Malfoy’s loud swearing had attracted a rather large group of students around him. It wasn’t the first time he got battered up by a girl; however, this time, there were people to acknowledge it. Hogwarts being Hogwarts, within the hour his ‘massacre’ was known to everyone.
Pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the flow of blood, Malfoy had to admit she hadn’t missed him. The least he could say was that she knew how to hit – either that or her bag was pretty heavy. Whether he liked it or not, this girl was proving to be quite interesting.
***
Maria entered the Great hall and in less than a second, everybody was calling out to her.
"Is it true you actually hit Malfoy? Congratulations!" Hermione said.
"Um, thanks," she answered awkwardly, feeling very out of place.
"Is he going to miss class?" Harry added.
"I don’t know – well I don’t think so..."
"Was he whimpering?" Ginny inquired.
"Um... no, not really."
"Was there blood?" Ron asked.
"I’m not sure..."
"I can’t believe you ruined his face!" cried Pansy.
"You know, I have to... well... go," she said, ignoring that last comment.
She judged it wise to leave the Great Hall and seek solitude. She didn’t like being the center of this commotion; she didn’t want trouble. Although, she had to say, it was pretty funny... yet, she couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty, again. ‘What is wrong with me? I should be happy I gave that jerk what he deserved! I should be laughing it off with the others! Who cares about Malfoy anyway?’ She hastily pushed the thought out of her head, not wanting to have to answer it.
***
Malfoy was lying in his hospital bed. When he thought he couldn’t possibly sink lower, he found himself thinking about that mudblood. She kept invading his mind and he didn’t even know her name! He couldn’t let her ruin his Malfoy reputation. He just couldn’t.
Ironically, they were in the same class Monday morning: potions. Malfoy went to see Professor Snape early, as usual. Snape let slip that they would be testing their neighbour’s potion by the end of the period. Malfoy found this very appealing…
As soon as Maria walked into the classroom, Malfoy started stalking her and sat right beside her.
Maria opened her mouth to tell him to shove off, but fought back the urge and closed it securely shut. ‘What is wrong with him!? I dish him twice and he keeps coming back for more?’ she thought disbelievingly. She threw him an awkward, sidelong look.
As a response, he flashed her his well-known smirk. Maria rolled her eyes with a sigh. At least he remained silent – that was a relief: she wouldn’t have to endure him bragging or whining relentlessly. Thus, they spent the entire class working on the Calming Draught. She, as usual, did very well - although it was hard concentrating while sitting beside Malfoy. He kept adding these strange ingredients…
"Hum," she eyed his cauldron with a frown, "I don’t think you need Hellebore in this potion Malfoy," she finally stated, concerned.
"Oh I know," he said while his smirk spread across his face.
‘Whatever,’ she thought ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ By the end of the period, Maria’s potion was a creamy peach color – the way it was supposed to be – while Malfoy’s had turned a dark, murky purple. It was only then Professor Snape announced to the class that they would be testing their neighbour’s potion. Maria’s eyes doubled in size while Malfoy was trying hard not to laugh. He poured his mixture in a big cup and handed it to Maria as if he actually thought she was going to drink it. She looked at the cup, then at Malfoy, the cup, Malfoy, the cup… Snape.
"Is there a problem, miss Cleaver, or do I have to make myself clearer?" his nasal voice muttered, purposefully – she was sure of it – irritating.
"Professor, I can’t drink that-"
"Partners are to taste their neighbours potions. Follow the rules – surely you’ve never had trouble with that."
He turned sharply and walked away, his black cloak billowing at his heels. He was just being provocative – his old partial self. She knew it was just because Malfoy happened to be in Slytherin (nobody in their right mind would have asked her to drink his potion) and she knew he didn’t actually expect her to do it; it was just another excuse to take off points – to help Slytherin in its never-ending quest for the House Cup. ‘Doesn’t he get it yet? They’re never going to get it while the Golden Trio roams the school.’ Maria had seen Snape act like that many times, but she had never been involved. Poor Harry. It was truly infuriating.
