19. lists, slytherins and insatiable needs

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"So, Jackson?"

Hermione pauses in turning the page of her book at the name. A hush settles around the table they have occupied in the library.

"Super gorgeous," Ginny comments, casual as one could be with her feet on the table and the librarian's side eye.

Hermione blushes as she remembers the ongoing topic. It was of course ranking their peers on their fuckability.

"Oh yeah, she has that," Parvati gestures in a circular motion. "that air around her."

"Everybody wants to be me or be with me air," Padma interprets it for her, earning finger guns.

"But also like a very chill vibe," Hannah adds. "It makes her more approachable."

"But is she even into girls or boys?"

"You saw that haircut, right?"

"That's so hot."

"That mysterious act," the youngest redhead says with a raised finger like it was the ultimatum.

"She isn't so mysterious," Parvati disagrees. "She's just new."

"She's been here for a week now. What do you know about her, Patil?"

The twins ponder over it. "Not much," they agree. At this point, the efficient gossip mongers of Hogwarts should have uncovered her history but they don't even know her middle name.

"Yes," she is quietly triumphant. "And that really ups the scale."

Hermione is yet again surprised at the actual graphs they have drawn.

"But not by much," Padma argues. "We don't know if she's actually mysterious or just shy."

"Yeah, Harry was just shy."

"And that raises the scale more because it made him more adorable."

"What, Ginny, you'll be ready to fuck her over Goldstein?"

"Absolutely." She turns to her friend for support. "Luna, back me up here."

"I think she is a hundred percent fuckable and beautiful but the blibbering humdingers say that she'll be very choosy about it but will be extremely good." She returns to stare at the floating candles.

"Blibbering humdingers?" Hermione echoes, disbelieving as well as disapproving. "Now what in merlin's name is that?"

Ginny interrupts the blonde, "See, Luna agrees and the humdingers too."

"You're taking imaginary creatures to defend you now, Gin?"

"Well, I'll appreciate your point too, Hermione."

Her dark cheeks blooms in colour. "I'm not being a part of this."

"C'mon 'Mione, you don't have to say if you'll fuck her just you know, if others will?"

"What Padma says is that it's all in good fun."

Hermione huffs at Ginny. "I don't see how reducing someone to their physical features is fun." She stacks her books and turns up her nose at them. "Now, I'm going to study and be productive. See you at dinner."

"Taste the rainbow,"

Parvati scribbles a #1 on the parchment, right next to the latest addition to the Fifth Years. Hermione returns to retrieve a book and is again stopped by their conversation.

"Too bad she's a Slytherin,"

"So?"

"Ginny, she's a Slytherin," the witch reiterates Parvati's statement though with much more emphasis on their confidential shared knowledge.

"So what? She's still nice," Hannah asks, confused.

"For now," Padma scoffs. "Who knows what she'll be like after the slimy snakes' initiation ceremony?"

"She's been there for a week, you think they wouldn't have changed her by now?"

"Ginny, why're you set on defending her?"

The redhead reflects the same exasperation. "Because 'Mione, she was extremely nice with us despite everything!"

"And she still got sorted into Slytherin!" She throws her hands up in the air.

Ginny pauses in her argument at that.

"Maybe," Luna pipes in, "Slytherins are so unpleasant because we say so. Dad tells me that a thing becomes what we say to it."

"They're not naive children Luna. They're not people swayed by others' opinions."

"Three-fourths of the school's against them," Hannah comments as a matter of fact.

"That's their fault alone." Ginny says.

"Is it?" Hermione shares Luna's question.

"No," Padma concludes, cool and nonchalant. "Now, you girls wanna talk about things we shouldn't know, go somewhere else."

"No," Hermione shakes her head and Ginny rolls her eyes. "It's just she's a Slytherin," she trails off in her own uncertain thoughts.

"Whatever,"

"She wins this week,"

"And next week too,"

"We'll see that next week,"

"Seeing that she doesn't turn evil,"

"Or run away from all of us,"

"Good point Luna."

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The Slytherin Common Room easily becomes one of her favourite spots in the magical school, second only to the Black Lake. It was a magnificent room in its space and warmth. Generously supplied with couches and fireplaces, it made the perfect lounge area.

