11 – The Tree House
"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country."
― Anais Nin
...
Usually, Haley didn't drop things. But what she saw the next morning during breakfast, made her lose the grip around her teacup. The china cup broke into pieces on the ground with an ugly high-pitched shattering sound.
"Here, let me get that," Neville said as he pointed his wand at the broken cup. "Reparo." A second later the cup magically mended itself, looking as good as new. Then it began to glow and exploded into bright flames.
"Uh… oops." Neville said sheepishly.
"Aguamenti," Hermione said firmly, putting out the fire and leaving behind a wet little pile of ash.
Several pairs of eyes turned to look at Neville.
"Blimey." Said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief. "What was that?"
"It's just like in Transfigurations the other day," Seamus Finnagan commented. "You know, we were supposed to transform a button into a chair and Neville went and turned his button into a sodding four-poster!"
"I was tired," the boy in question tried to defend himself.
"And then the bed went up in flames!" Dean Thomas added incredulously.
Neville shrugged helplessly. He didn't really like being the centre of attention. Haley knew that. Actually, she sometimes wondered if that was one of the reasons why he had broken up with her. Somehow she always attracted attention.
She placed her hand on his arm. "Are you okay? Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey."
He shook his head lightly. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." He assured her with a kind smile.
Huh? It didn't make her heart pound like it usually did. His smile. And it did look a bit forced, didn't it?
Haley squeezed his arm once, before removing her hand and blindly reaching for her cup of tea. It wasn't there. Oh right. She remembered then. I dropped it.
Then her head snapped to the right, her gaze fixing on the thing that had surprised her so much.
Malfoy. He was back. Sitting at the Slytherin table and enjoying his breakfast like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn't missed three days of school for no good reason at all.
"Look at that! Malfoy is back!" Ron noted, his mouth filled with mashed potatoes.
"Seriously, have you heard of chewing!" Hermione admonished, rolling her eyes at the boy. Ron gaped at her, causing the girl to grab his chin and shut his mouth. The boy blinked at her, his cheeks turning a soft pink. Hermione went back to her coffee.
Those two, really. Haley sighed, wondering if one of them would ever make the first move. Her eyes wandered back to the Slytherin table.
"He's gone!" She exclaimed with wide eyes. She hadn't just made him up, had she? No, Ron had seen him as well.
"Who?" Neville asked, following her gaze.
"Malfoy. Who else." Hermione replied with a roll of her eyes. She raised her eyebrows and glanced at Haley meaningfully. But she couldn't quite decipher what her friend was trying to tell her.
"So, did you prepare for Herbology?" Neville asked cheerfully. "It's our last pre-exam, right?"
Haley groaned. She wanted these stupid pre-exams to be over already.
"You forgot Astronomy. It's scheduled for Saturday night," Hermione corrected him.
Wonderful. Haley shared a suffering look with Ron as they made their way out of the Great Hall. She wasn't actively looking but as her eyes wandered across the students crowding the Entrance Hall, she spotted the stupid Slytherin, leaning against the wall. He seemed busy talking to one of his fellow Slytherins. Blaise Zabini. But Haley knew that it was just for show. In truth, he was waiting for her to walk past him. So he could taunt her or play another trick on her.
Any minute now, he would turn away from Zabini and smirk at her mockingly or scowl at her or lift a challenging eyebrow.
They passed the Slytherins leaving the Entrance Hall behind and stepped out onto the castle grounds. Haley turned her head back. No reaction. He hadn't acknowledged her in any way! But he had to have noticed her! Never before had he ignored her like this!
"Did you see that?" She asked no one in particular.
"See what?"
"Malfoy… He… he completely ignored me." Haley was speechless. This didn't make any sense.
"So what?" Hermione questioned impatiently, sounding slightly annoyed. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"Bu-But he never… this isn't… it's unnatural. He must be plotting something. I'm sure of it!"
"I thought you wanted him to leave you alone." Hermione said with a sigh.
