AN: Hey guys. Rejoice for I am back. Here's something to tide you over. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: The Rose
Draco maneuvered his Nimbus 2001 up to the corresponding window on the map Harry had drawn for him. According to the map, Seraphim's room was just behind the glass. Peering inside, Draco saw a crackling fire and a figure asleep in an armchair. He slowly eased the window open and floated inside, closing the shutter behind him.
Seraphim was wrapped in a large blanket, her glasses falling off of her too-small nose, and her book about to fall onto the floor. Reaching down, Draco quietly took the book and set it on her desk. He spied a few essays she'd assigned a few weeks before and swelled with pride at his mark, a perfect ten out of ten.
Shaking his head, Draco made his way to Seraphim's bedside table. From under his cloak, he pulled a single red rose, fringed with a deep marigold. After placing the flower next to Seraphim's alarm clock, he fished a note from his front pocket, smoothed it, and set it beside the flower.
It was written in a larger, more flourished hand than his own and read simply: 'to win fair lady's heart.'
Looking over at Seraphim, Draco gently tugged her glasses from her face, folded them, and placed them on her desk near a stack of ungraded papers. Tentatively, holding his breath, he proceeded to lift Seraphim from the armchair and carry her to her bed. Laying her down on the bed, he turned to retrieve her blanket when she mumbled something.
Draco froze. After a few tense moments, Seraphim rolled over and snuggled against her pillow.
Draco sighed with relief; gathering the somewhat worn, woolen blanket in his arms, he tucked Seraphim in and smiled. She was quite different. He'd noticed the title of the book she was reading; it was a strange book, something about chicken soup.
Shrugging, Draco grabbed his broom, took one last look at the slightly cluttered room, and flew out the window. So far, things were working out quite nicely.
The next morning, Seraphim walked into the sixth-year potions class with an extra spring in her step. Upon waking, she'd found that someone had moved her to her bed (she'd dismissed it as Harry or Ron out of compassion for her neck which would, undoubtedly, have had a crick when she woke up) and a rose, thorn-less and in Gryffindor colors, placed delicately on her bedside table. The note accompanying it had no name and no form of identification. Puzzled but happy that she had a secret admirer, albeit one who knew how to break into her room but beggars couldn't be choosers, Seraphim put her hair up and tucked the flower behind her ear.
Seraphim didn't notice the smirk that threatened to become a full-fledged smile on a certain blonde's face when she entered the potions classroom. She did notice the very long assignment written on the board and smiled inwardly. As she wasn't exactly a student, she hardly turned in any homework, a practice that vexed Professors Snape and Binns.
Looking around the classroom, Seraphim settled into her usual seat and began to take out her books, quills, ink, and parchment. The note accompanying the rose, Draco could see, had been attached to her notebook among a myriad of photographs, poems, and doodles; he smirk-smiled again.
Professor Snape walked briskly to the front of the classroom and turned sharply to face his students, breaking of Draco's moment of self-triumph. "Settle down; please read the instructions on the board carefully and divide into pairs to work on the releiviation potion. The ingredients that you do not have in your student stores are at the front, please use them sparingly. We will be testing your potions at the end of class. Are there any questions? No, good," with a final look at the class, the professor sniffed. "Begin."
Seraphim walked to the front to retrieve the powdered root of malc and the djaviel leaves, which needed to be shredded. Hermione was busy gathering the other ingredients. Upon returning to her seat, she saw a small box, glinting in the candlelight. Peering down curiously, she noticed it was an onyx, hinged box with star and moon-shaped mother of pearl laid into the lid.
"Is this yours?" she asked Hermione, puzzled.
The other girl looked over, raised an eyebrow, and replied, "No."
"Did you see who left it?"
Hermione shook her head. "I was looking for the beetle eyes," she apologized.
Lifting the lid of the box ever so slightly, Seraphim was startled to hear music. Not wanting to anger Professor Snape, she quickly shut the box and tucked it into her bag. She would examine the mystery box in the safety of her bedroom after the lesson.
