XIII

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25. nothing quite like true friendship

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The aftermath of the altercation is less than impressive. A closure is yet to be found with the Golden Trio with the onslaught of assignments. Percy finds herself in the Potions class two days later, across the Professor's sneering gaze.

"If you lack the interest, move the fuck away," Draco's voice pierces through her thoughts.

"Oh," she is unable to help herself, "he talks."

"And she doesn't listen," he doesn't hesitate at all. He points the ladle at her, abandoning the potion for the moment. He doesn't do that, ever. "That's not surprising at all."

"I'm just shocked is all," she does move to her textbook, trying to pretend she had voluntarily turned to that chapter. "It's like seeing a snowman talk, you know."

Draco remains unimpressed. "I, in fact, do not know."

"Like say, there's a snowman—" he exhales to show his displeasure at the explanation but that doesn't deter her, "—made of snow—"

"Enlightening,"

"—so obviously it's cold. Completely blank and just artificial and untouchable enough. Then it sometimes, it almost seems alive with the pointy, weirdly eyebrows," she points to her own, arching it and points to his.

He continues to be indifferent. It does fray at the edges with the boundless annoyance he feels.

She isn't finished though. "And then imagine it talks out of nowhere, that's how it's for me."

"Sounds exhausting," Draco agrees and her smile slowly falls. "no wonder you cannot seem to act like a sane human being for a moment."

Percy shrugs. "I said nothing. You assumed it all." She flicks her book to the right chapter and checks the cauldron.

"Don't try too hard, you wouldn't be able to find any faults,"

She returns his arrogant smile with a mocking one of her own. 'Is that so, your oh so humble genius?', it seemed to say.

'That is so, you crazy witch,' his own half a nod and a widening smirk responded.

Although incomprehensible and far fetched the conversation was, it had been interesting enough for them to jarred back to the classroom by Snape's harrumph.

"Would you like some water sir?" Percy hasn't been listening to a single word he has been preaching. "Your throat must be parched from instructing us all so patiently for so long,"

Snape had spoken measly two lines. Lavender was wiping tears from her cheeks that were ashy with soot, avoiding the professor's general direction. The water that Percy gestured to was in fact, water from a pond where a forty year old toad had resided and contained everything imaginable and unimaginable.

Draco stirs the potion diligently though he is overcome with a sudden coughing fit.

"You need water too Malfoy?" Percy pouts. "We'll give it to Professor Snape first. He deserves the honour first and foremost."

Snape's glare would have reduced any man to ashes.

Percy was no man.

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