The Impatient Man and His Suit

Red Hands

After sitting near the fire with the "Biography of Sir Antoine Siward" in hand for some time, I became restless with the fact that two blankets, the thickest sweater in my suitcase, and two layers of socks, plus the fire could not keep me warm enough. Teetering over to Wensley, who sat scrubbing the bottoms of her shoes over a metal bucket with her flaxen brush, I asked her to lend me her skills of magic in drawing a bath.

"I can't lend you magic!" she cried, completely missing my point. She immediately dropped her flaxen brush into her bucket and set down her little oxfords, to rush into the kitchen where she clambered about for the collection of kettles.

Although it had become her almost daily task to draw me a bath, it put worry in my heart to see how quickly she started to carry it out, and without ever requesting my assistance. Most of the time she would come bursting into my room in the mornings and without a word, the four kettles would come floating and bobbing in. Perhaps it was her pride not to ask, but it troubled me greatly, so I began filling up each kettle she pulled out of the cupboard. Looking up at me, in her eyes swam a secret gratitude which she perhaps wished to express, but to save her elfish-dignity, I nodded before her mouth could even open. In partnership, we managed to fill the tub up with scorching water in only two trips.

Sitting for a moment in my bathrobe on the side of the tub, I waited with a book for the water to calm down from its scorch. I climbed carefully into the hot water, letting my cold skin acclimate to its temperature. I unraveled my bandages and slowly let my hands become fully emerged. I sunk into the comforting water until the surface reached my nose and closed my eyes in peace. The candlelight danced across my lids.

It wasn't until I thought of the earlier events of that day that my eyes slowly opened again in disturbance. I thought of my hundredth time failing to produce magic—and felt heavy inside. I thought of my misinterpretation earlier—and felt a great sense of illiteracy, even going as far to doubt my own ability to interact with other humans correctly. But when I thought of Malfoy's pants being rolled up, a darling feeling of admiration took me by surprise. It started in my heart, making its steady pump increase a beat, and poured slowly into my stomach like viscous honey.

I quickly propped myself up in the tub, exposing a portion of my chest and the second half of my face again. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and thought of Draco doing the same in front of the fire. The pace of my breathing increased and the sting of sleepiness in my eyes disappeared. I looked across the tiny bathroom to observe myself in the mirror. I had a glow from the candle reflecting onto the steam which had cohered to my skin and I took note of a light flush in the skin of my face. I swallowed hard and sunk back into the protection of the bathtub.

After drying myself and layering my clothing for the night, I sought after my Orb. It was horrifically cold when I pulled it out of my coat pocket and I had to let it sit alone in front of the fire. The outside of the ball wasn't glossy like it had been. Instead, ice cold precipitation made it look frosty and reflected nothing but the phantom of the hearth fire which burned savagely before it.

Once it seemed to "defrost", I held the ball firmly in my hand and enjoyed the weightiness of its dense mass. It showed me nothing, even if I coxed it with its favorite charm: "Droomiocontara." The Orb slept, shrouded in mysterious disdain for its unfamiliar surroundings. Because it did not wish to be awoken by its mistress, it would simply not be awoken.

The following morning greeted me with a familiar anxiety. I arose from my sheets, got dressed for the academic day, joined Wensley at breakfast, then trudged sullenly onto my destination route. However, the weather was exceptionally foreboding that morning. The familiar fog which had been absent since the beginning of that week rolled in overnight and completely concealed the distant Forbidden Forest, so that only a bird appearing and disappearing through Nature's mysterious curtain could be seen.