all of you to come, it's two weeks on Thursday!"