Chapter 134: 1-3
This was the first time I'd seen Harry look so guarded about a class—or so I thought, glancing at my brother from the corner of my eye. It was Professor Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The classroom, which completely changed its appearance every year depending on the teacher, was now thoroughly dyed in Snape's colors. The students took their seats feeling just as gloomy as they did when entering the dungeon classroom. Draco was there, too. —Things were getting a bit strange within Slytherin.
Draco's isolation within his house had ended due to his own change in attitude. However, the division within Slytherin house seemed to persist. —Between those whose parents supported Voldemort and those who didn't. Or rather, between the absolute pure-blood supremacists and everyone else. For better or worse, Draco had become the man of the hour in Slytherin, standing out just as much as the Potter siblings. It seemed the people around him had taken it upon themselves to elevate him, treating him like the leader of a faction.
True to form today, Pansy Parkinson caught my eye, fiercely defending her spot next to Draco and leaning on him with sickening sweetness. Poor thing. Even though Draco is completely devoted to Astoria. ...Probably. He should be. And Astoria too—she should be.
"Ugh."
As I was sneaking glances at Draco and recalling our conversation by the water yesterday, Pansy glared at me fiercely. As always, she despises "Maria" as if I were her parents' murderer. It's even worse because Draco pulled that farce of confessing to me last year. I've been unilaterally deemed a rival. I'd really like to ask Draco to tame that cow of his, at least a little.
I quickly shrugged off the lovestruck girl's glare, pretending not to notice as I faced forward again. Professor Snape entered the room. The air grew taut with tension. —Especially around Harry. My brother beside me was glaring up at Professor Snape with a loathing that rivaled even Pansy's.
As long as Harry and Voldemort were connected at their roots, I couldn't afford to offer any clumsy intervention. Still—seeing Harry Potter hate Severus Snape was heartbreaking. It was hard to bear. Since Professor Snape himself was deliberately manipulating that impression, it was obvious that any intervention on my part would just be uncalled for.
"I have not yet asked you to take out your books. Put it away immediately, Granger. ...You will listen closely to what I have to say."
Dark eyes, steeped in decades of concentrated hatred, fixed upon Harry. Harry, too, glared at Professor Snape, his mother's eyes flashing fiercely. —With what feelings was he receiving that gaze? Being hated by the eyes of the woman he loved—was he truly satisfied with that?
"—Therefore, you must learn to cast non-verbal spells. To speak plainly, the number of you in this room who have mastered this... well, we shall be fortunate if even two of you manage it by the end of today."
His gun-barrel-like eyes now locked onto Draco and me. Putting myself aside—it seemed Draco had been thoroughly found out this time too. Special training in non-verbal spells from the very first day of class was certainly intense.
We split into pairs and began the practical exercise. Harry was with Ron, and Hermione paired up with Neville. That being the case, my partner was, unsurprisingly—the boy in the different-colored robes, standing there with unhurried composure. Since we had distanced ourselves from each other last year, the eyes of those around us pierced us with overflowing curiosity. Pansy's glaring lasers, in particular, intensified as if her beloved had been stolen from her.
"Er... go easy on me?"
"Will you do the same?"
We naturally fell into exchanging casual banter as we pointed our wands at each other. I thought I was long used to pointing my wand at Malfoy, but—somehow, my throat felt parched, making it hard to swallow.
—Orchideous.
With a soft pop, flowers bloomed profusely in his translucent blonde hair. I heard someone snort with laughter nearby. Draco was dumbfounded. Standing there in a daze, petals scattered in his blonde hair, he looked like a fairytale princess, further enhanced by his androgynous features.
"...Maria, this isn't a game."
"Of course it isn't. —If those were poisonous flowers, you'd be dead from the pollen by now, you know?"
Silence—the snickering that had spread at Draco's adorable appearance instantly vanished.
"—I see."
Next, Draco flicked his wand. Something swiftly wrapped around my head. Touching it, I found that a black string, identical to the ribbon tying Draco's hair, had been tied into a bow on top of my head.
"...This isn't a game, right?"
"If I change the target, I could strangle you. Consider it an adequate payback."
"...Oh, really."
Adorned with flowers and wearing a headband respectively, we glared at each other in our ridiculous states. It was a comfortable tension. This was exactly how Malfoy and I had to be.
Now, how should I deal with him next? —Just as we crossed our wands once more...
"—That is enough."
Our focus was broken by a greasy, drawling voice. Professor Snape was watching us with expressionless eyes.
