I've surreptitiously snuck back.
A few of you quite liked the idea of a small collection of one-shots about Meg and her cray-cray adventures, and I thought, why the hell not? So here we are!
Ha, and you thought you'd got rid of me.
Sorry it took so long to get this up as well, I have the motivation of a snail.
Also, I have no idea how many of these I'm doing...I guess if you like them I'll keep doing them xD If anyone has any stellar ideas for a one-shot then in the words of Loki 'TEELLL MEEEEEE'
*cough*
Wherein I narrowly avoid Easter Island and tell children to stay in school.
The world disintegrated around me; the ruthless spinning that seized my mind disorientating me in the way it always did. In my stomach, I felt myself pulling away from the house like a string stretching, until it got too far and broke; snapping me to the image I had conjured in my mind's eye; the image I had held so constantly in my head despite its finer details slipping away from me every day. As always, the lurch of queasiness that made my legs shaky hit me and I screwed my eyes shut tighter.
And, as always, I fell face first onto the ground I had apparated onto with an unceremonious crash.
"Ow." I groaned after a few seconds of evaluating that it had, in fact, hurt; pressing my fingers against my forehead, my fringe brushing against them as, slowly, I sat up.
"Every time, Forester?" A far too smug voice asked from above my head.
"I will never understand," I grumbled, as a hand pulled me to my feet, "Why we can't just fly."
"By all means," Draco Malfoy said, his grey eyes glittering with amusement as he brushed the dirt I had collected from my shoulders, disguising his smirk rather poorly, "Feel free to fly back to Wiltshire."
"What?" I grinned, "Want to make a bet that I can't?"
He pulled a face at that. It probably still stung that I had won those galleons from him by betting against his favourite Quidditch team, and winning. I mean, why anyone would support a team who called themselves the Montrose Magpies was beyond me in the first place.
"At least I got the right place this time." I commented, dusting off my arms, "Remember when I took us to Easter Island by accident?"
"Vividly. And I think 'hit' is the right word, Forester."
"Enough with the surnames." I sighed. He smiled at that, and with a tightness in my chest that had come from neither apparition or my less than graceful impact on the ground, I finally turned to the sight my eyes had been craving since I'd last seen it eight months ago.
Hogwarts was still beautiful.
And far more intact that when I had left it.
From where we stood at the entrance to the grounds; the winged boars rising up either side of the wrought iron gates, through the trees spanning up the hill, I could glimpse the Stone Circle; the tall grey stones dwarfed by the covered bridge that crossed the grey stone abyss until it met the castle.
I'd left the school with the Entrance Courtyard shattered; the walls caved in and debris strewn across the paving. The fountain, which my Ravenclaw friends and I had spent so many break times leaning against, or in Antony Goldstein's case, being cornered by girls, had smashed into a thousand pieces; and the turrets that had spanned far above those scenes had stood half caved in; rafters exposed like bones that had stretched up twisted and broken towards the sky.
As to my Entrance Courtyard fountain, I had no clue as to its state. But from here, I could make out the turrets and towers that soared, and now soared intact towards the late morning clouds. To see it again, after a summer of feeling I should really be nowhere but here, caused a constriction of my heart.
"Hey, you're rich." I said to Malfoy as we started to pick our way up the route that would wind its way to the Entrance Courtyard, the late January air brisk as it tugged at my hair,
"Thank you." Malfoy interjected immediately. I had to hand it to him, he was getting quicker.
"Can we buy some of this?" I continued, nodding at the castle as we began to climb the hill, "A turret or two? Do the students a favour and buy out the Divination tower?"
"You want a turret each, Forester?" He seemed to have deliberately ignored my request for first names. Typical. "Are you that sick of me?"
"I'd have gone for Ravenclaw pride, you see." I replied, with a grin, "I'm sure blue would clash horribly with blond."
Malfoy gave a sigh, and didn't respond, instead taking my hand between his fingers as his pace became faster. I still couldn't quite make myself accustomed to this kind of contact, in a good way of course; it was simply the presence of the embraces and touches from a person from whom such things I never would have expected a matter of years ago. Hell, it was certainly the last thing either of us would have wanted. And now, I couldn't remember how I had existed.
