I often get jeering looks in the common room, library, classes - everywhere. Not just that, however, and it could reach in an extent where they'd howl insults over my way, like I'm the butt of the joke. And by 'they' I mean Slytherin, the very House I was sorted into four years ago.
Draco Malfoy, being a pureblood, seemed to me that he was some sort of deity, a pedestal person, the face of the House (like in a boyband and whatnot,). He's got his head far up in his own ass, he'd let Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle kiss it and his overlarge forehead - I mean, ego. Anyhow, what's the difference? He's got a big head...literally and figuratively speaking.
Carried away by some kind of pureblood privileges and social status, he'd allow himself to prey on anyone he'd like. As long as your veins are coursing magically concentrated blood with its DNA revealing that you're a pureblood, then he'd steer clear. Though, Muggle-borns and half-bloods are not the only one he'd size up on. Chances are he'd bully kids that had no fight in them, or kids who'd dare to steal his precious limelight as Lucius Malfoy's unica hijo.
Like Neville Longbottom.
Neville belonged in the first category, where Malfoy would step him over and snuff what's left of his confidence out.
He's not a half-blood, nor a Muggle-born, but a pureblood. He had always been, well, slow and forgetful. Malfoy took advantage of the Gryffindor kid and exploited his weaknesses.
That's where I stepped in four years ago. Boy, you'd best believe the looks on their faces. There were faint chatters around like, 'Shameful Slytherin pureblood standing up for a cowardly Gryffindor! A weakling!' , 'A black sheep, no less'. I rolled my eyes hard at how overrated the whole trope was. You can't blame me, maybe it was because they demonized being progressive-thinkers. If pop culture existed in the wizarding world with the 'bully versus victim' crap, they'd eat it right up.
So, they thought as if I was on an Imperius curse for shits and giggles because it was indistinctly Slytherin of me to be the best of friends with Neville Longbottom next to Dean, Seamus, Angelina, Katie, and the Weasley twins. In attempts to shuck me off from Neville, they'd give me a look and tell me, 'Are you two dating? He's definitely out of your league. You can't stoop that low!' So, I'd go ahead and shrug, 'You're giving ideas in my head that you'll probably regret.' Since then, they had clamped their mouths shut by the prospect of us dating, like a war would break out if they did so dare. Malfoy didn't, though, which was harmless because that didn't stop me from hanging with Neville - and that made him royally pissed.
One evening, just right after the ceremony when the Goblet of Fire sat taut as it spew papers with its names of the champions who would participate in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Malfoy was pissed after Harry Potter's name came up. He retreated in the common room with a face so flushed out of anger, you could grill marshmallows with it. The next day, he and his mutts for sidekicks went on and cornered on Neville, most likely to take it out on him (no doubt, the Care for Magical Creatures class had been the last straw when we were supposed to nurse after Blast-Ended Skrewts.)
"Oi! Three of you!" I hooted, rushing up to Neville while he held a very apprehensive look. I took his hand, just for the convenience of pissing off Draco Malfoy even more. He huffed and puffed, and apparently, his hulking friends shot me a look of disgust and amusement.
"What?" he said, though not quite asking, but as an expression of his utmost disgust. "You'd stick up for this little, cowering fry? -"
I shrugged dismissively, clutching harder on Neville's wrist to reassure him. "Do you ever shut the fuck up, though?"
A round of laughter smattered around the kids coming closer to hear the whole...stunt. Neville's cheek flushed redder, you could mistake him for a tomato, and I could feel his palms getting clammier.
Malfoy broke out a nasty grin, "You'd always been the black sheep; you being a Slytherin had been one bloody mistake - include Longbottom, here, if it was optional for the Sorting Hat to have sorted him into a House for stupid, cowardly, pathetic excuses for purebloods."
I shot him an awed expression, "Woah, pipe down, young man!" I sniggered. "Cut yourself some slack, Draco. I mean -" I promptly chuckled at the three of them, now looking incredulous as they watched me. "I mean, you don't have to tell us what we already know about you."
Using the first-name basis created an effect on Malfoy. As if it had burnt him on his skin. Instead of mocking laughter around the audience, there were 'ooh's instead. I treaded on:
"Don't tell me that being an insecure flobberworm makes you distinctively a Slytherin? If that's what the Sorting Hat saw through you four years ago, then you know who you are, Draco Malfoy."
His blue, icy orbs darkened like an oncoming tempest, and both Crabbe and Goyle was about to pounce on me too. The crowd looked as though it wanted to dissipate from the awkward silence hanging in the air, but they were watching us closely. Malfoy's guard dogs were quick enough to follow up before it got boring with a, "What did you say?"
"Oh!" I exclaimed, feigning a look of innocent realization, "Don't tell me both of you have lost your proper hearing from Draco's constant whining?-"
"Enough," he teetered a warning, hiding a set of gritting teeth. "Anymore of those rubbish coming from your mouth..." he trailed off, obviously composing himself from bursting due to my unrelenting smirk. "You know how this works,".
