Class

~~~~~

Dumbledore is one of the wisest people in the world. I know Father wouldn't share that opinion but I'm certain it's true. Somehow, although I never asked, the headmaster has made further arrangements for me.

Although I cannot learn magic I am still learning. Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor head of house, is setting aside time every evening for my lessons. She is teaching me how to read, and how to write. Basic things every muggle should know. It's not easy.

So here we are again, the witch and the squib, side by side at a table in the staffroom, heads bent over a book. It's a wizard book, the illustrations move. As I finish each page it turns for me. Professor smiles indulgently at my expression.

"You learn quickly Leila."

I cannot get used to the easy way she uses my name. But she will not call me Malfoy as Snape does.

"Thankyou Professor."

"You are most unlike your brother."

I do not comment on that.

The other adults move quietly, talk quietly, discussing their students as if I can't hear them.

Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy have been fighting again. A week into the year and already they're both serving detention. I pause in my reading when I hear this.

Father will not be pleased with my twin, and that makes me worry for him.

McGonagall frowns at Snape, who changes the topic quickly.

~~~~~

Snape worries me. His voice, the way he stands so tense and still; everything about him sets me on edge. Yet I have been moved again, and I am assisting with the staff members instead of the elves. So today I am in his storeroom, measuring out powdered snake bone and counting mustard seeds, helping him prepare for his next class of fifth years, the Slytherins and the Gryffindors.

As my hands work automatically I can only think of one thing.

My twin.

Snape is at his desk as I move among the student's benches, arranging their ingredients for them. And the tingling magic seeps from the wood of the table beneath my fingers, drips from the stone wall and ceiling. I know that I can never be a part of this. But I still wish to be.

Footsteps. Professor jumps up, dropping the parchment he was writing. "Malfoy!" he hisses. "Get in the storeroom now!"

I obey, closing the door behind me. Thank heavens I had finished my preparation. But there is only one exit from this dungeon, and there are teenagers flocking through that exit right now.

There is nothing to do but wait in here. Before the noise settles down I pull an upturned crate near the door and sit so I can peer through a crack. My eyes scan over the classroom, searching. I can't see him! Where is the boy with the pale skin and platinum hair? With the eyes such a pale blue they appear silver? Where is the one who looks like me?

Everyone is seated, but wait, another pair of footsteps. Is this him?

"Malfoy, you're late."

"Sorry Professor, I got held up."

A smooth voice. He cannot hide the disdain so well as I do, that superiority that runs in our blood thicker than magic. The skill of pretence is not inherent in him as it is in me.

I watch with hungry eyes, waiting for my first glimpse -

There! Oh, my shadow, do you see? Do you see him?

My brother. My twin. He takes his quill and dips it in the ink, bending his head a little to take notes as Snape begins to explain the lesson. Slim, slight, and pale. A wraith, something ethereal.

Draco.

I remain hunched, my eye close to the crack in the door, watching. He talks, laughs coldly, sneers at the others around him. So beautiful, but such a fool. I can see the trouble he will cause himself with that sneer. I see the black haired boy, Harry, glaring at my brother from across the room. There is tension there; it thrums like a taut bowstring.

Snape's voice rings out again, and they finish off their potions, clean out their steaming cauldrons, scribble a few last notes then leave, filing out swifter than they filed in. My twin stalks, flanked by two huge boys on either side of him. He makes some comment to a girl standing near Harry, but she does not respond.

Then - gone. Snape pulls open my door and I get up quickly, swallowing the fear that I've done wrong. I've spent too much time with Dobby.

"Come on Malfoy," he steps back. "You're on a break now. It's lunch time."

Minimal words, toneless expression. I cannot place this man, every time I make up my mind something changes.

"Yes sir."

~~~~~

Sorry Merry, but her shadow's here to stay. :)