The feeling of surreal flooded my senses as we drew closer to the castle. To look up at those towers; the sunlight glinting on the glass windows as it pierced the cloudy sky, made my heart yearn for the school I had known and missed with a fervour that couldn't really be healthy. The fact that Hogwarts was once more the unbroken, soaring structure from my earlier years at the school only increased that longing.
"I can't believe we're following Potter's advice." Malfoy muttered, evidently not quite as captivated by our surroundings as I currently was.
I pulled myself away from looking fondly at the Divination Tower (which no Pygmy Puffs appeared to be falling from) to give him what I hoped was my fiercest expression. Given that Malfoy looked over and took a step away from me, I reckon it was rather effective.
"You said you'd behave," I reminded him, "And I hardly think agreeing to join the list of people acting as guest speakers is a strong move towards friendship."
"This was your idea." Malfoy reminded me.
"Then if you get a Christmas card from Harry next year I am eternally sorry."
Any reply Malfoy would have made was put on hold when we reached the steps to the Entrance Hall; the doors to the castle reaching up above us, and managing to make me feel extraordinarily tiny.
Malfoy's hand left mine to reach out for the door,
"After you, Forester." He whispered in my ear, making my hair tickle the side of my face, and my skin erupt in goosebumps, robbing me of any reply.
He pushed the door open and I took a tentative step forwards, carrying myself into the castle that I had missed with all my heart. I promptly stopped, feeling ridiculously overwhelmed by the sights I wished I still belonged amongst. There was the Grand Staircase, the moving stairs to the second floor just visible as it swung past out of sight. The golden statue of the Architect, that nobody really seemed to know the name of, was to my right; glinting in the sunlight that tumbled out the arched doors to the Great Hall. My breath caught briefly as I looked into the hall, almost expecting to see the horrific sights that had been there on that night in July; when so many people had died defending so much. But glossy tables lined the hall instead of camp beds; torches on the walls now where scattered and broken debris had once collected. And the beautiful window that spanned the length of the end wall was now intact; no broken glass at its feet. I almost lamented that change, because now there was no getting to that ledge where I had stood with Malfoy after that night; watching the sun rise on a new day.
"This feels so strange." I said to Malfoy, a swoop of sentiment washing over me as a ghost materialised from the wall. The Fat Friar recognised me and hastily glided away, muttering about 'rude youths' and 'my death wasn't funny'.
"I know." Malfoy replied, and I caught him looking uneasily around, as if he could see the battle that had waged here as vividly as the surroundings that were now facing him. That I could understand, but for me, I had separated Hogwarts into two worlds; the one that I still yearned for, and the one I would rather forget, that had been more like a bad dream. Despite that odd ray of sunshine that had pierced it.
I took Malfoy by the hand and began to lead him towards the staircases, when a tiny little wizard headed over towards us, his white beard exactly the same as when I had last seen him.
"Are you two here for the lecture?" Professor Flitwick squeaked, unrolling a wad of parchment that seemed to hold the names of seventh years who had left last term.
"No, we're just here to-" I began to say, sarcasm taking over, but Malfoy cut in.
"Yes, we are."
"Spoilsport." I whispered, and got flung a smirk identical to my own.
"It's in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom," Flitwick told us, "I trust you can still remember the way, Meg?"
"Wow." I blinked, confused, "What happened to 'Miss Forester'?"
"You're no longer a student here," Flitwick said happily. Perhaps, I thought suspiciously, a little too happily, "Certain customs are now revoked."
That caused me to be a little beyond words, and Flitwick left us to make our way up to the classroom.
"Well," I told Malfoy as we just made it onto the staircase before it began to move, the familiar grating noise a sound I had missed vastly, "There's no way I'm calling him Filius."
Malfoy gave a smile, but I had the feeling he was still a little caught up with the school he had never enjoyed as much as I had. I felt a small pang of guilt that I had dragged him along here; after receiving the owl from Harry, expressing the idea of students from last year to come and join him in a talk about defence against dark magic. I think the memories this place churned up for Malfoy still kept him awake at night. Well, I knew they did.
