Phases (editing)

eighteen

AN- Chapter songs: Work Song by Hozier Work by Charlotte Dar Wilson

19th October 1995

Waxing Crescent

Draco had a subtle fastidiousness to how he tended to things. I learned that quickly, once I sat at the empty potions lab table. He laid the acquired herbs and instruments in a manner that was borderline psychopathic and manoeuvred them with a delicate hand, that I hadn't known he possessed. His eyes narrowed a fraction and you could visibly see the wheels turning in his head. It was a fascinating sight, watching him ease into his work. I wondered if that was a part of him that came naturally or a skill he learned from living in the manor.

This point in my life is the second closest I've felt to him, and the subtle differences between then and now became a side puzzle. Seeing how he's changed and adapted, over the years of distance under his cruelty, left me to many streams of consciousness. It wasn't as if I were relearning him, I was meeting and interacting with a new Draco Malfoy.

My mental notes taught me that he fidgets when taking in new information, as a way to process the material. His jaw rolls when he's thinking, and then his eyebrows do a quick and subtle bounce when he figures something out in his head. He counts by tapping his thumb and middle finger together and bites the inside of his right cheek when holding himself back. His eyelids fall slightly when he is trying to focus, and when he's stuck in his own dimension of concentration, the tip of his tongue rolls between his lips before his teeth attack his bottom one. Then when he reads, his elbows find a spot to rest before combing his fingers in his hair to rest them on his scalp for the meantime.

He was quite a complex human and it was a sight I enjoyed thoroughly.

"Would you hand me the notes on herbal essences?" Draco asked while maintaining his focus on the cauldron. He used his left hand to keep his spot on the instructions, and his right to continue stirring the boiling liquid.

I blinked out of my trance, and moved through the stack of journals, to find the one I knew had the notes he was looking for. After acquiring the black journal, I stood up and walked around the lab table flipping through the pages, and set it down to the right of the cauldron.

He looked rather handsome in this setting, his robe and tie were discarded hours earlier, and his white oxford was rolled to his elbows and the first few buttons were undone. I suppose he was rather used to the coldness of the dungeons whereas I was used to the warmth of the higher levels, my robe stayed tightly wrapped around me. I also rather enjoyed the looseness to his hair after the many times he messed with it during the potion brewing process.

I felt myself slowly retreating back to my post at the other side of the table, but then stalled when I heard a double meaning throat clearing. My head slowly turned to peer over my shoulder to see an outstretched hand, and a smirk.

Would it be out of line to call him one of the more chivalrous boys?

I allowed my hand to slowly slide into his as I turned to face him once more, feeling myself smirk with the contact. He then quickly reeled me to stand between him and the table, facing the cauldron.

"Your gaze makes it quite difficult to focus on such a meticulous task." He said, his voice sounding mischievous in my ear.

I relaxed into his chest with a silent, lung-filling breath. "Forgive my sins, but I find it difficult to not stare at you," I said, matching my tone to his. "Especially, when I know we're alone ."