𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐏 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐓 𝐇 𝐈 𝐑 𝐓 𝐘 𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑
warning: profanities ahead.
C L E M E N T I A
My decision about Umbridge's offer was set in stone.
As inviting as all the benefits sounded, they did not cancel out the fact that it would still be a voluntary, non-academic task done for a teacher—the last thing i'd ever want to do. The pressure of having to snitch on my fellow students isn't really my idea of fun, and that's exactly the terms of her offer in layman's term. It meant being a teacher's pet, and Merlin knows i'd rather befriend Filch than get to that point.
It also included having to spy on Potter and his friends, which, I found out a few minutes ago from the little chat Crabbe and Goyle were having beside me, was one of Umbridge's secret agendas for the Inquisitorial Squad. Why it was necessary, I didn't really care; it just made me want to reject the proposition even more. While everyone in the school was obsessed with either being with him or killing him, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Where Potter was, there was danger, and where he wasn't...well, there was peace.
So I stood there, in the middle of Umbridge's office, all eyes on me as I defiantly refused to return her sickening smile.
Eleven out of Twelve Slytherin fifth-years accepted her offer. The only one who declined, with no apologies whatsoever, was me.
Umbridge's unwavering grin told me she never really took no for an answer.
But this was were my name came into use. I am a Bass—whether she liked it or not, she would have to accept my rejection.
"May I know why, Ms. Bass?"
I shrugged casually. "I'm not a very observant person, professor."
From a few feet away, I saw Draco's eyebrows lift in amusement.
Umbridge let out a giggle. "But you are not alone. I see you and Ms. Lestrange are rather close, am I correct?"
"Yes."
"Well, perhaps you can work as a pair. One can look out for rule breakers and the other can create a plan to catch them in the act. The benefits will not be altered."
"As you may know, professor, I have been hospitalized for a week—that week happening to be the first of the term. I have an abundance of work to keep me occupied for days, excluding the readings I still need to do in order to be caught up with my current lessons." The latter had been a lie. Hospitalized or not, I don't really study unless there's a test. But Umbridge didn't need to know this. "I cannot fulfill such responsibilities at the same time. I hope you understand, professor."
From the corner of my eye, I could make out the sly smirk on Draco's lips. He had accepted the offer along with the others, and Umbridge was beyond pleased—with him, especially.
"I do understand, Ms. Bass. However, you see, for my Inquisitorial Squad, I am willing to make adjustments," I opened my mouth to argue that I haven't agreed to be on her Inquisitorial Squad, but she held up a hand to signal that she knew what I was going to say, and had something else to follow that could possibly make me rethink it. "Should you agree to be part of it, I will give you blanket flexibility for my class for the rest of the first term. Meaning, you may turn in any of your homework whenever it is convenient for you—given that you keep to the terms and conditions of the agreement. Any member of the Inquisitorial Squad will be granted this in any case that they may become unfortunate enough to miss their classes—for valid reasons."
The giggle that followed seemed to echo five times louder across the room, as if everyone had suddenly stopped breathing. This was not part of the deal, nor did she mention that such exceptions apart from not having to take the final DADA exams existed.
"I wasn't aware that that was included in the benefits, professor."
"Let this be a standing proof that I am willing to make adjustments according to your convenience, as long as your duties are fulfilled. I require quality work for quality benefits. This is assuming that each and everyone in the group provides me with factual reports as soon as it happens, and that no stone of trouble is left unturned in Hogwarts. It's about time we make this institution the way the minister had always wanted it to be."
There was silence, until I realized what it was for. It was for my decision. My renewed, well-considered decision. They were expecting a change of mind.
I felt the sole of a shoe gently press on my ankle. Danielle's.
Everyone was waiting—with held breaths, it seemed—for my answer. Or acceptance, rather.
"I'm afraid I'd still have to decline."
Ignoring the ugly look of shock in Umbridge's face, I continued. "The reason behind my hospitalization was fatigue. Severe fatigue," The room went even quieter—if that was even possible—for I had never disclosed the reason for my week away. Only Danielle, Pansy, and my parents knew; not even Clarence who kept bugging me for three days after my release for what my sickness was. Truth is, it's not a big deal to me. I've grown used to the sudden nausea and dizziness and even loss of appetite.
"Madam Pomfrey requires me to visit her once a day to run diagnostic charms and provide me with my potions," I took four. A revitalizing potion for my muscles and bones, a potion for my gut and the regulation of my digestion, a strengthening potion, and a health supplement to help me regain the nutrients I lost—and continue to be losing—over my recovery period. "And while I am not the biggest fan of how they taste, i'd be bedridden without them. According to her, my recovery period would have to stretch to another month."
