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One Tree Hill – 01 – Turn away to face the cold
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The day begs the night for mercy, love.
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Ginny Weasley tapped her fingers on her desk, waiting to be dismissed by Professor Snape. Potions class, the last of lesson of the day, always seemed to drag on. She sighed impatiently, careful to keep it under breath. Her quill in hand, she doodled on the table – Hi – in a fancy script. She smiled. Hermione was teaching her calligraphy to help improve her handwriting.
Finally, many long minutes later, the Potions Master relented his lecture and dismissed them, masking his frustration as annoyance, covering his forehead with his hand. She was surprised by this unintentional show of weakness. She swiped at the ink on the table, but it didn't come off. A little sneakily, she packed away her things and made for the door. On the dark wood table that was already littered with scorch marks and potion stains, she figured her small scribble was hardly worth a second glance.
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Draco Malfoy gave a large, unabashed yawn. Professor Snape knew better than to be insulted. He knew why Draco was so tired. He knew where Draco had been the night before, until the wee hours of the morning. But he didn't know why that boy couldn't be more obvious. He'd been with Draco. And was just as tired. The Professor turned his back to the class, struggling to stifle his own yawn.
Draco wanted to put his head down, get a much-needed nap. He glanced at the table in front of him, scattered with marks he'd made over the years. And one mark he didn't truly recognize. He forced his sleepy eyes to focus. Hi, it said. In a squirrelly, loopy lettering. He sneered, wondering who would dare to purposely deface Hogwarts property in Professor Snape's dungeon classroom. It was quite obviously a girl, he could tell from the handwriting.
Intending to take notes on the Potions Master's lecture, he pulled out his quill and ink. Flattening his parchment, he made to write down the necessary ingredients for today's potion, but his eyes flickered to the tiny greeting scrawled on his desk. On his desk!
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Ginny dropped her cauldron onto her desk, unceremoniously, quickly taking her seat. She was nearly late for Potions, help up in the hallway by a group of Slytherins, Malfoy at the lead. She snorted, rolling her eyes. Professor Snape announced the potion they would prepare today, and the class groaned, knowing it required a lot of tedious peeling and dicing.
Like most students, Ginny took off her robes and sweater, and rolled up the sleeves of her white button-up. She pulled a pile of the something-something roots toward her. She checked her notes, flipping a few parchments over…oh yes, Mandrake root. How could she forget? Her knife carefully poised on the end of one root, she saw her black-inked script staring up at her. She cut through the root, cutting away several slices, revealing something in green ink.
Glancing around, she swiftly pushed aside the roots and read the word carefully written beneath hers – Hello – as a small smile formed on her face. She ran her fingers over it, noting that it, too, did not wipe away. She jumped when she heard Professor Snape barking at her from the front of the classroom.
"Miss Weasley, those roots will not cut themselves. Please continue!"
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Draco rubbed his face, sitting at the Slytherin table for breakfast. Merlin, it was too bloody early. Keeping up appearances was hard work. His red-rimmed eyes dropped as he mechanically spooned porridge in his mouth. Slowly feeling more awake and revived, he slowly looked around the Great Hall, observing people in their conversations, some people nearly choking down breakfast, just to rush off to class.
Same thing, day in, day out. He spotted a cluster of highly recognizable heads at the Gryffindor table, laughing uproariously. Merlin, it is too damn early, he wanted to yell out at them. At the end of the table, farthest from the loud, obnoxious group was a tiny girl bent over her breakfast. Porridge. He looked down at his own bowl, and stirred the thick honey-drenched porridge.
Shrugging off his friends, he left, pulling his book bag over his shoulder. Potions first thing in the morning. Merlin. Too early.
He strolled into class, a good ten minutes early, to see a disheveled Potions Master standing at the front of the door, roughly rubbing his face in his hands.
"Perk up, Severus, today's already Tuesday, eh?"
The Professor stiffened at the voice, but his smirk showed from under his hands. He moved to pick up a piece of chalk, revealing his tired eyes, his pale face, and furrowed brow. He started writing up the ingredients for the potion the seventh-year Slytherins and Gryffindors would prepare.
Draco sat at his usual desk, sliding into his seat, letting his bag fall to the floor. He swiped a hand across the familiar wood surface, and again his eyes flickered to the small place where he'd written in green ink.
The previous markings were still there, this time a few added words as well:
Hi
Hello
How are you?
He smiled a little, his own brow furrowing, as he pulled out his quill and ink, and glanced at the busy Potions Master in the front of the room.
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.: Disclaimer :.
This story is based on the characters Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, who both belong to J.K. Rowling (as well as all other HP characters and terminology). The title, and chapter titles, are/will be borrowed from One Tree Hill, by U2. Please check out the song!
.: Author's Notes :.
I've made a few tiny changes in this chapter. Nothing drastic – but as it's a short chapter, may as well read through it again! I haven't touched this story in ages, so I thought it could do with a bit of a refresher. Most changes will occur in chapter 4 – the last chapter I had posted.
This will be a rather sad story, based on a true experience from my own life. I'm not sure what triggered the memory, exactly, but I had just recently remembered an incident from 7th grade – making me way younger than Ginny or Draco, but ah, well. I wrote on my desk, bored out of my mind in my English class. The next day, when I was back in class, I found a reply! I had written "Hi" and the other "Hello" – and from there we started a huge correspondence. From writing on our desk, careful to clean off earlier messages, I learned that it was a boy named Matt in another period who sat at the very same desk. The true story has a rather tragic ending, which I still do not fully understand today, otherwise I'd be crying right now. But I'll try to keep this story lighter, with hopefully a happy ending. I hope to keep this tale a short and sweet 10 chapters and maybe I'll conclude with a summary of what happened in real-life ages ago, in my own 7th grade year.
Until next time –
Eclipsed Planet