ON HOLD before the storm - d.m. & c.d.

Chapter 13

"Oh for the love of Merlin, what did you expect?" He hissed in my face, sending chills down my spine and causing me to flinch. "No, I'm genuinely curious Dawson, what did you expect?" He began to laugh, and his body relaxed into its usual, arrogant posture once more with his arms resting against the back of his seat - his way of showing his naturally "deserved" position of power. "Did you really think that I wanted to go to the Yule Ball with you? Have you met yourself?" He looked me up and down as he spoke with his cold, calculating gaze. "You're boring, to put it in simple terms. You're stuck up, you're a smart arse, you have no fun, and you certainly have no appeal to me. And don't even get me started on the people you choose to associate yourself with," he scoffed and rolled his eyes, casually tossing his hair out of his face with a flick of his head. "I have no desire to be in your presence any more than I absolutely have to be."

Malfoy's sharp words scraped against the insides of my stomach, causing hot, angry tears to prick at the backs of my eyes. They were threatening to spill over, but I choked down a gasp and blinked away the tears and excruciating embarrassment. I dug my fingernails deep into my palms and bit my bottom lip to restrain myself from cracking my fist against his jawline. Turning away from him, I opened up my textbook again and flipped through it to find the page about Veritaserum. I had to swallow the burning sensation that was rising into my throat before I spoke:

"And I'm perfectly fine with that." I seethed, my voice much calmer than I felt. "I do recall that I told you to never speak to me again, don't you?"

"Ah yes, a world where I'd never have to speak to Adelaide Dawson," he crooned, turning back to face Snape at the front of the class once more. "Sounds wonderfully pleasant to me."

I shook my head slightly and gnawed on my lip a little harder, distracting myself from the pain that his words were causing me. I was absolutely humiliated that I had given him the opportunity to walk all over me like that, swatting me away like I'm some kind of nat buzzing in his ear. Why was he getting to me so easily today, and why am I getting so upset? Why the hell am I acting like I give two flying Flobberworms what Malfoy thinks about me? This is nothing that I didn't know already; he only associates with Slytherins and Purebloods and I am neither of those things. I never have and I never will want to be friends with Malfoy, so I should be thrilled that someone like him wouldn't want to be associated with the likes of me. I shouldn't be bothered in the slightest.

But I am-

Thank. Merlin. that Goyle trudged back into the class with the cauldron right then, interrupting my ridiculous thoughts. I practically jumped from my seat and quickly headed over to the supply shelves in the back of the room, gathering a large handful of small glass potion bottles and a ladle. I kept my back to Malfoy and began spooning the clear, water like potion into the bottles. I swore I could feel his eyes boaring into my back but when I whipped my head around to snap at him, he was doodling inside of his textbook, not paying attention to a single thing I was doing. That's perfectly fine by me.

"Goyle," I turned to the man-sized Slytherin, "Would you like to help me?" I extended a glass bottle to him cautiously in an attempt to offer him a kind gesture, something I figured he's not used to. I shouldn't have been surprised when he scoffed in disgust, shoved past me, and slumped down into his seat, glaring at my extended hand. Such classic Slytherin charm. I swallowed my annoyance and simply said, "Okay. That's fine," while turning back to the Veritaserum.

I continued to fill bottles with the potion until the cauldron was empty, a task that wouldn't have taken the entire bloody class if I had had help. A scorching sensation crawled up and down my spine all the while. I just don't understand, I thought to myself. Sure, each house comes with its stereotypes, but that doesn't mean they have to be upheld. Slytherins don't all have to be a bunch of Pureblood pricks; cunning doesn't have to mean conniving.