Many hours later, so tempted by the music box that she decided to skip dinner, Seraphim was sitting on her bed and looking at the pretty onyx present. She lifted the lid cautiously and jumped when music began to play. The melody was familiar. She snapped her fingers excitedly; it was the Reprise from a Japanese animated movie, Spirited Away, which she'd seen over the summer and loved instantly. Peering inside the pretty box, she noticed a small silvery-blue fairy that danced on a platform neat the left half of the box.
Seraphim picked the tiny figure up and was delighted when it continued to dance in time with the music on her palm. She then realized that closing the box, and stopping the music, stopped the dancer. Putting the mini ballerina back where she belonged, Seraphim opened the compartment that made up the second half of what she supposed was a jewelry box.
Another note was nestled in the small space. Unfurling the small roll of parchment, Seraphim read it aloud to herself, "Voices of the angels."
Puzzled, but thoroughly charmed, Seraphim smiled. It had been a good day.
Three days later, Draco was, once again, hovering outside of Seraphim's room on his broomstick. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione were paying a visit to their friend and the poor blonde was stuck on the windowsill.
Grumbling to himself, Draco left the windowsill in search of his partner in crime, one Harry Potter.
Finding said partner on the Quidditch field zooming around and doing loop-the-loops with his firebolt, Draco scanned the area. There was no one around.
Hovering by the goal posts, Draco shouted, "Oi, Potter!"
Harry whirled around to face the addressee. "What?"
"Come over here, I need to talk to you!" Draco yelled, waving Harry over.
Harry obliged and drifted over. "What is it?" he asked impatiently.
"Can you give something to Seraphim for me?" asked the blonde. "I went up earlier but she was entertaining the Weasel- ahem, Weasley and Granger."
Harry rolled his eyes and nodded, "What is it?"
Draco rummaged around in his pockets before handing Harry a book. It was a hand-bound journal done up with silver string. The cover was a patchwork of burgundy, a dark shade of marigold, emerald green, and deep blue, also held together with silver string. On the front cover was a small, slightly yellowed rectangle of parchment; on it, in silvery, multicolored ink, was written 'for all your sweetest dreams…' in the same flourished handwriting.
Harry flipped the book open and looked over the paper; crisp, white sheets lined with silver ink and flourishes on each of the outer corners. A short line on the top of each right-hand page was reserved for a title or date. Draco's message continued on the inside cover, '…and all your fondest memories.'
Harry assured Draco that Seraphim would receive her present and smirked at the other boy.
"What is it, Potter?"
Harry shook his head, "Nothing." He then waved and started back for the castle.
Seraphim had pestered Harry endlessly after receiving the third gift from her 'secret admirer.' She'd attempted hexing the information out of the poor Gryffindor but was stopped by Hermione and refused to speak to either of them for the rest of the day. By the fifth day, she had nearly forgotten the incident as the first Gryffindor Quidditch match of the year had taken place that weekend. Needless to say, Gryffindor had steamrolled Hufflepuff and the after-party had been quite enjoyable.
Seraphim sauntered quite happily into her classroom Monday morning and set her books down. It was about then that she noticed the small, midnight blue, velvet box in the center of her somewhat cluttered desk. She stopped and stared, and stared, and stared. Finally, her desk clock snapped her out of her reverie and signaled to her that it was time for class to begin.
"Please refer to the board," Seraphim gestured behind herself. "We will be working on the warming charm. I have blocks of dry ice up here, please don't touch them with your bare hands because they'll burn, wingardium leviosa them over. I want you to melt them by the time the piece I have on my desk has evaporated. Is that understood?" she asked, looking over the class. A myriad of 'yes', 'mmhmm', and nods were her answer. "Excellent, you may begin."
Students scrambled to the front of the classroom with their wands, picked out their pieces, and levitated them to their respective desks. After observing quietly for a moment, Seraphim turned to the strange little box on her desk. It was about a fourth of the size of the chunks of ice her students were warming.
She picked up the box and found a note, painstakingly folded so as not to show from underneath the box. In that flourished handwriting that was becoming so familiar, Seraphim read to herself, 'To match the stars in your eyes.'
