We Sorta Kinda Just Happened (A Drarry Story)

Chapter 22

"Explain why the trolls were actually at fault for the last Goblin War? Definitely won't be needing that." Draco read out loud the old essay to an empty room.

Tossing it onto a towering pile of unneeded things, he inspected his room. A large trunk was open, halfway packed with clothes and books, and a smaller, blue backpack was laying off to the side, still empty. The closet once full of clothes lay nearly empty, holding one more set of pajamas, the suit for tomorrow, and casual Muggle clothes to change into afterwards. One last pile of old homework, papers, and books lay between him and going to bed. He sighed as he sorted through it. Barely glancing at any of them and throwing most away, the clock ticking was the only thing breaking the silence. One of them caught his eye with the heading. The words stood out with their large, bold cursive filling the parchment.

Dragon Healer.

He remembered what this was. A month ago, sitting under a tree, he filled out this survey to help him pick something, anything he could do after Hogwarts. He remembered picking this one because of the name, and actually being interested in the job. The sheet said the offices were in Diagon Alley, Suite 975. Grabbing a spare paper and quill off his dresser, he scribbled the address down. Then he threw it and the survey in the tiny backpack.

The papers and books he planned to throw away floated into the garbage bag they had given all the eighth years. There had been rumors of a huge bonfire to happen outside, a celebratory burning of all their old school stuff, but he had stayed away. Fire didn't sit well with him nowadays. Sitting down on his bed in his pajamas, he reviewed the mandatory speech that every eighth year had to give during graduation tomorrow. Or his lack thereof.

His parchment was completely empty because he had no idea what to say. How he would summarize his whole experience at Hogwarts using words was a mystery to him. His hand went to the paper and he let it doodle, his mind wandering everywhere. He knew what Hermione is doing, and Ron, and Harry, but he didn't want to copy them. How he would want to be remembered was another option, but the thoughts that were prompted by that he didn't want to share. McGonagoll had been expressed her opinion about the speeches this morning during breakfast.

"Hogwarts!" She had called in front of the Great Hall as everyone dug into their food. "This is our last weekend breakfast this year at Hogwarts. For some, the very last of their school career." She paused and indulgently let several hoots and foot stomping come from scattered seventh years, but mostly coming from the eighth year table residing in the back.

"Seventh years, your graduation ceremony is the day after tomorrow. Eighth years, tomorrow is your last day." Even more foot stamping this time, which she quickly put a stop to with her next statement.

"Since you are quite the unusual graduating group, a whole year late, mind you, each of you will make a graduating speech about your time here, what you want to be remembered for, or anything else you can think of. Keep it appropriate, please." She said. All the eighth years clammed up, shocked at the prospect of speaking publicly, Draco included. The seventh years laughed nervously at their expense, wondering whether they would have to do anything.

"Now, let's enjoy this feast!" She said and sat down at the head of the staff table.

The eighth year table was now filled with paranoid and worried voices discussing the new development. Ron snorted.

"Gee, thanks for the heads up. I'll probably just wing it," He confessed to his friends.

Harry and Draco nodded along. Draco wouldn't even consider doing that, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to survive if he tried to improvise. Hermione frowned, which was unusual because Draco remembered her complaining how lax the teachers were getting about assignments and how much was given.