A/N- Here's chapter three! Ginny finally has dinner with the Slytherins! As always, thanks to my fantastic betas, ginnygie and Eugenia.
Chapter 3
The Artemis Dining Hall is an enormous hall, where the unwritten code is "every man for himself" when it
comes to eating. It was a first come, first served basis, for the university's administration expected a decent
portion of their students to eventually make some of their own meals.
In theory, it was a good idea since many of the students who attended the Lufkin School were born with silver spoons in their mouths (sometimes platinum or gold, depending on their parents and/or their connections). By fostering this ideal, it could allow for these spolit rich kids to begin to gain a sense of independence. And, again, fantastic in theory, but in reality, it was rare for these kids to even consider cooking as a means of survival.
Myself, on the other hand, well, I'm perfectly content with whipping up a home-cooked meal every once in a while.
Because many of these kids had never learned how to cook, though, they ended up under the influence of the dining hall's namesake - the larger, more Crabbe and Goyle-esque kids could be seen hovering around the multitude of tables, hunting for that perfect piece of food, preying on the smaller, ganglier kids.
The tables were round; the food was placed in the middle with students all around, chatting about only Merlin knows what. There had to be at least fifty of these tables, with about ten people per table, if not more.
Pansy craned her neck, trying to spot Malfoy's distinctive white-blond hair.
Three rows in she found him, laughing at something Blaise had probably said. Upon spotting them, Pansy yanked me into the fray, weaving amongst the tables and people crowding the hall.
She picked a seat to the right of Tracey, pulling me down to sit next to Daphne.
"Of course you can sit with us, Pansy," Theodore Nott announced drily, nudging Malfoy in the ribs, garnering the blond boy's attention.
"What's a Weasley doing sitting with us?" Tracey asked rather superiorly. I don't think I need to make mention that, aside from Pansy, I was the bane of my tablemates' existences, do I? I didn't think so.
"I'd appreciate it if you referred to my roommate by her real name, Davis," Pansy spat out with a sneer.
"What? 'Ginevra'?" Blaise asked with a chuckle, causing the entire table to erupt in laughter.
Their laughter caused a chain reaction in my body, making my cheeks rosy in embarrassment, forcing me to sink deeper into my seat, trying to disappear, hoping that the floor beneath my feet would swallow me whole.
I snuck a peek at Pansy, hoping that she would be scheming up some snazzy retort, coming to my defence. But, no; instead I saw her covering her mouth with her hand, trying her hardest not to laugh after her reaction to Tracey's disdain at my joining their table.
Seeing that I would have to be the one to defend my mother's choice in female names, I sat up straight, deciding that I'd had enough of their verbal abuse.
"What's so bad about my real name?" I asked, tilting my chin up in a fairly good impression of Tracey's demeanour of just moments ago.
Pansy sobered up immediately, for as I like to think, she was slightly ashamed that she had joined in with her friends' laughter. Again, as I like to think.
"It's rather tragic," Theo replied snootily. I was really beginning to regret sitting with those people. I could have had a wonderful time at a different table with different people; people like Gareth, for instance.
"I find my name to be rather majestic," I shot back with a saccharine smile. If you know your history, then you would know that 'Ginevra' is a derivative of Guinevere, Arthur Pendragon's mother. I could go into a whole diatribe about Morgana, and Merlin, and all of those other people, but I'll spare you; I think you'd rather hear about my first encounter with most of Hogwarts' seventh year Slytherin class.
"She does have a point, you know," Malfoy stated with a small smirk.
"So? It still doesn't change the fact that she has an awful name," Daphne Greengrass chirped, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Look, if you all detest my name so much, why don't you just call me 'Ginny'?" I announced, rather loudly, silencing the entire table, calling all attention to me.
Shit. I did not need all of the focus on me. While I hated the fact that my so-called awful name was the current topic of discussion, I was perfectly content with them not staring so unabashedly at me.
"Be-besides," I continued, stuttering at first, "I don't think it matters what you all call me, considering that most of you can't stand me. And let me tell you, the feeling is mutual. It's not like I'm going to be spending most of me free time wondering on whether I've attained your approval."
"Since when did you have a spine, Weasley?" Theo asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"I know! I asked her the same thing!" Pansy stepped in, giggling a bit.
