New Vinyl (A Draco Malfoy Story)

IV

Sunlight refracted through the glass windows, intricate patterns forming on the walls opposite me. I yawned, staring at them, my book open in front of me. A soft cough from the teacher's desk, Professor McGonagall gave a stern glance in my direction. I hung my head, attention back on the book. Instead of the mundane tasks assigned to a normal detention – polishing glassware, cleaning chalkboards, etc. – Professor McGonagall spent the first hour of my detention reviewing all of the Transfiguration lessons completed thus far. I realized early on that this was not intended as normal detention, but as mandatory tutoring. Sly old woman.

My brain ached, unprepared for this level of academic demand so early in the morning. By the time I was dismissed, breakfast was but a distant memory. I made my way toward the dungeons, passing windows that displayed the outside, happy students basking in the rare but welcomed sunlight of the afternoon. As expected on a Saturday, the common room echoed of emptiness. I trudged to the sofa, dropping my books on the floor, unconcerned with the likelihood that the first person coming in from a fun afternoon of frolicking outdoors would immediately stumble over them. Hopefully, it would be Pansy.

Even though I grew up being told not to play with my food, I let the chocolate frog I pulled out from my bag hop a few times over my stomach before mercilessly tearing its head off with my teeth, feeling fierce and powerful, like a lioness catching a meal for her cubs. I mulled over the analogy, wondering how appropriate it really was. Lions didn't eat frogs, after all.

"Oompf!"

I sat up, the frog's bottom half still faintly twitching with magic, a disturbing image for anyone who did not grow up eating these magical chocolaty treats. Draco stumbled forward into the common room, cursing under his breath. He kicked my Transfiguration book. It flopped over, the spine straining and bending slightly. I snorted, tending to the chocolate on my fingers.

"Hill? Is that your book on the floor?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. He huffed, bending over and picking up the book, hurling it onto the couch beside me. "It could have broken my neck." Knowing how much it infuriated him, I continued to ignore him, popping a chocolate frog leg into my mouth. "You will answer me when I'm speaking to you, Hill. What are you doing up here by yourself, anyway?"

"I could ask you the same?"

"I don't need to answer any of your questions," he said.

"Fine, then." I smacked my lips and stood up, twirling to pick up my book. He barred my way to the staircase, arms folded and a suspicious glare on his face. I popped the last bit of chocolate into my mouth innocently, sucking it until it melted on my tongue.

"Enjoying that, are you?" he asked.

"So very much."

His tension alleviated, but only slightly. His shoulders lowered, the rigidity not so severe in his stance. "Sensual. I believe that was the word you used, wasn't it?"

"What?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to remember what he was talking about. I raised my index finger to my mouth, both in thought and to finish off the smudges of chocolate that remained. The act felt animalistic, bringing me back to the lioness analogy in my mind.

"Yesterday morning," he said. Clearly, my lack of manners didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Yesterday morning." A light bulb in my head flickered on. I barely remembered the interaction with Draco yesterday morning, as high as I was. But it all flooded back in a wave. The porridge. The spoon. The Ravenclaws. The food-gasm. "Sensual. Yes, exactly." I remembered his entranced expression, his gaze set on my mouth in a way that at the time didn't bother me, but now brought a blush to my cheeks.

"No wonder you spend so much time eating. Alone." He emphasized the word alone.

"I'm sorry," I said, desperate to deflect the attention from myself, as the redness on my cheeks surely had spread up to my hairline by that point, "but I don't seem to be the only one wandering the common room alone. Unless I've missed Crabbe or Goyle hiding behind a bookcase, somewhere?"

"I'm not alone," he said. "I'm with you." A statement of fact, but a smart-ass comment nonetheless. One he knew would get under my skin. I brushed past him, breathing in his cologne and cursing myself for enjoying the scent. "C'mon, Hill, I'm only joking. I know you're not a loner anymore."

I paused at the staircase for the girls' dormitory. My mind churned to a stop, his voice echoing the word on repeat inside my brain. Anymore. "I wasn't a loner back then, Malfoy." I couldn't stop myself, the words springing from the cage I locked them away in years ago. "The only place I've ever felt truly alone has been here. In this dungeon." Some sort of mental break spurred me to reveal my innermost tortured thoughts to Draco Malfoy, of all people. Malfoy, who would use it against me in a heartbeat. Malfoy, who cared only for himself. Draco fucking Malfoy. What was I thinking? I couldn't let the horrified embarrassment show. I couldn't run away now. I couldn't give him any more than I already had.

But no smirk graced Draco's face. No hurtful joke hurled its way at me from his smug mouth. Hands in his pockets, he stood in silence, brow furrowed. The last thing I needed was Draco's pity, something far worse than any insult he could throw my way. "As it turns out, I like being alone just fine," I said. Climbing the staircase, he didn't offer any response to my momentary lapse.

"Thank God," I breathed, making it to my dorm, and to Emeline. Not that I'm religious. On the contrary, I'm quite the opposite. But I had to thank someone.