The room was a culmination of a variety of activities and people united by the green insignia stitched onto their robes. For all that was said outside their walls, the snakes stick close to each other. They had made a system for themselves that ensured their safety in the castle as well as an environment for their development.

Percy had not been present for the customary speeches by the Head of the House and the Prefect. So, she had been relayed the key points of it later by the first years. The House had sounded well organised with monthly visits of the Head and the Prefects chosen through mutual agreement.

It was informed that any queries could be cleared with them. Still, Percy thought that one of the elected duo was weirdly unapproachable. A rare thought among the new comers who were distracted by Pansy Parkinson's puzzling character.

Pansy was a not much of paradox but a pureblood with mismatched character traits. She was efficient as a Prefect, amicable enough to help and often absolute in her instructions.

Yet, her compassion had its boundaries. Only the Slytherin house to be specific. Sometimes, there were exceptions within the house as well. This confused the first years greatly until they witnessed Pansy's morbid form of entertainment. Not only was it enlightening but served as a warning as well.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was again not quite a paradox but still made some ponder. The reasons varied of course but the most talked topic was his unexplained sudden change in nature.

If one were to regale the newcomers that he was once a monumental prat at the forefront of demeaning other students, they would ask them if they were speaking of the same student. Their Prefect was a quiet student, rather reserved and aloof. More of a dark cloud passing by than a person.

The arrangement was such that Parkinson handled the students and Malfoy dealt with the school officials. It worked and it's efficiency deterred any questions that may arise on the latter's lack of interaction.

Such abnormalities creeps in her mind when she's left alone in her assigned room where the glowing creatures of the Lake swim in her thoughts as well. It was serene, similar in many ways to the weeks spent in Atlantis post war.  She was unconscious for the most of her stay but she could remember the calls of a multitude of creatures around her and the occasional trauma showing itself.

She had been ready to avoid the Common Room at the sight of her cozy room. Yet, after a night of being compelled to stay there by the first years, that was changed.

The Common Room served well for entertainment and to get the recent drama and the answers to her homework. The air swirled with an insatiable need. A wanting of many aspects from wanting to stay at the top of the class to getting the girl to winning the House Cup to assassinating the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Soon, Percy will be pulled in it as well.

20. lovely guests with questionable tastes & annoying potions partners

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Draco didn't think much of his potions partner. Pity perhaps. Other than that, he didn't exhaust himself attempting to convince himself that she is more than she seems like his peers. A brief glimpse is what he chose to partake in and that's that. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

She is pretty or even handsome, depending on the perceiver. Both can be applicable. He might have been tempted to look again if not for the persistent fog surrounding him. Even through the haze, he is able to gather she's annoying. She hasn't been intentionally orchestrating any grand scheme to get on his nerves but she did get on his nerves nonetheless.

Everything did, if he were to be honest. His sixteenth has turned out to be a fucking phenomenal year. By salazar, it has been certainly exquisite with the latest additions to the manor. Though he had convinced himself long ago that Father was the sole connoisseur in all of Europe, he was proved wrong.

This particular argument that was once again artfully made to take place without the need for words nor cold looks favored Mother. His dear soft spoken Mother had won it with her absurd talk of fine things finding its way to one in life. Abiding her theory, life had sent the lovely dark wizard of the times to his house.

The replacements to the existing art pieces followed him soon and so he assumed the throne as the greatest connoisseur of art as well as the literal throne of bones he had conjured. A gaudy choice if you were to ask Draco under veritaserum. Without its application, he'll unabashedly proclaim that such art could never be replicated.

The mounds of bones by hallways leading to the dungeons with generous streaks of blood added character to the previously pristine marble floors. The smoke that hung around after arbitrary and sometimes purposeful fires was a refreshing change to Mother's floral candles.

He wipes at his nose at present, the distance away from the manor did little to aid him in shaking off the burning smell. The fire blazes in his mind with no foreseeable end to it. There's an inquiring noise to his side.

