Status: In-Progress, updating as much as I can.
Laugh with the Sinners;Cry with the Saints
Chapter Three
I glanced at the blonde beside me. From my point of view it looked as if he were doodling on a piece of parchment. I groaned as I glanced at my watch, there was only twenty-five minutes left until Astronomy was over. Looking at the pile of parchment in front of me, I could easily tell that there was at least an hour’s worth of work to do. There was no way we’d finish, especially with my partner drawing evil hippogriffs on his parchment—honestly, what’s up with him and hippogriffs? It’s like he has some kind of vendetta against them.
I cleared my throat in attempt to get his attention, and when he didn’t acknowledge me, I let out a low growl. What was his problem?! It was his grade he would have to worry about, too, not just my own. I nearly cried out when I cleared my throat again and, yet again, got no response. I decided on taking another, more drastic approach; I began coughing hysterically, as if I may have been dying, but the only person’s attention I caught was Professor Sinistra’s. She quickly made her way over to my desk.
“Miss Bartley! Are you alright?” She began patting me on the back so hard she knocked the breath out of me.
“I’m fine, Professor, I’m perfectly fine.” I assured her, struggling to get air back into my lungs.
Frustrated, I grabbed a piece of blank parchment from my bag and scribbled a quick note consisting of: Emily, help me! He’s just sitting here! Looking around the room cautiously I sent the parchment flying across the room with a flick of my wand, grimacing when it collided with the side of her head. She sent a glare my way before opening it, reading it, writing a response and zooming it back over to me.
Try talking to him. Hacking up a lung isn’t going to make him talk to you; it’ll only make him laugh. Then he’ll probably choke on his own spit, and you’ll not only be responsible for your own death (you know, cause you hacked up a lung therefore you’d be dead), but Blondie’s as well. Then he’ll come back to haunt you, even though you’ll be a ghost yourself. It really is safer to just talk to him.
“Ha, ha, ha.” I mouthed at Emily before clearing my throat once again and turning to the brooding boy beside me.
“Alright, look,” I started, twirling my quill between my fingers, “ I don’t want to be your partner anymore than you want to be mine, but the fact is, we’re stuck together for the school year. So let’s make the best of this, alright?” I sat waiting for a response, and when it never came, I let out another growl. “Listen to me. I will not do all the work, do you hear me? We have at least an hour’s worth of work, and oh,” I glanced at my watch again, “fifteen minutes to get it done.” I picked up some of the printed star charts off my desk, and slammed them on his. “So you can do these, alright? Because remember this, it’s your grade, too. I’m pretty sure, Papa Malfoy wouldn’t be too happy if you failed a class.”
“Don’t talk about my Father.” He growled as I turned around, but I also heard the sound of his quill scratching on the parchment. Shaking my head, I set to work on my own pile, letting a small smirk grace my face. Elsie one, Draco, zip.
--
Over half of our work was unfinished when Professor Sinistra dismissed us. Thankfully, it seemed that Professor had at least an inkling of an idea of what a git of a partner I was assigned, and let us finish our work outside of class. Thanking her, I ran to catch up with Draco.
“She gave us an extension.” I told him, “So, I’ll meet you in the library tomorrow after classes?”
“Don’t count on it, Bartley.” He snarled before stuffing his work in his bag and shoving past me.
There was no doubt about it, Draco Malfoy pissed me off.
Everyone had retired to the dorms by the time Emily and I reached to Common Room, even
the fire had long since died away from its place in the blue marbled fireplace. Running a hand through my hair, I began to wonder if I could just crash on the couch for the remainder of the morning-until I had to get up for class. Deciding against that, I trudged my way up the stairs and into the dormitory, hardly hearing Emily mention something about getting a head start on her homework—annoying overachiever.
Inside the girls’ dorm, I crept over to Jamie’s bed, jumping on the edge of it. Jamie woke with a start. Her brown hair standing on end, and her clothes rumpled, she looked horrible.
“Wha? What’s wrong?” She asked frantically.
“You’ll never guess who my partner is, Jamie.” I said, dramatically, throwing my hands in the air. Jamie flopped back on the bed, burying her face in the pillow.
“I don’t care, go to sleep.”
“Draco Malfoy! Malfoy!”
“Good for you,” a large yawn cut her response in half, “now sleep.”
“No, Jamie, not ‘good for me’!” I whispered harshly. ”I told you that you should have changed your schedule.”
“I’m not changing my schedule, Elsie.” She yawned, pulling the blankets up over her shoulder. “Now please. Go. To. Bed.”
“You’re absolutely no help, Jamie.” I groaned as I retreated to my bed, hardly missing the shoe that came flying across the room in the direction of one of my other dorm mates.
Pulling on my pajamas, crawled into bed and pulled the comforter up under my chin and let out a sigh. Slamming my fists down on the mattress, I kicked my feet as I let out a defeated cry.
“I’m gonna die!”
“SHUT UP BARTELY!” Fiona Nettles, a petite redhead two beds over from mine exclaimed. Now honestly, considering she didn’t even reach my shoulder, I’d like to say I wasn’t afraid of Fiona, but I would be lying. I swear she was a ninja in a past life.
