An Ordinary Legend
Chapter Two
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He walked in and looked up in shock…
There, on the wide, cushioned windowsill sat a girl with curly brown hair and blue eyes. It would have been perfectly ordinary, he mused, if she wasn't hovering six inches off the cushions.
He looked around, taking in the heavy fabrics used in the upholstery on the elaborately carved furniture, the silver embroidery on the thick burgundy cushions. It looked as if he had walked into a king's private drawing room.
"I was wondering how long it would be until someone found this place." She smiled. Draco tried not to let his mask break.
"How long…? I don't suppose I could get a sensible answer if I asked who you were and what this place was?" he questioned succulently, trying to worm his way towards the answers to the million questions racing through his mind.
"No."
Well, that was abrupt.
"Sit with me for a while, child." Child? He looked like he could only have been three years younger than her. Her blue gaze never wavered. "Will you join me or not? I will wait another seven years for the next one, if I must. I will not, however, make such an allowance for your indecision."
He sat. Simple as, he decided. This girl, woman, angel, being was too compelling. Looking up at her, he took in her ringlets-glow-peach-smile-she was overwhelming. He wanted to take out his leather notebook and write. Write until the ink ran out, until his fingers bled and his blood became the script.
He stared. She smiled. "What are you?" he asked, for once feeling inarticulate, as if he had lost the words and elegance that were his birthright.
She giggled. "Oh, darling child! I am to some, inspiration. To others, creativity. To more, a Greek myth." She paused for a second, eyeing him, "I suppose the easiest and quickest way to explain to you is that am a Muse"
"A muse."
"Yes, child, a muse. But that is a very simplistic and basic description. The Greeks believed that we were goddesses, providing inspiration for musicians, artist, poets and those dedicated to many other studies." A brilliant smile broke through, "I don't want to bore you during our first meeting, but the Greeks assigned 'us' names and 'we' became patrons to arts. What they hadn't figured out is that we were not all women, and there were only four of us. Imagine!"
Draco felt rather like Great Aunt Boeotia at a dinner party – laughing at jokes he had no hope in understanding.
"So, you are a muse. But why are you sitting here, telling me this?"
"Oh, now darling – that's much too serious a talk! You must come back and talk to me some other time. Do bring your little book with you, please? Now hurry, darling, it's almost time for your dinner!"
The white blonde allowed himself a fleeting feeling of surprise. Dinner? Why, he'd only been in the room for a few minutes!
As he made his way over to the portrait hole, he was stopped. "Draco darling, please don't forget the password – it would be such a, such a sweet irony if you forgot it."
Nodding, the teenager slipped out of the portrait, bid him goodnight, and hurried towards the Great Hall.
Entering the Great Hall, he welcomed the familiar barrage to his senses, letting his body take over and surrendering. It was a welcome distraction.
Harry and Ron watched as the platinum blonde boy walked through the doors, a certain stiffness to his blank face.
"Oi, 'Mione, what do you think's up with his highness?"
Hermione looked up from her plate. "What?"
Ron sighed. "What do you think made Malfoy so late to dinner?" Harry nodded, "Yeah, I mean, he looked kind of…." He looked to Ron, and the red head shrugged. "Out of it."
Hermione shook her head, "Honestly, how should I know what goes on in that boy's head. It's not as if I even think about talking to him." She sent the two boys a significant glance. "I think I found some text that you'd be interested in, Harry."
Down the bench, Ginny was listening intently. It was the first mention of anything out of the ordinary from the Golden Trio this year, and she wished that they would say more. Texts, well, she knew Hermione would find something or other in a book, but what in the devil was Ron going on about with Malfoy? She wished they would leave well enough alone – there was enough to worry about without getting involved with petty rivalries and unfounded truths.
She took in the way that his hair was falling most gracefully to rest on his forehead, causing him to sweep it away with an elegant hand. Porcelain skin reflected the light, and made him look like he was glowing. She imagined, for a second, that there was a faint glow about him.
She shook her head, inwardly laughing at her childish and insane thoughts, and took another scoop of the wonderful pudding.
Fairy lights and grey-eyed boys could wait. Ginny's favorite pudding was served, and she didn't like how Colin was eyeing her plate.