September 12th, 1991 (Part 2)
It was after dinner and I was sat in the Slytherin dungeons staring at an unlit hearth —processing. I had to run and re-run the memory of my brother attempting to go for the remembrall to piece it all together. A dozen times I watched the afternoon drift by.
There is no doubt that Draco saw me cast alula on Longbottom. He likely didn’t hear me say it, or even know what it did, but it wouldn’t be difficult to guess it was a spell similar to aegis. And it was. Alula was akin to a feather fall charm, only it is meant to be used for small animals —hence why it was barely noticeable and only helped Longbottom to avoid a break and not a sprain. The real issue is that, prior to today, I had never heard Draco insult Longbottom after he had gone out of earshot. Blaise and Daphne were doing it because he was asking to run, and even then once the moment passed that was that. But Draco… an ugly look had overtaken him when I helped the Gryffindor. He did not like it. Arguably, he was offended that I had helped Longbottom. Draco and I had been avoiding each other after I hexed him for bringing up Snape, but I had a sinking suspicion our week long Cold War —now turned nuclear after that spat, is probably the reason for him going after Longbottom again. Even though, after the Governors Ball, we had agreed to leave the poor sod alone even if he had been sorted into Hufflepuff. No jinxes or hexes, only words. Better than in elsewhere, anyway.
My brother had said he was upset I seemed to be replacing him. After telling Longbottom he could run near me, despite the insult, and helping him, Draco probably decided to take out his anger on Longbottom. How annoying.
At least I kept Tibble off the Quidditch team. Next match is the first Saturday in November, and it’s unlikely anything will happen in the weekly flying lesson so long as I keep paying attention.
“I’m going to have to talk to him,” I tsk’d to myself.
Jealousy is unbecoming of a Malfoy, of course, but when such feelings are held privately that hardly matters. This was distinctly not private, even if no one besides myself would have noticed. Which means I had to stamp out the indignation that still coiled in my stomach every time I so much as caught a glimpse of Draco.
I looked down to the books I had later out around me as cover for staring into space and began flipping them closed and stacking them up. Fortunately they were on the thinner side and were hardly more than spellcraft journals. After only a few moments I had all three held in my hand and crossed the common room to where Draco was splayed across a couch throwing grapes into Vince and Greg’s mouths.
“I think you have somewhere to be,” I said to the two minions with a flat voice. When they gave me blank looks I gestured off to the side with the stack of books, “Anywhere else.”
They looked from me to Draco and nodded vigorously with brief goodbyes as they scurried off.
“So you have deigned to speak to me. Your new family busy?” Draco drawled as he popped a grape into his mouth. I let out a long breath and stepped close enough so he was just within reach.
Then I whacked him with the books.
“Shut.” Thump. “Up.” Thump. “You.” Thump. “Stupid.” Thump. “Prat.”
After the first thump of books hit him he had started trying to use his arms to deflect —with varying levels of success. He’d squawked a few times until deciding throwing a grape at me was the best he could do without his wand.
“Now you’ve resorted to violence? What about being loved, you bloody menace?” He hissed at me, as if any of that actually mattered to him.
I plopped down at the other end of the couch, shoving his legs to the side and putting my feet up next to him.
“Do not make me say the words, you hopeless, jealous, idiotic-“ I was interrupted as a grape landed in my throat causing me to briefly think I was choking before I bit down, “git.”
“Fine. But for such a grand stand of ‘now we’re going it alone’ you caved remarkably quick,” Draco huffed.
“That’s because you’re more irritating when I neglect you than I thought was possible.” I scrunched my nose in disgust and leaned back into the soft crushed velvet of the couch.
Draco had an irritatingly smug look on his face, “So you admit you’ve neglected me then.”
I shot him an incredulous look, “It had been four days. And we saw each other the whole time.”
“You weren’t even sitting with me in those classes,” he shot back.
“So? You were with the minions and Pansy most of the time. Even Theo and Blaise swarmed you.”
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“Uh huh. Yes, right, well what about today. With Longbottom.”
“Oh, you mean when I had to get the arse who lived into the air to de-escalate everyone barking at each other like rabid dogs?”
“No. I mean when you chose to stand by him and then used one of your weird spells from the dark ages to save him. Didn’t work, by the way.”
“I didn’t choose to be next to him, you prat. I didn’t even notice him until he asked-“ I huffed, cutting off my sentence, “It was coincidence. And, yes, thank you, I am aware that I do not possess more magical force than a twenty foot drop at age eleven.”
“Wait, what did he ask?” Draco leaned toward me and I nearly smacked him back, “Merlin, does he want to be hexed?”
