𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄

𝟖. 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲.

Deafening thunder rolled just outside of the Great Hall, painting the sky in streaks of grey and white. The storm had persisted overnight and would likely last until late this evening. Lightning shattered across the enchanted ceiling and caught the reflection of my glasses, making me blink back at the sudden brightness.

It was far too early for this.

You always slept through breakfast on the weekends. On particularly bad days, I would wait long after everyone else had gone just to watch you stumble into the Great Hall to snatch a slice of toast from the nearest table. Sometimes that table was mine, and sometimes you would smile and wave. Very soon, I realized that particularly bad days stopped being particularly bad days once I started sharing this fleeting moment with you.

Things cooled down since the midnight scare a few nights back. A stray dementor lurked far too close to the castle for anyone's liking. But the rumors of The Dark Lord began flooding the student body and the subtle sideways glances I usually received stopped being so subtle.

Although classes were canceled today, quidditch practice hadn't been. Merlin forbid Oliver Wood to take a day off from the pitch. So despite the fact that nearly every other person in the castle was allowed to sleep in, I found myself wedged between Ron and Seamus Finnigan at the breakfast table, struggling to keep my eyes open.

There were loose groups of students lingering around at each table, but not nearly enough to fill the room with its usually lively hum. I brought a goblet of pumpkin juice to my lips and took a long sip. It had been so long since I saw you last. The empty pages of my journal were dripping with longing. For your laugh, your smile, even just a single breath. I craved you like I've never craved anything before.

Dean Thomas whistled lowly over the rim of his cup. "There goes the Slytherin princess," he chuckled, folding his padded arms over the table. My eyes snapped up to the doorway and my breath caught in my throat.

Slytherin royalty always entered in precession. First Crabbe and Goyle bulldozed all of the underclassmen out of their usual seats near the door. Then Blaise Zabini and the Greengrass sisters entered in a V-formation, noses upturned. Pansy and Theo usually came after that, bickering or snorting with one another.

You and Draco always arrived last. Always.

Neither of you was wearing your uniform today. Trips to Hogsmeade had been canceled through winter break in light of recent events, but you still felt the need to dress up just as you always did. The sweater was one I'd seen you wear a million times before, but it never stopped looking good on you. The boots, though, you must've borrowed from Pansy or one of the other girls because you were clinging to Draco's arm practically the entire way to your seat.

As if he needed another boost to his ego.

"Her majesty looks especially fine this morning if I do say so myself."