someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

017

on the thirty-first of october, nineteen-ninety-four; the castle was awake earlier than it would have been on a usual saturday.

a continual hum of anticipation wafted through the air just as the scent of that morning's breakfast had. the weather had finally decided to cooperate with the time of year, for once, and the majority of students had taken the opportunity to step outside; where they might lay beneath the warm caress of the sun's bright fingers, which reached through the pasty clouds lazily. the air was fresh with the mingled scents of petrichor and blooming plants—the latter rustling and swaying merrily as tennagers of various ages propelled themselves forward in light blurs of movement. 

draco, however, had perched himself upon the thick branch of a tree in the sunny courtyard, balancing gracefully under the speckles shadows of said tree's leaves—waltzing through minuscule amounts of space in the breeze. he had managed to scare away a few meek first-years nearly two hours earlier, before swiftly making the climb onto the tree's arm, his fingers finding and hooking into the creases of its bark. the rest of the group—theodore, pansy, blaise, as well as grabbe and goyle (the followed him everywhere)—had settled onto the ground to indulge in their own activities, whilst still ensuring draco was not left in complete isolation. theodore had, at some point, climbed onto a different branch and made small, meaningless conversation with draco, before he'd gotten bored and crumpled clumsily to the soft earth once more—this time to annoy blaise. even under the shade of the tree's shadow, the warmth of the sun's rays seared a bright orange-red through draco's eyelids as he allowed his mind free reign.

the welcoming feast of the previous night had been unlike any other feast at hogwarts. the tables had been positively vibrant, decorated with dishes both familiar and foreign placed artistically upon endless platters made of glittering brass. conversation pushed and pulled in the space; countless languages spitting from all corners of the vast space, and the music of scraping utensils and knocked plates accompanied the words spoken. dumbledore had given a speech that draco did not (much less want to) remember, at some point. then the hour hand had brushed eleven, and everyone had been sent to their dormitories for a night's rest.

as per usual, draco's group of friends had remained lounging next to the crackling fireplace; gossiping, complaining and pondering, well through the first hour of halloween. except that time, crabbe and goyle had gone to bed early—likely they had induced for themselves a food coma—and artemis had disappeared completely. instead of the usual seven, only four crowded around the fireplace, as seagulls would around the remnant crumbs of a picnic. topics came and went: their impressions of the other schools, who each of them had heard of before (from the connections of their respective pure-blooded families), who from each school might become a champion, and which one of them would be rewarded with the thousand-galleon prize. draco had joked that perhaps the weasleys would all attempt becoming hogwarts' champion, if only to fill their vault at gringotts for once—this had drawn several chuckles and snickers from the rest. eventually, they trickled up the stairs to their dormitories with heavy eyelids and a blurry gaze.

the next morning, draco had woken up late to a dormitory devoid of any snoring or ruckus. sunlight had hit the room in a turquoise sheen, as its rays penetrated the black lake, and poured thickly through the window panes. it had been dream-like—yet draco had forced himself awake and smeared his signature scowl upon his features, getting dressed into a pair of hickory trousers and a loose, cloud-grey blouse. he had not bothered to do much except comb out his hair—it was filthy and desperately needed a washing, yet he could not bring himself to care all too much about this fact. seeking solitude as soon as his friends had found him, draco had lead them to the umbrella-shade of an old tree with an artwork of textured bark against its broad trunk. this was where he resided now; amongst the leaves as his friends chatted aimlessly about merlin-knew-what, and his head swelled with an expanding web of thoughts and reasoning.