"I did – I mean I do – it's just…I…" She shrugged, unable to express why she found all of this so unsettling.
"For Merlin's sake, would you rather he turned your skin green again?"
Haley shook her head, feeling small.
"Then stop complaining, already! I'm not failing this exam because of Malfoy!"
"It's a pre-exam, Hermione," Ron reminded her. But the girl only glared at him and marched ahead toward the green houses. "Hey, wait for us!" He called, running after her.
Haley sighed. She searched out Neville, who would surely offer her an understanding smile. But the boy wasn't looking at her at all. His gaze was fixed on something behind them. He was worrying at his lip like he was deep in thought.
"Neville?" She asked, touching his wrist softly. The moment he looked at her, a spark exploded from his wand, which he was clutching tightly, and burned her fingers. She pulled them away in surprise. "Ow."
"Sorry, sorry," he apologised breathlessly, as he slipped the wand into his breast pocket.
"Does it hurt?" He asked in concern. Haley shook her head, her eyes flicking over the seam of his sleeve. It looked like it was burned. And on the ground behind them was a line in the snow that looked like it had been melted.
"Neville, what…?" She shook her head in confusion. "What's going on?"
He bit his lips. It seemed like he was actively stopping himself from telling her. "It's nothing. Probably just the stress," he mumbled with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.
Something was clearly wrong here. Why wouldn't he tell her? And what had he been looking at with such intensity just now? He hadn't been looking back at Malfoy, had he? But then, he had no reason to watch the Slytherin, right? It didn't make any sense. None of it.
…
They didn't have any classes with the Slytherins that day, so Haley soon forgot about one of her worries. Until dinner rolled around, and she spotted Malfoy in the Entrance Hall again. This time he was alone. She tried to ignore him, expecting him to do the same just like he had earlier that day.
So, of course she was surprised, when he addressed her out of the blue.
"Potter." He said, as she and her friends passed him. "A word?" He asked in a neutral tone, lifting a questioning eyebrow.
Haley frowned, looking back at her friends, who seemed surprised and suspicious at the same time. She cursed her curiosity. The sensible thing would be to ignore him and leave things as they were. Go and have dinner with her friends like she had intended. But maybe… she could find out why he had been absent these past few days. Or why his behaviour toward her had changed.
"Go on ahead, I'll be just a minute," she found herself telling her friends, before turning to the Slytherin expectantly. The boy turned around and without another word started walking down the hallway. Before her friends had the chance to talk her out of it, she followed him.
In the middle of a deserted hallway the boy stopped, causing her to almost walk right into him.
He turned, facing her. There was something careful about his expression. Like he was trying not to show any emotions.
"So..." He started to say, letting the word hang there between them.
"Oh, you want to talk here?" She asked in confusion. "In the middle of the hallway?" Somehow, she had expected a dark alcove or an empty class room.
Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "I wanted to keep this as brief as possible."
Why so formal today?, she wanted to ask but he was right. It would be best to keep whatever they were going to talk about as short as possible.
"Right." She nodded, gesturing for him to go on.
The boy took a deep breath, as if he were bracing himself. His eyes were fixed on her shoulder, like he didn't want to directly look at her. It oddly reminded her of when he had been trying to apologise to her in his dream. Wait. Was this the reason why he had brought her here? To apologise?
"It's no fun any more." The words rushed out of him so fast, that she almost didn't understand them.
"What?"
"Picking on you," he continued, in a bored tone. "I've got tired of it."
"What?"
The confusion had to be evident on her face because Malfoy sighed, running a hand across his face. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm s-" He broke off mid-word, clamping his mouth shut. He looked at her, calculating. It seemed as if he was searching her face for something. Then he cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm done wasting my time playing childish games with you. Here." He took something out of his shoulder bag and handed it to her. "I have no use for this any longer."
"My prank book!" Haley exclaimed, clutching the book to her chest. "I knew you'd taken it."
