September 13th, 1991

“Get out, I’m not going you absolute nutter,” Pansy muttered as I tried to gently shake her awake.

“What if Longbottom actually shows?” I goaded.

“Like hell —hasn’t got the stones.” And then she promptly covered her head with her pillow and sent a not so friendly ‘leave me alone’ gesture.

“Well, that’s that I suppose,” I huffed to myself, tugging the two boxer braids I had spelled my hair into when I woke up.

This time my jumper was a mint green and my athletic pants were a dull grey with matching trainers. Worked rather well for a sleep-deprived snake. Daphne was in a black ensemble and Millicent bore a pale blue jumper with joggers that matched my own. Quite a sight we made as we slipped out of the dormitory and into the dimly lit common room, still dark as the morning sun had yet to reach the bottom of the lake.

None of the boys were out yet and I had a suspicion that none of them —save Theo— were likely even up. I grabbed a quill and some parchment from one of the tables in the common room and jotted down a note for the boys to come to the shore if they would be joining then charmed it to their door.

“Why is it so cold?” Daphne huffed as we left the castle, her flanking my left while Millicent was on my right.

“Sun isn’t up.” The other girl pointed to the still dark sky with slow growing light on the horizon.

“The fog doesn’t help,” I waved my finger in a circle and scanned my eyes across the fog that clung just a few inches from the ground. That wouldn’t do.

Angling the end of my wand toward the Black Lake, I took a deep breath and pulled the options from my mind.

Ventus. A mild breeze, used in potions to remove toxic gas and in dueling to redirect small projectiles. Simple wand movement. I had cast it several times.

Vastare zephyrus. Gale force winds, meant for blowing away the summer rains and mass attack. Historically used by wizards hunting dragons for sport. Complicated wand movement. I had never cast it, nor seen it cast.

Cataegis. A gale force wind that bursts forth from the caster and circles them. Used as a shield and can deflect spells. Cast successfully only once before I had magic exhaustion.

Valens ventus. Similar to ventus but with an additional wand movement. Produces high winds capable of moving objects smaller than a pebble with ease. Easily sustained by a young witch. Never cast but witnessed when Mother was demonstrating how to quickly spell the dead leaves from the flowers —without harming them— before one of her garden parties. This is the one.

I pull on the thread of the memory —how Mother towered over me, her blonde hair bright against the deep black robes she had been wearing as she scowled over the inches of dead foliage that coated the usually pristine rose garden. Mother forbade the house elves and servants from tending to the area –thus, she handled the maintenance herself. It was eye opening to look up and watch Mother direct her wand as if she was the maestro and magic was her orchestra. As the memory overlapped witht he present, I matched her wand movements and we spoke in tandem.

“Valens ventus.”

In my memory, a gust rolled over the garden –nearly bowling me over– and the rose bushes shook violently. Mother barely moved. The wind whipped the fallen leaves and picked up pebbles and dirt –whatever it could– and forced them out of the area. The wind billowed until the swirls of leaves were left in the forest surrounding the Manor and Mother was left to perform minor gardening charms.

At Hogwarts, the gale billowed in all directions from my wand, whipping my braids against my face and causing Millicent and Daphne to stumble. Wind formed and flowed and never slowed, pushing the fog away in a circle. Ten meters. I focused my mind and re-cast. Twenty more meters. Another. Forty more meters. One last cast to push the others farther and I released the outpour of magic and allowed the spell to run its course. Gradually, the fog continued to be pushed back –back over the Black Lake, into the Forbidden Forest, even back towards the castle– leaving behind the dimly lit path we would be using to stretch and then run.

Daphne let out a laugh at the display as her and Millicent’s clothes whipped in the wind. Millicent just watched as the fog was pushed back, a blank expression on her face.

-

It was five minutes of stretching before a boy in joggers appeared. They were in Gryff colors and they made him look, I hated to admit, as if he intended to actually run.

“Longbottom really came,” I heard Dapne snort, a mix of interest and disbelief –but not overt disdain– coloring her voice.

“Hullo,” Came Longbottom’s hesitant voice, “Malfoy –Greengrass –uh, Bulstrode?”

“Don’t talk to me.” Was the one and only time Millicent spoke to Longbottom.

Daphne simply gave him an unimpressed look.

I was focused on his clothes. They were both perfect for running and fit Longbottom well enough. A moment passed as I stared at his outfit and I saw Longbottom flush before- “I borrowed from Dean, he plays a muggle sport in it.”

Well. Wait. Does Longbottom know a tailoring charm? Augusta Longbottom is unbelievable. Throw him out the window just in case he’s a squib? Perfectly fine. Refusing to allow him to use a personal wand? Grand. Not be able to tailor his own clothes? Horrifying. I rather think had Aunt Bellatrix not tortured the Longbottom aurors into insanity, the Malfoys and Longbottoms would be quite close indeed.

