PRECEDENT : Draco Malfoy II

49

I see him once again in October. That time, we get an hour together in the morning. He doesn't seem to want to go back to the boat house so we meet again in the Room of Requirements. He kisses my forehead as we study next to each other. It's nice, a practiced quiet. We aren't bickering. We are doing okay. The entire foundation of Hogwarts feels shaky.

Being in the boathouse feels wrong. I don't study there anymore. He doesn't like it there. It doesn't surprise me. Most of our memories are in there, and these days it's hard to find pleasant ones anywhere. I turned ash grey there, but we also kissed for the first time there, but that kiss was during an argument. So, I study in the library. Sometimes, I feel a panic again, when I hear someone whispering about a death somewhere, or another attack on muggles. I spend just as much time staring down at the Great Lake as I do in the library. I don't even use oil pastels to try to contain my thoughts about the swirling depth of the black water. It's too vast. I can see myself in the middle of the lake if I close my eyes, hands on me dragging me down.

The October deadline passed and I never told Dumbledore yes. I paced outside of his office on three different days, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The smallest part of me was worried that Draco was right and not just selfish. I'm not fit for war. I'm not here to change the world. I'm barely here to change mine.

On my birthday, he calls for me to come to the Prefect Bathroom. I come late again. Draco has a picnic set up for us. The blanket is softer than the one when we first had a picnic here. He's brought a basket too. When I sit down across from him, I try to open it. He pulls it away.

"You're too curious," he tells me.

"I'm not someone who is keen to be surprised."

He rolls his eyes, pulling out goblets and a wine bottle. He begins to pour them for us.

"How are you?" I ask.

"It's your birthday," he says. "You don't get to worry about me."

"And you don't get to tell me what to do," I lean over and kiss him.

He certainly looks better than he did the last time I saw him. He's just as pale as ever, but his eyes don't look as grey around them. It's rude for me to analyze him so much. I'm sure I don't look that well either. Certainly, I don't shower every day. When I do, I can't stand cold water. I come out with a bright red face that doesn't fade for half an hour. I need another shower after from how much I sweat under the steaming water.

Tonight, at least we look put together. He's wearing a grey button-up and black slacks. Not the jumper I bought for him, which is a shame since I was thinking about trying to modify its charm. In the low lighting, my sky blue skirt looks darker than it is, and my blouse looks black and not brown. The fabric is nice, but not as expensive as his. I swallow. I must look like the shimmering colours of the Great Lake. I'm inky again.

He passes me the wine. I chug it. In my dorm room I don't drink. I feel like I sleep easier when I do, unfortunately.

We dine on cheese that he bought at Hogsmeade last weekend and has been saving. I'm surprised he even went to Hogsmeade. Apparently, Snape's got him busy with some special project. Draco tried to explain it to me. It's alchemical, and that's my worse subject right now.

"It's rotten how busy he's keeping you," I say. "Snape, I mean."

Draco shrugs, "he thinks I'm good."

I lean forward, placing my hand on his forearm, "you are good."

He recoils, his face contorting, "talented. He thinks I'm talented."