The Slytherin snorted mockingly. "Not my fault if you don't take care of your things." He smirked in that annoying superior way and for a moment there was something in the air. Something electric. Haley could swear that there was something else he wanted to tell her. It seemed like he was fighting with himself, trying to decide whether to say it or keep quiet. She waited for the outcome with bated breath…
"What are you staring at, Potter?" He sneered derisively, before rolling his eyes and marching past her down the hall they had come from. It seemed like he had lost the fight. Or won it? Haley shook her head, feeling even more confused than she had before talking to Malfoy. What was the meaning of this? If she wasn't mistaken, he had tried to say he was sorry… in his own clumsy way. Even if he hadn't straight out said the words. But what else could this have been about?
Another trick? Another way to get under her skin? She didn't know. All she could do was wait and see what happened.
…
As it turned out nothing happened. Nothing at all. Malfoy did continue attending classes but he didn't so much as look her way. On the school grounds, in the hallways, during meals he neither glanced, glared or sneered at her. He didn't acknowledge her in any way at all. This of course included playing pranks on her as well.
But instead of being relieved like Haley should have been, this uncertainty deeply unsettled her. Before, she had known, even expected that there might be another trick waiting for her. That Malfoy was plotting something and it was only a question of time until she had to face his triumphant smirk.
Now, there was nothing. For all she knew, he could be planning something all this time, making her believe everything was all right, while secretly waiting for the right time to strike.
"Or perhaps, he told the truth," Hermione stressed for the hundredth time after two weeks of Malfoy ignoring her. "With the OWLs being so close, I'm sure he realised that he could spend his time in a much more sensible way. Like studying."
"B-but-" Haley started.
"But nothing, Haley!" Her friend interrupted impatiently. "This has turned into an obsession. Do you really want to fail your OWLs because of him?"
She bit her lips sheepishly. "It's not an obsession," she mumbled, glancing around the hall absently.
"You're doing it again!" Hermione burst out.
"Huh?"
"Looking for him! If I didn't know any better I would think you had a crush on him!"
That made her finally focus on the conversation. "Me? A crush on that git? Are you insane?" She was really crazy if she thought she could ever – the thought alone made her shudder.
"Then get yourself together, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione hissed at her, before leaving her alone in the hallway.
…
Where was the stupid gobstone? It wasn't on her bedside table or inside the drawer for that matter. Ever since throwing it into the darkness after that dream with the ice cream incident, she hadn't seen it again. It wasn't under her bed or anywhere between her sheets… So, where was it?
"Accio gobstone," she whispered, quietly as not to wake anyone. Haley heard a soft thud from somewhere close. She repeated the incantation, hearing the thud again. It came from Hermione's bed. Haley tip-toed over toward the bed and quietly drew aside the curtain. Her friend was sound asleep. She held her breath carefully surveying the scene. The noise had sounded like something was knocking against wood. Wood… The drawer!
Slowly, while observing the girl's sleeping face, she leaned over the bedside table and pulled open the drawer. It was right there! Her gobstone! Well, technically it was Malfoy's gobstone but for the moment it was hers.
She grabbed the little stone out of the drawer and quietly closed it again.
"Stop, right there!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Haley's heart to stop. Slowly she turned to look at her friend… who kept sleeping peacefully.
Haley exhaled in relief. Right. Her friend sometimes talked in her sleep. Without wasting any more time, she tip-toed back to her bed and drew the curtains closed around it.
While she wrapped the leather band around her wrist, she tried not to overthink what she was about to do. She just needed to go there one last time. She needed to know why he was acting like this. Needed to make sure he wasn't playing her again. That's all. It's not an obsession, she reassured herself, as she pulled the blankets up around her and calmed her mind so she could fall asleep.
It calmed her somewhat. The familiar feeling of the gobstone against her skin. But before she even became aware of that thought, she was lost to the dream world.
