Ⅲ. Rotten Apple

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{Draco}

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{Draco}

     THE CORNERS of my lips had curled into an almost smile, eyeing the multiple girls who'd giggled at my cluelessness. Then, without meaning to, my sights gravitated to the only student who was standing. Blakes. I instantly frowned and looked back to Professor Snape, who begun repeating the instructions.

Today, we were instructed to sit with someone we wished to partner with for the remainder of term -a stupid idea, since there were barley any Slytherin students in this class.

However, I was pleased to have an annoying Ravenclaw boy leave the spot next to me empty. I had waited for someone, perhaps Pansy Parkinson, to fill my neighboring seat. Unfortunately, it was an odd number of students and she chose to partner with one of her girlfriends. Zoning out, I let my mind wander as random thoughts popped into my head...

so hungry...

I'd kill for an apple right now.

can't believe Potter is a part of
the Triwizard Tournament

so unfair...

I wonder if Father has heard the news-

"Draco Malfoy," Professor Snape had then snarled, interrupting my train of thoughts. I'd never possessed a specific hatred or likeness for Snape, but I will admit he was one of the more tolerable teachers. That is, until he partnered me with that Mudblood. Me with a terribly nosy, insufferable goody-two-shoes -for one and a half hours, three days a week, for who knows how many fucking weeks.

This was just my luck. Or more appropriately, lack there of.

Chatter in the classroom rose as we were given the hour's remainder to brew a potion of our preference; from the provided list, of course. Someone suddenly cleared their throat, and I realized I wasn't doing a successful job at masking the obvious annoyance from my face.

"What are you looking at, Mudblood?" I threw a side glare at that girl who now sat beside me. Griffin Blakes. Rather ironic that her name matches her house so perfectly.

She slightly winced at the insult but did not reply. Instead, she chose to ignore me and read the assigned passage from her potions textbook. Several minutes ticked past and I tapped on my quill impatiently.

Was this girl ever going to speak, or will I have to do all the work myself?

"I think we should brew the Wolfsbane Potion," she suggested. I raised my eyebrows at her initiating conversation. Only it wasn't much of a conversational all, because it became clear that Blakes was only testing the boundaries. Probably trying to see how I would respond to her presence.

My instincts told me to ignore her, and yet, I preferred socializing versus mindlessly mixing ingredients in boring silence. Even if it was with someone unworthy of my time.

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