"The successful ones are Granger, Miss Potter, and Malfoy. ...Hmph. It seems we have one more than expected, which is well. I suggest the rest of you emulate them, lest you yield a result that disappoints me... let us hope."
The bell rang. Students surged out of the room. I looked at Professor Snape. Professor Snape was looking at Draco. —He was looking at Draco, as if to escape my gaze.
"Maria."
I was cornered in the corridor by Draco, who, since the start of this year, seemed to have completely lost the desire to keep up the facade of the Slytherin-Gryffindor feud. Hermione had dragged Harry away. Our brilliant witch, always so tactful, was truly the best.
Draco was alone. It seemed he had also managed to shake off his clingy shadow, Pansy Parkinson.
"About the next class..."
"Yeah. We have it together, right? Slughorn's Potions."
I walked alongside Draco. It had been nearly a year since we last walked the corridors of Hogwarts together like this. The atmosphere felt somehow ticklish, so I deliberately altered my stride to be out of sync with his.
"I didn't notice last year because we were avoiding eye contact, but was Pansy always clinging to you like that? Don't tell me you two are dating."
"Don't be absurd. After confessing to you, Maria, that would be... improper."
"For your reputation?"
"For my reputation, too."
We chuckled together. Our light footsteps matched the addictive, venom-laced banter. His translucent hair and eyes, and those obnoxious robes were right beside me. And it was so incredibly comfortable.
Finally, I could feel that the natural distance between us had returned. —This was the distance between Draco and "Maria".
"But, hey—when we were truly this age, weren't you dating Pansy?"
"......I forgot."
"Wow, that's terrible."
As I laughed aloud, my shoulders shaking, Draco looked at me with a somewhat mischievous glint in his eye.
"Why do you care about that?"
"Huh?"
"Why—are you so curious about my relationship with Pansy?"
"......"
—A pause. It was the kind of pause that felt like I shouldn't try to understand it. I felt as though a name I shouldn't peek at was hidden within it.
"—Why is that, Maria?"
Draco whispered.
"—B-because... obviously, because I feel sorry for Astoria!"
I whacked his face—which was closer than I thought—with a random textbook I was holding. Draco let out a pathetic groan. It sounded so goofy, completely unimaginable for his usual self, that I couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"You—you—just now—Pfft, haha...!"
"......Maria."
"N-no, stop, pfft, wait, don't look at me right now."
"Shall I use another non-verbal spell to give you a fabulous new look? Next time, I'll add that skirt you love so much."
"Ah—I said I'm sorry, pfft, haha."
Draco, with a red nose and forehead, threatened me. I giggled merrily while dodging his hands as he tried to strangle me. It was so childish. Goofing off like this—we truly seemed like the closest of best friends.
"You're relentless, Draco. We're going to be late at this rate."
With my cheeks still feeling stretched from smiling, I grabbed Draco's hand. We dashed toward the dungeons. The red and green robes fluttered as if overlapping.
A girl was watching.
—A girl was watching with a face that looked like she was about to cry.
In Slughorn's class, Hermione was the very first to be recognized as a favorite. Naturally. Hermione was the brightest witch in our year. There was no way our pride and joy of a best friend wouldn't meet the standards of Slughorn, a collector of connections and talent.
And Harry, "The Boy Who Lived" and "The Chosen One," who had been targeted from the very beginning—
"—Excellent! Harry, you are the undisputed winner!"
Slughorn cheered as he peered into Harry's cauldron. Inside shimmered a flawless Draught of Living Death, something not even Hermione had managed to brew perfectly. The Half-Blood Prince—Professor Snape's old textbook had undoubtedly found its way into Harry's hands. —Or rather...
"Maria, you really should have looked at this book, too."
I secretly smiled back at Harry as he whispered to me. I was the one who had handed Professor Snape's book to Harry. I felt bad for Hermione, but I needed him to get even further into Slughorn's good graces.
"Now, let us see, how did your sibling fare—hmm, I see. Well, nevertheless, yes... it seems Lily's talent was passed down to Harry."
Slughorn smiled as he looked at the contents of my cauldron, right next to Harry's. He couldn't quite hide his disappointment. ...I appreciate the sentiment, but please don't snap at him so much, Harry.
"Hmm, yes, the most promising ones appear to be Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy. No, of course, I have high expectations for all of you. Especially—Harry! Following his example, please show me your talents."
The man with the vastly protruding belly and walrus mustache cheerfully handed a small vial to Harry.
The golden drops—Felix Felicis—had once again become Harry's.
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