“What if she makes me get up in front of the class and… and act, or something?” Rose asked them rather anxiously, wringing her hands. Drew rolled his eyes.
“Because God forbid that you should have to act at a drama club, right?”
“Shut up. She’s already singled me out once before, you know…”
“Rose,” Drew said, grasping her shoulders and shaking her none too lightly. “Relax. It’s a club. You know, one of the things people join for recreational purposes?”
Rose just scowled back at him and started to wind a strand of hair around her finger, watching sullenly as her fingertip began to turn purple. Drew sighed and turned away. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose could see that a fairly large crowd had gathered in the corridor, and thought spitefully that a large percentage of them must be failing Muggle Studies. After all, why else would they waste their Saturday afternoon here?
“Hey, Rose!”
She looked up to see Lily’s brother, Albus, winding his way through the throng of people in her direction. Though his face was slightly fuller and his nose a little more snub than his father’s, Albus still looked remarkably like him - something he had always resented. Rose thought she knew exactly how he felt sometimes. She shared her mother’s almond-shaped eyes and bow mouth, but her scarlet hair would always mark her out as a Weasley.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Albus commented, drawing up beside her and pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.
“I was blackmailed,” Rose told him dourly.
“Ah.” Albus flashed a grin at her, one eyebrow raised. Rose scowled harder.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Raise one eyebrow. I’ve never worked out how to do it.”
Albus laughed, and Rose was about to hit him, when Professor Cassio suddenly appeared in the doorway of her classroom. She was wearing lime-green robes and an almost-pleasant expression.
“Good afternoon,” she said, her eyes raking the crowd. “Please come in.”
They trooped into the classroom, Professor Cassio in the lead, and stood for a moment, blinking at the change in the room. The usual cluster of desks was now stacked against the walls; without them, the room seemed much larger. Dust motes swam around the empty space, creating swirling patterns in the air; a ring of straight-backed chairs stood before them.
“Take a seat, everyone,” called Professor Cassio, making shoo-ing gestures with her hands. Rose found a chair between Drew and Albus; she flicked her fringe over her face self-consciously.
“Now, before we begin, I would like you all to put your wands away, please,” the professor announced, ignoring the mutterings that immediately swept the room at the statement. “I feel that there is no need for them here.”
Rose stowed her wand obediently in her bag, reluctant but unsurprised. What had the others expected, anyway? That they would be doing wandwork onstage? Still, Rose felt strangely incomplete without the familiar birch-and-phoenix-feather implement sitting comfortably in her hand “ it was almost as if she had suddenly found herself without any clothes on.
When she was certain that all wands had been put away, Professor Cassio instructed the drama class to divide into pairs. She explained that she would give every pair a slip of parchment with an emotion written on it; partners were supposed to take turns moulding each other into a position that portrayed this feeling. Rose, who frankly thought that this was a bit of a pointless exercise, turned to Drew with a long-suffering sigh.
“It says awkward,” Drew said, narrowing his eyes at their piece of parchment whilst navigating Rose into an empty space. “Is that even an emotion?”
“Just… have a go.”
“Why do you get to be shaped first?”
“Fine, I’ll do you instead.”
Satisfied, Drew let his joints relax, visibly drooping as the parchment fell from his fingers and fluttered to the floor. Rose stood back and thought for a moment, letting inspiration flow into her.
A few minutes later, she took a step backwards to admire her handiwork and allowed herself a proud smile. Drew’s hands were fisted in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched self-consciously; his knees were slightly bent and, though there was an expression of barely-controlled amusement on his face, he looked as though he was curling in on himself. Awkward.
“Good, Miss Weasley, Mr Fitzgerald.”
Rose spun around: Professor Cassio was standing behind her. There was a shrewd expression on her pointed face, and a sense of foreboding began to manifest itself in the pit of Rose’s stomach.
“Thanks,” Drew replied, straightening up and stretching. Professor Cassio nodded in his direction before sweeping away, robes swirling around her and giving her the appearance of an elegant green bird.
“I told you,” Rose hissed, slackening her limbs obediently for Drew to sculpt her. “I told you that she’d single me out, didn’t I?!”
“Right,” Drew replied absently, starting to mould Rose as though she were simply a piece of clay. Rose rolled her eyes at him and settled for watching Lily bound around a very alarmed-looking Jack Thomas. She was stretching his arms above his head at what looked like an extremely uncomfortable angle.
A moment later, Rose heard a yelp of pain and then Professor Cassio’s voice calling, “Miss Potter, please be more careful with Mr Thomas!”
“Well, that was… interesting,” Rose remarked, tumbling out of the classroom at five o’clock. Her mind was on her dinner; she hoped that there would be dessert.
“You hated it, didn’t you?” Drew looked half-exasperated, half-amused.
“Well, hate’s a bit of a strong word…”
“Miss Weasley?”
