discontinued, re-write titled "Mind Over Matter".
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❞𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. . .❞
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Liliana Granger never sought out the adventures of life, she'd grown comfortable in what she knew and applied...
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"That Hufflepuff boy was blushing Lils, bright red."
Malfoy didn't reappear in classes until late on Thursday morning, when the Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions.
He swaggered into the dungeon, his right arm covered in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry's opinion, as though he were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
"How is it, Draco?" simpered Pansy Parkinson. "Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah," said Malfoy, putting on a brave sort of grimace. But Harry saw him wink at Crabbe and Goyle when Pansy had looked away.
"Settle down, settle down," said Professor Snape idly.
Harry, Ron, and Atlas scowled at each other; Snape wouldn't have said 'settle down' if they'd walked in late, he'd have given them detention. Even in the short amount of time Atlas had been at Hogwarts, he'd experienced Snape's wrath countless times.
And in that short time, he'd seen Malfoy always being able to get away with anything in Snape's classes, something Harry and Ron had dealt with for the past two years. But seeing as Snape was head of Slytherin House, he would generally favor his own students above all others.
They were making a new potion today, a Shrinking Solution. Malfoy set up his cauldron right in between Harry and Ron's and Atlas and Dean's, so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table.
"Sir," Malfoy called, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm -"
"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.
Ron went brick red.
"There's nothing wrong with your arm," he hissed at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked across the table.
"Weasley, you heard Professor Snape; cut up these roots."
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy's roots toward him, and began to chop them roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
"Professor," drawled Malfoy, "Weasley's mutilating my roots, sir."
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."
"But, sir -!"
Ron had spent the last quarter of an hour carefully shredding his own roots into exactly equal pieces.
"Now," said Snape in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took up the knife again.
