Intense

Peacock Quill

The dirt path was damp under the hot, wet air. Dew beaded on the blades of grass to either side of it, moisture dripping from the trees that bordered. Draco jogged down, mud caking in the grooves of his shoes as he passed a number of empty carriages before finding the one him and his friends had arrived in.

He stepped up onto the carriage, balance faltering for a moment as it wobbled to accommodate his weight. It settled, and his eyes scanned the seats and floor for his wand. Patting his pockets again, he felt a surge of panic in its unmistakable absence.

This was, quite possibly, the worst time for him to be losing his wand of all things. Anxiety boiled in the pit of his stomach, intimidated by the prospect of going home to his father and the uncannily pale guest they'd been housing wandless. He felt reptilian eyes loom over him even now.

"Psst!"

Jumping in place, Draco turned his head to you, and he felt heat creep up his face when you held his wand out to him. You stood to the side of the carriage, and Draco stepped down to take it back from you. As he took it from your hand, you ran the fingers of your other along the lapel of his jacket. His pulse raced, and he swallowed the air trapped in his mouth.

You looked him up and down, then smirked. "You clean up well, hm?"

Draco could have sworn he was still on the wobbling carriage with how his organs lurched forwards.

"I knew you'd come back for your wand, sorry I took it." Your apology barely made it past the blood that rushed through his ears, warmth blooming in his face because you wanted him here. You let go of his jacket, and he wanted to grab your hand and put it back, keep it there forever.

You shoved a hand in your bulky pocket, wiggling it around to free the content before holding it out to him. It was a box, dark bluish-green with silver finishes. Slytherin colors that made him want to dress you in his uniform to see if they'd be just as flattering as the box made them look on your skin.

"For me? You're getting me gifts now, hm?" He felt childish, giddiness swelling behind his teeth. The corners of his mouth tugged up against his will.

You nodded and nudged it towards him. "Open it. Happy end of the year."

He took the box from your hand and eased the top off, revealing a peacock-feather quill with a silver nib. Opaque and saturated, the feather's colors alone looked expensive. "How much was this?" His brows furrowed and he pulled the quill out by two fingers.

"A pretty penny, put it on hold at Scrivenshaft's and saved up for it."

Draco eyed the quill for a second longer, admiring its form and shape before he slipped the quill back into the box, shimmying it shut and turning his eyes back to you.

He took a shaky breath, tucking the box into the inner pocket of his jacket. He gave one firm nod of his head back to you. He felt the warmth in his face creep down his neck, and cursed the new summer sun for the sweat that collected at his brow.

Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Thank you."

"Write me over summer, if you can." You grinned, and he shoved his hands clumsily in his pockets, fingers restless and unsure. His lungs felt tight and his nose itched. You wanted him to write to you. Draco felt like he could die.

"Alright," He started, more words laying unspoken on his tongue. His mouth hung open and he felt embarrassment seep into his blood as you stared expectantly. "Uh..."

"You should run off to your friends now, no?" You cocked your head to the side, and it made him want to pet you.

"Huh?"

"After this year I don't think your friends would take too kindly to you ditching them for me on the train again." You laughed, dry and lacking full humor. You squinted and looked away.

Draco felt guilt burst in his chest. His brows furrowed. "Did they say something to you? Crabbe or Goyle?"

He watched your face morph between a selection of emotions he couldn't quite decipher, and it made his stomach churn. "Don't worry about it, I like having the ride all to myself. Good for reading ahead if you ask me." You brushed past his question and shook your head with a chuckle. A smile that didn't look very natural settled onto your face.

A spark of shame stirred his breakfast back to life in his body. Draco felt sick, and a little like he wanted to punch Crabbe and Goyle so hard they could never say anything to you ever again.

A protective feeling washed over him, and he was glad his hands were in his pockets so you couldn't see the way his nails dug into his clammy palms. You blinked. How beautiful, he thought to himself.

"Run along," You reached out and pawed at his shoulder, pushing him slightly. The contact made fireworks pop behind his ribs. "I have some business to attend to, don't wait up for me."

Your smile shifted into something more genuine, and Draco nodded dumbly, allowing himself a moment just to appreciate your eyelashes. Stepping back, he muttered a farewell to you before moving to leave along the dirt path to the train.

His gaze flickers down your face one more time before he lets his trembling knees carry him away, hoping the summer won't last too long.