...ooo…
I've always wondered what it would be like if I were a boy. My hair short, black and tousled like dad's and my jaw with a cutting edge instead of a soft curve. And my body? I would have to say goodbye to all my beloved female curves as well. Now, that I feel like I'm finally growing into them.
But that's what I've come up with for a disguise tonight. Just in case. As far as I know, Malfoy doesn't remember his dreams in much detail anyway but you never know.
As I play the new guitar solo, Myron observes me suspiciously, like he thinks I'm familiar but can't quite put his finger on who I am. That's promising. When I'm done, the singer still frowns at me but the door opens nevertheless and I walk into another dream, feeling excited and uncertain at the same time.
Is that a… forest? I turn my head only to realise, I've just entered through a tree. How curious.
"Hand me another nail, Dobby," the boy who I notice only now says cheerfully. It's Malfoy. Who else? And he's sitting on the ground his back to me, and his legs crossed underneath him and a hammer in his hand. He's wearing a lose muggle shirt and short trousers. No robes?
Next to him on the ground is a house elf, who hands the boy a nail obediently, which he promptly hammers onto a plank, which the elf is holding against the tree in front of them. There are other planks above it, forming some kind of ladder, I think.
"Uh..." I didn't mean to say anything at all. But the scene in front of me is just so unexpected.
The boy and the elf turn around simultaneously. It's a sight so bizarre it seems unfair I'm the only one witnessing it. Malfoy gets up and grins at me. If my sudden appearance surprises him, he doesn't show it. "It's as good as done. You want to come and have a look at it?" He sounds kind of proud.
"Um… look at what?" As far as I can see, there are merely a couple of boards nailed to the wide oak tree.
"Our tree house!" He exclaims gleefully, gesturing upwards. I follow his gaze into the treetops. Wait. Something that I could swear hasn't been there a second ago is looming above us. It's hard to tell how far away it is.
I shrug. "Why not."
He stares at me for a moment as if considering me. "You seem familiar," he says then, narrowing his eyes like he's trying to remember something. "You remind me of someone. A girl, I think."
"Uh..." Damn, I'm really bad with words today. Almost as bad as my idiot brother. That's when I get the most amazing idea. "You probably know my sister," I say, rubbing the back of my neck, and attempting to make my voice sound deeper.
"Your eyes…" he continues. "They look… just like hers… even the glasses." He frowns.
"That's because – we – we both have really poor eyesight – it's because – because we're twins." Hopefully, he will believe my story. I really should have got rid of the stupid glasses.
"I see." He nods, seemingly to himself. "I do remember her having a brother… What's your name?"
"Oh, um…" Why didn't I anticipate such a question? What had dad said, they wanted to name me in case I turned out a boy? I clear my throat. "Harry," I say with confidence, relieved I thought of a name.
"Harry?"
I nod.
He raises an eyebrow, before stretching out his hand. "My pleasure. I'm Draco."
Draco. Such a pretentious name. Well, I guess, he didn't chose it himself. I glance at his hand sceptically. It would seem weird not to take it, right?
Inwardly sighing, I take his hand and give it a quick shake.
"Come on." He gestures for me to start climbing as soon as I've let go of his hand.
I give the ladder a doubtful side-glance. "Are you sure, that's safe?"
Draco – I mean Malfoy – only chuckles instead of answering.
Don't be such a wimp, Haley, I tell myself. I can't get hurt in a dream. Not really. I take a deep breath and begin climbing the ladder. It actually holds my weight! As I continue climbing, Malfoy gets on the ladder after me. Heh. He's beneath me. There's this urge filling me. Wouldn't it be fun, if I kicked him off the ladder? Even the mental image is enough to make me snort.
"Is something the matter?" He asks, disrupting my innocent daydreams.
"No." I grin to myself, as we continue climbing the ladder. This is not what I've come here for. Before having some fun with him, I actually want to get some answers.
The boy accepts my answer and we continue climbing up the ladder while the midday sun burns down on us. Honestly, this ladder is endless. I could swear that the distance between us and the tree house is still the same as when we started.