“He won’t be hexed by us —you promised,” I sighed, “And he wants to join me running. Or something. He didn’t actually say before Daphne and Blaise began tearing into him. Which, really, I’m surprised he found the nerve to ask at all —let alone in front of everyone.”
“Well? What did you say?” It was actually quite hilarious how he could go from irritated and jealous to wide eyed and curious in an instant.
“I said the truth,” I shot Draco a look, “that I don’t own the shore.”
“Bloody hell. That’s why you grabbed that damned remembrall when you saw me headed for it.”
“Oh, noticed that, did you? Thought all the green in your gaze would cloud you.” I rubbed my eyes, “Daphne, Blaise, and —Merlin, Pansy want to come in the morning to see if he shows up.”
At that Draco perked up, a smile twitching at his lips, “Do they know? Tell me they know.”
I huffed a laugh, “Yes, my sadistic brother. I’ve told them if they’ll be watching they must be running. They’ve decided it’s worth it. Blaise said he’d be trying to get Theo to come also. Coming?”
“Of course,” Draco nodded sagely, “I’m not as good as you with endurance, but I did spend most of summer playing Quidditch with the boys. I can suffer a single morning run. Get to show off even if Longbottom doesn’t pop up.”
The boys, of course, included some of Vince and Greg but mostly he played with the other younger boys in Wiltshire. A right magical town is within a half hour and they play pick up games most days over summer.
“All right, I’ve had a right long day. I need to sleep,” I slid off the couch and waved at Draco, “See you in the morning.”
“See you, Dea,” Draco said as he leaned back into the couch, waving across the room to his two hulking fiends of friends to return.
-
“Must I?” Pansy pleaded, as I pulled out several pairs of sport pants and light jumpers.
“Yes, Pans. That’s the deal,” I laughed at her pout, “But I’ll do your hair and makeup once we’re back in the dorm, to lessen the sting of physical activity.”
I filled my voice with mock disgust at ‘physical activity’ —which caused Pansy to snort and Daphne to let out a soft laugh. It was also the moment Bulstrode and Spektor came in.
“Hey —do either of you want to join us for a run in the morning?”
Millicent Bulstrode was a towering girl, not unlike Vincent and Greg in stature. She was not delicate in the way Daphne was, but delicate is not the same as beautiful —which is true of Daphne but not inherently because she is so. Millicent was of the sort that could be found intimidating if one was the sort to fear a girl with power. Physical power. She was pretty in the way a raging river, dangerous as it is, could be transfixing. Dorothea Spektor could match Millicent in height but not mass. She was all king limbs and waif-like. Where Millicent had long black hair and olive skin, Dorothea had wavy auburn hair that matched the deep tan of her skin. Dorothea was beautiful in the way a ghost could be beautiful, like a moment in time forever caught one’s agony and continued it on for eternity.
That is to say, eleven year old Tibble and Weasley are stupid gits for calling them ugly.
As they came further into the room, Millicents cat —Martina— ran up to them and weaved herself between their legs.
“Oh, Tina— I don’t know, what do you think?” Millicent lightly pet Martina before looking back up, assessing the clothes I was passing to Pansy and Daphne for the morning.
“You should —Longbottom might come! Oh, it’ll be hilarious,” Pansy laid back in her bed with a laugh and did a stammering impression of Longbottom for the two girls who had been on the opposite end of the field, “You should have seen him asking Medea, ‘Hullo Malfoy can I embarrass myself and run with you?’”
“And you said yes?” Dorothea said as she sat her bag on her trunk, “I’m shocked.”
“I didn’t say yes.” I defended myself, “Do you think I wanted to encourage him? Gryffs only bring trouble —if he’d been a Hufflepuff, I’d likely be more willing.”
“‘Well I don’t own the shore now, do I?’ Absolutely brilliant.” Daphne said in a dry voice as she flipped through a copy of Witch Weekly, “Blaise and I are going so we can heckle him —but our dear Malfoy is making us actually participate.”
I tossed another pair of joggers at her, “Shut it —you already admitted you were going to start coming next week anyway.”
Unsurprisingly, I saw Dorothea shaking her head, “Not really my thing. Millie?”
“I’ll go.” Millicent nodded tightly, as if resolving herself and I gave a wide smile.
“Wonderful, it’s a great time.” I tossed her several pairs of athletic pants and light jumpers from my expanded trunk, “They’ve got tailoring charms so they should fit perfect, let me know if none of those suit you. Running isn’t the same as Quidditch —lighter clothes that wick sweat are needed.”
Don’t listen to her, she’s mental.” Daphne shot over.
Suddenly, Millicent looked a lot less sure of her decision —and as if in consolation, Martina settled at the foot of her bed and meowed to be loved.