Percy Jackson stands with chopped aloe cradled in her hand. Right, the pestering partner who popularly preferred a nickname rather than her given name. He gets the aloe with care, persuaded by her particularly cautious nature. She hasn't had a chance to correct him though. He's had no reason to call her by her name.

He leaves edelweiss flowers on the wooden board, then two sharp taps on it to get her attention. That proves to be adequate. She twirls the knife and he barely withholds a snort. Show off. She wasn't awful by any means. In fact, she was quiet and was efficient with a knife. He could tolerate her existence—

The knife striking the board twice interrupts his thoughts. It isn't that loud but their proximity makes the action unbearable. His trickling thoughts about her tolerable existence slipped down the gutter. The very reason for it had an impatient eyebrow raised, a haphazardly held knife gesturing to the flowers.

For such a highly acclaimed institution, Ivermeny proves to be utterly useless in educating its students of the most rudimentary things time and again. She purses her lips at him, another eyebrow joining her raised one to appear mildly pissed off. He shrugs, unapologetic and that leads her to stab the knife into the board.

It's his turn to raise his eyebrow then, mocking her overreaction. She scoffs, placing a single flower in front of him. She makes a show of stepping away, brandishing a hand for him to step in. Your superior talents are in need for a demonstration, she seems to say.

He sighs. A put upon exhale to show his disappointment at undertaking such a strenuous task. He picks up the knife, swiftly performing a silencing spell on himself when he finds the blade hard to retrieve. His grunt is concealed owing to the wordless, wandless charm when he manages to pull it out.

Fortunately, Jackson is distracted by a plume of smoke raising from Finnigan's table. Although in this instance, it is much appreciated, she has a tendency to lose focus easily. That is the last thing desired when there is a burning cauldron in front of them.

She shifts her gaze to him at his harrumph. Piercing dark eyes catching him off guard. That ranked top in his 'list of things that made Jackson the most annoying witch known to mankind'. Her fierce, intruding gaze that made goosebumps race across his skin. The protective mental barriers that rose in response to it never failed to give him a headache and keep him on his toes every time a teacher sent for him the following week.

He fears that it'll drive him to his end and he will have to resort to actually maintaining a physical list. He averts his own eyes to the board, trusting on his precision gained with practice to split the stems of few flowers. It is more than required and she frowns at his unusual act of putting in extra effort.

The frown deepens as he abandons it to get back to the bubbling cauldron. She makes quick work of it and unfortunately for him, it meant that she'll hover over his shoulder to observe the potion.

He gives her a sharp look. It doesn't faze her at all. Merely shrugging, she points to the flowers and the potion, now kept on simmer. He glances at the textbook even though he knows the procedure by heart. It had neglected necessary instructions to lower the heat.

He allows a single nod to appreciate her. He acknowledged her acute understanding of potion making. It has assisted them in brewing perfect potions every single time since the beginning of the year. Though he had sought for such recognition before, he didn't quite know what to do with it now that he had acquired it. Especially when he had understood there was no use to it.

The flowers join the concoction and it turns to a lovely yellow shade that makes his lips tilt upward.

Jackson's eyes widen in amazement. She smiles her not quite smile, possibly unaware of its existence at all. She turns to him to hold up a fist to him.

Draco stares at it. His eyebrow raises in question.

She huffs, slackening her fist to hold up her palm facing him instead.

He shifts his focus to gather a vial of their potion with a shake of his head. He'll not be caught dead participating in such preposterous muggle interactions.

Another huff is heard and he hears her quill scratching as she writes down notes in her textbook. A brief peek at it reveals the archaic script that he marginally understands. It had taken him no less than three classes to comprehend it as greek.

She doesn't bother with telling him off. Stepping closer to the cauldron, she inspects it with an intensity as if observing the very atoms of the potions. She does that too all the time along with being awed at the most basic potions.

He clears his throat, gesturing for her to back off when she looks at him. You'll burn to a crisp if you step any closer.

As if, she retorts with a lopsided smile. As if this will kill me.

He rolls his eyes, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Curiosity killed the cat," it slips out as she steps closer. Her need to prove someone wrong is going to get her killed.

She doesn't pause, leaning against the counter to retort, "And satisfaction brought it back."