"How much longer until we're there?" I ask, not caring that I sound like a five-year-old.
"It's right there. Can't you see?" He calls, pointing above us. I glance upwards, following his finger.
He's right. The tree house is right there only a few more rungs away. How curious. I reach for the last plank, and pull myself up, onto the wooden deck that slightly juts out at the end of the ladder.
"Whew," I'm so exhausted. I'm lying on my back on the deck that surrounds the little tree house. It really is a house. Much bigger than I imagined. It's almost as big as Hagrid's hut. It's got walls and a roof and a door. From what I can see there are even windows at the sides.
A second later Malfoy's head appears above the deck. He pulls himself up on it and joins me, taking in his tree house like it's some kind of treasure. He grins at me, then opens the wooden door and goes inside.
"I'm parched," he complains, walking toward a little cabinet in the corner and pulling out two caramel coloured bottles. "Butterbeer?" He asks, holding one of the bottles out to me.
I almost snatch the butterbeer out of his hands. I'm so thirsty!
Malfoy chuckles, lowering himself to the wooden floor and leaning against the wall behind him. There are no chairs. "Don't just stand there," he says, patting the space next to him.
I'm still taking in my surroundings. Does this tree house exist in reality? Or is it merely a product of the Slytherin's imagination? It's a really nice tree house. With light wood and a ceiling that's made of glass.
"Do you like it?" He asks, noticing my wonder. I nod absently, before sinking down against the wall next to him.
We both sip at our butterbeers in silence.
After a while Malfoy clears his throat. "So… your sister," he starts to say, biting his lips. "Um…has she ever… mentioned me?" He blushes softly, looking into the bottle in his hands.
Ah. Now, I get it. Is this supposed to be some bro-bonding time thing, where he asks me how to get into my sisters – uh I mean – my pants? I cough awkwardly, in order to hide the shudder that runs through me.
"Yes." I grunt out in my most dangerous tone. "She told me that you're a bully."
Malfoy seems taken aback. "She did?"
I nod, narrowing my eyes at him. "Why?" I ask. "Are you interested in her or something? Or do you simply enjoy being a jerk." It's weird talking about myself in the third person.
"W-What?" He stammers, his eyes wide. "I – I…" He clears his throat, glancing to the side. "How did you know?" He whispers. There's something shy about him. He's blushing even more now. It's oddly endearing.
"How did I know what?" I try not to roll my eyes. I asked him two questions, didn't I? Or does the answer apply to both of them?
"How did you know… that I like her?"
It's disarming.
The way he just casually admitted that he likes my sister – no that he likes me. How can he just – I'm afraid my eyes are going to actually fall out.
"You – you like her?" I ask, breathlessly. "Haley?" It shouldn't be this surprising. And it isn't. Not really. But actually hearing Malfoy say it like this seems so… earth-shattering.
"Yes." He says, his lips curving up into a soft smile. "I really like her." I don't know what it is that irritates me about his words. It might be the matter-of-fact way in which he says them. Like there's nothing to it. No big deal. But it is a big deal! A huge deal!
"Why?" My voice comes out calmer than I feel. "Why?" I place the butterbeer beside me with a clonk. "If you like her so much, why are you–" I shake my head, trying to make sense of what I actually want to say. "Why do you treat her like this?"
He doesn't look at me. His smile is gone, replaced by a sad frown. "I…" He begins, his fingers playing with the cap of his bottle. "It's complicated." He offers. Like that explains anything.
"Complicated?"
He nods, still fiddling with his bottle. The apparent sadness surrounding him makes me swallow my anger and try a different approach. "You can't tell me? Is it a secret?"
He nods again. Could it be The Secret?
"Maybe you could…" I stop myself, noticing how eager I'm sounding. "If you can't tell me… would you… tell my sister?"
The boy looks up in surprise. "I don't – maybe… I don't know." He shrugs.