"She prohibits me from doing anything too strenuous for both my body and mind—and for that very reason, I also cannot rush all my missing schoolwork in a few days. My body simply could not handle that." True. The day before yesterday, when I had stayed up cramming a DADA essay and studying for a History of Magic test, my body was rejecting all sorts of food I tried to eat. It took 7 potion vials for me to actually manage to keep some food and potions down. My body not being in a healthy state was the main reason for my early rise too, according to Madam Pomfrey, and not some reason I cared not to mention to her anymore...
"This means, professor, that both my health and academics are at stake." I finished off, realizing just how much I had said in a room full of people who were likely to pass the information on.
But it was telling them that my body was literally about to shut down or have to be forced into doing something that would take a lot of my time and effort, and i'd have to live with the fact that i'd be working for a woman dressed in full baby pink outfits for rewards I wouldn't even be able to write on my transcript. Not to mention the horrendous badge she wants us to wear.
But oh, was she putting up a fight.
"Then for the meantime, i'd be expecting nothing but attendance for you, Ms. Bass. No effort needed."
I began to wonder how much wider she was willing to stretch for me, but not only was she making a fool out of herself, she was also wasting my time. I have two newly-assigned essays and a test, as well as all these other people in the room. All of us have better things to do. The world doesn't revolve around her and her old-fashioned, ministry-loving ways.
I knew when I entered this room that i'd have to use my name somehow. Or my parents'.
"Just so you know, professor, I did consult my parents regarding this matter." This piqued her interest, a drawn eyebrow raised unconsciously. "Unfortunately, they too seemed to think it would not be good for me at the moment."
"I'm forced to follow them if I want to get better, and also since I don't want to anger them—doing something against their will. You know how my parents are, don't you, professor?"
Her lips began to stretch upward into a Cheshire cat smile. "The ministry is well aware of them."
Finally, with a resigned sigh, she said, "Alright then, Ms. Bass. It seems that your situation makes you unfit for the Inquisitorial Squad...for now...but," Her eyes twinkled. "I will leave this offer open for you. My door is wide open should you change your mind." She clasped her hands together in a soft clap and put them together in front of her.
"I'll keep that in mind, professor. Thank you."
That was the first smile I gave her.
"Today marks the first day of the Inquisitorial Squad. The minister will be very pleased about this." She grinned as she glanced at the framed photograph of Cornelius Fudge on her desk.
Theo let out a quiet snort. "Long live the minister."
-
Today's meeting with the Potions research group went better than it had yesterday.
So well, that we packed up early with 30 minutes to spare.
Theo had finally been forced to get some work done and not just lounge around for an hour, Millicent was nearly finished with her part, and I had actually been able to focus and get half of my part done by the time the meeting was over. As for Draco, I wasn't sure. It took every grain of effort in my body to keep my eyes away from him, but fortunately, I had successfully done so for most of the time I had the urge to glance at him.
It was not because of shame or avoidance; he really was just very, very distracting. One look and all hell breaks loose in me. My mind would have trouble getting back on track with the research, my heart would suddenly beat so fast i'm convinced it's taking part in some sort of contest, and my body just—cannot stay still. I'm always fidgeting, sweating, or anything to note that I am bothered by his presence. But not in a bad way.
So if I wanted to get anything done, I would, for the meantime, keep my eyes to my work.
But when I stayed back when the rest of them had started leaving, he must have gotten the message and told Theo to go on without him.
For a few minutes we sat in silence as I tried to gather myself, arranging my thoughts and readying myself to look at him again.
When I did, he was already looking at me; studying my face as if attempting to read through my expression.
I reached into my bag for his book. "Here. It was a lot of help, thanks."
"How did you do?" He asked as he leaned forward to retrieve it.
"Decent." The test had been surprisingly easy. With the help of his notes, i'm certain I must have secured more than half marks.
"Good." He nodded briefly. "And the essay?"
"I've finished two. Currently working on another."
"Good."
Our exchange of words had been short, but the eye contact that lingered after was strong. Technically, neither of us had any reason to stay further, but no one moved. Eyes locked, he sat back in his chair with his arms crossed on his chest and I sat straight while fiddling with the strap of my bag.
I decided to break the silence. "I talked to Snape about the partner work that was assigned when I was gone—after I had taken the test I missed."
"He says i'm free to choose a partner, if anyone was willing to do it twice. Or I could do it myself, but the potion needs to be brewed so quickly and would be better observed by two sets of eyes."
"I asked Danielle, of course, but she and Blaise are still in the process of figuring it out. And, well, you know Danielle. She leaves most of her work to the very last minute so she still has as much work as I do."