“Right.” I let out a light breath, “You found the shore –congratulations. At least you’re not in full robes.”

Longbottom looked down and gave a small, satisfied smile and nodded. I went back to stretching –and if I was going slower, re-positioning myself so that the confused Gryffindor would be able to see my movements easier, well, Daphne and Millicent never commented.

“Um, so-” Longbottom started, froze when I shot him a look, then seemed to resolve himself –yet still spoke quietly, “Why didn’t you go?”

“Go where?” I leaned into my extended leg, stretching my calf.

“Well-” He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, “The-the duel?”

“What duel?” I shifted legs, wondering if Longbottom would get the hint that the snakes were stretching. Actually, it would be a miracle if Longbottom knew what stretching was –no feasible way he has ever done a sport, wizard or otherwise.

“With Harry.” He practically hiccupped and I blinked, looking towards him. He hiccuped.

Medea, you are a snake in the garden.

“Longbottom, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I forced earnestness into my voice, sincereity into my expression, and a mild softness into my tone. Had I spared a glance at Daphne, I knew she would have her eyes narrowed at my tone. I didn’t, of course, spare her a glance. It would have undermined the act.

“Oh…”

“Yes, oh.” I parroted, in a not unkind but most certainly not kind tone.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I stood up and brushed the dirt from my joggers and stretched my shoulders one last time. Longbottom did, awkwardly, try to mimic the movement, and we all fell into silence. Blissfully. It was too early to be accused of sending Filch to Tibble –I mean, I did owl Filch about last night, but that’s hardly Longbottom’s business. Besides, I used a school owl. No one could prove it. And if it all went as in elsewhere, the lot didn't even get caught.

“Keep up.”

And then I was jogging down the fogless corridor, paying little mind to the dirt beneath my trainers or the wind whipping my braids. My mind was focused on controlled ferocity, in making my muscles slow for Daphne and Millicent —and Longbottom. I could run at max longer than most could run at all. This was a different challenge and it only took a minute before I increased the pace to challenge the girls. Longbottom was, actually, keeping up. For a while. Another three minutes, I upped the pace once more. Longbottom had a light layer of sweat to match Daphne and Millicent, but only he and Millicent had more than a touch of red. His far worse than hers. This is where he began to lag. I ran faster. If he kept running, despite falling behind, that was up to him. That’s half the challenge of running at all. It was several increases later when I realized I had outpaced the girls. Even Daphne had a wet sheen and pink cheeks as she struggled to keep up.

As I pivoted at the lake, turning back down the corridor, I slowed my pace so at least Daphne could catch up. When she got to me I looked over her form.

“Try and measure your breathing, in through the nose and slow out the mouth. It’ll help.”

Inconsequentially, Longbottom was passing by in the opposite direction as I spoke. Millicent was only a dozen paces behind and nodded in acknowledgement.

“This is horrible,” Daphne’s words were haggard as she forced them out, “Why am I doing this?”

I gave a breathy laugh and focused my eyes on three green dots up ahead, “Because you’re a Greengrass, and a hag, and I goaded you into it.”

“I am not a hag —I know too many pink charms for you to even joke about that,” she huffed.

A full smile filled my face, the energy of running filling me —replacing the darkness that often feels all consuming, “See? Goaded.”

Daphne glanced my way and something flickered across her face. Chatting was rare after that. Until, of course, we made it closer to the three green dots that had quickly grown into three Slytherin boys in full uniforms.

As I passed them I snorted.

“Absolutely not.”

And we ran past Blaise, Draco —who knew better— and Theo.

“What does that mean?” Blaise shouted after us.

“It means for once you are the dunderhead!” Yelling back I raised my hand, “Look at what Longbottom’s wearing!”

“You mean he actually showed?” I heard my brother’s laugh and then an ‘oof’ but I was back to focusing on running.

It was after another turn, this time at the edge of the forest, when I caught an amusing sight. Draco was leading Theo and Blaise in a stretching speed run —never pausing more than a handful of seconds in each pose. When I passed them again, their outer robes and ties were neatly stacked to the side.

“Either run in your uniforms or get lost, boys.” I snarked, “And do try and keep up –wouldn’t want Longbottom to be faster than you lot, would we?”

-

It was as I was passing Longbottom for the the tenth time, at which point I had already upped my speed three quarters to maximum, that I felt a pang. His face was flushed with exertion and he was slowing down significantly. I couldn’t do a tempus without drawing my wand, and really I knew how long it had been. Nearly the hour.