I can feel it. This is my chance. He'll tell me. I'm sure of it. And so I close my eyes and turn back into myself. Goodbye boyish edges!
When I open my eyes again I notice him gazing out of the window. He hasn't even noticed my transformation! Instead he's watching the stupid clouds drift by.
"I haven't even told father," he admits quietly. It seems like a secret in itself. Like something private. That I shouldn't have heard.
For the first time I wonder, if this might actually be wrong. Am I going too far? He can't even defend himself. He doesn't know that he's dreaming or that I'm here. That I'm actually me. The real me.
"Oh, I don't tell my dad everything either." I say, trying to lighten the mood. "Actually," I bite my lips wondering if I should really tell him this. But it's only fair, isn't it? "You know in first year, when we were sorted into our houses…I almost didn't become a Gryffindor."
"What?" He asks surprisedly, finally turning to look at me. Or staring would be more fitting. Has he noticed that I'm a girl again?
I nod.
"Where did the Hat want to put you?"
"The Talking Hat… it… it… it wanted to put me into... Ravenclaw." I try to school my features into something innocent. But of course he notices and quirks an eyebrow. Well, it hasn't been a complete lie.
"Well, the Hat couldn't decide… it… it was torn between Ravenclaw and… and..." I should just finish the story now that I've started it. I take a deep breath and burst out. "Slytherin!"
Malfoy stares at me, frowning. Then he grins. "I always thought you played quidditch like a Slytherin."
"I mean, it also considered Ravenclaw – what?" I narrow my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He snorts. "You never look for the snitch on your own. You're always waiting for the other Seeker to find it first. And then you take advantage of the fact that your Firebolt outflies every other broom on the pitch." He begins to count the facts on his fingers. "Sometimes you even distract the other Seeker's attention on purpose so they don't notice you've spotted the snitch. To me, that sounds quite cunning. Something a Slytherin would do." He concludes in a triumphant tone.
I clear my throat sheepishly. How did he catch all of that? When he puts it like this…
"Have you been stalking me or something?" I mutter. An attempt to return the attention to him.
"I didn't need to stalk you to notice that."
He's right of course. But until now I thought nobody had noticed… I sigh. "To be honest, I've never really felt like a true Gryffindor." I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my knees. I've never told anyone about this. Why am I telling Malfoy? "I'm not especially brave or heroic or actively looking for adventures that might grant me eternal glory. I'm just a normal girl," I whisper the last part, burying my face in my arms.
Malfoy doesn't do anything. Doesn't comment or try and hold my hand or something equally intrusive. I think if he tried I would actually freak out. He doesn't do anything. He simply sits next to me and listens. And somehow I appreciate that. It's what makes me continue talking.
"My whole family basically was in Gryffindor. Dad never stops going on about how amazing a house it is and that all the other houses suck and how could his brave daughter be anything but a Gryffindor?" Maybe I tell him because it's a dream and there's a high chance he won't remember this anyway. "I mean, Ravenclaw would have been okay, I guess. But as soon as the Hat suggested Slytherin, I panicked. I mentally screamed at the Hat to put me anywhere but Slytherin. And just like that I ended up in Gryffindor." It feels good to be able to finally talk about this. Even if Malfoy is the one listening.
"Would Slytherin have been so bad?" He asks, a wistful note in his voice. Perhaps he's picturing what school would have been like if we had been in the same house.
"You don't know my dad." I chuckle, raising my head to look at him. "If I had not become a Gryffindor or even worse if I had been put into Slytherin, it would have given him a heart attack. Maybe he would have pulled me out of school or pressed charges against Dumbledore."
"That's fun," he says, chuckling. "If I had been put anywhere but Slytherin, my father would have disowned me. Or pressed charges against Dumbledore, probably. I can only imagine what would have happened if I had become a Gryffindor."
For a moment we just look at each other, as we process the irony of our situations that seem different at first glance. But maybe they're not so different after all. Maybe we have more in common than we thought.