"We don't have to do this you know," I said for the third time since we'd decided to come, "We can go and steal Bertie Bott's Beans in Honeydukes instead. Or I can apparate us home and see where we end up this time?"
Malfoy turned to give me a surprisingly serious look, his grey eyes steely with a determination that made him look far stronger than the frightened person I'd known this time last year. It was those small things that made me realise how much some things had changed forever.
"I know you want to be here," He said steadily, "And it's not as bad as you think."
I tried to stare him down, but his poker face had grown better recently.
"The minute you want to leave," I told him, as we stepped onto the third floor, heading habitually down the familiar corridor strewn with armour and tapestries, "Just say the word."
"How gallant you are."
We were interrupted by the sudden increase of noise, as, rounding the corridor, we came across a cluster of at least twenty people; all chattering excitedly with the air of people who hadn't seen one another in a long time.
I heard Malfoy give a low groan as he began to recognise the figures waiting outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and I let him stay in his bubble of irritation as, blowing my fringe to move it from my eyes, I began to look for the two people who promised me they would be here.
It didn't take me long to seek out the dark haired figure, who, expectantly, was looking exceptionally eager for the opportunity of teaching. I gave a shout of happiness, and, grabbing Malfoy's hand, ran over to him,
"Good morning." Terry Boot grinned as I arrived, dragging a slightly less enthusiastic Malfoy behind me. They all tried, but to class the times when Antony and Terry spent time with Malfoy as awkward was probably an understatement. "This is exciting isn't it?"
"Only you could class giving speeches as exciting." I told him, smiling, "Where's Antony?"
"He and Padma went to look round the castle. Apparently." Sniggering ensued until I looked across at a group of people by the door.
"Oh look, Draco," I announced, pointing, "It's your three favourite people."
Harry, Ron and Hermione were exactly the same as I remembered them, not that it was easy to forget what Harry Potter looked like when his picture was splashed across the paper as frequently as it was. Especially now, when the intrigue and interest that always surrounded him had done nothing but grow, there was a strange appeal to the slight, dark haired figure; as if the crowd were unconsciously orbiting around him.
"Thank you for that, Forester."
Although Harry was never going to be Draco's favourite person; it wasn't utter loathing he was regarding him with now. After all; after May, Harry had played a significant part in protecting Malfoy and his family from the fate of the other Death Eaters; Azkaban, something that I was eternally grateful to him for. Perhaps he had seen, as I had, that like most of us in that war, they were the victims of what had gone on around them.
"Who is the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher now, anyway?" I now asked, moving on and peering towards the door to the classroom, as if that would supply my answer.
"A wizard named Morrigan Erasmus." Terry answered immediately, "Can't be any worse than last year's teacher, that's for sure."
"I wonder how he'll compare to Snape." I mused in a quiet voice.
Despite Snape's presence in one year of Defence Against the Dark Arts and even longer in miserable Potions lessons- which, I mentally added, glancing at Draco now, really hadn't been that miserable- I had had to re-evaluate my view of Professor Snape. Harry had written an article in the Daily Prophet, who I had noticed, seemed very keen to appease him, which almost made up for their utter uselessness last year. Harry's article had been three pages long, double sided, and had nearly made me give up just by looking at it. But I had read it all the same, and the image of the man who had made me pickle rat brains was reluctantly morphed into an individual far braver and good than I'd have thought.
I was also pretty convinced Hermione had helped write the thing.
Standing there, I realised Draco was saying my name, and my first one at that.
"Hmm?"
Malfoy took a step towards me, dissolving any casual distance as his face became only a few centimetres away from mine. It also dissolved most of the feeling in my knees.
"I said, I think there's someone you want to visit."
"Someone?" I repeated blankly, a little too caught up in our proximity.
Malfoy's face broke into a grin, and, in what was probably revenge for me doing the same earlier, dragged me through the crowd.
"I'll be right back," I managed to mutter dazedly to Terry, before Malfoy pulled me back out onto the staircases.