They both turned to see Professor Cassio poke her head out of the classroom door. “Could I have a word, please?”
Rose glanced at Drew in alarm; he just shrugged and gave her a push in their professor’s direction. Inwardly groaning, she stepped back into the classroom.
Professor Cassio had already restored the room to its usual state. She was seated behind her desk, drumming a tattoo onto the tabletop with her fingers; a copy of Romeo and Juliet was lying open before her.
“Ah, Miss Weasley,” she said, looking up. Nothing about her expression hinted at what this meeting could possibly be about. “Sit, please.”
Rose sat.
“I noticed that you didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself today,” continued Professor Cassio, shutting the book with a severe snap. Rose flinched. Was she in trouble? She racked her mind for something that she might have done to provoke her teacher’s wrath, but came up with nothing. Could she have committed some crime that she herself hadn’t even been aware of? It was only when this disturbing thought occurred to her that she realised Professor Cassio was waiting silently, clearly expecting an explanation.
“I’m just a bit… self-conscious,” Rose admitted, resuming her study of the backs of her hands.
Professor Cassio sighed quietly. “A shame, because you show some promise, Rose.” At this, Rose looked up, surprised. “I believe that, with practice, you could make a fine actress.”
“Professor, I…”
“It’s just something to think about.” Professor Cassio gave her the barest hint of a smile and re-opened Romeo and Juliet. “You may go.”
Feeling immensely confused and about two inches tall, Rose stood up slowly and walked to the door with an awkward “bye.” Outside, Drew was nowhere to be seen. She rolled her eyes, grumbling to herself, and started making her way to the Great Hall.
What had Professor Cassio meant when she had said it was “something to think about”? Rose had never given much thought to what her strengths were; she had merely grown used to the fact that she would do well in everything, rather like her mother. That was what everyone seemed to expect of her, anyway. Did this mean that she should be considering her talents outside of academics as well? Rose couldn’t think clearly: obviously she needed to talk to Drew about all of this…
“Oof!”
There was a muffled crash as she collided with something large, solid and alive, sending her bag - and everything in it - skidding across the floor. Ink was starting to seep through the fabric of the bag, bleeding black, red and blue across brown.
“Oh, I’m so sorry - I should have been looking to see where I was going…” By this time, Rose had already gathered up her books and was siphoning away the ink from her bag. She glanced up to see who it was she had crashed into, and smothered a gasp as her brown eyes met with steely grey.
“Malfoy?” She stepped smartly backwards, as if scalded. Scorpius Malfoy was smirking down at her in his usual manner, holding out Romeo and Juliet.
“I believe this belongs to you,” he said lazily, dropping the book into Rose’s outstretched hands before adding a contemptuous “Weasley.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. She had never had much to do with Scorpius, preferring to stay out of trouble’s way. Of course, they had exchanged the odd insults in the corridors, but the name ‘Malfoy’ no longer commanded the respect that it once had. Rose didn’t feel threatened by him in the slightest.
“That would be correct,” she retorted, stuffing the book into her bag and turning on her heel, nose thrust into the air.
“You’re welcome!” came the reply from behind her, along with some unpleasant laughter. Rose could feel her ears turning an unattractive shade of red. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to thank him now.
When she finally reached the Great Hall, Rose was feeling rather unfavourable towards the world after five minutes or so of dark brooding. She sat down next to Drew with an angry sigh and instantly fixed him with a glare that would have done her mother proud.
“You could have waited.”
“Actually,” Drew said, sipping his pumpkin juice nonchalantly, “I couldn’t have. Chortle came along and threatened me with scrubbing the dungeons if I didn’t move along.”
Cerberus Chortle was the Hogwarts caretaker and, contrary to his surname, was a rather unpleasant man who walked with a limp and had several warts adorning his aquiline nose.
“Anyway, I thought that you would be able to make it here on your own,” Drew continued, raising one eyebrow (something which only served to irritate Rose further). “Apparently not.”
“Well, I would have been fine, if I hadn’t crashed into” “ here, Rose paused dramatically - “him.” She gestured vaguely towards the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was sitting with his long-nosed friend, Lucian Nott.
“Who - Malfoy?”
“Yes, but keep it down! He’ll see us!”
Drew frowned. “Aren’t you overreacting a little? It’s only Malfoy.”
Rose rolled her eyes, decided to let the matter drop, and set about telling Drew about what Professor Cassio had said.
“See? I told you that she was singling me out,” she finished triumphantly. Drew sighed.
“Maybe you would make a good actress, you drama queen.” He set down his fork with a clatter. “It sounds like Cassio was paying you a compliment, Rose. Usually, when people are called talented by their terrifying teachers, they’re pleased.”
Rose considered this for a moment. Maybe she was being slightly melodramatic.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m having a bad day, I guess.”
Drew smiled around his mouthful. “Yeah, I’ll say.”