New Vinyl (A Draco Malfoy Story)

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"It's so nice outside," Celine said. Books spread out in front of her, she paid more attention to the window and the kids laying out by the lake, her quill held loosely in her hand.

"Go outside, then," I said. I flipped through the advanced potions book I held, searching with a searing head pain that ached the worst behind the eye sockets.

"It's such a rare sight to see you buckling down on schoolwork. I simply must stay."

"Mhmmm." My finger trailed down the list in the glossary under the letter H. Halibut. Honeysuckle. Hydrangea root. Hydration. I didn't burst Celine's bubble. I came to the library that morning during free period to research a hangover cure, not intending to catch up on any schoolwork. I'd had to suffer through one too many mornings as of late, the old hair of the dog method only getting me so far.

Reading through the section on hydration, my cheeks flushed in embarrassment, the memory of vomiting the night before replaying in my mind. The mere thought of my next interaction with Blaise brought the nausea back instantly. Despite the unpleasantness of the experience, the flask of Ogden's in my bag called to me, my fingers itching to down it with the purpose of forgetting, of moving on with life. I couldn't. Not because it was 10:38 a.m. That part didn't bother me in the slightest. Drinking at 10:38 a.m. in front of Celine, on the other hand; that bothered me.

The further I read, the more daunting it all became, and by the time I slapped the book shut I recognized this potions book was titled advanced for a reason, and that I was anything but that. Frustrated, I excused myself. I slipped the flask into my pocket while Celine took another longing glance outside, it cradled in my pocket comfortingly. Back in the potions section of the library, I slid the book back into its home, the only empty slot on the shelf. I leaned back against the bookcase, unscrewing the top of the flask and tipping it back, feeling the burn in my throat.

"Bit early, isn't it?"

Of fuckin' course, I thought. Draco came from around the corner, a few books in hand. "It's 5 o'clock somewhere," I said. Draco slid one of his books back on the opposite shelf, grazed his finger along a few spines, then pulled out another one.

"Whatever you say." He didn't even appear judgmental. He kept perusing the shelves, feigning disinterest. "Lost, are you?"

"I suppose. Not exactly my skill level."

"And yet here you are?" he asked. A rhetorical question I deemed unworthy of a reaction. He smirked. "Let me take a wild shot in the dark." He walked up directly in front of me, reaching to the left of my head and grabbing the very title I held in my hand moments before. "Hangover cure?" The book fell open to the H section, the pages still remembering the crease, the bump my quill left behind flagging the section during my trip to the loo. "Bingo." I stuck the flask back in my pocket and brought my hands up in a slow clap. He slid the book back onto the shelf, his body close to mine, not as close as that night at the Hog's Head, but close enough to feel his heat. The coldness of his last words in the dungeon the night before sent a prickle down my spine. The hurt returned. He saw it in my eyes. He stepped away, hands pushed into his pockets.

"Hill," he said.

"It's fine," I said. I didn't want to hear it. Apology or not. Something inside me in that moment felt precarious, my bones performing a balancing act that threatened to tip with the slightest breeze. I couldn't bear the thought of collapsing. Particularly in front of him. "I have to go. Celine's waiting." I moved away from him, but he blocked me with his arm.

"I'm not keen on enabling you," he said. He pulled a small vial out of his pocket, a sky-blue liquid matching the description in the Hydrating potion I read up on. "But I'm also not too fond of the idea of you being even more unpleasant than on a regular day." He tossed the concoction up in the air towards me. I caught it. 'Just a sip' was scratched along the side of the glass. He brushed past me, pausing against my shoulder, still shielded from the librarian by the massive bookcase, closer than the Hog's Head now, so close it triggered the memory of late night thoughts of him that night, a tingle down my stomach, an uncomfortable pleasure looming out of sight. "I figured that potion out two years ago. Next time, just ask."