"Where are we going?" I asked stupidly, "We have to be back in time for the lecture."
"Never thought I would hear Meg Forester declare she had to be on time for something." Malfoy smirked, "And there's something I thought you'd want to see. For old time's sake."
My state of confusion lasted until we reached the seventh floor, and began to ascend up a certain spiral staircase; the pale stone walls giving off the typical light, airy feeling of the upper floors of the castle.
The 'someone' was where they always were. And always would be, I mentally added with a grin. The bronze eagle knocker was busy preening its shining metal feathers as Draco and I climbed the last step. With a harsh cry that was evidently supposed to be impressive, it turned to face us.
It actually did a double take.
"You don't go here anymore." It croaked defiantly, for an intelligent door knocker now looking immensely bewildered, "I won't let you in."
"Well, that's not much of a greeting." I informed it, "Didn't you miss me?"
That invoked a great deal of muttering.
"We would like a riddle, please." I said in my sweetest voice, "And you can't say no. We've been through this already."
The eagle commenced muttering, among which I caught the words 'don't I know it'. It appeared that many of the Hogwarts inhabitants had attitudes today.
"Fine." It snapped, "But I'll shout until a teacher comes, you know."
"Good luck with that." I snorted, "We're up a staircase on the seventh floor, in case you didn't know, which you probably didn't. Now, riddle away."
The eagle shot a glare at Malfoy, who had remained silent, a smirk in place on his features; as if it was Malfoy's fault that I was here now. I suppose it kind of was.
"I cannot be seen," The eagle sighed in a defeatist manner,"I weigh nothing, but put me in a barrel, and I make it lighter. What am I?"
If it hadn't been for the riddle section of the Daily Prophet that I had read out of pure boredom the other day, this would have been lost on me. As it happened, I had, and I pretended think for a second, just for courtesy's sake.
"You're a hole." I told the eagle triumphantly.
I was fairly certain that it wouldn't take long to come up with a rejoinder at my words and call me another kind of hole, so grabbing Malfoy's arm, I pushed the door open and dashed into the Ravenclaw common room.
The tide of blue and gold met my eyes; my gaze instantly flicking upwards to the painted star chart sprawling across the inky blue ceiling. Light flooded into the room as the sunlight glinted half heartedly through the tall stretches of panes of glass that surrounded us. Over on the sofa, the one that had been the source of many bitter fights to get a seat by the fire, was a cluster of older students; enjoying their free period. A few looked up as we dashed in, no doubt disturbing precious Ravenclaw study time, and those that took us in stared. With my jeans and jumper, and the dark clothes Malfoy always wore no matter how much fun I made of him for it, we clearly weren't students.
"Old time's sake." I told the boy that was looking at us quizzically, "Ravenclaws, you know."
His eyes flicked to Malfoy. Ah. That was the problem with Draco Malfoy; particularly the one of old who had attended to Hogwarts. He was somewhat easy to spot, and frequently rude enough to remember. And definitely not a Ravenclaw.
"He's a Ravenclaw." I informed the sixth year hopefully.
I decided then was a better time than ever to head towards the staircases for the dormitories, heading up the sloping stairs that eventually split towards the two separated wings for the boys and the girls.
"Come on." I smirked at Draco, heading towards the girls' staircase. He pulled a face.
"I'm fairly sure that would be pushing it, Forester." He told me, "And I don't know why your room has so many memories for you, as you seemed to spend most of your nights following me."
I paused in examining the view to the lake through the arched window to shoot him a look,
"You were blatantly following me. I didn't ask you to come into the Prefect's bathroom, remember?"
Malfoy gave me a rather wolfish grin.
"Vividly." He said.
I found myself blushing.
Rather rapidly, I left him for a brief moment, jogging up the well worn stairs to the door I knew so well. It made the same creak it always did as I flung it open, groaning on its hinges as I stepped into my old dormitory.
The blue hangings were the same as ever, the floorboard by my old bed protruding more than ever, the singular reason I had fallen over so much when I stepped out of bed. I looked up at the dark wood canopy, half expecting to see Sampson cleaning his wings there. But he was back at Braxton-On-Sea. I wondered if he missed this place as much as I did.
