"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."
― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
She walked in and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Cautiously, Draco allowed his eyes to follow her to her seat. It felt like a guilty indulgence to watch her. It was wrong, it was so wrong, but he couldn't help it. Worse, he couldn't figure it out- she was the enemy, she was forbidden, he didn't even know her. The list of reasons not to notice her went on and on, but still, without fail, she could not walk into a room without catching his attention like a fish on a hook.
That burning question, 'Why?'. It plagued him. She had some positive qualities from what he knew, but the sum of it all did not equal the draw. He had never had a reaction like this to any woman, much less one that was essentially a stranger. He just couldn't stop looking at her.
Draco studied the curve of her nose, imagining an olympic skier taking flight off the end. Her hair was brushed behind her ear like a drapery drawn behind a pull. She was talking animatedly to her friend and her perfect teeth would part slightly when she laughed, her lips glossy and inviting. He imagined they would smell of sugar and berries, that her breath would be warm like honey.
Draco hesitantly wondered if he wanted to sleep with her. Something inside him screamed; it was so wrong.
He wondered if this was how serial killers felt. Did a target call out to them this way? Did they fight with themselves, a part of them knowing it was wrong, believing it was so, so wrong while another small piece of themselves wondered if they were that kind of sick, screwed up individual that wanted it? In jest he wondered if he wanted to kill her. The dreadful wrong that was so strong a moment ago changed in a fascinating way, almost eased. It was alarming, and he did not feel prepared to wonder what it meant.
He had known her for ages, since they were kids on the train to school. Well, he had known who she was, everyone did. She had definitely grown up since then, grown mature and confident. He wondered for a moment if they had ever had a conversation, but couldn't recall even being in a room with her other than a classroom. He tried to remember when she had picked up that ability to command his attention the second she entered.
Her friend said something to her and she looked cautiously over her shoulder, scanning the room. Draco averted his gaze as casually as he could, eventually landing on the chalkboard at the front of the large, theatrical lecture hall. He hadn't realized the professor had started the class, droning about anatomical spells he would have to research in detail later. Draco could feel her watching him for a moment, but then from the corner of his eye he could tell that she had turned to face front again. He felt like a child, hiding from her gaze.
When he felt it was safe, he risked a look in her direction. She was listening attentively to the lecturer and her friend was facing forward, leaning lazily on her elbow. Draco was almost sure she hadn't seen him, but the friend might have blown his cover. For now it was clear that neither of the women were paying him any more attention and they did not turn to him again for the remainder of the class. When the lesson finished, Draco took advantage of his aisle seat and ducked quickly out of the hall and into the courtyard, knowing the girls would be delayed by the hundred-odd students in the class attempting to exit simultaneously.
"Do you know that guy?" Lusca whispered to Hermione, who was listening attentively to the professor, although he was only reviewing material from the previous class.
"Hm?" Hermione asked distractedly. "Who?"
"Blond, I don't know, ten rows back? On the end? He's been staring at you since you walked in."
Hermione turned to look over her shoulder and scanned the crowd. Her eyes floated over several boys who were definitely not looking at her.
"On the end?" she confirmed, but just then her eyes found the man Lusca must have meant. "No, I…" she trailed off, staring at the blond student who appeared to be listening to the presentation. She noticed he was holding his pen loosely and did not seem to be taking any notes. "Actually," she said to Lusca, "I think I do know him, from Hogwarts."
"Were you friends or something? I swear he's been looking at you," Lusca repeated.
"Hardly," Hermione admitted, turning back to face ahead. "We may as well be oil and water, he's a blood purist." She explained, and then paused to consider giving him the benefit of the doubt. "Well he was, at least. I didn't know him very well. I'm sure he wasn't looking at me, maybe he was looking at you. You could pass for Pure-Blood."
Lusca snickered and brushed the tip of her wand down her arm. A glamor charm faltered in the wake of it, briefly revealing a huge, intricate series of oceanic tattoos. The prize jewel of the ink was a large blue-ringed octopus. It cuddled at her collarbone in full color with long tentacles winding down her arm and coming to an end near her wrist. Hermione stifled a laugh, short bursts of air escaping her parted teeth as she tried to keep from drawing the teacher's attention. Lusca beamed.
"Not likely," she said.
Lusca was beautiful by any standard, with deep green eyes and thick, black, luxurious curls that tumbled down her back in perfect ringlets. She was olive skinned and shapely, which Hermione envied desperately. Her unforgiving mane of untamable frizz and pork-pink skin literally paled in comparison to the exotic beauty of her friend. Lusca was beautiful, but also humble, kind and adventurous. She attracted others like a magnet, a sweeping extrovert with dazzling wit and charm. She had left the bookish Gryffindor star struck when they met the first day of University.