He was listening with such concentration that my hands began to sweat from apprehension. Especially as I braced myself for what I was about to say.
"Clarence had already offered, but..." He hadn't. I've been avoiding him since the incident in the Great Hall. It was just a last minute improvise to see what his reaction would be. To my dismay, his expression didn't change. "Pansy's being a—"
"Pansy?" His eyes widened in surprise. "You asked Pansy?"
Fuck. I forgot he hadn't known that Pansy and I had been in speaking terms.
We weren't exactly friends, but after finding the common ground that is the person in front of me right now, we'd started paying more attention to each other. That included sneaking gossip whenever we had the chance to walk by each other, spending more time than necessary in the girls' lavatory freshening up and chatting about anything (mostly her secret life and mine). My discovery that she wasn't the person she was showing everyone made it even easier to get along with her. Pansy Parkinson might be a total bitch, but she isn't insufferable. I wouldn't be surprised if our status turned into something more than speaking terms.
Even she and Danielle are beginning to talk more with sarcasm and not spite, which remains a mystery to me. It was a big jump indeed—Danielle went from calling her names in the most offensive way possible to simply mocking the way she talked.
Danielle hated Pansy's guts, knew nothing of the reason she and I are almost friends, and didn't even know the real Pansy to begin with—the likeable Pansy. Why she had started to become kinder to her was a bit strange.
But, with that aside, Draco knew nothing.
I chuckled nervously. "Desperation."
"And you're telling me this because?"
"Because..." I bit the inside of my cheek. "Maybe..."
I give up. I sighed and waved my hand toward him. "You're good at potions. You've finished all your work, and I know I owe you a lot- well- also considering our history," The latter could not be ignored. I had to say it. "You're probably sick of me. I'd be. But this is me asking you to go the extra mile and help me—for the last time. I promise."
A smirk that I knew a little too well appeared on his lips. "When do we start?"
I tried, self. I really did. The number of times I asked—pestered—Danielle about this was astronomical. I've been convincing Pansy for two days now, but she says she already had a lot to do.
You have no choice, Clementia.
"Tomorrow. 6 a.m in the Room of Requirement?"
"No." He uncrossed his arms. "Too early. It was foolish of me to suggest that last night."
"But I thought you woke up-"
"It's not early for me," He said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I can't have you brewing a complicated potion at six in the morning. You're not even fully recovered yet."
By this, I was taken aback, but I decided to save my analysis and replay of it for later.
"Well, there's no other time. You have Quidditch practice at 4 until 5:30 p.m. Then dinner. The remaining time after dinner is for the group research."
"I'll ditch it."
"Dinner?"
He rolled his eyes. "Quidditch, Clementine. Quidditch."
Ignoring the sensation I felt at the pit of my stomach upon hearing the name, I scoffed at his statement. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't skip Quidditch, Flint will kill you."
"Flint will have to live with it." He spoke with finality, as if he already made his decision and could not be convinced into changing his mind. Either way, I tried to argue. This was too much to ask for. Especially from him.
"You can't miss training." I pressed on, leaning toward the table, which he mirrored. "And why do you say that?" He asked, cocking his head to the side and mocking my tone.
"Because you can't do that for me. The first match is nearing."
A ghost of a smile formed on his lips. "Even if I don't attend our trainings at all, Clementine, I can catch that snitch just as quick."
This made me laugh out loud, earning a glare from Madam Pince. "How humble of you."
"For all I know, Potter being in the field is as good as you becoming blind." I continued.
His tongue toyed with the inside of his cheek as he nodded slowly. "If I catch the snitch in the first match, you'll be sorry for saying that."
"I assure you, I will not be."
"We'll see." He drew back and rested his back against his chair. "I'm still not attending. For three days. I assume that's enough time?"
"No. I'll ask someone else." I shook my head stubbornly.
"No, you will not." There was something strange about the way he had said this. The tone had almost sounded...controlling? Possessive?
Was I hearing things?
"I'll tell Flint to move the trainings for the rest of the week to early in the morning. If he disagrees with that, then i'll ask him to watch me do my drills at the crack of dawn as proof that i'm not slacking. Does that sound better?"
To Danielle it won't. "I guess. But it really would be more convenient for the both of us if I asked somebody else-"
"You asked me and I said yes, and I will do what I must to keep my word." His voice noted an undertone of irritation. I had also noticed his gaze turn serious. "Don't ask anyone else. Not now that i've already agreed."
I emitted a heavy sigh out of frustration.
"Draco, you can't."
He looked me straight in the eye.
"Trust me, I can."
•••
A tale of two men having to choose between Quidditch practice and Clementia. Hmmm
—A