Trouble?

~~~~~

I don't quite understand why my brother doesn't like Hagrid. He's goodwill incarnate.

Care of Magical Creatures promises to be a very interesting subject. Today Hagrid has found a relatively harmless but rare creature to study; the quinkin.

We stand in a circle around a large wooden crate, peering in. The quinkins are small, with dark brown fur and short tails. One raises its head, swivels its ears and peers back at us with pale eyes. Nostrils flare, it stands up on its hind legs to see us better. Some of the students make cooing noises.

"There are different types o' quinkin," Hagrid explains. "Some o' them are friendly, but others are nasty and like playin tricks on people."

"Where are they from?" someone asks.

"Australia."

I hope nobody remembers that I'm supposed to know all about Australia.

"Are they nice or nasty ones?"

"Nice ones, dun' worry."

"Why are we learning about foreign creatures?" a Slytherin girl asks with a pointed glance at me. Pansy Parkinson, Draco warned me about her.

Hagrid sees her look, but doesn't seem to understand it.

"It's in the curriculum, 'at's why."

I try not to smile. Pansy huffs.

~~~~~

Lunchtime isn't much fun. The Slytherins ignore me because I'm a squib, and the rest of the school ignores me because I'm a Slytherin. I decide to avoid the hall and go visit Dobby in the kitchens.

Walking down the stairs to the lower floors, I move quickly. I don't want to be caught alone again. To think that the last time I was here I walked carefree and happy.

"Malfoy!"

I turn, wondering if anything in my bag would count as a weapon. Perhaps the Book of Dangerous Reptiles - that's not venomous but it can suffocate with a strong grip on a person's throat.

But it's a Gryffindor, and she's alone. It's the girl I met in the library.

"Leila. Hi."

"Hello."

She tries a smile, "My name's Hermione Granger. Harry said he saw you come down here."

"I'm on my way to the kitchens."

"Why?"

"To visit Dobby."

She looks at me closely. "A Malfoy voluntarily going to talk to house elves?"

"You don't believe me?"

"It just doesn't seem very Malfoy-ish."

"What do you know about my family, Granger?" I step away from her, turning my back.

"Wait, I'm sorry."

"Really?" I throw it over my shoulder as I continue on. "Or are you just saying that?"

"I mean it." She does sound sincere. I turn around again. There is a distance between us now.

"What do you want?"

A shrug, "To be your friend? I don't know. Harry thinks you're okay."

"Potter would think a snake okay as long as he didn't know it was poisonous." I've got reptiles on my mind.

"What's that meant to mean?"

I tilt my head, "Whatever you want it to."

She frowns. I didn't mean to make an enemy of her.

"What was I thinking?" she asks herself out loud. "You bloody Malfoys are all the same."

She turns on her heel.

I sigh, "I'm sorry Hermione," and continue on my way. Behind me I think I hear her pause, but I don't look back.

~~~~~

My daily flying lesson. I've lasted through feeding slugs to quinkins, burying my arms up to the elbows in compost, and two hours of reading about bunyips while my Defence against the Dark Arts class learnt spells to repel and combat them. Not to mention the encounter with Granger, which turned out to be the worst part of my day, so far.

It's all been for this moment.

"Come along Malfoy. You'll learn turning today."

I'm in the middle of the Quidditch pitch again, alone except for Madam Hooch. My hair is tied back, and my cloak is neatly folded with my books. The short witch hops onto her broom and kicks off, beginning to circle above me.

"Mount up Malfoy."

We fly higher than yesterday, level with the top of the stands.

"When you turn, lean to the side. You'll have to sit lower on your broom, if you sit up so straight you'll fall."

Right. She could have told me that on the ground. I cross my ankles under me and lean closer to the wood. The broom tilts up a little, and the change of angle causes me to move faster. Not wanting to go too high, I lean right and circle back down again.

"Don't be afraid to go faster, these brooms aren't all that old."

I curl tighter around the battered Cleansweep. I can hear it thrumming, wanting to fly higher. A shift of weight turns me around, and as I head up I look down.

Far, far below me, I can see my tiny shadow dancing across the grass. Faithful. I smile.

The witch keeps pace with me, calling encouragement that I couldn't do without. Sure I'm a Malfoy, but that just means I'm an expert at hiding my fragile ego.

The wind makes my too big clothes billow and pulls my hair out of its tie. Gusts toss the old broom so it bucks under me, and I have to grip it tight, soothing it like one would a skittish animal.

"Down now, Malfoy. The hour's over."

Really? I thought it had barely begun.

As I re-tie my tangled hair and fasten my cloak over my shoulders, another Professor appears on the pitch. It's Dumbledore, with a very sombre expression. Madam Hooch goes to talk to him, and I pack my things into my satchel. This doesn't look good.

"Leila," he calls. "Come here a moment please."

I walk over to them. I don't understand what this is about.

"I'd like to see you in my office, once you have put away your broom."

"Why sir? Have I done something wrong?"

"No dear, this isn't your fault. I will see you soon," his tone is clear - It's not safe to talk in the open.

"Yes Professor."

~~~~~

The Quinkins were inspired by creatures in Australian Aboriginal Dreamtime stories. But besides the name there aren't many similarities.