Millicent was the closest to matching my pace –not actually matching, simply three-quarters of the way there. Then was Daphne and Draco, who did not in fact get to show off his fitness to the snakes as he was only faster than Blaise and Theo. Blaise kept ahead of Longbottom, but to my immense amusement Theo was lagged behind the Gryff. Too many books, no time outside, and a naturally small frame will do that. As I approached the pile of discarded robes, I threw a hand up and gestured I was done –then I promptly laid on the ground.

Running, no matter how much one does so, takes something of the person. And in exchange for the life it fed into my mood, running sucked the strength out of my body. I already felt the ache in my knees and ankles –the ache that told me I needed a potion. It was, of course, expected. I needed a vial every time I ran or I risked being forced to talk about my running. Unacceptable. Therapy is not for a Malfoy –not this Malfoy. I would sooner suffer the indignity of being a Gryff. At the thought I grimaced and promptly withdrew the vile from my pocket and downed a dose. The burning and itching would take at least an hour to settle, but I had been bearing it for ages. Though that didn’t stop me from wanting to rip my flesh off and incendio it. Sighing to myself, I was comforted by the thought that I would be able to get in the shower soon -and scrub scrub s c r u b until the feeling disappeared.

Despite the potion’s discomfort, I could feel the high still seeping into my brain and a lazy smile settled onto my face. It was still there when the first of the snakes came into range.

“Draco was right,” Millicent dropped next to me, significantly more like a sack of potatoes, “How can you smile right now? Mental.”

I let out a laugh, a light and airy thing, and turned to Millie, “You’re one to talk. No one casual could just keep going like that. Snake.”

“Well –father has started training me to be a beater, says it’s not all about the broom,” Millie had a half smile as she looked at the lightening sky, “Between strength and broom drills, I have to keep focus for hours. This is like that.”

We let silence sink in comfortably as we watched the edge of the fog creep ever closer. Now that nearly an hour had passed, the cleared area was growing smaller.

It took several minutes before Draco and Daphne sat next to us, then came Blaise draping himself across my lap.

“How is that stubby Gryff faster than Theo?” Blaise complained. I ran my nails through his hair, straightening it up as he huffed.

“Damn, I bet Pans ten galleons he wouldn’t even show up,” Daphne sighed, her usual droll tone clouded by exhaustion, “Always bet on the Gryff failing you.”

“Always bet on a Gryff to screw a Snake,” Millie shot out.

“Medea, put them out of their misery.” Draco, face tinted pink and sweat dripping from his brow, leaned back to support himself with his elbows, “Tell them your usual pace.”

I slowed my hands as I avoided the eyes of the other snakes, “Lets hold that thought —we’re still missing Theo.”

“We ran like —procul— Salazar, I did four miles.” Blaise was disgruntled as he gestured for everyone else to pull out their wands to measure as well.

“Five-“ Draco started, when Daphne said, “Just under six.”

“A little over six.” Millie added after a moment.

“Well, I am used to-“ I stalled just enough time for Longbottom to appear with his hands on his knees and coughing up a lunge.

“Are- Is it-“ He coughed before giving a final wheeze and tumbling to the ground to look at the sky, his face a beet red, “Over?”

“Yes, somehow your stubby legs brought you to the finish line,” Blaise was only half into his insult, exhaustion forcing his usual bite back, “How far did you go?”

“I-uh,” Longbottom took a steadying breath, “I don’t know? I never ran before.”

“Cast procul,” I sighed, casting my own charm,pushing the itching feeling to the back of my mind, “It's just a swish.”

“Pricul-pROcul-“ Longbottom’s attempts were rather sad, until finally his voice steadied and he proclaimed, “Procul. Oh! Three miles -wow!”

“Procul.” Came Theo’s jagged voice as he landed next to Draco, his head laid in his lap much like Blaise was resting in mine, “Two and a half.”

“Medea, share with the class.” Draco goaded, “Unless, of course, you are saying we oughtn’t know because you’re embarass-“

“Eight and a half,” I cut him off as I threw a lump of dirt and grass at him lightly—only to hit Theo in the shoulder.

“In an hour?” Daphne scowled.

“She was definitely slowed today, look at her,” Millie accused, “She’s only got a light sheen.”

I laughed, “Well, yes, I can regularly run twelve an hour. But I’ve been running for ages.”

Longbottom snapped to look at me, an expression I hadn’t seen on him before on his face. But whatever he was about to ask was interrupted as a glass ball landed on his chest.

“Here, as a reward for not tripping over your own feet,” I looked pointedly at his remembrall, “Try not to forget it again, Longbottom.”

“Give me one of those potions, Malfoy,” Theo whinged, “I’m dying.”

My lazy smile turned feral as I slid Blaise off me so I could stand, “No.”