Inferno | Draco Malfoy

045 | Malfoy's Taunt

As always, I've still been running every day since September.

It's 25th October and the weather is only going downhill. At this rate, I'll have to start wearing a scarf.

Unfortunately not only is it cold outside, it is as well on the inside — in the dungeons anyway as I make my way inside. Luckily for me, there's no fire going on in the fireplace, there's only a platinum-blond git. He's sitting at a desk, in full uniform, writing on parchment with two open books in front of him.

"Back at half seven, I see." Malfoy continues scribbling, not even looking at me for identification. "No coat again. Bad of you Harlow, you will catch a cold."

"Perfect, I'll give you my virus and bacteria." I pull my sleeves down further. "I'm not even cold."

Malfoy puts his quill down, he lies back in his seat and scans me from head to toe. "Come here." He orders, I don't follow. "Come here." He repeats. Once again, I stay still. "Fine, stay like that. I did say I would gladly participate in looking at you from all sides."

A tint of colour pinches my cheeks as I remember what he said to me that night.

"Haha, I don't need to shed my clothes for you to check me out."

"You've got a lot of confidence to say that I'm checking you out. If you want me to, say it. I would gladly participate in looking at you from all sides."

I take out my ponytail and shake my head. I rake my hands through my hair before letting it fall. After all, I must make a remarkable impression on an admirer. I do a small three-hundred-degree spin for Malfoy and neither of us can contain our smirks.

"You must tell me your favourite angle." I take a few steps forward but still remain to keep my distance from him.

"I must not." He says, "That would be an insult towards the artist and her artwork. To say a favourite is to ignore the rest."

Well, that's a smart way of thinking about it.

I carry on posing for Malfoy, as if I were a model walking down the streets of New York wizarding fashion week, for another minute or so until Daphne comes into the dungeons thinking that Blaise would be here. The girl giggles at me for being so ridiculous as we head back to the dormitory.

The first lesson that kicks off my day is Divination. The class that makes me genuinely question my existence because all I can wonder about is why on Earth did I pick this elective. We are still covering the topic of dream interpretations, until the end of this year I think.

In front of me is the same old copy of Inigo Imago's, The Dream Oracle. I'm starting to find Divination quite tedious mainly because I still haven't been dreaming. I don't know why, I just can't. There's no small fantasy world that I dream about at night.

The last time I ever dreamed was probably during Professor Binns' lesson last year April. How do I remember? Well, I would classify this as more of a nightmare. I dreamt of vegetables chasing me out of Château Willoughby after I had eaten their leader, Mr Asparagus. Vividly, I recall that Mrs Broccoli got offended when I insulted her husband and she sent all the Brussels Sprouts to lynch me. It was not funny, they had forks that could pierce my skin and knives that could decapitate me.

I feel bad for Professor Trelawney. When we handed in our September dream diary I gave her an empty book. Technically not empty, there's a cat doodle on the bottom of the first page. She doesn't seem to care though and I didn't completely fail her homework, I got a bad 'Acceptable'. Ouch. But at least I still managed to pass without writing anything. I really should've lied and made something up. Like saying I slayed a beastly dragon after it tried to make me it's afternoon tea. Or saying I dreamt about having a wild adventure with Selene back at Mum's hometown in China.