PRECEDENT : Draco Malfoy II

30

Maybe I am more of a time-turning Turner than I thought I was. Patterns have emerged in my life. Draco Malfoy does something to piss me off and I avoid him for weeks. So far, we are at two, and now I've caught him looking at me in class, so I know soon enough he is going to kidnap me or trap me, or otherwise force me into speaking to him. It's December and we are leaving in two weeks so if I really push my luck, maybe I can push out into the new year. By then, surely, I will be awake from this dream.

When I have nightmares, they don't wake me in the middle of the night. For the first few months of summer after third year, I only knew I had them because my mother made me see a doctor. Apparently, I was screaming in the night. It's stopped since, long ago, but I could remember having pleasant dreams and then as I approached waking, everything would turn sour. Always as the morning sun crested over Brighton. Always only ending when my alarm went off.

That is where I am now. The pattern in the dream right before I'm about to wake up. All of this must be a nightmare. From rumours about Umbridge's harsh punishments to the Slytherin squad that's formed to enact her brutal policies, to the lingering eyes of Goyle, the glares of Parkinson, the snarling smile of Nott, and Draco, all wrapped up in the middle of it.

Even without him though, I haven't dragged myself back to Terry since my birthday. At least, we haven't been together in private. Occasionally I'll get dragged into conversations with the other Ravenclaws and he's there. We still have classes together after all. This moment, where we are opposite each other practicing defensive magic, I have not been even close to having a private moment.

Everyone is practicing stunning spells, except for Terry and me. I asked Harry if I could try to learn the shield charm still, and Terry volunteered to help. Neville's learned to use it already, even if he's done it poorly, and the only other witch who cannot cast it isn't pressing the issue.

Terry throws a spell at me.

"Protego," I shout, my arm flashing up.

The spell ricochets off the shield I've conjured and slams into Terry. It slams into his chest and he flips into the air, soaring three times his height.

Bloody Hell. I didn't think that would work.

"Impedimenta," I wave my wand, catching him in the air so he doesn't fall.

The force slams into him and he stops mid-air. I breathe in. Too powerful.

Terry, propped in the air but upside-down, turns his head and lifts his massive flop of hair to look at me. He offers the smallest of smiles.

"Nice work, Marty!" Harry calls out.

Casting a new charm on Terry, I start to lower him toward the floor. Someone's arm is on my shoulder, squeezing it. As Terry gets close enough for his hands to hit the ground, I turn my head to just look at the owner of the hand. It's Luna, smiling at me.

"You've healed," she nods toward my lips.

It seems I have. A shield to protect me.

Michael and Anthony help turn Terry upright and I drop the spell. Luna pulls me away, back toward the stunning group and their pillows. It's probably our last practice before break, and people are still learning but none of them are doing so seriously. We are practicing the stunning charm, but some more than others. For an army, the atmosphere is anything but sombre and controlled. People are laughing. Robbie Browning is practicing healing magic on Colin Creevey, who has taken some of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes, or whatever it is they are calling their poisonous snacks.