It Started With A Closet. . . A Drarry Fic (No Smut!!!)

Day Eight Part Two

Again, I don't really think there's a specific POV

Hexa led them to a willow tree (thankfully not the Whomping Willow), and sat down behind the shielding leaves that brushed the ground in a full circle around them.

As soon as Hexa sat down, Harry was squeezing her in a bear hug, and mumbled, "Thank you thank you thank you" over and over again.

After Harry finally let go a minute or two later, Draco pulled Hexa into his lap before she got a proper chance to escape their hugs and he squeezed her around the middle.

The whole time she was laughing and saying, "Prince! Pronghorn!" in between her bouts of laughter.

Finally, Draco loosened his grip and let her slide off his lap and instead sit in between her two older friends, knee-to-knee.

"What are you guys thanking for anyway? All I did was ask for you."

"You had a huge impact on her decision," Harry countered. "She would've never helped us. Punish us instead, actually."

"I can't believe she has a favorite student," Draco said. "I can't believe it's you. Only because she never picks favorites. Ever."

"I've told her about the . . . complications with my roommates. I eat lunch with her almost every day. Well, before I met you both, at least."

After some quiet, listening to the cold breezes rush past, Draco spoke up, looking curiously at Hexa's cross-legged position.

"Doesn't it hurt to sit like that?" he asked her, looking up to look her in the eyes.

She gave him a confused look.

"Your daggers. In your boots," he elaborated.

"My parents put a spell on them. They can't harm me in any way, ever. I can't feel them at all; it's like they aren't even there."

"Can we see?" Harry asked, obviously intrigued by the concept.

She stood up and pulled them out, handing one gingerly to each of her two friends as she sat back down in between them.

Seeing it up close, they were very intricate. (A/N Again, I'm awful at describing stuff, so picture and let's just say the sheaths are inside her boots, fastened by magic because they have magic and it makes it easier on your awful author to describe how it works. Also, handle is black leather.)

"Hexa, can I see your hand?" Draco asked. She held one out, hesitantly. She knew what he was going to try, and she also knew what was going to happen, but it seemed weird letting someone try to cut her.

Draco dragged the blade over her palm, but instead of digging into Hexa's skin and letting her blood flow, it bent like liquid or a shadow over her hand, making her shiver. (It didn't hurt, of course. It just felt like ice being pressed against her skin before everything goes numb.)

Draco pulled it away, wide-eyed in curiousity. It returned to normal. He skimmed his finger over the tip of the blade and it was solid as it looked in all it's menacing glory.

"Whoa," Harry said. "I've never heard of a spell like that." He touched the tip of the one he was holding, like Draco had, and it didn't bend.

"It must have been very advanced magic," Draco agreed.

"How long have you been using them?" Harry asked.

"It was my birthday. . . I think I was turning six," Hexa recalled. "So nine years, almost."

"Six?" they said together.

"I've always been told I'm very mature for my age," Hexa told them, shrugging.