"So, how about we just get rid of the houses," I suggest, feeling rebellious all of a sudden, like there was a spark inside me that has been ignited.
"That's a brilliant plan," He says. I'm not sure if he's mocking me. "Are you hiding any other optimistic ideas like becoming headmaster? Or getting rid of classes?"
"Actually…" I say in embarrassment. "I've been thinking… well, the castle could use some colour, don't you think? The grey stone walls… the gloomy hallways… they're depressing, honestly. I'd love to add some colour here and there." Now, I'm the one who sounds wistful.
"You like painting, don't you?" The boy asks, a soft smile on his lips.
I nod. "You noticed?"
He looks away, in a seemingly innocent manner. "Remember third year when you lost your sketch pad?"
"You took my sketch pad?" I ask in astonishment.
"I found it." He defends himself, still not meeting my eyes.
"And you kept it," I press, narrowing my eyes at him.
He coughs uncomfortably, before getting up. "Anyway, would you like to start with the tree house?"
"Start?"
"You know, you said you wanted to bring some colour to the castle. So, I thought maybe you would like to practise." His eyes flick toward the corner where the cabinet was located just a moment ago. In its place there is an array of paintbrushes and creamy acrylics. Usually, I prefer watercolours but… the suggestion makes me smile.
I walk over to the corner and grab a thick paintbrush. I think I'm going to start with the sky. As I paint a rich blue across the wood, Malfoy steps to the other side of the wall I'm colouring, a paintbrush in his hand as well.
I feel him watch me as I spread the colour expertly on the wooden boards. "What?" I ask after a while.
He shakes his head. "It's just – you're really good at this. Where did you learn it?"
I grin. I've always liked people praising and admiring me. I think I got that from dad. So… perhaps I'm a little bit of a Gryffindor after all?
"My mum loves to paint." I answer. "I kind of got it from her. Along with her penchant for potions."
Malfoy smiles again, before finally making his first stroke. He's drawn a circle. Is that supposed to be the sun? We both continue painting in silence. It's not an uncomfortable silence. To my sky I have added a green lawn and a lake that looks like it could be the Great Lake. Should I try painting the castle as well? I glance over to Malfoy, wondering what he might be painting.
Before I can see anything more than two green dots and something reddish, Malfoy steps in front of his work, shielding it from me. He grins secretively, and gestures for me to return to my own creations. I roll my eyes. Is he trying to paint me? That gives me an idea…
I raise my paintbrush to the wood again and after a few well placed strokes a caricature of the blond Slytherin smirks at me. His head is extra big (big-head) and his chin even pointier than in real life. I even managed to depict his arrogant sneer and the way his nose is always high up in the air. It's brilliant.
Malfoy notices my giggling. He nods at my beautiful portrait of him and asks, "Who is that?"
I shoot him a pointed look. "You've never looked into a mirror?"
"That looks nothing like me!" He protests, aghast.
"You're right. I forgot something." I paint a curved black line above cartoon Malfoy's mouth. A nice moustache. "That's better." I say, still giggling.
"I don't have a moustache!" He shudders visibly at the image. I scrawl the word Malfoy beneath my work of art.
He scowls, muttering something I can't understand.
"Sorry?"
"I said don't call me that! My name is Draco."
Oh. Where has that come from? "I know," I say. I don't know what to add to that. This feels awkward. He can't be seriously expecting me to call him Draco. I need to distract him.
"Well, what have you been painting, then?" I ask walking over to his side. The moment he realizes what I'm intending to do, he plasters himself against the wall.
"Nothing." He says. Or squeaks, really. This won't do.
"The snitch!" I exclaim excitedly, pointing toward the window on the opposite wall.
"Where?"
I can't believe this stupid trick has actually worked a second time. The boy jumps forward in surprise only a bit but it's enough to reveal what he's been working on. And what I see then, nearly takes my breath away.
I might be gaping. I don't even know.
While Malfoy sputters, "I – you weren't supposed – It's not – I didn't want–" I take in the picture in front of me.