"Are you serious?"
The voice made me jump a foot in the air, and with a squawk, I wheeled round to see a girl reclining on her four poster bed, reading a grossly pink copy of Witch Weekly. She was scowling at me, a scowl I sometimes thought was eerily similar to my own.
"'Serious?'" I asked my sister with an amused look at her choice of words, "Really, Jade?"
"I thought you left last year." Jade sighed sarcastically, "Don't tell me you failed so many N.E. that you have to retake the year?"
"Didn't need them, little sister." I informed her smugly, "Exemption for being a fabulous person, remember?" Or because I had simply been fighting at the Battle of Hogwarts, something which I continued to congratulate myself on, as there was no way I could have passed Defence Against the Dark Arts without outside help.
"Whatever. This isn't your room."
My retort was somewhat stolen when a small, extremely fluffy pink...well, thing, crawled out from underneath the bed, waddling out across the floorboards.
"Fitzwilliam." I said, acknowledging the Pygmy Puff stiffly. "So glad to see you haven't fallen off any towers yet. The year is young, I suppose."
"One day, you're going to traumatise him with all the things you've put him through." Jade told me, reaching over the bed to scoop up the ball of fluff.
"'Him?' How on earth can you tell?" I asked shrewdly, peering at Fitzwilliam.
"Why are you even here, Meg?" Jade sighed, apparently not taking kindly to the fact that the pet she had named after Mr Darcy might, in fact, be a girl.
"Didn't I tell you at Christmas? Harry's giving a talk at midday to some first years and invited us along. Because we're battle pros, you know."
"Midday, huh?" Jade smirked, looking at her watch. "It's ten past now."
Our conversation didn't last much longer after that.
"Turns out we have to go!" I announced to Malfoy, as he came into sight as I hurtled down the stairs. He let out a much put upon sigh as I seized his arm and began to march him down the stairs.
"Enough with the manhandling, Forester."
Despite our rather plentiful practice of running through the school when required to, after one too many late night strolls ending with Mrs Norris's eyes glinting at me, it still took too long to retrace our steps back to the third floor. I was not particularly heartened by the sudden lack of people in the corridor.
"For once," I told Draco as I tiptoed forward to find the room everyone had disappeared into, half expecting to run into Peeves, who usually materialized right when I had decided he was exactly who I wanted to avoid, "It's your fault we're late."
Malfoy gave me a narrow-eyed smile that told me he wasn't at all sorry.
The door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom sounded ridiculously and impossible loud as I slowly opened it; almost screaming on its hinges and slamming against the wall. So much for sneaking in.
Faces turned to look at us as we stood in the doorway; and judging from the size of the students behind the desks, they were only a few months in to their first time at Hogwarts. First years. Excellent.
"Oops." I whispered to Malfoy, who snorted.
The wizard who was stood at the front of the classroom, just in front of the clustered group of guests; among which I could see Terry's disapproving glance at us, turned to face us. He reminded me a little of Gilderoy Lockhart, the rather dashing teacher from our second year who had seemed to vanish at the end of the term. I still resented my family's obsession with him as our bookcase was conquered by his collective works, twice over as Jade had just joined the school. Morrigan Erasmus had the same alarmingly blond hair, although it looked decidedly less styled than Lockhart's had been. His robes were a deep wine purple, and golden spectacles were perched ever so slightly lopsided on his face. I had to say, he looked far friendlier than Amycus Carrow, which could only be a good thing.
"Sorry." I mouthed to him, before beginning to creep to the back of the group of ex-students.
Morrigan Erasmus looked somewhat confused, blinked a few times in our direction, and then turned back to the first years. A few of them were sniggering at Draco and I. Rude.
"As I was saying," Professor Erasmus said in a voice that sounded tired. I would be too if I had to teach first years, "Although this is a rather unprecedented idea, it shall be no doubt beneficial to your education. Although of course nobody expects you to partake in a battle anytime soon." None of his students laughed as he looked hopefully round the room. I gave a short, loud 'ha!' for his benefit. Malfoy moved away from me slightly.
