BETWEEN REVENGE AND LOVE

13

Tuesday, 09/08/1995

"Now, everyone, remember what I told you?"

Professor Sprout, scurrying through the greenhouse excitedly, is very busy handing out buckets of dead mice. 

Probably, no one else would be as enthusiastic about something like that. But I could be wrong.

"Wearing gloves is not enough to ensure your fingers stay attached to your hands. You must, at every second, pay heed to your every move when it comes to caring for and feeding Self-Fertilising Shrubs. You see, they have a very great liking for meat, obviously, and they certainly don't care whether it is your limbs or the mice they devour. Anyways, choose a partner everyone."

Strained I let my eyes search for Daphne or Tracey. In the overall chaos, this greenhouse is under, it would make little sense to try and push through the crowd. I'm sure Daphne's read lots about self-fertilising shrubs, even if she's not particularly fond of Herbology. That way, I'd prefer her to be my partner. But my wishes don't seem to come true, I spot neither Daphne nor Tracey anywhere. 

"Mind being my partner?"

The voice I can place right away, his voice.

Draco.

I turn around, finding myself staring up at him. When'd he get so tall?

"I'd love to be your partner," I smile, playfully. "Got your gloves?"

"Of course, my fingers stay where they are. Would you like a mouse?"

Almost somewhat proudly, he shows me the bucket Professor Sprout has given him.

"Looks good on you."

"Does it?"

"Yes."

For a minute we just stare at the creature - or plant, or whatever it really is - in front of us, watch how its mouth cracks open widely, threatening to tear to pieces everything that gets too close.

"I'd say we start feeding this beast, should we?" I ask, struggling to decide whether I find the sight of it repulsive or fascinating. Or both. "It looks... hungry."

He smiles casually, but I see his shoulders tighten and his face strain in concentration.

He grabs a mouse from the loaded bucket and carefully brings it closer and closer to the thing's mouth before throwing it down its throat. Briskly, he withdraws his hand.

"Wasn't that hard, was it? Your turn."

I nod, following his example. Though it's hard to concentrate as much with the way he's moving closer towards me, touching my hand every time he takes the bucket from me again and again. Still, he acts as if it's unintentional.

I know it's not. It can't be. I can read it in his extra cheeky expression, that he's very much aware of what he's doing.

Somehow the lesson flies by incredibly fast.

Somewhere near the end, I watch him throw the last few mice into the plant's maw, now much less anxious and more practised. But still focused, because remember, we want to keep our fingers.

The sunlight, that breaks on the glass of the greenhouse roof, makes his hair glow in a special way. That's what I notice watching him, entirely incidentally, of course.

In a special way I like.

He looks good.

Happy and warm.

Draco Malfoy looks warm.