I really don't understand other people's fascination with how sarcastic I've become "all of a sudden". Of course, I wasn't always this witty, but I would say that I developed my snarky tendencies as I progressed through Hogwarts. And could you blame me? I love my brother, Ron, dearly, but he just walks into situations that beg for sarcastic commentary, and if the twins weren't quick on the uptake, I was there ready with one of my own. He wasn't the only one, though; Gryffindors, in general, are just not sarcastic people.
Malfoy likes to joke that I became sarcastic because Voldemort possessed me. You see, that's only funny when I say it because I lived through it and therefore have every right to make witty observations on the situation. Malfoy, on the other hand, gets slaps onto his person for he seems insensitive to my "special situation" every time he feels like making some smart arsed remark about it.
But, like I was saying, I really don't understand it. I'm beginning to think about blaming Harry for this caricature that my dating him has created - the idea that I'm perfect, and sweet, and so bloody innocent. For the record, I am far from perfect, I can be sweet when the occasion calls for it, and I grew up with six older brothers. If that doesn't give you some of the most awkward sex-ed lessons, then I don't know what will. But then again, it could be that because I was associated with the Fantastic Trio, others (more specifically, the Slytherins) really didn't feel compelled to get to know who I truly was. So they garnered their knowledge based off of passing observations. And maybe I did, too.
"I've always had one," I replied rather airily. "You've just never been around to see it."
"And you're Pansy's roommate?" Blaise asked, leaning towards me as best he could. I nodded. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very fun year," he finished, leaning back into his seat.
"So, Weasley," Tracey began. Apparently, Slytherins can't follow perfectly clear directions. Or at least this particular one can't. Sorry. "I'm sure the million Galleon question on every one's mind is how are you paying for this school?"
I sighed, probably a bit more dramatically than I would have liked, but it's too late now.
"Well?" Tracey asked impatiently. I guess I was taking longer with formulating my response than Ms. Davis liked.
"Oh, sorry; I was just imagining a world where obnoxious, pretentious bints didn't ask me about things that are none of their concern," I said, a wistful smile implanting itself onto my face. "It's so disheartening knowing that it was all just my imagination."
I sighed once more, just for effect, the effect of that being a bark of laughter from Malfoy, followed by a tittering giggle from Pansy. I looked across the table to see the better part of its occupants trying to contain their laughter at my verbal sparring skills.
To say that I felt guilty for making Tracey look bad would be a lie. I could feel a smug little smile creeping upon me as I revelled in the laughter of my fellow tablemates. Malfoy cleared his throat, attempting to bring the table back to order. "Actually, Weasley, uh - I mean, Ginny," I'm sorry, but for the life of me, I will never be able to accustom myself to hearing my nickname coming out of Malfoy's mouth, "we are all rather curious as to why you decided to attend this school. Did you apply to others?"
"Maybe we should move on to a different topic of discussion. I'm sure Ginny doesn't particularly enjoy our prying," Pansy stepped in, giving me a significant look. It was in that moment that I fell absolutely in love with Pansy. She was brilliant beyond comprehension with those two sentences, effectively silencing any and all questions regarding my admission to the Lufkin School. I owed her heaps because of those two sentences. She hasn't called me on it yet, but I hope she doesn't want me to do anything too outrageous or awful.
"How about we go around and state what our majors are? Maybe we'll find people who have some classes with us," Daphne opted, trying to break the awkward silence that Pansy had created. Because her suggestion was so mind-blowing.
Please tell me you caught the sarcasm in that last sentence? You did? Excellent!
"Fine," Theo replied in a huff, clearly tired of the way the conversation was heading. "I'm majoring in Microbiology. I want to know what the difference is between us and Muggles," he finished with the kind of brazen, angry aloofness only seen in moody teenage boys and Colonel Aureliano Buendia, of One Hundred Years of Solitude fame. The Colonel is one of my favourite literary characters. He's a bit of an enigma, I must admit, but I respect his character for standing up for his beliefs and his single-minded determination when it came to living his life. He might have been slightly on the crazy side near the end of his short life, but I can forgive him because I love his character that much.
Blaise let out a low whistle. "Good luck with that, mate."
"Thanks for your unwavering support," Theo shot back with a sneer. "Tell us, Blaise; what are you here for?"
