New Vinyl (A Draco Malfoy Story)

II

"Sadist," I said, running a make-up brush over my cheeks, pink blush powdering my skin for a faint touch of color.

"Tell us how you really feel," Natalia said.

"Umbridge is a fucking sadist, cancelling all future trips outside the castle. She keeps us locked up like this, she'll be running a psych ward worthy of St. Mungo's pretty soon. Not a bloody school." There was a hardy cheer of agreement from the few other girls filtering through the Slytherin girls' lavatory getting ready. Natalia, Celine and I spread out along the counter in front of the big mirror, plucking and polishing until our reflections shined back at us. Girls used to complain when we bogarted the big mirror. Now they don't even bother to put up a fight, opting instead for the single mirrors over the pedestal sinks on the adjacent wall.

"Why not just ask her if you can go?" Celine asked.

"I'm sure." I snorted, nearly painting my eyelid in mascara. "I only ditch her class once a week. I'm sure I'm just the student she'd give preferential treatment to."

"Blame menses!" Natalia said. I wrinkled my nose toward her in the mirror. "I do. Works every time."

"I think if someone has menses once a week, there might be a serious underlying medical condition," Celine said. With a flick of her wand, all of her powders, lotions and creams flew back into her bag, stacking neatly into place. "Imogene would be opening herself up to a heap of tests, and surely a night in the hospital wing." Shrugging, Natalia hopped off the counter, always the first to finish the morning ritual, and proceeded to lead us out of the bathroom.

"Umbridge is a dried up hag, anyway. I'm sure she harbors no sympathy for a problem suffered by young, fertile women." We stood alone in the dormitory, the few stragglers in their year still showering in the bathroom. The record spinning, Fairest's debut album Splitting Wands, quieted before we even finished getting ready, the needle bobbing near the record label, going nowhere. I lifted it, desperately wishing to start it over and skip class. Again. But instead I set the arm on its rest and put away the album. "It will only remind her of what she once was, and will never be again."

"Well, there's always Draco," Celine said.

"Draco?" I closed the lid and covered the player with my green comforter. "When has Draco ever helped anyone other than himself?"

"I'm just saying. He is head of the Inquisitorial Squad, after all."

"Celine." My voice hardened, my expression dark. "I'd rather be forced to watch as each one of my precious albums burn before my very eyes, then have the blistering melted remains poured over my entire body," a pause for dramatic effect, "than owe anything to Draco Malfoy."

The two stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. "Jesus," Natalia said, the weight of the statement settling in her mind. Grabbing my book bag, I shoved past both of them.

"It was just a suggestion," Celine said.

"A fucking stupid one."

"Whatever. You are the one who always goes to such dark places with everything."

A low, maniacal laugh escaped my lips. "My soul is a dark fucking place."

*             *             *

Bored, I scribbled on the cover of my Transfiguration textbook. Nothing in particular. Some swirls and shading to create a cloudy effect. A soft clearing of the throat brought me out of my daydream.

"Imogene?"

Aimee Waylon stood in front of me, holding her books tightly against her chest. I dropped my quill. The hallway was empty, most of the students already cleared out to the Great Hall for lunch. Not feeling particularly hungry, I elected to wait behind for Natalia and Pansy. They got into an argument over who looked better in green, or something idiotic like that, and disrupted Transfiguration class. No doubt Professor McGonagall was doling out detentions as we spoke.

"Hey, Aimee." Drawn out and unsure, the words made obvious how sorely I did not want to speak to her. Hurt crossed her face, and I regretted my initial reaction immediately. But I could not apologize, even if I wanted to.

"Have you heard about Fairest coming to Hogsmeade?" she asked. A transparent attempt to break the ice. It worked.

"Yeah. Too bad Dumbridge wrote her millionth educational decree and banned outings." Aimee laughed at my juvenile nickname, taking a seat on the bench next to me.

"I know. The one time they come around, right?" The two of us talked bands, and the heaviness in my stomach when she first approached lifted, replaced with a familiar comfort. A freedom of sorts. The kind a person feels when they talk to another soul who just fucking gets it.

Mid-laughter about the Trolls' latest mockery of a single, she sighed, "I wish you'd come back to choir. We miss you." And suddenly, the heaviness settled in as though it had never left. "There is a spot open. Carolyn's voice has been agitating her lately. She's decided give it a rest for the remainder of the year."

"That's too bad." It really was. Carolyn Steward had a beautiful voice. "Thanks. But I can't." I stood up, ready to make an escape. She blocked my way. "I'm just really behind in school and stuff." A door opened down the hall, and the flash of green school robes sent me into a panic. Aimee couldn't see, her back toward Natalia and Pansy as they approached, and I could tell they were still bickering.

"Oh. I understand," she said, but in a way that sounded like she really didn't. She never had. Before I managed to lift my hand to wave her off, Pansy spotted us together.

Shit.

"Hello, Ravenclaw." Pansy crossed her arms, and Natalia shot me a curious glance from behind her shoulder. Aimee turned around. "What are you bugging our good friend Imogene here for?"

"I was just," she said, but Pansy held up a hand.

"I hope you aren't trying to get her to join back up with your group of sad, acapella singing blood traitors and those stank-ass toads you all carry around." Whatever thin film of confidence Aimee possessed washed away immediately, the rims of her eyes moistening. Pansy poked her shoulder. "Because Imogene wouldn't be caught dead with the likes of you and your little choir posse."

"Pansy, leave her alone," I said.

"Oh, trust me. I will. I wouldn't be caught dead associating with this Mudblood loving piece of trash." With a quick step forward, Pansy banged her shoulder into Aimee, causing her books to tumble down to the floor. Before I had a chance to help her, Pansy had my forearm in a death grip. She whispered into my ear, "You'd do well to follow my example, Hill. With that Mudblood Gryffindor still in that little choir of theirs." I tore my arm out of her grip, feeling her nails dig and scratch my skin. Aimee was on her knees now, shoving a stack of papers back into her book. Not daring to look down at her, unable to stand seeing the hurt expression on her face, I shoved past Pansy toward the dungeons. I didn't look back.

*              *              *  

Alone in the dorm, unable to withstand Professor Binns' droning voice after the scene with Pansy and Aimee, I took solace in Emeline. That's what I called her. Pulling her needle down gently, I let The Beatles take me to a different place. A better place. It started off slow, me laying on the floor beside Emeline, unconsciously stroking her hardwood. I hummed at first, until the feeling overtook me.

"I want you. I want you so bad," I sang. It was so fucking simple. Heavy blues guitar, and a simple message. That's all I needed. "I want you so bad. It's driving me mad." But as quickly as the relief came, it went away, the progression robbing it. "She's so heavy." Confusion. Hopelessness. Anger. In an instant, I realized why I chose this song above all others. The heaviness in my stomach. So heavy.

I cried, Emeline by my side.