I'd Draw You Smiling

Dear Mum,
Thanks for the socks. I never really seem to have enough.
School is going fairly well. I'm learning things I can't really explain to you. They're too complicated and involve too many words that don't actually exist.
A reminder for you and Dad: I'll be home two weeks later than originally planned. The Weasleys invited me home with them and I've said I'd go.
Do me a favor and feed Herald before you send him back next time. He's bitten me three times and breakfast isn't even over, yet.
Thanks.

Love, Lacey

I tied my scrap of parchment to Herold's leg and fed him a piece of burnt bacon. He stared at me with large, gold eyes as he swallowed it, then flew off through the glassless window behind the staff table.

I'd received a package from home containing two pairs of oddly colored striped socks and a brief note from Mum, telling me that she and Dad were fine in the most generic language possible. She wasn't really one for writing letters, especially not using owls. I'd gotten used to her rushed, cramped writing and had become accustomed to responding in a similar fashion. Crumpling my mother's letter in my fist, I returned my attention to my breakfast.

I lifted a forkful of eggs to my mouth as Fred and George stumbled in, still pulling on their robes with heavy lidded eyes. They mumbled their good mornings and reached for the pitcher of hot coffee that was in the center of the table. Their hands met on the handle, and there was a brief, half-hearted scuffle for control before they both dropped their arms and stared at me beseechingly.

"Really." I sighed, lifting the pitcher and filling their goblets.

"Thanks." They croaked, drinking what I had poured them.

The Gryffindor table was nearly full now. Fred and George had been among the last to arrive, following very shortly behind Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Lee Jordan and I had walked down together, conversing about the Triwizard Tournament (which really didn’t interest me in the slightest, although I would never admit it) and the odds of Harry beating Krum and Cedric. In his opinion, Fleur wasn't competition enough to even mention her name.

"I wish I knew what the last challenge was." he'd said wistfully as we strolled down the marble staircase.

"Probably something to do with giants, next." I replied halfheartedly, gazing up at the ceiling upon our arrival in the great hall. It was raining. "Or dementors, or… Blast, I don’t know."

"Hopefully not dementors. Remember what happened to Harry during that Quidditch game? Hey, I'll see you later." And he rushed off, proving his question as rhetorical.

Nice kid, I thought. I enjoy his dreadlocks very much.

Fred said something from the crook of his elbow that sounded much like a garbled mess of nothing, and I snapped back to attention. His hand was wrapped around the stem of his coffee goblet.

"Sorry?" I said, reaching across the table for a discarded Daily Prophet. I caught sight of Lee talking to Harry halfway down the table. Harry laughed and shook his head at something.

"He said," George chimed in, stuffing a piece of buttered toast into his mouth, "'Ee wishes tha'," He paused to chew and swallow, "We didn't have potions first hour. Snape's going to be a bugger. Did you hear about his rant over some stolen Gillyweed? Rumor has it that's what Harry used for the challenge in the lake."

"Who am I talking to? Was that information about Snape from your brain or his?" I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder to Fred, who still had his face buried in his arms.

"Mine." George said, filling his plate with more eggs and toast.

"Ah, well, if Harry has the bullocks to steal from Snape, more power to him. Hey Harry!" I called down the table, raising my goblet of pumpkin juice when he turned my way, "Well done, mate!"

He looked puzzled for a moment, then decided it didn’t matter what I was talking about and raised his glass in return, inclining his head slightly. I turned back to George.

"I'll never forgive him for that detention in first year," I said after sipping my juice and glancing over the Prophet, "Never."

George looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed laughed, "Ah you mean Snape! 'You have red hair. You must be a Weasley'." He mimicked Snape's common air of contempt.

"What a bastard." I chuckled.

Not a minute later, the bell for first hour rang and I stood to leave, one twin on either side of me. I heaved my bag over my shoulder and gathered my remaining books from the table.

"Shall we?" I said, shifting my books into my right arm and using my free hand to tuck my hair behind my ear.

"We shall." George replied, and we strolled cheerfully from the great hall as if we were headed anywhere other than Potions.

Our merry chatter evaporated as we approached the dungeons and, once we came to a stop in the corridor outside Snape's potions classroom, our talking stopped altogether. The sixth year Slytherins were already gathered near the door, not saying much but glaring enough to speak novels. They all wore those ridiculous Potter Stinks badges, and most were looking at them and laughing raucously.

Honestly, how many months had it been?

A few of the sixth year Slytherin quidditch players were huddled here and there, and Fred and George openly glared daggers at these, probably more over the sports rivalry than the house rivalry. Although I'd imagine there wouldn't be one without the other. Draco Malfoy was there, too, for some reason, parading about with his nose in the air. When he saw me, is pale eyes glinted and his thin lips tucked up in a sneer.

He strolled past, flanked by his two idiot cronies - whatever their names were. As he passed, he hissed "Mudblood" loud enough for the entire hushed corridor to hear.

