The words that may have comforted others only pulled a sneer onto Jackson's face. He didn't need the help of someone like Draco. He didn't need help of anyone but himself. Finally, with a sullen sort of eye roll, he pushed off the wall, moving passed the teacher. "I never asked for your help," he spat, before ducking out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his ear with his sleeve.

After that, Jackson didn't show up for class. Well, at least not Draco's class. His friends whispered about it, but no one seemed too worried, except Matt, who seemed more angry than anything. But he just shoved his nose in his book and said nothing.

A the night after that, Draco would have a bit of a surprise on one of his evenings in the library. The school was dark and quiet, all students supposedly in bed. But in the dark of the library, along one of the shelves, there was a rather curious sound. Slithering, coupled with the sound of claws scraping on wood. Slow and cautious. A few rows away from where the teacher sat.