someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

005

over the next few days, draco's loneliness diminished as he showed artemis around the usually-empty manor.

she liked the atlas room (upon his own closer inspection, the maps plastered to the walls were quite beautiful), but was less impressed by the kitchens. she became fond of narcissa's garden of white flowers—roses, hyacinths, lilies, orchids—and often asked to sit outside to read, when the sun laid its rays gently on malfoy manor, a whisper of warmth and light that never seemed enough as you bathed under it. artemis did not like the drawing room (too dark, she had complained, and then turned and walked straight out of the door in two strides) nor the cellar, which she claimed was more like a dungeon with a few dusty bottles of wine in the corner. her favourite was the library; two levels in height, shelves spilling with ancient volumes that needed a wooden ladder to reach the top four shelves. they spent a great amount of time there, discussing the interwoven histories of muggles and magics, reading each other's favourite works of fiction and, most of all, sharing stories. these ranged from the most embarrassing childhood-memory retellings to somewhat deep, heartfelt confessions, to fond retellings of times at each of their respective schools. draco wondered if this was what friendship felt like to other people; the ease at which his words came, the release of that constant need to retort cruelly, if only to save face.

"what house do you think i'll be sorted into?" she asked him one day, the sun hiding periodically behind passing clouds, bright and pale as cream. draco mulled it over in his head. his eyes slid to her face, turned not back towards him, but at the rustling, spring-green leaves of his mother's beloved cherry trees.

"slytherin," he answered. "or ravenclaw." perhaps his answer was biased—he loathed anyone from gryffindor solely due to stereotype and personal experience (the potter boy seemed to only feed into draco's hatred for the lion-crested house), and he was not fond of the idea of associating with anyone from hufflepuff. really, who in their right mind could be that polite to everyone and anyone? of course, draco hoped that artemis might be sorted into the same house as him, so he would have someone such as her near him almost constantly.

her only reply was a quiet "i see," and they fell back into silence.

two days afterward, artemis told draco she would be leaving.

"for the week of the world cup," she explained.

"right," he said. that day they spent outside once more, this time discussing the peculiar details of several greek and roman mythologies. sundown came too abruptly for draco's liking. dinner that night was particularly dry. as he lay awake that night under the colourless light of the moon, which spilled into the gap in his curtains greedily, he felt a strange melancholy overtake him at the thought of the empty house he'd lived in for fourteen years now. somehow, that one other person was always around made it feel less isolated—almost full, teeming with unspoken words and mutual content.

the goodbye was awkward and teenager-ish—a "bye," and a "see you" in return, a half-hearted handshake—and by the time the hour hand of the rustic clock in the waiting room indicated the eleventh hour of day, artemis and her belongings were gone. draco had wandered to her room once, as if to check she had actually existed, but his hand stilled just as the cool metal of her door handle reached his fingertips, and he retreated instead to the library. the halls became too tall, to wide, too empty—and yet, they also seemed to enclose him in a dark cage of expensive wallpaper pasted over cold, smoothed stone. his voice became hoarse with the sudden disuse—as for now, the only times he spoke was to answer his parents' invasive questions. his father talked of etiquette—far more brutal in his word choice now that the girl was not present—and the disgrace that some of his fellow ministry employees brought upon themselves so regularly.

an old tent, whose existence draco was not aware of until three days before the quidditch world cup, was brought out of storage, and he was told to pack his belongings for a four-day trip to the english countryside. they left the next day after his mother bid them safe travels and a safe excursion.