While the word stung, it didn’t bother me enough for an outburst. I had no intention of giving Malfoy or any of the other Slytherins the satisfaction of knowing they'd gotten under my skin, even if it was only slightly. Fred and George, though, weren't usually so level headed. I felt them both tense beside me in response to the low rumble of laughter coming from the group of Slytherins. Malfoy snorted, crossing his arms over his chest like he thought it would intimidate me. I spoke very slowly.

"Malfoy, run along now. Daddy isn't here to protect you and we all know you can't fight your own battles. Call me what you like. It won't change the fact that you and your family are lower than the dirt on my boots."

"How dare you say a word about my family -" Malfoy snarled, grabbling in his robes for his wand. Fred and George found theirs first and stood menacingly on either side of me.

"Going to curse a girl, Malfoy?" Fred growled, faint red sparks pouring out of the tip of his wand.

"I could handle the little worm." I spat in reply. Malfoy paled and many of the sixth year Slytherins drew their wands, too.

"We know you could," George murmured, "Just remember what happened to Hermione with her teeth. Malfoy plays dirty, and I don't feel like dragging you to the hospital with your hair on fire, or something."

"Dueling in my corridor?" Snape's voice wound its way out from the knot of Slytherins, "Miss James, why do you have your wand out? There is no need for it at the present." He folded his hands and smiled coldly.

"Sir, I was only doing my duty as an older, wiser student." I said coolly.

"Which is?" Snape said.

"Teaching him that it isn't polite to use dirty words." I snapped between clenched teeth.

"They called her a 'mudblood', Professor." Fred said.

"Mr. Weasley, I would thank you not to use such language in my presence. Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention for each of you, I think, for threatening younger students." Snape was only looking at Fred, George, and I.

"Sir - !" Fred said, but was quickly interrupted.

"My office, Friday evening. All three of you," Snape drawled, then spun to address all the other students, his cloak billowing behind him, "Inside. Now."

We trooped in, piling our homework essays on Snape's desk and crossing the room to our usual corner table. I dumped my bag onto the floor and heaved my cauldron to the table top. Fred sat beside me with George on his other side. They glowered at the table top.

"Come off it, it's not the table's fault." I said. "And anyway, I could've handled it myself."

"But where's the fun in that?" Fred said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right, then. At least he didn't split us up." I said, dropping several large scarab beetles into a bowl and picking up my pestle.

"Sure." They replied glumly in unison, just as Lee Jordan hurried in.

"I was almost late," He said breathlessly, glancing at Snape, whose back was turned. Lee dropped his things and flung himself into the seat beside George.

"You missed it, mate," Fred whispered as Snape turned around and began walking up and down the aisles. His voice got even softer as Snape passed dangerously close, "Lacey, here, had it out with Malfoy."

Lee's eyes grew wide and he leaned forward to look past the twins at me, a smile flashing across his dark face. I continued mashing the beetles in my bowl, my pestle making sickening crunching and popping noises each time I brought it down on the tiny metallic bodies. Lee chuckled, shaking his head.

"Picking on kids, eh, Lace? What happened?" He filled his own bowl with beetles and began mashing.

"Called me a 'Mudblood' again," I muttered, glancing across the room at the Slytherins, who were still sneering at each others' "Potter Stinks" badges. Oh, honestly. Lee made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat.

"Nasty gits, they are. Did you jinx him?"

"No. Snape showed up before I could. The three of us got detention." I mixed a garish, yellow liquid into the mashed beetles in the bottom of my cauldron.

"You, Malfoy, and who?" Lee asked.

"No," the twins snorted.

"Lacey and the two of us," George said, spinning his wand between his fingers, "Have you ever seen Snape give anyone from Slytherin detention? I certainly haven't."

Lee didn't reply, just kept tossing seemingly random ingredients into his cauldron. Snape was making rounds between the desks again and had just stopped beside me. He leaned over my mixture, an evil-looking scowl on his face.

"If you were to apply yourself, Miss James, rather than sit back here and converse with your boyfriends, you may produce something satisfactory. Though, I will admit, the idea is far-fetched."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Fred's fist clench beneath the table.

"Yes, Professor." I kept my tone level and didn’t look up again. Instead, I gazed into my simmering potion, which had turned an interesting gold-y brown and didn’t look entirely unpleasant.

Snape strolled away, his cloak billowing about himself again.

"Seems to have a flair for dramatics, that one," I said under my breath, only loud enough for Fred, George, and Lee to hear, "Do you think he walks like that just so his cloak billows? Or do you think he feels the need to hurry?"

Fred snorted and waved his wand over his cauldron, lessening the billows of smoke rising from the semi-solid mass congealed on the bottom, then muttered vehemently, "I think he's got his wand up his arse. Y'know, for safekeeping."

This got me giggling and improved my mood significantly. I didn't even really mind the idea of detention. If Fred and George were there, it wouldn't be half bad.