Slytherins

~~~~~

"Hey, squib!"

I turn. Two Slytherin girls, both older than I am, stand in the doorway of the broom shed.

"Yes?" I know why they're here. And I know that I can't take both of them. Not at once.

"We want a word with you."

"You've already had eight words. You'll have to ask again if you want any more." Why do I make things harder for myself?

The taller one moves closer, unfolding her arms and holding them loosely at her sides. She glares down at me. Her friend stays near the door. If she is only a lookout, I might find a way out of this.

I still hold my borrowed broom. Carefully I shift it so I'm holding it horizontally in both hands.

"You shouldn't be in Slytherin."

"Why not?"

"The Slytherin house don't take mudbloods, or squibs. You shouldn't even be at this school."

"But I am here. And I'm not about to leave." I weigh the situation up. The girl is taller. Hopefully I'm faster.

She moves, throwing a punch at my face. I duck and thrust the broom handle into the space under her ribs. Yes, I'm faster.

The friend moves in. Oh dear. I need help.

Then I'm thrown against the wall, cracking my head, and my broom clatters to the ground. Her fist knocks my head sideways, I reel, and all I can think of is Draco. The first girl comes up to me with my broom, she lifts it high then swings it down hard. I move but it catches my shoulder, and suddenly I can't feel my arm at all. I lurch away from the wall, trying to get past them, but their hands grab my shirt and haul me back.

I can't handle this. Not both of them.

There is a ripping sound in the air and the two girls are thrown back away from me. I look to the doorway, expecting a Professor, expecting Hagrid, expecting -

Anything but house elves.

Dobby and Bib grin at me. "Miss Leila."

Saved by house elves. I could laugh, if my lip weren't bleeding so much. The Slytherins are sprawled on their backs, seemingly unconscious. I breathe in, tasting copper in my mouth.

"Thankyou," I manage to say.

The elves come closer, trying to support me even though they only reach my waist. And slowly they help me back to my room.

~~~~~

Someone knocks. With a quiet pop, Dobby and Bib leave. I slide off my bed and open the door. Leaning against the wall, black school cloak slung around him, is Draco.

"How did you find my room?"

"I asked Snape."

"Oh."

"You missed dinner."

"I ate in here."

There is a pause.

"This is the part when you invite me in."

"Oh. Of course," I step back. He slinks when he walks, a controlled smoothness that comes naturally. He looks around the room, noting the four poster bed, desk, cupboard, bookshelf, and adjacent bathroom.

"Nice place. How come you're not in the dorm with us?"

"Perhaps it was feared I would be turned into a newt whilst asleep."

"No, that's not really Pansy's style. She'd make you a worm and feed you to Longbottom's toad."

I stare at him. He smiles. It's an intriguing expression. The corners of his mouth curve, his top lip curls away from his teeth, and his eyes glow for a second. He's really quite amazing.

"So," he breaks the silence, wandering over to my desk. "How was your first day?"

"Alright."

He picks up a parchment, and I hold my breath. Don't mock me brother. I couldn't take it from you.

"You actually plan on doing this History homework?"

"Why not?"

"The old ghost won't know if you do, he's never marked homework in his life. Or death. Assignments and tests yes, but not homework."

"I'll do it anyway. Or how will I know the work when it's time for a test?"

"You cram, silly." He looks back at my notes. "That's not how you spell battlefield. It's 'i-e', not 'e-i'."

"Oh."

He looks up from the parchment with another smile. But this one is gentler, and a little sad.

"You can be excused a few spelling mistakes, I think. All things considered."

I don't answer. I don't trust my voice.

"You got in a fight today."

"Pardon?"

"In the last lesson. I felt it. What happened?"

"Nothing," I turn my back, tidying a few things that do not really need to be put away.

"Leila."

I freeze.

"Who was it? Potter?"

"I don't know who they were. Two Slytherin girls, sixth years I think."

"Why?" he speaks very quietly.

"Because they could."

A pain in my hands. I turn. He's clenching his fists.

"Draco. There's nothing you can do about it."

"But there must be something, some way I can make them - "

I cross the room, reaching to take both his hands in mine. "No. Leave it. If it happens again the teachers will know - "

"Slytherins don't go running to Dumbledore for help." But he doesn't pull away his hands. They feel warm in mine. Our fingers knot together.

"You can't fix this. I know Dumbledore can't fix it either. But if the teachers know then that's some help, and it will hold them off until I work something out. This is my fight brother. Not yours. And I'll fight it my way."

He stares at me. His hair is a little mussed, when he bows his head some falls into his eyes.

"You're not much of a Slytherin."

"You're not much of a Malfoy."

He looks up. Is it just the candlelight that makes his eyes glisten as if they are wet?

I let go his hands and pull him into a hug. Awkwardly he wraps his arms around my back. We are the same height. My head is on his shoulder, and his is on mine. My brother. My twin. The closest thing to a family I have ever had.

"I wish you weren't a squib," he whispers into my hair.

"Tough. I am."

He laughs softly. "I'm glad you're my sister."

I hug him tighter and don't reply.

~~~~~

Oh dear. That doesn't sound the faintest bit like Draco. But who cares?