Pensive Memories

01: Clockwork

By: Saadie

A/N: A collection of drabbles featuring different characters from the magical world of Harry Potter. Here's the first of, hopefully, many to come.

He comes here every night at the same time, like clockwork. She doesn't know why he always arrives at this specific time. Perhaps that time is of special significance to him. Perhaps this is the only time he can sneak out of his dorm undetected. Perhaps this is just the time that he jolts awake night after night.

She sees the dark circles beneath his weary silver eyes, bruises pressed lovingly beneath moonlit orbs, through the crack of the half-closed stall door. She watches as Moaning Myrtle coos and fawns over the boy, oozing sympathy for his hurts and pains. The ghost behaves as if she actually understands his pain but what was the torment of a schoolyard bully when pitted against the torture of a violent madman and the very real threats of losing your entire family to his hand?

She had run here when her memories and visions started to blend together eerily, haunting her dreams. She ran from the taunts and teasing of those who stole her possessions and mocked her words. Holed herself up in a place where she had hoped no one would find her so that for a moment, just a stolen moment in the darkness, she might find some peace.

Now she found herself a silent witness to his pain and though she knew he was no saint, by Morgana, she wouldn't wish such even on an enemy. The confident young scion of a pureblood family reduced to a scared little boy burdened by an impossible task. A desperate child struggling to take on his father's burden prematurely to preserve his family just a little longer; another victim chained by this unofficial war.

She sits and watches with wide knowing eyes through that crack in the stall door as he cries. He knows she's there; she's here every night like clockwork, same time, same place, same spot. He wonders what drives her here to this wretched hiding spot; an unbidden sanctuary they'd stumbled upon in their flight from personal demons.

He's watched those smoky orbs of trapped starlight faze in and out of focus in the halls. She sees things others can't see, knows things beyond their reach and they mock her for it. He watched as they trip her in halls, push her into suits of armour and taunt her as they make off with baubles and trinkets they yank off her person viciously. She never reacts to them outwardly, not where the world can see.

He knows because he's been the one to mock her before and all she did was fix him with that uncanny gaze and then proceeded to look right through him.

The first time he'd realized she was here, he had panicked. She was friends with Saint Potter and he knows that Potter suspected him despite the lack of evidence and refused to back-off even as those around them continued to offer up their doubts.

But after the first night, the first week, the first month passed and still there was no summons to the Headmaster's office for crimes on the grounds of hearsay, he relaxes. In the dark of the night, in a girl's bathroom abandoned by all but a mournful and self-pitying female ghost, unbeknownst to all others, even themselves, they had struck a pact. The world they lived in was a vicious one filled with words and rumours that cut you down where you stood; there was no need to add to the gossip and air out each other's dirty laundry to the masses as those plebeians were so accustomed to doing.

Here, low as he had sunken (if his ancestors could see their heir now, languishing in a girl's bathroom of all things!), he had found some measure of acceptance. And if he takes to ignoring her instead of hurling barbs and insults at her in the halls when they pass each other, there's no one to comment and she doesn't ask why because they both know.

They're connected now, however strangely and weakly, and even if they've never spoken a word to each other during those endless nights, they both feel as if they've bared their soul, as if they know each other more intimately than was proper.

So even though Harry is her friend, Luna never speaks up to offer a shred of proof or support in regards to his suspicions of Draco's task and she never will until he confronts her and asks her directly.

Draco finds himself steering his crew clear of the Ravenclaw that floated around perpetually trapped in a dream. And if he promises himself not to turn his wand against her in the upcoming battle unless absolutely necessary, there's no one who knows of this but himself.

And still every night, they find each other; running from their cruel worlds to that irresistible place where they could catch their breath before shouldering their burdens and carrying on again. And if that silent presence on the other side of that not-quite-closed bathroom stall door lightened the load just a little, who was to say? Their world keeps turning, they keep on walking; time can only pause in their secret refuge, never truly stop.

When morning comes, like clockwork, they carry on.

A/N: How could I resist starting a drabble set for CM and not my beloved main fandom? Currently I'm just writing whatever comes to mind as always; this one was actually stewing in my head for a bit now. As with 'Jet Plane Musings', if anyone has any prompts or requests they'd like to offer up, I'm more than happy to try my hand at them. Again, if anyone has an idea for a better title, I'm all ears as always.

Reviews are love?

-Saadie

P.S. Wow I guess I'm in a writing mood today, eh?