"International Relations, with a minor in Political Science," the other man replied without batting an eye. Impressive, I must say. "Tracey, sweeting, what about you?"
"Interior Design," Tracey replied with haughty gleam in her eye, which quickly changed into a glare thanks to Pansy's snort of disbelief. "What?" Tracey queried, annoyed.
"I'm sorry, Trace, but I wouldn't let you decorate my house even if you paid me," Pansy stated, rather bluntly, trying to contain her laughter. For professing to dislike one another, we were laughing quite a bit.
"What are you trying to imply, Parkinson?" the other brunette girl asked through gritted teeth, placing undue emphasis on Pansy's last name.
"Nothing, darling, just that if you plan on decorating other people's houses the way you decorate your own, then you're not going to have a very successful career."
Tracey stood up just then, grabbing her Berkin bag as she did so. "I wouldn't have decorated your place anyways, Pansy." The irate brunette proceeded to turn on the heel of her Balenciaga platforms, a feat in itself, before stalking away, head held high.
Theo turned to Pansy with a glare. "Thank you so much for royally pissing off my girlfriend. I truly appreciate it," he stated before running after said girlfriend, pulling her outside of the dining hall in an effort to calm her.
"Well, then," I began, rather surprised at the influx of tension amongst these supposed best friends. "Would anyone else like to continue?"
Daphne shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was clear that she wanted to leave and go see if Tracey was okay. And probably whinge and complain about myself and Pansy while they were at it; with Theo sitting there, staying perfectly silent, just looking moody and pensive and serious, like he always does.
"Daphne, if you want to leave that badly, why don't you run a long and see if Tracey's still sulking?" Blaise replied, annoyed that Daphne did not have enough tact to cover up her emotions.
"Oh," Daphne squeaked, primly rising from her seat, scurrying off as her Erin Featherson dress fluttered behind her.
"I commend the two of you for pretty much clearing this table. Bravo," Malfoy drawled, giving myself and Pansy mock salutes.
"And thank Merlin you did; I was beginning to get annoyed with Tracey's bitching and moaning," Blaise stated. "So, Ginny, what did you think of your first Slytherin dinner?" he asked me with a smirk.
"It was e-eventful," I stuttered. "I certainly wasn't expecting Davis to storm off like that."
"Oh, she does that all the time," Pansy dismissed with her hand. "She's such an attention whore; it's ridiculous. Theo knows she does it, too, yet he's still with her. Why, I'll never understand. And Daphne likes to cause trouble. She considers Tracey her partner-in-crime since her sister, Astoria, is still at Hogwarts."
I giggled when Pansy said "attention whore". I couldn't help it; it was funny.
"No matter how hard Daphne tries, she will never be able to beat Pansy in how much dirt they know about other people," Malfoy stated with a wolfish grin.
"It is this feat that I am incredibly proud of," Pansy replied with a smile.
"See, Ginny, we aren't that bad," Blaise said, motioning to himself, Pansy, and Malfoy. "It's the other three that you have to worry about."
"If you detest them so much, then why do you still hang out with them?" I asked.
"We don't detest them; they just tend to be more melodramatic than we would like," Pansy answered.
"We never got around to it, but I'm rather curious as to what your major is?" Blaise asked me.
"Oh, um, I'm majoring in English Literature. I already have my schedule, if you're interested," I replied. Again, I don't know what it is with me and adding on more information than is absolutely necessary.
"Ginny!" Pansy shrieked, slapping me on the arm. "You never told me you got your schedule! Gimme, gimme!" she demanded, reaching her claw-like hands out toward my handbag.
"Alright! Alright!" I began yelling, rushing to my bag to fetch my schedule before Pansy ripped my poor canvas bag apart.
I pulled out the small scrap of paper, passing it to Pansy, who then proceeded to pass to the table's remaining occupants.
"Oh, poo," Pansy announced with a pout, "you're in not a single one of my classes this semester," she finished, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning back into her chair.
Blaise grabbed a hold of my schedule with Malfoy leaning in to sneak a peek.
The two glanced at each other before their mouths began to twist into identical smirks.
"What?" I asked them. "Those smirks are starting to creep me out a little bit."
"Oh, it's nothing," Malfoy replied. "It's just that me and Blaise are in your Advanced Arithmancy class."
Oh, bloody fucking hell.
This was going to be one hell of a year.