A Co-Write, by
Perr and Jas

R, for language, for other things.
HP/DM

A/N: Seventh Year. Hehheh. Perr does Draco, Jas does Harry. We still have yet to understand its point. We'll see how this goes.

Disclaimer: Don't make money out of it, but this is to only please ourselves. No copyright infringements are intended in any way.

Draco's POV

It's difficult.

It's difficult when I shift in leather pants, tight beneath my robes. I'm stupid, yes, to be doing such a thing. I've forgotten why it happened in the first place.

The Sun is such a bloody bother. It fires through glass to touch my back when I'm eating, and it's even worse when everyone's making so much noise. I think it might make my hair whiter than it is already.

I poke at the leg of chicken on my plate. Gold, crisp skin, but I'm not hungry. I put my fork down with a clatter, and sip my water.

"You gonna eat that, Drake?" Goyle eyes carefully.

"Have it," I replied, adjusting my cloak. Perspiration soaks my back and a unique signature scent that is Draco makes myself twitch; I myself think even that is attractive. After all, I'm the man of the house under Severus Snape.

I don't know what I'm still doing here. The pants cling to my thighs and my shirt to my back like a second skin. This is ridiculous. Dumbledore probably has air-conditioning in his office. I look around, noticing that there's nothing in the air. I have an urge to play a little truant.

But as I'm about to get up, an owl flies in our way, particularly quickly in my row. It's a little wrapped parcel, and automatically, my hands extend when it falls from above. Like it's from heaven, I think to myself. I can't help but smile at me being the only one receiving something. I tug at the string binding brown paper, as my minions look on earnestly. Hmm. It's a mirror, tied to a tiny bunch of pansies. There's a note.

'Our history has been bittersweet; alas, you and I have scores yet to settle until we graduate. Until our paths cross again, Draco,'

No sign off. I shove everything into my cloak pockets. "Another admirer," I announce quietly. But I couldn't quite understand the point of a mirror. A mirror?

Hmm. Oh well.