She slammed her potions book shut and bent down to put it away in her bag when she heard someone chuckle. She straightened on her chair and glared at Malfoy, who couldn’t help smirking satisfactorily. Her blood boiled under her skin: she swiftly reached out for her quill and ink and in the process, managed to nod his cup so that it tipped over, conveniently pouring its content onto his robes, the thick potion sticking to the freshly washed fabric.
"DETENTION MISS CLEAVER!" barked Snape.
"But Malfoy was going to poison me!" she replied back.
"It’s true Professor," encouraged Hermione, who had been following the scene from afar.
"Is that so?"
The students shook their heads ‘yes’ and Snape turned to Malfoy.
"Ten points to Slytherin for being ‘inventive’."
"WHAT?" the whole class gasped (except for the Slytherins, who were having quite a laugh).
"However, I hope detention helps you reflect on your immaturity, Mr. Malfoy," snapped Snape knowing he wouldn’t get away without giving him detention too.
"Friday night, eight o’clock, my office, both of you. Class dismissed," he said coldly.
***
Maria spent the rest of the week fuming. It was her first detention at Hogwarts, and it was all because of that stupid Malfoy. The fact that she had had the last word yet again wasn’t enough to make her smile: her clear, spotless, innocent record had been wasted by his highness’ ‘immaturity’. She headed to the dungeons early; yes, even for a detention she didn’t want to arrive late – it was the least she could do to redeem her misstep.
Surprisingly, Malfoy was there only a few moments after her.
"I have no use for you two in my office, since it is the start of a new term. However, I’m sure Filch would be delighted if you cleaned the trophy cabinet."
They both made to leave but Snape insisted:
"Your wands. On my desk. I shall send Filch with them at 11 o’clock to inspect your work. Out!"
They forcefully let go of their wands and enraged, stormed out of his office. Blinded by hatred, Maria only realized they had nothing to clean the trophies with once they had gotten there. Without saying a word to Malfoy, she started opening all the nearest doors, looking for a broom cupboard.
"What in Merlin’s name are you doing, Cleaver?"
He stressed her last name. She twitched at the sound of it. He was the first student to ever address her by only her last name. But that was beside the point; how did he learn it?
"Who told you my name Malfoy?"
Her tone was worried yet authoritative; it left Malfoy no choice but to respond.
"Well, Snape kinda yelled it," he replied with dumb simplicity.
She looked at him with a frown.
"In class," he said as though it had been obvious.
"Oh, right…"
She turned away, trying to hide her blush. Malfoy continued:
"You still haven’t answered my question, Cleaver."
Malfoy was clearly trying to get on her nerves, she knew it. However, this time, she was determined not to join him in his little game. She didn’t want more trouble.
"In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t got anything to clean the trophies with."
"Great! Did you honestly think I was really going to clean them?"
"As a matter of fact, I did! But you know what? You’re right! Who would want to get their pure-blooded hands dirty on a couple of old, worthless trophies! They don’t deserve the touch of such a wizard!"
She thrust her hand into her pocket only to feel that her wand was missing. Malfoy too, had his hand buried in his pocket. They threw a quick glance at each other, and Maria let out a nervous chortle, hastily resuming her searching. A few long minutes later, she had found a small closet full of maintenance devices. She picked up a few cloths and a small vial of what she thought was detergent. She made her way back to the trophy cabinet and what she saw made her laugh for the first time this week: Malfoy had fallen asleep, slouching against the wall. His mouth was slightly open and his head was hanging to the side. She muffled her laughter with her free hand and she got an idea. ‘Maybe I could stuff one of these cloths in his mouth… NO! I said I wasn’t going to do anything! But he is truly asking for it… Argh! But I mustn’t do anything.’ Sadly, she started cleaning the dusty trophies alone. Too bad if Malfoy wasn’t serving his detention; he was the one who would get in trouble.