“Yeah, yeah.” I sighed rolling over on my side, closing my eyes, and, after what seemed like hours, drifting off to sleep.
--
“So, doll, how was your sleep?” Emily asked as she joined Trent, Jamie and I at breakfast the next morning.
“Besides being mentally scarred by the numerous nightmares about Draco killing me?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jamie and Trent roll their eyes.
“Yeah, besides that.” The girl beside me nodded as she spooned eggs onto her plate.
“Absolutely incredible.” I took a sip of my orange juice before turning to my two friends in front of me. “Oh, guys, this is Emily Romanov, she’s a lost Russian Princess.” Again my friends rolled their eyes before greeting the girl on my left.
The conversation slowly drifted away from Emily’s royal status and to other things: classes, books, what I would do to Malfoy if he ever fell asleep in class (okay, so that was mainly just me), and of course the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.
“I really want to go into the new book store,” Jamie commented, “so we have to make sure we do that.” I could hear Trent mentally groan, but I knew that if we promised to go into Zonko’s after, that he would eventually agree.
--
I met Jamie and Trent near the lake for after Arithmancy for a Transfiguration study group. We lounged under a tree, books spread among us with chocolate frog wrappers scattered throughout. Opening my fifth frog, I glanced at the card. Helga Hufflepuff, I had at least five of her, I tossed it in the pile of garbage and bit the head off of the little chocolate creature.
“I can’t believe we already have a test.” Trent groaned, as he flipped through his text book, “It’s not even the second week of school.”
“I can’t believe you’re still complaining about it.” I muttered, looking over my notes, underlining something that I thought McGonagall would put on the test. “And it’s not a test. It’s a quiz.”
“Why? You still complain about being partners with Malfoy.” Jamie piped up as she pointed to another fact on her notes that would probably be on the test also.
“Well, I just don’t see how I can call Malfoy a partner when he just sits there. He doesn’t speak, and on the off occasion that he does it’s either an insult, or to tell me that my ‘h’s look like ‘n’s.”
“Well,” Trent said, chewing on his fingernail. “They kind of do.”
“I hate you sometimes, you know?” I glared at him. I expected a snide remark in response, but he never got the chance, because our conversation was interrupted.
“Excuse me?” I turned to face the speaker, only to find that it was Hogwarts own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley in tow, as always. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re partners with Malfoy?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“Well, I was wondering-“
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted in a warning tone, but he ignored her.
“Would you do me a favor?” He asked.
A favor? What could The Boy Who lived possibly need me for? And what did it have to do with Malfoy? Was this some kind of prank he was trying to pull on him? And if it was, did I really want to be a part of it. Hell yes I did! That was a stupid question. A small smirk graced my lips as I nodded.
“Sure,” I answered.
I cleared my throat in attempt to get his attention, and when he didn’t acknowledge me, I let out a low growl. What was his problem?! It was his grade he would have to worry about, too, not just my own. I nearly cried out when I cleared my throat again and, yet again, got no response. I decided on taking another, more drastic approach; I began coughing hysterically, as if I may have been dying, but the only person’s attention I caught was Professor Sinistra’s. She quickly made her way over to my desk.
“Miss Bartley! Are you alright?” She began patting me on the back so hard she knocked the breath out of me.
“I’m fine, Professor, I’m perfectly fine.” I assured her, struggling to get air back into my lungs.
Frustrated, I grabbed a piece of blank parchment from my bag and scribbled a quick note consisting of: Emily, help me! He’s just sitting here! Looking around the room cautiously I sent the parchment flying across the room with a flick of my wand, grimacing when it collided with the side of her head. She sent a glare my way before opening it, reading it, writing a response and zooming it back over to me.
Try talking to him. Hacking up a lung isn’t going to make him talk to you; it’ll only make him laugh. Then he’ll probably choke on his own spit, and you’ll not only be responsible for your own death (you know, cause you hacked up a lung therefore you’d be dead), but Blondie’s as well. Then he’ll come back to haunt you, even though you’ll be a ghost yourself. It really is safer to just talk to him.
“Ha, ha, ha.” I mouthed at Emily before clearing my throat once again and turning to the brooding boy beside me.
“Alright, look,” I started, twirling my quill between my fingers, “ I don’t want to be your partner anymore than you want to be mine, but the fact is, we’re stuck together for the school year. So let’s make the best of this, alright?” I sat waiting for a response, and when it never came, I let out another growl. “Listen to me. I will not do all the work, do you hear me? We have at least an hour’s worth of work, and oh,” I glanced at my watch again, “fifteen minutes to get it done.” I picked up some of the printed star charts off my desk, and slammed them on his. “So you can do these, alright? Because remember this, it’s your grade, too. I’m pretty sure, Papa Malfoy wouldn’t be too happy if you failed a class.”
“Don’t talk about my Father.” He growled as I turned around, but I also heard the sound of his quill scratching on the parchment. Shaking my head, I set to work on my own pile, letting a small smirk grace my face. Elsie one, Draco, zip.