I yawned loudly, "Yadda, yadda, yadda. How is everyone here all big on talk? Jesus Christ, cut me some goddamn slack! Two parchment rolls of-" I scratched my head in irritation, recalling my homework, "-fuckin' goblin rebellions essay, and now this?" I winced, looking over Neville who still had that frightful look, though he looked like he was about to burst out laughing. "Drop this shit, seriously, you're all boring. And I'm tired." I grumbled exhaustively at them, while the crowd gave me a bewildered look.
I slung my arm around Neville's shoulders protectively, and another round of whispers broke out. I looked at the three of them with an irritated look, wading my way towards them along Neville. "My best friend cannot be trifled with. During - or otherwise - on my watch." As they attempted to make way for both of us, I paused, jabbing a finger to Draco Malfoy, "Eat shit, Draco."
As soon as we had our backs at them, there was a newfound spring in every step I take. And for the first time, Neville spoke up.
"Thank you for pulling me out," he told me, and I felt its sincerity. I smiled without bothering to look at him.
"That was nothing -"
"He called you a black sheep!" he said as if he was more insulted than I was.
"That was nothing -"
"Even if that meant being best friends with a Gryffindor? Me? A-A cowardly fry?" It was his turn to replicate the look of bewilderment on Malfoy's face.
"'Cowering fry', but close enough." I corrected, though I cringed inwardly, "I don't get how they find it blasphemous to - Neville, don't chew on what's left of your fingernails - to befriend Gryffindor kids. I mean - seriously Neville, that's disgusting - whatever beef the Houses had before, it doesn't concern me. So what if I'm the black sheep in Slytherin? If their feelings are hurt, that's on them -" and not long after, I felt him shuffle around my arm as he let out this weird whine. I panicked, "I - oh my God, Nev, crying? Stop crying! -"
And he still did, all the while hugging me taut. Then he wailed mirthfully, "I don't know what I'd do without you!"
I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, though the ceiling is goddamned high, you couldn't see it. "You'll live, dumbass." I shrugged dismissively in hopes to get him to lighten up his reactions. "Oh brother, I don't know what I'd do without you either. Herbology sucks for me."
He gave me a look, as if I nicked a nerve out of him. "Herbology is fun!"
I sighed, "You sound like a youth preacher saying Jesus Christ is cool because He died for our sins."
"How is that so?" he asked.
"It's bullshit. Herbology only works for you because you're good."
"Hey!" he exclaimed, offended, "I could say the same for Potions!"
I mimicked his gaping expression, feigning a gasp, "How dare you? What will Professor Severus Snape have to say about your distaste for Potions?"
"What indeed."
Though the voice didn't come from Neville. A slight panic hitched in my ribs as we turned around, and there we saw our Potions teacher. Neville was at loss for words, and he made an unmistakably tiny squeak under his breath.
Just when I thought the trouble was over.
*Bonus part
I heaved a breathy exhale in frustration, all the while scrubbing the soot from the empty cauldron at hand. "It's a game of speculation and what-ifs despite the ugly downsides, Nev. You don't have to necessarily ponder how it should happen. Alright, I'll run you in on it one more time; fuck, marry, kill: Mad-Eye Moody, Professor Snape, or Professor Trelawney."
"How is this even a game?" he cried, scrubbing harder on the cauldron he has at hand. "I guess I would have to, um, kill Professor Moody - can I kill both Professor Moody and Snape?"
"No! One option for each people, that's one of the rules!"
"It's hard!" he hummed thoughtfully, "I reckon it's riskier, so I would have to kill Professor Moody. Then, I'll shag, um, Professor Snape. Lastly, I'll marry Professor Trelawney?" he muttered reluctantly. I chortled at him, and asked why. He says, "It's impossible to marry, let alone have sex with Professor Moody!" then he mimicked his rasping voice as he boomed: "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" I laughed outright, and he continued with his normal voice, "And-and I'd rather shag Professor Snape for a spell and get over it. A marriage would be ugly with Professor Trelawney, of course, but I'd rather get my death foretold than be with Professor Snape."
I nudged him half-heartedly, chuckling and shaking my head all the while. "I'd marry Professor Snape, you know? Guy probably never had someone to settle down with. That crusty old man would likely stop terrorizing kids if he'd have someone in his life to mellow him out." I took a cursory glance at the other fiftysome unclean cauldrons, stacked and sprawled messily on the table. Then I tried convincing myself that I'm not starting to get hungry. "Imagine if you did marry him, though."
A faint shuffle was heard nearby the doorway. It was only Professor Snape, levitating what seemed to be seven more cauldrons, and laid - no, dropped it - square on the table with a loud clang when it made contact with the other cauldrons. Of course, we jumped with our stomachs tied in nasty knots out of the nerves we felt. Our eyes goggled at him in shock, wondering how much he had heard.
"Interesting discussion," Professor Snape curled his lips upwards, though not quite indicating his pleasure upon hearing it, but the amusement on his face was apparent. "I reckon you both had a good laugh with your games concerning your professors?"