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. . .
"YOU have your elements mixed up." Draco comments as he peers down at Enoch's page, pointing at one of the rows in the table. He'd been getting the brunet to write it out, to see how much he remembers. It hasn't been going well. There's just something about Alchemy that doesn't stick in Enoch's head, like he's unable to properly comprehend it. It seems to come a lot easier to the blond, who claims he barely studies while still maintaining high grades in the class. Thankfully, though, he doesn't seem to mind doing a little bit of study in the back of the library; after the first meeting, it has become a bit of a regular occurrence for them to meet for note-transferral and a small amount of tutoring.
Taking the pen from Enoch's hand, Draco frowns at the muggle writing instrument but again makes no comment. He begins making corrections to the table, drawing multiple crosses and lines across the paper. The brunet watches silently, before he starts to feel bad about all his mistakes and starts rummaging through his bag. He pulls out the tub of lemon candy, popping one in his mouth. Then he offers one to Draco, who accepts after a second of reluctance.
"You enjoy these?" Draco asks, an expression that can only be achieved by eating something truly sour on his face. It brings a grin to Enoch's own, a light chuckle as he nods. "They're unbearable."
"You don't have to eat them, you know?"
"I know." The older boy confirms as he rolls the lolly in his mouth. There's a bit of honey resting at the edge of Enoch's taste, and the brunet thinks he secretly likes the candy. It makes him grin just a little wider. This makes Draco suspicious as he almost laughingly asks, "Why are you smiling like that?"
"I just find it funny." Draco just rolls his eyes.
Draco can't take his eyes off the white ferret resting in Enoch's lap. The pet has been making much more regular appearances, with the brunet taking him everywhere from class to break. Draco isn't sure what that means about Enoch—if it means anything about Enoch—but it does mean he's frequently tormented by its sight. And with its sight comes memories of his time spent as one. He still hasn't forgiven Moody for that, though he's passed the point of spending restless nights plotting his revenge.
"Does it have a name?" Draco asks as he peers down at the white nightmare. The question seems to take Enoch off guard, because he stares blankly at the blond. He looks so dumb, like there's nothing going on behind his eyes—but it's the forgivable kind of dumb, not the Potter kind of dumb. There's a lot of things he does better than Potter—Draco could write a whole list. There's a flash in his eyes and he shrugs.
"I call him Ferret, he didn't like any of my suggestions." As if he's just now been made consciously aware of the ferret, he starts stroking its fur softly. "He named himself Howie but I don't like it—I don't think the naming methods were right."
"So he doesn't have a name?" Enoch shrugs again. As Draco stares at the ferret, one name comes to him—one he doesn't dare to say aloud unless he sticks. But he knows, frowning at the ferret, that it's already stuck. No other name would fit it, not for him. No, against his will, he already has a nickname for it.
Draco Junior.
. . .
Enoch feels the most free on the weekend, when he's able to relax in his normal clothes and rid himself of the stifling uniform. He's not sure how people like Draco, who he's never seen in anything but the uniform, survive. He'd go insane if he couldn't lay about somewhere on the school grounds, in a comfortable pair of jeans and a jumper of some sort now that winter has really started to settle in.
It does mean, however, he gets some odd stares that he just doesn't understand. Sometimes students, usually decked in silver and green, gawk and laugh at him like he's the strangest thing they've ever seen. He'd argue it's the other way round.
It's never been quite as bad as today, though. Today, as he's sitting on a ledge, looking out the window as he waits for his friends, a pair of Slytherin boys seem to set their sights on him.
"What are you wearing?" One of them laughs, though it's not a particular nice laugh. It's a lot more malicious, directed at him in a way that offers Enoch no opportunity to laugh along. The brunet glances down at his clothes, seeing nothing particularly wrong with his outfit. It's even brand name, probably some of the more expensive clothes he owns.
"No wonder you're a Hufflepuff." The other adds, eyes raking his body. Now he shuffles uncomfortably. He can't sense a single good emotion inside of them; every emotion he can sense makes him feel slightly sick, so he tries to instead focus on the coolness of the rock underneath his fingers. He can feel that, even through his gloves. It's almost like the feeling Philip gives off. The second boy looks to his friend, "So obsessed with muggle things. Even has those pens in class."
"Bet he loves those stupid muggles, just like his mother—the blood traitor." At this, all Enoch can taste is chillies. His body tenses and he jumps to his feet, prepared to defend his mother. But then it occurs to him that he's never actually been able to sense his own emotions and that these must actually belong to someone else.
Maybe the person that's now planting his hands on both boy's shoulders, inserting himself in between them, bringing a hint of sour lemon. A familiar blond is glaring at the two boys—not even glaring, staring down at them like they're nothing but dirt.
"Are you really so pathetic you'd go for such a low blow?" Draco's voice is devoid of emotion, as is his expression. That blank mask rests on his face again, but it still seems to be enough to disarm the pair of boys. He gives them both a shove, wiping his hands down his robes like he's covered in germs. "Honestly, anyone would think you were as dumb as a Gryffindor."
It doesn't take long for the boys to disperse, especially when an ice-cold glare breaks through the blank mask. Once they're gone, Draco acknowledges Enoch for the first time; his expression has softened, but it is still pretty blank.
"Are you okay?" He asks, getting a quick nod from Enoch. Physically, he's fine; his pride is a little hurt though. "If you're so insistent on wearing muggle clothes, at least don't sit around in places where there's more Slytherins that will pick on you for it."
"How am I supposed to know where these spots are and aren't?" Draco starts moving, with Enoch only a few steps behind him. He misses the amused quirk of the blond boy's lips.
"Pay attention to your surroundings, for a start." Draco glances back at the brunet, gaze then drifting to something behind him. He frowns softly. "And don't hang around here. It's one of the quicker ways to the Slytherin dorm, so there'll be more of us."
The pair walk together for a few more corridors, before Draco tells Enoch that he has to go back to what he'd been doing before he'd oh so selflessly come to the brunet's rescuing. Enoch tells him he could have taken care of himself perfectly fine, but only gets a smirk in response. Draco's gone before the argument can continue.
Now, rather than waiting, Enoch goes to seek out his friends. He doesn't feel like sitting around anymore.
( AUTHOR'S NOTE ) I would like to apologise for the amount of random Slytherin I'm vilify for this fic. As a Slytherin myself, it upsets me & I'd been planning on sharing that love but.... more often than not with Draco involved, Slytherin just fits a little better
But I promise I'll give them some love as well. At the very least Draco will get some. Lots of love
This is just a filler but if I can catch a break to write the rest of the next chapter you'll get that today
