The Abuser

Same Damn Git (Year 2)

The scent you wear moves in lines from your apartment into mine. You act like you don't know me, my god, you tempt my anxious mind.

- 1957 by Milo Greene

...........

I moan and rub the back of my neck. My summertime guardians, the Auseens, seem to take great pleasure in dressing me in thick wool prisons instead of the typical dresses that witches my age wear. For a trip to Diagon Ally, of course, they had to go the extra mile. "Witches show too much skin, nowadays," Mrs. Auseen croaks every morning as she lays out my clothes. I had to pack all of my typical summertime attire away in a chest, while being wrapped and draped in floor-grazing robes that practically covered my mouth.

I slip into the nearest shop; a bookstore which I think is called Flourish and Blots. Quickly locating the girl's restroom, I waste no time in bustling my flowing black skirts into an empty cubical. I gasp, relieved, as I peal my woolen dress from my sweating body. I yank the pointed cap away from my thick dark hair, shaking my head disgustedly at the stuffed, moldering, chicken stitched to the hideous head-piece. What are my guardians thinking?! They surely can't expect me to dress like this every summer for the rest of my childhood! I hastily pull my replacement outfit from my backpack, sequestering my previous ensemble into the satchel's largest pocket. I dress quickly in my airy summer dress; then lose my tightly bound hair, letting it ripple out in black tresses.

Thank Merlin the Auseens trust me enough to leave me here for the day! I think, surveying my image in the full length mirror on the back of the stall's door. The dress is short, above my knees, and spaghetti strapped. Thankfully I've grown quite a bit over the summer, though I'm still not nearly as tall as I'd like to be. With a resigned sigh of acceptance over my body, I flip my hair and exit the bathroom, lugging my over-stuffed bag behind me.

My head is down as I maneuver through the crowds, trying not to step on anyone's feet. I'm just thinking that I've never seen so many people in a bookstore in my life, when I crash right into a tall figure in a black tee-shirt. "Oh! Sorry..." My voice trails off as I stare at the young man who I just bumped into. I frown, tilting my head skeptically to take him in from another angle. Draco Malfoy? Certainly, this boy resembles the Hogwarts bully... but good Merlin! He's changed a lot over the summer!

"DeLuce?" He asks, gaping in bewilderment as I try to straighten my hair. His voice is deeper, and I notice a tiny blush creeping onto his pallid cheeks. Seeing the way that his face lights up my nod of affirmation, I fold my arms over my chest, glaringly ready for whatever dirty insult he decides to throw at me. The insult, however, never comes. There is an incredibly awkward silence, which I finally feel obligated to break.

Running my fingers through my hair, I look around with a sigh. "This place sure is full." I comment, staring curiously at the lines of cheering women.

"Yeah. Gilderoy Lockheart's here, doing a book signing. In fact, he's got Saint Po..." Draco trails off, staring at someone behind me. I look up.

Oh, damn! I think, my shoulders slumping at the unwelcome intrusion of our conversation. Lucius Malfoy towers behind me, glaring at me with distinctly nefarious disgust. He looks uncannily like his son.

"Father." Draco says, curtly, nodding his head.

"Who's your little friend, Draco?" He booms.

The 'little' part may be true... but 'friend'?! Ha, give me a break. The sudden realization that Draco was actually gorgeous nearly gave me heart failure, but now I'm almost dying of poorly suppressed sniggers.

Draco looks desperately uncomfortable with his father's label, turning away from me to hide the flush fast rising to his face. "DeLuce." His voice cracks awkwardly.