Drifting

I lie here, still; a fixed point in this spinning world.

My lungs are full of frost, and I swear I can feel the ice in my bones. It's bitterly cold, and besides, I'm always cold. Not metaphorically, but physically. It took me a while to figure out that I was always cold, no matter the temperature. Still longer to understand that it was because of the way that my layers of flesh have composed themselves. Simply put, there is very little fat on my body, and I'm not doing much to remedy the situation. Quite the opposite, in fact.

'What are you doing out here?'

It's -

Oh.

I keep my gaze fixed on the stars above me. They're bright, here, in the absence of that revolting electrical light that Muggles pollute their cities with.

'I could ask you the same thing.'

The stars. They're bright... Pure.

When I was younger, I used to wonder what it would be like. To burn so hot, so brightly, for so long.

I hear footsteps approach me, and I don't hold my breath. Don't feel my muscles tense, don't become suddenly aware of the stone sill under my back and the precarious drop a few feet away from me. The chill air brushing over my skin.

'I don't think you're meant to go behind these barriers.'

'No?'

I hear him slip underneath the metal railing, and a shadow falls over the spot where I am lying.

'I believe they're there to stop us falling. Or throwing ourselves off, perhaps.'

The corner of my mouth quirks up. Almost a smile.

'Wouldn't happen anyway. This whole place is warded like you wouldn't believe.'

He sits down next to me, legs against the my calves where I've bent my knees. Does he even notice that we were touching? His heat makes me feel the cold even more bitterly.

'Ah. That makes sense, considering- Considering what happened.'

'Considering you tried to kill our headmaster here, you mean.'

He flinches. No point hiding from the past.

'Yes.'

That was mean, though.

How is one even meant to behave around people? Where is that precious line between sealing yourself in a lonely bubble and spilling your guts for the world to see? Perhaps the second is what you're meant to do, around friends, but I have no one to speak to so viscerally. I don't know if Draco counts. We're dating but I still don't know if he's my friend.

'Have you-'

I stop. Do I trust him?

'Have I what?'

Unexpectedly gentle. I close my eyes, and slant my leg against his, deciding to pretend, for this moment, that I am not so afraid; of people, of my own vulnerability.

'Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we- if we were like everyone else?'

My voice shakes on the last few words.

Not afraid not afraid not afraid.

A warm hand reaches out to rest on my knee.

I continue,

'No death eater parents. No pureblood upbringings.'

He laughs, a dry humourless sound.

'Well, I suppose, darling, that I wouldn't have tried to kill our headmaster. Although, as you persistently remind me, there is nothing I can do to that end now.'

'Sorry.'

I breath the word, feeling myself on completely unfamiliar ground. This wasn't a formal apology, done for the purpose of politics and ceremony. I feel him start slightly, next to me.

'It's alright.'

The hesitation is evident in his words, the tone, the slowness, and the way that he seems to have stopped breathing for a few seconds.

That makes two of us.

'And me? What would I be like, in this hypothetical situation of ours?'

Ours. The word slips out before I can stop it. I'm going to flinch, but his hand is still on my knee, warm and reassuring, so I settle, for now, back into my delusions.

Not afraid. Not. Afraid. I. Am. Not. Afraid.

'Oh, you'd be the same as ever.'

'The same?'

'A little less pureblood, maybe. You might skip your junior death eater phase.'

I smile, the movement feeling unfamiliar to my frozen muscles.

'Yes? What of my character?'

He laughed softly, presumably amused by my narcissism. It's what I want from others. Used to think it was the only thing I wanted. To look into their eyes and see a reflection of myself. Beautiful. Interesting. Pretty. Lovely. Perfect. Lovely, darling, dearest. Centre of the universe.

I'm not sure what else I might want. Something more.

'Oh, sweet. You'd still be our Ice Queen. I'm quite certain you were born like this.'

Oh.

He's become formal again. For a moment there, I'd thought-

I thought we'd had some kind of a connection. That he'd seen past the walls I've put up and am begging him to knock down.

'Like what?'

He laughed again, the detachment more obvious now that I'm looking for it.

'Cold, darling.'