Draco Malfoy groaned inwardly as the large Muggle woman sidled into the seat next to him, her rounded elbows nudging him repeatedly as she adjusted her skirt and tried unsuccessfully to tuck her oversized handback into the little net basket on the seat in front of her. Draco squeezed as closely as he could to the window, his forehead pressed against the cold glass as his silver-gray eyes stared dully at the pavement below.
Of all the Muggle institutions he'd been forced to endure over the first three months of his exile, public transportation had to be the worst. The filth, the smells, the greasy handprints smeared over every inch of space made him gag, let alone being forced to endure their warm, sweaty bodies pressed against him every second. He closed his eyes and wished for autumn to hurry, for the heat wave to break and send him the chill, steel clouds he'd grown so accustomed to under the constant presense of Lord Voldemort's Dementors.
"Oof, sorry dear," the large woman panted when she elbowed him hard in the ribs. Draco didn't even look at her, and gritted his teeth when she patted his arm with her beefy hand. "Off to school, are you?" Her cheerful voice cut through him and he pursed his lips angrily as he turned a disdainful glare on her. She gestured at the crumpled pamphlet he had clutched in his hand, emblazoned with the gaudy crest of Mumford College.
After the Second Wizarding War, when Lord Voldemort had fallen and wizarding society reeled with the remnants of fear and mistrust left in the Dark Lord's wake, Draco had been sentenced, like so many other young Death Eaters, to a one year conditional exile from the wizarding world. The exile meant complete removal from magical society, forfeiting his wand, his right to perform magic, his ties to friends and family, and being forced to live a life without magic, moving among the Muggles he'd been conditioned his whole life to hate.
The foolish idea was that being immersed in Muggle society and forced to survive just like them would foster a sense of compassion for non-magical people, a deeper understanding of their plight. He was expected to treat them as equals, to make friends even, and thereby earn back his right to the use of magic. That was the condition of his exile. So long as he could behave himself and survive without magic for just one year, he would be allowed back into wizarding society and reissued his wand.
But, if he made one wrong move, he would be permanently banished and banned from magic under pain of a life sentence in Azkaban. Already he thought he might prefer Azkaban to this. For three months, Draco had lived among these sodding creatures undetected - namely because he had spent much of that time locked in his little flat and refusing to participate. Unfortunately, last week he had received official notice from the Ministry of Magic that he had been enrolled at Mumford College as a first year student. He was to be studying "social work," whatever that meant, and he was expected to attend and pass all of his first year courses in order to gain readmittance into magical society.
So, here he was, crammed between a window and a fat woman, on his way to college. Despite the fact that he hadn't answered her question, the woman prattled on and on about her fond memories of college life, stopping only when the crowded bus jerked to a halt and she got off. Relieved to be rid of her, Draco stretched his long legs under the seat in front of him, reached his arms toward the ceiling, and closed his eyes as he rolled his head slowly around, enjoying the cracking of his stiff neck.
He drew in a deep breath through his nose, and was startled by a lovely scent - something like flowers and spices. His eyes shot open to find the fat woman had been replaced by a young woman about his age. Her russet hair fell in pleasant waves over her shoulders, and her eyes were a startling shade of green. She busied herself tucking a much more reasonably-sized bag into the net, then placing headphones over her ears, leaning back, and closing her eyes. Draco could just hear the faint music issuing from her headphones, and he silently rejoiced that at least he wouldn't be forced to endure another chatterbox.
He turned his gaze back to the passing landscape, leaning his forehead once more against the glass, and did his best to ignore the delicious smell of his new neighbor.
She had intended to go to sleep, her favorite way to pass the time on any long trip, lulled by the steady drumbeat of her favorite rock band and the swaying of the bus. Today, however, Greer found herself distracted by the young man sitting next to her. For one thing, she noted that they seemed to have a common destination - the very same Mumford College pamphlet that she had carefully tucked into her bag was also clutched in his hand. For another thing, there was something about him that made her skin prickle. Not like nerves or butterflies or any other of the expressions used to describe one's feeling in the presence of someone attractive. No, this was something different, something which unnerved her. It almost felt as if his very skin was emitting some low voltage, causing the fine hairs on her arm to stand on end.
She studied him discreetly, the way she studied everyone she found interesting. Her fingers itched to retrieve the small notebook she kept in her bag, to scribble notes and thoughts and memories she didn't want to fade. Bits of sentences were already forming in her mind, begging to be written down. ...sunlight blazing against white-blond hair... face turned determinedly away... most unwelcoming aura... the intricate black lines of a sinister tattoo...
The tattoo was certainly interesting. She turned her head just a bit to get a better look at it - a black skull with a serpent curling out of its mouth, emblazoned aross the pale smooth skin of his inner forearm. Suddenly, his head snapped toward her and he pulled impulsively at his sleeve, covering the tattoo and frowning at her. How did he know she'd been looking? She managed a small smile, then turned her eyes to the grimy seat back in front of her, blushing. She hated being caught studying someone. People generally didn't understand the innate curiosity that came with having an investigative mind. She hoped that in pursuing a degree in journalism, she would meet others like her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glare at her and then return to the window, still tugging at his sleeve. Greer took a deep breath and exhaled, laughing inwardly at herself. She didn't even know his name, but she already knew she'd found a good story.
