分卷阅读65（2 / 2）

“Oi! Malfoy!”

Draco turned slightly to look at the seventh year Slytherin that had called his name down the Slytherin table, interrupting Crabbe’s explanation of how they’d chucked the first year (stunned and growing fingernails in strange places) into a tickle-me-silly-rose-bush. All conversation stopped as he locked gazes with the other boy.

“When you’re done with Potter tonight, why don’t you come down to the seventh year dorms!”

Across the hall at the Gryffindor table, Harry stood abruptly, looking murderous. And if looks could kill, the seventh year would have died purely from the look Snape sent at him from the staff table.

Draco however, stared at the boy unblinking. In a cocky salute, the boy lifted his goblet in a toast to Draco. Draco blinked. The goblet shattered, pumpkin juice flying everywhere, the sharp pieces of the cup attempting to embed themselves in the soft flesh of his face and neck.

“I don’t think you could keep up with me.” Draco’s calm voice seemed to echo down the Slytherin table, just loud enough so that the now-bleeding boy could hear the words, but not the rest of the hall.

“Mr. Goldstien.” Snape’s voice promised many unpleasant things as he appeared at the Slytherin’s elbow. “We need to discuss your code of behavior. In my office. Now. Apparently, a three day suspension was not enough to curb your rule breaking streak.” Snape looked down the table at the other Slytherins, his eyes stopping at every one that had just returned that day from the suspension. “Does anyone share Mr. Goldstien’s sentiments? I’m sure he would be happy to have your company.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Snape talk to Slytherins that way!” Ron whistled in appreciation. “I mean, he’s still a greasy git, but that was really something!”

Hermione hid a smile behind her book at Ron admiring Snape. Harry though, looked as if he almost didn’t hear Ron, staring into the fireplace that lit the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione frowned as she looked at his sullen eyes which flickered in the firelight.

“Harry?” He looked up as if he had nothing better to do at that moment other than stare into the flames. “Are you feeling alright?”

“He’s just as shocked as I am that Snape started beating on Slytherins!” Ron broke in cheerfully and Harry nodded to his friend’s statement, a false smile on his lips.

“Are you thinking about the funeral?” Hermione saw through his smile instantly.

“No. I’m not.” And he wasn’t.

“If I were him, I’d be thinking about the trial, “Mione,” Ron interjected before Hermione could continue questioning Harry.

“What do you mean? Malfoy’s dad left everything to him, so all he has to do is prove that and he gets his inheritance,” Hermione pointed out logically.

“The only one I can think of who could bring Malfoy’s inheritance into question is his mother. That won’t work against his own mother, Hermione. And she’s got Malfoy’s age on her side, too.” He leaned in eagerly as he came to his conclusion. “Before, Malfoy’s dad used to sway the Ministry purely with money. But Malfoy doesn’t have all that money right now, since that’s what they’re going to court about!”

Hermione looked stunned. Ron had obviously done some serious thinking on the situation. Harry, looking back at the fireplace, commented on how Ron seemed to have thought the entire scenario through.

“Well,” Ron looked sheepish. “I told Malfoy he was eventually going to get what was coming to him and, no offence Harry, but I think this is when he’s finally going to get it.”

“None taken.” Harry managed a smile at his friend. “But,” he thought as he turned their conversation to other topics, “I’m going to help make sure that won’t happen.”