PRECEDENT : Draco Malfoy II

29

I've been looking for a break from the Sagum and I've found it. Even without it pointing him out, we seem to find each other. It pours all weekend, and he finds me in the boat house. The next week, we meet again in the Prefect bathroom. Our eyes don't meet in the Great Hall. We do not acknowledge the other in the library, or anywhere else for that matter. I find notes in my books every so often, written on combusting parchment, telling me where to expect him next, or where I could steal time alone with him.

His middle name is Lucius, like his father. He finds alchemy a fun challenge. He doesn't try in the classes that bore him because he knows he doesn't need a job one day. Like his parents, he has no need for wealth. He is the heir to the Black and Malfoy families; any and all wealth imaginable is his. Alchemy gives him something to do. He likes to change one thing into another.

Draco said his parents are collectors. His father amasses objects, his mother people. It was an oversimplification. His mother hosts events and celebrations with ease, his father loves to show off the art they've collected, but overall the pattern is the same. He says he isn't much like them, but I see part of it. He doesn't collect people or things, but moments.

I'm sure if he had a Pensieve, he could spend hours a day living through old memories. He certainly likes to create new ones. At least, he tries to sneak around to see me more frequently than I thought possible. He tells me stories about his childhood, his first broom ride, the first spell he accidentally cast. Days spent winding through his gardens, when he was so small that he could hide from his friends between the hedges, and his entire life feels as impossible to imagine myself a part of as when I first found out I was a witch. But now, these moments he collects are with me.

On my birthday, I secretly hope to get a note from him. I didn't tell him that it was today. It hadn't come up. Though, I can't imagine spending my birthday with Mandy or any other Ravenclaw. They've been more bothersome lately. The only time I really speak to any of them is in our meetings with Dumbledore's Army, and even then, I'm partnered with Luna most of the time.

We signed that picture, which was nice. Most of the practices aren't remarkable. I'm decently good at protective runes, and yesterday, Hermione and I skipped out on practicing the levitating charm in favour of practicing breaking protective runes, and learning containment charms. They aren't easy to set up, but we managed to box Ron into a corner of the Room of Requirement without him even noticing. She and I giggled when he tried to step out only to bounce between his walls like a boy on a trampoline.

Today though, I don't have any classes in the afternoon. Professor Sprout's seventh-year class had an accident with some exploding vine we haven't covered yet, so the greenhouse is closed until tomorrow. I play with the Sagum in the library, trying to mind my own. I think I've expanded the range on the Sagum to be five metres past me, which isn't a lot. In fact, it's useless. I'd rather be in herbology, even if it is my birthday. Draco might slip me a note there, and I likely won't see him otherwise.

My stomach grumbles. It's nearing the end of lunch, and I was a bit too wrapped up to tear myself away. I stand and start to head toward the Great Hall.

"You're prefects, aren't you?" I recognize Ron's voice.

My head turns, curiosity killing me. Everyone is so obsessed with Harry Potter all the time, and maybe that's part of it, but Ron Weasley is a curiosity I don't understand. I let myself look in his direction.

Just outside the library entrance, in the opposite direction I'm standing, Ron and Hermione are pressed together. Next to them, Pansy gives them the middle finger. The rest of her is occupied. She's pinned against the wall. Draco is holding her in place, a hand on her waist, mouth on hers, snogging without a care in the world.