"Now, I'm fairly sure that Harry Potter himself can better explain the importance of self defence." Professor Erasmus told the class, and I felt myself sniggering slightly over his sincere use of the words 'fairly sure'.
"It wasn't that funny." Malfoy muttered.
"That's what you said when I knocked over that massive wardrobe of yours," I whispered back, working to control myself, "And that was funny."
Harry had stepped forward during our muted conversation, and any sniggering among the first years had abruptly stopped. The way they were looking now wasn't far amiss from what they would look like if he had just plummeted through the ceiling like a comet.
"Er, good afternoon?" The Boy Who Lived said. Not quite what I was expecting.
The first years, either too stunned at the fact a living legend was right before them, or that the living legend's opening sentence had been rather lame, said nothing. Beside me, so quietly I doubt anyone else heard it, Malfoy gave a small exhalation of amusement.
"It wasn't that funny." I reminded him.
"Well," Harry continued, clapping his hands together, "The main reason Her-I mean, I wanted to come here today was to talk about the...er...usefulness that a good knowledge of spells can have when you're defending yourself." He glanced back to someone in the crowd, and I was willing to bet- which, I reminded myself, I was good at- that he had looked at Hermione for confirmation. I wondered if he even wanted to be here at all.
Malfoy and I snorted at the same time.
"So the plan is to get a few of my friends who were in Dumbledore's Army last year to demonstrate the kind of spells they have found useful in the past." Harry said. He didn't have to mention it, but I could tell by the looks on the first years' faces that their thoughts had gone instantly to the Battle of Hogwarts. I shuddered slightly.
I think Malfoy had picked up on the fact that Harry had used the word 'friends' because his neck was craned; looking towards the exit. It reminded me of the Christmas party he had come to at my house when Jade and my mum had eaten far too many Chocolate Cauldrons and had performed a completely human re-enactment of the opening music from Pride and Prejudice. The awkwardness had escalated alarmingly quickly.
I suddenly felt a little bit worse for dragging him into this. It would have been like me sitting down on the Slytherin table; something I had done once and had held no inclination to repeat, ever.
Looking back to the proceedings, I saw that Harry was busy sending ex-DA members to certain corners of the classroom; no doubt to show various first years certain types of defence spells. Seeing Terry, Antony and Padma heading towards the back of the class, I caught Draco's eye. He seemed to mentally weigh up the situation and decide following me was the lesser of the evils present.
Walking further along the classroom; towards the spiral staircase leading to the teacher's office, I found myself hit by a wash of memories that this room had given me; over seven years worth of images collected and stored in my mind. Throwing scrunched up doodles at Malfoy from across the room, being set upon by Cornish Pixies; laughing at Professor Quirrell's iguana; Dean Thomas singing the national anthem as he hopped round the room under the Imperius Curse. Darker things had happened too, but this place felt so extraordinarily different to the school of last year that I could hardly believe it was the same place.
Terry had already reached his allocated corner and beckoned us over upon seeing us, an eager grin on his face that I couldn't help smiling fondly at.
"What's the plan?" I asked when I got within earshot, "Are we diving straight in to Unforgivable Curses?"
From the looks of the small cluster of first years who had been sent over to us, they had taken me seriously. Terry cocked an unamused eyebrow at me.
"Or just a spell you found useful last year?" He corrected me lightly.
That made me falter. Like with everything I didn't care for, and with everything I wished hadn't happened, I had pushed the events of that night from my mind; ignoring them except for when they rolled upon my consciousness, in the time of waking or falling asleep; churning back into my mind like rough waves upon a shoreline. Opening that line of thought, here of all places, made me exceptionally uncomfortable.
Antony came to my rescue.
"How about stupefy?" He asked, pushing his sandy hair from his eyes, his other arm around Padma's shoulders.
At Antony's words, a few of the first years started sniggering, and I suddenly began doubting the intelligence in teaching first years such spells. If they were half as sensible as me, they would be jinxing obnoxious Slytherins the minute they left the classroom.