Hermione had been roaming the campus with a large, unfolded map, looking puzzled by the maze of old buildings and the dizzying number of students shifting around her like schools of fish. Lusca had noticed her and cut through the crowd.
"Heya!" she called, her American accent particularly vibrant. "You look lost. Freshman?"
"First year, yes," Hermione said. "I'm Hermione Granger, I'm in the Pre-Med program. I'm trying to find my dorm, it's…" Lusca squealed and grabbed Hermione's hands, dancing in a circle. The map fluttered to the ground.
"Me too!" Lusca sang, coming to a stop at the completion of the circle. She dipped to pick up the map and then threw her mass of luscious hair over her shoulder. "Sorry! Lusca Valet," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm a soph, er… second year." Hermione took her hand voluntarily this time. "Well, technically," Lusca clarified. "I was Mortuary AAC last year but I've decided to switch, so I'm just starting PreMed. That's Mortuary Applications and Charms, funerals and that sort of thing…" She trailed off, then excitement returned to her face. "Oh, I can show you around! What dorm was it? Say, Brenadine?!"
"Yes, actually…" Hermione was in awe. She had heard that the college experience could open up a person, draw them out of their shell. She wondered briefly if it was the American about her that made her so odd, but decided later that it was just Lusca. She wasn't just from across the ocean, she was herself an ocean and she pulled you under and in with the tides.
"Fantastic!" Lusca stated matter of factly. "We should room together!" Her smile stretched the full width of her face and flattered her beautifully. Hermione blushed and tried to match the smile.
"Yes, of course," she said. "Er… where is it?"
Lusca grabbed her by the hand and led her on an amazing adventure of self discovery.
It was only then that Hermione realized how sheltered her life really was, despite all that had happened to her. She was bookish, mild, introverted. She had more friends in the library than she could ever have in real life. Lusca could make more friends in an afternoon than Hermione could count.
When she was alone, Hermione would sit by herself in the dining hall or campus coffee shop and watch the other students buzz around, and she would wonder what would be different if Lusca were there. The drab, average afternoon would immediately take on the guise of adventure and anything could happen. Maybe they would strike up conversation with a stranger and end up dancing on a Yacht in the middle of the night, or jump on a train at random and find themselves in a field of wild horses. Lusca made Hermione relish life in a way she had not known she could.
Lusca, too, had been forever changed by their friendship. Hermione's structure and discipline helped her organize herself, both emotionally and in practice. She was more focused, more driven, and more fulfilled when Hermione was there to guide her. For the first time in her life, she could be happy alone and by herself in a quiet room. It occurred to her that her tendencies to surround herself with others had made it difficult to spend time with herself. With Hermione's coaching, she learned to take time for self-care and Lusca had literally cried the first time it occurred to her that she could be fulfilled without someone else. Hermione had taught her an invaluable skill, had given her a tremendous gift. She wondered if they might have been lovers in another life.
"So, are we going after him?" Lusca asked as she stood from her seat in the lecture hall. The other students flowed to the exits like water to a drain.
"Who?" Hermione asked, scribbling the few remaining bullet points from the last few minutes of the lecture. Lusca flopped back into her seat dramatically.
"Uh, the blond guy? Obviously? He was cute," she said. Hermione shook her head.
"I told you, he's bad news. Forget it."
"You said he WAS bad news, Herms. People can change, right?"
"Not that one." Hermione said this matter-of-factly and threw her pen down with flourish. She shook the tension from her hand and then started to put her books away. "We've got Diagnostic Magical Theory in fewer than 10 minutes, anyway. We'd never have time." She stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.
"All right, all right," Lusca agreed reluctantly, dragging herself dramatically into the aisle. "But I'm going to keep an eye out for him. Is he in any of our other classes?" They started toward the exit with the handful of other overachieving stragglers.
"I have no idea," Hermione admitted. "I hadn't noticed him until today. Why are you so stuck on this?"
"I don't know," Lusca stated, sounding curious. "There's something about him. I feel like I have to be friends with this guy."
"You're friends with everyone."
"I'm okay with that." Lusca turned to Hermione, wearing her ear-to-ear, dazzling grin of self-satisfaction. Her glamor charm wore off as they stepped into the sunlit quad. "See?" Lusca offered, gesturing with her right hand to the octopus that swirled around her left arm. "Tako agrees."