Oh. [i]Oh.[/i] Slughorn was that particular sort of Slytherin that Alistair often complained about in his letters. The sycophants, the bottom-feeders, the ones that sucked up to anyone and everyone with even the slightest inch of power or wealth. Merlin, she really [i]was[/i] going to become a teacher's pet, and to a man who was rapidly becoming her least favourite professor.

Siobhan shot a mild glare at Kyle, but there was no heat behind it. Some help he was... She flicked her hair back and smoothed down her jumper beneath her robes. May as well make a good impression. "Ceann Ear, sir. We raise and care for the Hebridean Blacks," she said, turning her chin up proudly (and snootily). After a moment's hesitation, she added, "Largest dragon reserve in Britain."

Yvette turned around as fast as a whip, staring at Siobhan with wide eyes. Oh. Muggleborn. The dragon-keeper's daughter mouthed, "Later," and set her shoulders as Slughorn went on and on about the prestigious art of rearing dragons and how he had taught her father, and remembered a few of her distant cousins who had come through Hogwarts in the past. Siobhan couldn't let it continue, not with her dignity remaining intact – already her blush was tomato red – so she coughed lightly.

It seemed to work, bringing the Potions professor out of his lengthy description of her great-uncle's ability to brew a mean Draught of Living Death and back to the classroom enviroment. She watched as his eyes went back down to the list... she hoped he would call out Kyle's name too, if only for a bit of just vengeance. "And directly under it – McCarthy... An old name, that is..."

Slughorn's eyes drifted involuntarily to Kyle – perhaps looking for some familial resemblance – and Siobhan saw a bead of sweat rolled down the professor's forehead. Her eyes narrowed in interest and she hummed under her breath.