But Terry didn't seem to see this problem, and soon he was following Harry's instructions; using us (excluding Malfoy, who was standing with his arms crossed, almost daring Terry to make him join in) to demonstrate the spell; and meticulously teaching it to the first years. I had to say, I didn't know why he was bothering with the ministry nowadays; he'd have made a great teacher. Having said that, having Terry as the next Minister for Magic was quite a nice thought. World peace would probably follow.
These past months had felt a little like limbo; stuck with the powerful memory of all that had happened, and not being quite able to move on. I, along with most of the seventh years, had helped out at the ministry in the months after the Dark Lord's fall; helping to track down Death Eaters on the run, and to restore the country to relative security once more. Well, I say helping. They didn't seem to trust me enough to go out and do anything. Mostly, I gained the occult skill of expert coffee making, which I'm sure was the main reason other aurors had got the job done. Never underestimate caffeine.
The Ministry of Magic was all well and fine, but it was, well, dull. I longed for Quidditch, and my four poster bed, and wonderful feasts; and the feel of my uniform; the billowing my robes made as I ran, late, to my lessons. I missed it all, and now, looking around at the classroom, the feeling intensified as if I were looking in through a cage; eternally separated from my surroundings.
There was a loud bang, which clearly indicated that Terry was an exceedingly good teacher. As a pile of books that had been hit with the stunning spell toppled from their perch on the windowsill and hit the ground, and I leaned forwards to whisper in Malfoy's ear.
"Just getting some fresh air."
The corridor was cooler after the mass of people in the classroom, and I slipped out with far more elegance than when I had entered, which wasn't too hard. I let out a pent up breath, and, turning away from the staircases, began to head along the third floor corridor, past tapestries and arched windows and snoozing portraits.
I thought, not for the first time in my life, that I had made a mistake. Coming here must feel similar to an imprisoned man looking at the sun. Although slightly less dramatic. I found myself envying those first years; who had seven, good and uninterrupted years left here; here in the castle where I would have happily spent the rest of my life.
"They shouldn't make this place so wonderful." I told a gargoyle, a bitter smile on my lips, "How can anyone ever leave?"
"I just don't know, dear." The gargoyle sighed, taking me aback. I should have known better than to assume the gargoyle couldn't talk. I briefly wondered what the gargoyle who had been witness to my snowman-building skills last year was up to.
I had only gone on a little further when I heard my name called softly,
"Meg."
Turning, I saw Draco standing at the doorway to the classroom, the look in his eyes unreadable.
"First years." I said by way of explanation, waving an arm and forcing a smile on my face, "So annoying."
Malfoy didn't say anything to that, and headed towards me, his hands in his pockets. I sank onto the nearest windowsill as he approached, wondering if my face looked as torn as my thoughts were. Probably.
"Budge up, Forester." He said quietly when he had reached me, a small flicker of a smirk appearing on his face.
Rolling my eyes, and fighting a grin, I drew my knees up to my chest, resting back against the cold stone; the pane against my leg. Malfoy seemed to consider for a moment, then sat down opposite me; his back against the glass. Through the cross-hatched pane I caught a blurred glimmer of the grounds outside; the dark trees spanning in the distance into the Forbidden Forest, which had become surprisingly un-forbidden when detentions were in question.
"This is too weird, isn't it?" Malfoy said after a time, flicking his grey eyes towards my face. Unfortunately, I couldn't rearrange my face quick enough, and I realised I'd been caught out,
"Far too weird." I agreed, surrendering. "It's just...I missed this place so much. I miss this place so much."
"I know."
We fell silent again.
"I just feel a bit cheated with it all, really," I finally said with a humourless smile, my fingers moving over the panes unconsciously, "You Know Who completely mucked up our education-"
"How dare he."
"-And I would have given anything to have had one normal year here."
Malfoy suddenly leaned towards me, his arms folded across his chest as his clothing rustled,
"Would you really have, Forester? I know our last year didn't really count, but some of the things in the sixth year," He smirked slightly, "Weren't too bad."
