Phases (editing)

two

AN- Chapter songs: Hang me up to Dry by Cold War Kids and Dark Red by Steve Lacy

11th September 1995

Waxing Gibbous

Many days have passed since my conversation with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I haven't spoken to Malfoy either. I should rather say, he hasn't spoken to me. I'm embarrassed to admit, seeing the hope of a new beginning vanish from his face was quite heartbreaking. But it's Draco Malfoy. I shouldn't be concerned with the state of his emotions. Then again he seemed to have a change of heart.

I got up from my desk, in the library, in search of more books to help me with writing my History of Magic assignment. I peered through many shelves and felt a strain in my neck from attempting to read the small font of the dustjackets six selves above. After some time, I felt a muscle in my arm begin to cramp from the weight of the texts I decided upon. My free hand rubbed circles into the crook of my neck as I walked through the isles of books, attempting to relieve at least something in my life.

Upon my return to the desk, I was previously working at, a spot of green that was more vibrant than anything in its neighbouring surroundings, entered my vision. A fruit sat upon my stack of scribbled papers. I was unaware of my arms hesitantly setting the books down; while my eyes fixated on the fruit not much smaller than my hand.

I gripped the fruit in my palm as I lifted it from where it was placed. Instinctively glancing around the room, scanning each and every breathing soul in the vicinity.

He is nowhere to be seen.

"Miss. Lewis," the librarian snaps, "there is no eating in the library."

"Apologies, Madam Pince." I rush out.

I am yet again, left perplexed by a situation he strategically placed me in. I flopped back into my seat feeling an aggressive sigh left my chest, which caused a few heads to turn. I paid them no mind as my mind was occupied by the puzzle in front of me.

Hermione joined me moments later. Her arms filled with a stack of books so dense you'd think her arms would snap. I watched her drop the books to the table with precision. Hermione followed by floating down into the seat perpendicular to mine.

I hadn't realised the fruit still sat at the top of the table. I noticed the second Hermione's attention was drawn to it, and of course, she addressed it. "A green apple?" She might as well have said, Are you fucking kidding me, with the tone she spat.

My head answered with a confirming nod and continued with my research. My motivation resides beyond making a silly little apple a product of conversation. I was not about to argue with the brightest witch of our age, even if she were in the right. Which she is not.

"Shall I ask if it is just a coincidence, or possibly relieve me of my doubts about how far your connection to Malfoy has gone?" She sat like a parent lecturing their delinquent child. Hermione is and will never be my mother.

A vein protrudes from my forehead and I feel the rest of my body tense with it. I strongly dislike when she gets this way. I feel my jaw clenching. She now has my full and undivided attention. "Why? Do you not trust me?"

"Since Malfoy deemed you a proper acquaintance, you have begun to act unlike yourself. I do trust you Aspen, but you must understand my desire to question your intentions." She opens her book in disbelief. Then moves her attention from me to the pages her hand is flipping between.

"To answer your question, no. I am not an acquaintance of Malfoy." I grasp the apple and place it in the space between Hermione and me. "This apple was on the table when I arrived. I was not given it." A half-truth. "If you are going to deem Malfoy the only one at Hogwarts that eats green apples, then he must've sat here before me and left it." I sink my teeth into the apple and pull a rather large bite into my mouth. "One person's loss is another's victory."