𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐨

𝐕𝐈𝐈

It had been three weeks since the incident with Draco. He rarely ever came to the dorm anymore—only to grab something he forgot or for a change of clothes—and he was looking more greyer and ghost-like than ever.

Astronomy was really starting to pull my leg, and I was slowly beginning to regret taking it. I could've chosen advanced Charms or History of Magic, but of course, I'd gotten ahead of myself once again.

Naming moons and rogue planets turned into memorizing diameters and astrological meanings. I thought about asking Ophiuchus for some help—she was almost as old as Hogwarts after all—but she was useless in anything but her name's history.

I also would've sought out Hermione, but she opted for Alchemy and was up to her ears in her own homework. She would've been great help, of course, but I didn't want to be a burden.

So, I was left to figure it out on my own. That's what I was doing now, in the common room, alone. It was fairly late, around eleven or midnight, I really wasn't sure. No one else
was awake, they were probably just as exhausted from classes as I was, but I couldn't afford to fall behind.

I was looking over my star charts in my notebook, trying to figure out the exact location of the star Castor when the portrait hole opened. I could almost hear Ophiuchus grumbling form outside as Draco walked through with a scowl.

He might not have seen me right away, he appeared lost in thought when he slumped down on the couch across from the armchair I was seated in.

He sat motionless for a moment, then looked up and saw me. Immediately, he jumped up and was about to go somewhere else, but I stoped him.

"I don't bite," I said.

"No, but how would I know that," he said quickly. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't think you would accuse me of murder either, but I guess everyone's full of surprises."

"I'm sorry," I said, and I think I meant it.

"Sure."

"Seriously. I don't know why I said that. I was just angry."

"Please, Potter. Of course you know why. It doesn't matter anyways."

"It mattered the other night when you couldn't stop crying about it," I said slyly.

"I had a stupid nightmare for Merlin's sake, alright? You really aren't that special."

"But you said–"

"Drop it, Potter," he sounded cold and malicious, much like the old Draco I knew.

We sat in a icy silence for a little while longer as I went back to my homework. I was really having trouble with Castor, I thought I had it for a while, but now I was questioning myself again.

I was nibbling on the tip of my quill, and my fingers were fiddling with the edge of my notebook, when Draco started looking at me intently.

"What?" I asked.

"You're being rather annoying," he said with distaste. "Your papers are making noise and you now have ink on your lip."

I immediately wiped the sleeve of my jumper across my mouth harshly.

"Also, your notes are wrong," he mumbled as he looked to his lap and twiddled his thumbs.

"What? What's the matter with them?"

"You said Apollo was the twin of Castor, it's Pollux. Also, you put it in the entirety wrong constellation. You said Lynx, but it's in Gemini."

My eyes widened as he spoke and I immediately corrected my work.

"You seem to know a lot about astronomy," I said slowly.

"I'm related to the Black family, of course I do."

I hummed in response. It was late and I was tired now, and I didn't feel like speaking anymore.

I continued to work, but I couldn't focus anymore. I just wanted to lay in bed and sleep forever.

I looked up at Draco again, he was still fixated at his thumbs.

"Umm," I tried to get his attention.

"What?" he said, not looking up.

"Do you know what the brightest star in Canis Major is?" I asked with great apprehension.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Seriously, Potter? I thought you of all people should know this one."

"Well, I–"

"It's Sirius, Potter."

My eyes widened once more. Of courses I should have known that. Oh, Sirius would be so disappointed.

"Right. Thanks." 

I left for bed after that. Draco stayed in the common room. I started to wonder if maybe he slept there solely to avoid me.

Draco was good at astronomy. Like, really good. He could easily abolish that course and be top of the class. Then again, if he knew everything, what was the point? I never took Draco for one to have a thirst for knowledge, not like Hermione anyway, I would've thought he'd pounce on the chance to finally beat her at something. They were neck and neck in the scoring charts after all. 

But how much did I really know about him? Clearly not as much as I thought. Everything he did surprised me now. He was smart, but I don't remember him ever boasting about it or trying to show off at all. Was he ashamed?

He certainly wasn't anything like Pansy Parkinson, who was stupid and still chose to be mean. Draco was mean, and good at it.

***

"Wonderful job on your essay, Mr Potter. After taking a couple years off, I certainly didn't expect you to have such a diverse knowledge on Castor," Professor Sinistra was saying to me the next day when I handed in my essay.

"Yes, well Professor, I studied quite a lot," I chucked near the end of my sentence, hoping it would make it sound more authentic while also letting out a bit of my nervous buildup.

"Well done, Mr Potter. Keep up the good work," she said with a heart warming smile. The kind of smile that reminded me of Remus or Mrs Weasley.

My classes were now done for the day and dinner wasn't for an hour still, I went for a walk around the castle, just trying to remind myself of it's entities when I found myself out on the courtyard.

It was late September and the leaves were turning as they prepared for their end. The air was crisp and smelt of rotting fruit and oncoming rain. It was quite beautiful really, how the autumn times could make death seem so lovely.

It swept away every nervous bone in my body along with the summer heat, only leaving a strange sort of tiredness in its place.

I wished on every star in the sky that my friends and family could've died like summer: beautiful and painless and idyllic.

But maybe—and I knew—death was suppose to be gruesome for a reason; so that heaven might be the kind of picturesque utopia you saw in murals of churches and paintings? If only heaven could look how it did in a smooth watercolour.

Wherever they are now, wherever they may be, I hope beyond all else that they are happier. I hope that they may feel the sweet relief of peace that I have been striving for all my life.

Wherever they are now, is my home.