And like that, I was back to when I was sixteen, tripping over a cobblestone and into Malfoy's arms. No, I agreed, that hadn't been too bad at all.
I laughed slightly, and pushed my hair out my eyes,
"Well, not all of it then. Just some of it." I paused in running my fingers over the windowpane to drop them into my lap, "I know I sound like an idiot."
"You sound like an idiot a lot of the time, Forester." Malfoy interjected, a smile on his lips as he leant back against the window.
"You sound like an idiot." I responded heatedly, and had to admit that wasn't my greatest moment in terms of rejoinders.
"But I know leaving here meant a lot more to you than to me." Malfoy continued, ignoring my insult, "But you still have the people that came here, you know, and the good memories to know you had the time of your life. And that Ravenclaw scarf you insist on sleeping with, or my tie that you never gave back."
"I hope that window opens, you know." I said with a wry smile, and received one in return. But however much we joked and were worshippers of sarcasm, nobody could quite cheer me up like Draco Malfoy. Oddly enough. And I suppose he was right. I did have him, and Terry, and Antony; people I wanted around me forever; ones that I loved. I had once thought that the people who made up Hogwarts made it what it was, and I suppose that was correct. It was just this funny old building; with its endless supply of back chatting decorations, poltergeists and anguish-ridden ghosts. It had got under my skin from the second I had seen it from across the wind-swept lake at eleven years old; and I guess it never truly left any of us. There was always going to be a part of me that yearned for this place; the turrets, the towers, the sloping grounds and the twisting staircases. It was part of its magic. And the real magic was that I had gone here; had experienced so much, and left with so much. Quidditch matches, (which I had carefully avoided since) detentions, Pygmy Puffs, Potions lessons, moose antlers, and a thousand other things that I would lie awake at night and smile over.
And Malfoy.
As he leant across and kissed me, my mind flittered back to our last year here. Unbidden and unwelcome memories that I had feared to remember now brought to light. The year my perfect castle had been anything but. But once again, the people had been there; and as my hands gripped the fabric of Malfoy's clothes, I realised just how much that had meant to me; and how much I couldn't have coped with if they hadn't been there. Plus, I probably would have been murdered in the first week if someone hadn't saved me from myself.
"I suppose this is you two no longer interested in teaching self- defence?"
Terry's tiredly amused tones floated down the corridor, and I broke away from Malfoy, my head reeling slightly as I flicked a glance over my shoulder,
"Um. We thought you had it covered." I replied, slightly guiltily.
"Harry's wrapping things up if you wanted to come back in," Terry continued, shaking his head. I sometimes felt sorry for the forty year old trapped inside his eighteen year old frame. "We're handing out last minute advice on protection."
Malfoy gave a snort, his hands still on my waist, as if he were thinking of something else.
"We'll be right there." I told Terry, ignoring Draco, "Just give us a second."
The door shut again and I turned to look at the grey eyes that were trained on my face,
"Thank you for that." I said gently, giving him a smile that wasn't a smirk for a change.
"For the snort?" He asked, his eyes lighting with the look he wore when he was being difficult just to annoy me.
"No." I sighed, leaning forwards to kiss him lightly on the lips, "Not the snort."
Wriggling from his grasp, I got to my feet, offering a hand out to him.
"Come on," I grinned, "Let's go and tell children to stay in school."
He reluctantly took my hand, rising to his feet as he let me lead him back towards the classroom. Just before I got to the door, he pulled me back slightly,
"Oh, and Forester?" He said, fixing me with a slightly amused look, "You were the best thing about this place."
To that I could only smile, his hand still in mine as we entered the classroom, slipping in behind all the people I had gone to school with. Of course I missed this place, and I always would; but at the same time I had taken an awful lot with me when I had left.
And so, as I surreptitiously flicked a glance through my lashes at Draco standing beside me, his hand still in mine, I realised that, in many ways, the people had been the best things about Hogwarts.
And Malfoy, I thought with a small smile, a rush of happiness blossoming inside me, he had been one of the best things for me too. And he still was.
And, hell, I intended it to be that way forever.