Now curious, Seraphim opened the box and stifled a gasp. Small diamonds in the shape of stars winked back at her. She'd seen the exact set in the window of a shop at Hogsmeade and had dearly wanted them to match her Halloween Ball outfit. They had special attachment charms which, when used, caused the small jewels to stick anywhere until the countercharm had been performed. Seraphim had debated buying the set and attaching them to her nails, hair, or the corners of her eyes but she'd not had enough gold to pay for them. A silly grin slowly plastered itself on her face. Whoever was leaving her presents knew her quite well and, she believed, she was getting to like whoever-it-was.
Perhaps the fiasco with Malfoy hadn't been such a bad thing.
Later in the week, Draco chanced going back to Seraphim's room to drop off the fifth gift. He'd cockroached a rather girly catalog from Pansy and gone over it for a good portion of a Saturday morning with Harry in the owlrey. They'd finally found the gift that Draco clutched rather protectively under his cloak as he fought the winds up the outside of the Gryffindor tower.
Finally reaching the window, he thanked whatever deities had blessed him and silently thanked Harry for making sure no one would be in the room as per their last fiasco with the journal that, Harry had assured the Slytherin, Seraphim had adored. Getting the window open was short work and Draco was soon inside the cozy confines of Seraphim's personal living space. Woe to him if she happened to walk through the door.
Setting his wand down on a table, Draco pulled a tall, thin glass vase with a cork stopper from the confines of his cold weather wear. Inside the vase were about a thousand tiny pastel paper stars. The vase was decorated with silvery-blue glitter and formed patterns of feathers drifting in the wind. Around the top was a thin, light blue, silk ribbon.
Draco picked up his wand and cleared his throat. "Remylie glenit," he muttered, flicking the wand at the jar. The stars began to emit a faint glow. "Tantsni." The glowing stopped and Draco looked at Seraphim's wall clock. It was nearing four in the afternoon. "Four hours," he muttered, the stars were charmed to begin glowing again at eight o'clock that night.
Last, Draco tied a note to the blue ribbon at the top of the vase. 'For the smile that lights the heavens.' He seriously didn't know where he came up with the 'sweet', perhaps too sweet, sentiments, but his only liaison to the truth had assured him the notes were doing just as good a job as the presents. And, well, Harry was the only other in on 'the plan.' He then tucked the vase behind one of the draperies on Seraphim's bed. She'd find it when the stars began to glow.
Draco stood and stretched his legs. He then grabbed his broom and made for the window. Just as he opened it, there were footsteps in the hall.
"Seraphim! Wait, you um," Draco heard Harry's voice quite clearly. He bolted out of the room.
"What is it Harry?" asked the girl in question, opening the door to her room.
Harry peered inside and mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "Um, nothing, nevermind," he said quickly.
Seraphim turned and a puzzled look crossed her face. "Who left the window open?"
Leaning back and placing the last of the to-be-graded homework in a neat pile, Seraphim sighed contentedly. After stretching like a contented cat, she pushed her chair back and walk-stumbled over to her bed and flopped down. About five minutes later, she rolled over and took her glasses off, placing them on her bedside table next to the vase of tiny glowing stars left by a gallant stranger.
Seraphim sat up and ordered all her candles out. After changing into more comfortable sleepwear, she crawled into bed and ordered the stars to dim as well. Snuggling into her pillow and burrowing into a blanket, Seraphim sighed once more and fell asleep.
Her dreams were sweet and before she knew it, the morning sun was shining at her, imploring her to greet the day. Seraphim, of course, was in no mood to do so. She grumbled and attempted to pull her covers over her head when she grasped something decidedly silkier and warmer to the touch than what she'd been covered with the night before.
Fully conscious, Seraphim saw her old blanket folded neatly beside her bed. She then turned her attention to piece of cloth covering her. 'Piece of cloth' turned out to be an immense understatement.
Over her legs was draped a patchwork quilt. Each square featured a different scene of the sky. Some patches had fluffy clouds on a spring day, others showed twilight, and still others had stars that seemed to twinkle fitfully against a velvety blackness. The lining of the quilt was a soft cerulean blue and sent delicious tingles of warmth through Seraphim's fingers.
Instinctively reaching for her glasses, Seraphim's fingers found a piece of parchment instead. Somewhat nervous, she read the message in the familiar script. 'To comfort you when I cannot.'
A soft, worried smile played on the lucky girl's lips.