Chapter 3: II
It was a Thursday evening, cool and dark, like any other winter Thursday evening. It was getting colder with each passing day, and she was glad that she only had to wait till the Saturday after the coming one to go to town and buy some warmer clothes. She wasn't used to this temperamental weather yet.
Like the blowing breeze, she heard snippets of the news as people filtered in and out of the hall. She didn't look behind her, not even to steal half a glance at him. The air felt uneasy. Tension crammed itself into every nook and cranny. She could feel the furtive glances being thrown at her and could hear even the discreet whispers. Boyfriend-snatcher. Slag. Savage. Even the lower classes were talking about it too. There were more words, each one more colourful than the other.
She didn't look up.
Neither did he. He refused to take any part in it, to shut them up or add in his own bits. He couldn't; he was a liar as they came. Still, it wasn't his fault Pansy had overheard and thrown a hissy fit. Why did she even think she had the rights to him? No one owned Draco Malfoy. He buried his eyes deeper in his jotter, trying to blur out the mumbles and whispers.
He expected it to happen anyway.
She expected it to happen, too.
And it did happen.
There was a sudden screech of intolerance, and the slamming-shut of a book which was then accompanied by a bang on the table. There was an impertinent flip of hair, and a holler across the hall.
"You bitch!"
Every conversation came to an abrupt halt as every head turned towards the prefect. That is, every head except Hether's. She was never one to indulge the tiny things that people got upset over. They were passing things, like dust in the air, and could be easily forgotten. Her eyes remained glued to the sentence she'd been pretending to read for the past fifteen minutes. It wasn't that she was scared – in fact, she was interested to see what stunt Pansy would pull off.
"Miss Parkinson," a voice rose from the other end of the hall. She lifted her eyes a bit. It was the emo professor, and he was taking hurried steps towards her, in attempt to block Pansy. He failed. She perceived the vile scent of concentrated citrus and wrinkled her nose in disgust. The heavy breath of fury tapped her neck in a staggered rhythm. She waited.
"Look at me!!" Pansy seethed.
And so she did, albeit slowly. She swung her legs over the bench, crossing them, and looked Pansy square in the eye. Pansy's face was as red as a ripe pepper, and the spots of acne splattered across her face had turned a deeper red. Her eyes were strained and red, as if she had just finished crying. Hether found it almost amusing to watch.
"Yes?" She said, using an impatient tone. "You're interrupting my study hour."
"And you're interrupting my relationship with Draco!" Pansy spat out. "You're going to pay!"
"Miss Parkinson," the teacher interjected.
"Please, Professor," Hether offered a polite smile to the teacher. "I would like to resolve any differences between Pansy and I. You know what they say about carrying a grudge to the next day."
Pansy's face screwed up in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. He still refused to look up and watch the scene he had helped invent. She didn't bother looking at him too. Whatever had happened in the bathroom that day was obviously a mirage created in her sleep. She turned back to Pansy.
"I have no affiliation with you or Draco. It's really petty of you to spread rumors and cause a scene." Hether concluded and turned back to her books. Whispers began to fill the quiet air as the scene was perceived to be over, much to their disappointment. But Pansy wasn't one to walk away the loser.
"You're lying! Everyone knows you slipped Amortentia on him!!"
Audible gasps spread throughout the hall. Even the professor seemed caught by surprise. Hether froze. An amortentia potion? An amortentia potion? What did they take her for? It was such a ridiculous accusation that she burst out laughing, unable to control herself. The girl next to her turned with a startled gaze. Even Pansy became unsettled, shifting her weight on her feet.
"It's not funny!" Her hands clenched into fists so tight they turned white at the knuckles.
"But it is!" Hether wiped a tear that found its way to the corner of her eyes. "Okay, okay. Let's say I did enchant him. So what? You're a joke, Pansy."
Silence fell back into place as she swiveled round to face her books again. People really were a joke these days. Back in the days there were actual things that would pique her attention long enough to indulge herself.
"All right, show's over," the professor said in a voice that was loud but devoid of any life. "You can have your seat now, Miss Park- put your wand away THIS INSTANCE!"
Another series of gasps filled the air. Hether remained unbothered. It appeared that Pansy Parkinson had withdrawn her wand, outraged by the indifference of Hether, and was now about to hex her.
"A duel." Pansy sounded desperate. "Saturday, twelve o'clock, Trans courtyard."
Weekly Power Status
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Ranking 
-- Power
stone