He's painted a girl. A girl in green Slytherin robes that accentuate her green eyes which seem to sparkle even though this is just a painting. Her hair is a shiny mix between red and brown and it's framing her face in soft waves. She's beautiful in a fierce way. She might be on fire. Or electrified. I want to be her. No, I want to be with her. She gives off an aura that combines strength and kindness in a way that makes her desirable and lovely. I'm so jealous of this girl.
Malfoy is twiddling with his paintbrush nervously. "I'm not… as good as you so…" He shrugs, biting his lips.
"Who – who is that?" I ask quietly. I'm pretty sure I know who it's supposed to be but I don't want to assume anything. I want to hear it from Draco – I mean, Malfoy. He's probably confusing me on purpose!
"It's you," he whispers shyly. And it makes my heart stop. How can he paint a picture like that? A picture that actually makes me feel something? How can he – is that the way he sees me? Beautiful and strong and everything else I've seen in the painting? There's a strange tug in my chest and – I can't deal with that – I can't –
I raise my brush and paint a pig nose right in the middle of her face. It's not even a conscious decision. My body just –
"What are you doing?" Draco – Malfoy, Merlin! – asks and slaps the brush out of my hands.
"Felt like it," I answer nonchalantly. Where the hell has this coolness come from?
The boy glares at me for a moment, before turning back to his portrait and painting overly long vampire teeth into the corners of the girl's mouth.
I pick up my brush from the ground and in less than a second I'm in front of my own picture again, drawing little devil's horns on cartoon Malfoy's head. Somehow, this escalates into a contest of 'Whose painting is the ugliest?' It's insane.
At some point he comes over to my side and crosses out the name I've written there. He smirks triumphantly. But only for a moment because I write down the word Draco beneath it.
He scowls again. "I don't look like this!" He complains, using his paintbrush like it's a catapult and splattering me with paint in various colours.
"You did not just do that!" I fire back, splattering him with black paint in return. There are little black dots all over his face. It looks so silly. I can't help laughing, forgetting that I probably look about the same.
There's more paint on my face. "Hey, stop it," I say, reaching for the brush in his hands and trying to pull it from his grasp. He won't let go. I glare at him. But he looks so silly that I have to laugh again. My head falls forward, accidentally making contact with the brush.
Draco snorts. "Now you really have a pig nose." He presses his finger against my nose lightly to emphasise his point. I swat it away in annoyance. "Stop that," I say but he's laughing now. Earnestly. I don't think I've ever seen him laugh before. Not like this. Carefree and open. It's contagious. So, I join in, leaning back against the wall to steady myself.
I don't know for how long we're just laughing like idiots. Or why. But what I do know is that it makes me feel something. Something familiar, that reminds me of summer nights together with Ron and Hermione.
Friendship. It's what friendship feels like. But this is neither Hermione nor Ron. This is… Malfoy. Something about that thought bothers me. No, it's… Draco. The boy that I visit in his dreams. A boy who is fun and sometimes sad and other times shy but also kind and warm.
He's not Malfoy. I don't care for Malfoy. The git who ruins my life when I'm awake.
As I glance over toward the boy who grins at me, his cheeks flushed from all the laughter, I think it might be nice… to be his friend.
While I paint a black moustache across his skin, I get the feeling that I'm forgetting something. Hadn't there been a reason why I've come here tonight? A reason other than spraying paint all over the place? I think about it for a moment. But then I shrug it off.
I can't remember. It probably wasn't that important in the first place.
…
A/N: Hey everyone! Writing that last part was a blast. I imagine the two of them to have so much fun. I don't know a lot about painting so i hope it makes sense. Draco painting Haley the way he sees her was kind of inspired by a similar scene from Eragon that I really liked. If you read the books you'll know what I'm referring to ;) Well, let me know what you think, and thanks for reading as always :)
PS: Any Paramore fans out there? I'm so in love with the After Laughter album!