--
Over half of our work was unfinished when Professor Sinistra dismissed us. Thankfully, it seemed that Professor had at least an inkling of an idea of what a git of a partner I was assigned, and let us finish our work outside of class. Thanking her, I ran to catch up with Draco.
“She gave us an extension.” I told him, “So, I’ll meet you in the library tomorrow after classes?”
“Don’t count on it, Bartley.” He snarled before stuffing his work in his bag and shoving past me.
There was no doubt about it, Draco Malfoy pissed me off.
Everyone had retired to the dorms by the time Emily and I reached to Common Room, even
the fire had long since died away from its place in the blue marbled fireplace. Running a hand through my hair, I began to wonder if I could just crash on the couch for the remainder of the morning-until I had to get up for class. Deciding against that, I trudged my way up the stairs and into the dormitory, hardly hearing Emily mention something about getting a head start on her homework—annoying overachiever.
Inside the girls’ dorm, I crept over to Jamie’s bed, jumping on the edge of it. Jamie woke with a start. Her brown hair standing on end, and her clothes rumpled, she looked horrible.
“Wha? What’s wrong?” She asked frantically.
“You’ll never guess who my partner is, Jamie.” I said, dramatically, throwing my hands in the air. Jamie flopped back on the bed, burying her face in the pillow.
“I don’t care, go to sleep.”
“Draco Malfoy! Malfoy!”
“Good for you,” a large yawn cut her response in half, “now sleep.”
“No, Jamie, not ‘good for me’!” I whispered harshly. ”I told you that you should have changed your schedule.”
“I’m not changing my schedule, Elsie.” She yawned, pulling the blankets up over her shoulder. “Now please. Go. To. Bed.”
“You’re absolutely no help, Jamie.” I groaned as I retreated to my bed, hardly missing the shoe that came flying across the room in the direction of one of my other dorm mates.
Pulling on my pajamas, crawled into bed and pulled the comforter up under my chin and let out a sigh. Slamming my fists down on the mattress, I kicked my feet as I let out a defeated cry.
“I’m gonna die!”
“SHUT UP BARTELY!” Fiona Nettles, a petite redhead two beds over from mine exclaimed. Now honestly, considering she didn’t even reach my shoulder, I’d like to say I wasn’t afraid of Fiona, but I would be lying. I swear she was a ninja in a past life.
“Yeah, yeah.” I sighed rolling over on my side, closing my eyes, and, after what seemed like hours, drifting off to sleep.
--
“So, doll, how was your sleep?” Emily asked as she joined Trent, Jamie and I at breakfast the next morning.
“Besides being mentally scarred by the numerous nightmares about Draco killing me?” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jamie and Trent roll their eyes.
“Yeah, besides that.” The girl beside me nodded as she spooned eggs onto her plate.
“Absolutely incredible.” I took a sip of my orange juice before turning to my two friends in front of me. “Oh, guys, this is Emily Romanov, she’s a lost Russian Princess.” Again my friends rolled their eyes before greeting the girl on my left.
The conversation slowly drifted away from Emily’s royal status and to other things: classes, books, what I would do to Malfoy if he ever fell asleep in class (okay, so that was mainly just me), and of course the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.
“I really want to go into the new book store,” Jamie commented, “so we have to make sure we do that.” I could hear Trent mentally groan, but I knew that if we promised to go into Zonko’s after, that he would eventually agree.
--
I met Jamie and Trent near the lake for after Arithmancy for a Transfiguration study group. We lounged under a tree, books spread among us with chocolate frog wrappers scattered throughout. Opening my fifth frog, I glanced at the card. Helga Hufflepuff, I had at least five of her, I tossed it in the pile of garbage and bit the head off of the little chocolate creature.
“I can’t believe we already have a test.” Trent groaned, as he flipped through his text book, “It’s not even the second week of school.”
“I can’t believe you’re still complaining about it.” I muttered, looking over my notes, underlining something that I thought McGonagall would put on the test. “And it’s not a test. It’s a quiz.”
“Why? You still complain about being partners with Malfoy.” Jamie piped up as she pointed to another fact on her notes that would probably be on the test also.
“Well, I just don’t see how I can call Malfoy a partner when he just sits there. He doesn’t speak, and on the off occasion that he does it’s either an insult, or to tell me that my ‘h’s look like ‘n’s.”
“Well,” Trent said, chewing on his fingernail. “They kind of do.”
“I hate you sometimes, you know?” I glared at him. I expected a snide remark in response, but he never got the chance, because our conversation was interrupted.
“Excuse me?” I turned to face the speaker, only to find that it was Hogwarts own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley in tow, as always. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re partners with Malfoy?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“Well, I was wondering-“
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted in a warning tone, but he ignored her.
“Would you do me a favor?” He asked.
A favor? What could The Boy Who lived possibly need me for? And what did it have to do with Malfoy? Was this some kind of prank he was trying to pull on him? And if it was, did I really want to be a part of it. Hell yes I did! That was a stupid question. A small smirk graced my lips as I nodded.
“Sure,” I answered.
♠ ♠ ♠
Ugh, I think I'm getting sick.